RPM

Check Engine Computer

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Mon, 30 Mar 2009 13:45:00 +0000

This past week, there were lots of disappointments. My car was a primary culprit. The "check engine" light went on during my commute. Since I was also due for an oil change, I scheduled an early drop-off at my dealer to take care of everything.

Of course, when that morning came around, another whack-a-mole had surfaced. I had to direct my mallet towards a situation at work. Once that was taken care of, it was 11 am. No early drop-off. The next day, I had to drive north for work, and borrowed a car to avoid exacerbating whatever was wrong with my own car.

On Saturday, I finally had the opportunity to deal with it. Since my dealer's service department doesn't do Saturdays, I took it to another shop on Ismael's recommendation. They were quick and efficient. Thanks, Ismael.

When my car was ready, the mechanic asked me if I had recently gotten gasoline. My mind raced. Clearly, I had purchased tainted gasoline or something. I thought about it, and remembered that my tank was low on fuel, so I couldn't have filled it up recently. I told this to the mechanic, expecting the worst.

The computer diagnostic result? Loose gas cap.

On the one hand, I'm very grateful that there is nothing wrong with my car, no need for expensive repairs. On the other hand, my car has cried wolf. The mechanic explained that people generally ignore emissions problems, so I understand why there would be a generic check engine warning to scare drivers enough to go to the shop.

But a loose gas cap? That's not an emissions problem like a failed catalytic converter. It's a turn of the screw and you're done! Even proud polluters might tighten the cap if they were to get the message. There is no repair necessary, no expense. Why not have a little light on the dash like the seatbelt off light? In the words of G.O.B., "come on!" What a waste of everyone's time.

Review: The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Thu, 12 Feb 2009 14:58:00 +0000

My name is RPM, and I have an old movie problem. I haven't seen an old movie for at least a few hours.

For better or worse, The Day the Earth Stood Still is in the pantheon of sci-fi classics. For better, there is no Keanu Reeves. I haven't seen the remake, but there is no way he can match the calm authority of Michael Rennie as the visitor Klaatu.

I'm uncertain about this movie because it isn't the sort of sci-fi I'm used to. The action is pedestrian and ordinary. While there's dramatic tension, it's by no means a thriller. But then again, the best sci-fi uses the twist on reality to tell us something meaningful about ourselves. This movie asks us a big question, and uses the twist compellingly. The science fiction within the film is purely a vehicle for the visitor's message.

Spoiler Warning! Highlight the area below to better see the text.

What a message, looking back 58 years later. It boils down to an intergalactic Bush Doctrine that actually promotes pacifism. Kickass robots enforce the peace. The thrust of the doctrine is that the people of the universe must be safe. If a planet like Earth is filled with infighting and war, that sucks for Earth, but the rest of the universe doesn't feel any effects. However, if the people of the planet develop technology to travel in space and harness atomic weapons, the rest of the universe is at risk.

Enter Klaatu's flying saucer onto the National Mall in Washington. A crowd of citizens and military gathers over the course of a few hours with baited breath waiting for any sign of life from the UFO asleep on the grass. A ramp forms and Klaatu gets out. Some idiot army grunt shoots him. His faithful robot emerges. I guess the crowd gets scared because the robot is about eight feet tall. Personally, I would become afraid right about when the robot starts vaporizing all of the military's weapons.

The great majority of the movie focuses on Klaatu's struggle to inform the leaders of the world of his message. The catch is that the message is too important for any one leader or nation to hear, so he must bring everyone together. Once his pleas w/ the US military and presidential envoy fail to get other countries in the mix, Klaatu mingles with the little people of Washington, D.C. to better understand how earthlings function. Yes, Klaatu speaks English, from hearing radio broadcasts out in the universe, of course. That doesn't explain why he looks like a normal human, but whatever.

Eventually Klaatu gets the attention of the nation's foremost astrophysicist and convinces him to bring together an international group of scientific leaders. To prove he's not messing around, and to give the title of the movie meaning, Klaatu sends everyone a message: I can stop all electricity on Earth for 30 minutes. He's so nice, he lets hospitals keep their juice. The goodwill even extends to a little boat in the Thames in London that gets to keep moving in an obvious gaffe.

The human drama between the woman that believes in Klaatu and her lover that wants to turn him in plays its course. It's a solid plot that gets us to the climactic messianic moment where Klaatu gives Earth his ultimatum.

About that ultimatum, just imagine if you actually believed George W. Bush when he said he wanted peace. Does that make preemptive aggression alright? Is the threat of annihilation enough to make us behave? Does the end justify the means? Klaatu even says essentially, "you're with us, or you're reduced to ashes."

So, shape up, cold war America. The End.

The Real Life Fail Barge

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 18:22:00 +0000

I swear that the last two posts are not an indication that RPM will become FAIL Blog Light. There is finally something bigger than a fail boat, and I need to share. Meet the fail barge. It's the first realization of the term fail barge, which I came up with during this year's Super Bowl party.

In other news, I've caved in to this twitter thing. I'm also working on writing some songs for the first time in ages. If I'm not careful the songs I've been working on will turn into the bastard children of Bowie and Television.

Big Ten Football = FAIL

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 04:55:00 +0000

Wow we all suck right now. OSU played a hard-fought game, but a loss is a loss. That is, unless you lose by about 70 to Florida State in a bowl game like Wisconsin did. I don't know what to call that crap. The last time the Big Ten won the Rose Ball was basically a decade ago, when Barry Alvarez led the Badgers to back-to-back wins in Pasadena.

My Six Favorite Studio Albums of the 1990s

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 15:55:00 +0000

Last night I listened to Neutral Milk Hotel and decided it was time to give them some recognition. I encourage comments with your top albums. Here is my list of favorite studio albums of the 1990s, in no particular order:

- Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. This is the closest thing my generation had to the Velvet Underground. The small cult following is so intense that their leader Jeff Mangum has gone recluse, which is what I wish Kurt Cobain could have done to avoid the pressure. Listen to this right now.

- Nirvana, Nevermind. What can I say? Four songs have the exclusive RPM 5-Star rating on my computer. The music is so powerful and damn catchy, too. This is one of those rare moments where the best music was the most popular.

- Radiohead, OK Computer. I can't choose between this one and The Bends for the life of me. Both have superb songs. The Bends rocks harder, which I love, but in the end I bow to OK Computer. Why? This is where Radiohead pushed their sound into new territory, capturing paranoia in the information age.

- Weezer, Pinkerton. Again, which of my children do I choose, the self-titled, poppy Blue Album or the weird one? Again, I choose the later, weirder option. Their first album is brilliant, but there are some weak songs, like "No One Else" and "Surfwax America." The great thing about Pinkerton is that Rivers Cuomo gains power over his insecurity, and the awkward emotion that left "No One Else" immature and dumb becomes something brilliant and imaginative like "Pink Triangle."

- Pavement, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. I struggled to pick a Pavement record. This one wins with its lo-fi minor key beauty. CRCR gets the slight nod over its amazing predecessor Slanted & Enchanted and its rockin' follow-up, Brighten the Corners.

- Built to Spill, Keep it Like a Secret. Doug Martsch is one of my guitar gods. I love all of their albums, but this is where they made it big. The sound is huge, yet the quirkiness lives on. The tension flat out rocks. They manage to synthesize the little gems of There's Nothing Wrong with Love with the slow epics of Perfect from Now On into perfection.

*****

The studio qualifier lets me duck the issue of putting two Nirvana albums on the list, since Unplugged is way too good to ignore. In addition to runners up by the six bands above that I've mentioned, here we go with some honorable mentions:

- Dr. Dre, The Chronic
- Pearl Jam, Ten, Vitalogy
- REM, Automatic for the People
- Smashing Pumpkins, Siamese Dream, Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
- Beck, Mellow Gold, Odelay, Mutations
- The Verve, Urban Hymns (I love the Stones but they shafted The Verve with pure greed)
- U2, Achtung Baby
- Golden Smog, Down by the Old Mainstream
- Metallica, Metallica (Black Album)
- Mos Def & Talib Kweli, Black Star
- Snoop Doggy Dogg, Doggystyle
- Sleater Kinney, Dig Me Out
- Portishead, Dummy
- Elliot Smith, Either/Or
- Fugazi, 13 Songs
- Lucinda Williams, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road

*****

Again, please comment with your favorites. Next, I'll jump the gun and talk about my favorite albums of the 2000s.

No More Mr. Nice Guy

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Fri, 14 Nov 2008 06:35:00 +0000

"FFS!" -RPM

1. The amount of fail out there right now astonishes me. Where to begin? How about the radio. Everybody knows that FM radio is an abomination these days, but Madison radio keeps getting worse. A month ago, I would have estimated that there are about 6-7 radio stations that are tolerable. Then, 93.1 the Lake shut down. Sure, I've missed my daily fix of Manfredd Mann's version of "Blinded by the Light" crapfest, but they still played solid, dependable classic rock, but no more.

Now, 94.9 has already switched to Christmas music. It's mid-November! I nearly die of saccharine poisoning. So now there are about 5 stations that may at any given moment, between commercials, play a song worth listening to. I've found that my best option if I'm driving on a weeknight is 101.5, hosted by Alice Cooper of all people.

2. Speaking of no more Mr. Nice Guy, the personal front. I thought I had found a girl. We've had fun together and share a lot of interests. Then I get the "you're a great guy" rejection combo. What is up with that? Maybe she thought that would soften the blow. I'd rather have some constructive criticism. In this case, indications suggest it's not my fault, but I hate feeling that being a nice guy continues to fail.

3. UPS has the world's worst delivery person on the job in Madison. I expect a very awesome shipment to arrive today. Even better, I work from home in order to ensure delivery. I've never been in delivery, so I'm normally hesitant to judge. Yet I figure that logic can see me through. One drives a truck with packages in it. The driver stops at the appropriate address for each package, contacts the recipient and delivers the package.

Things fall apart for me. Somehow, the delivery guy manages to sneak an "attempted delivery" note on my door while I am in the apartment. I am between 10 and 40 feet away from him, depending on my location at this unknown moment in fail. There is a doorbell! I don't hear the doorbell. There is a door! I don't hear any knocking. Maybe he touches the door when he places the note, but that was the only contact he makes. He's either lazy, evil, or afraid of human contact.

After I find the offending note on the door, I call UPS like crazy, navigating the phonebot, which even tries to thwart speaking with a person when one dials zero. Finally I secure a person. With all of my might I hold back my anger and endure the "we'll deliver it tomorrow" spiel. I arrange a pickup at their hub in Middleton tonight. They tell me to show up at 7:30 pm.

I get there at 7:25. My favorite driver hasn't unloaded my package. The overworked person at the desk tells me it's ok, it's early and it'll be up at 7:30. Needless to say, driver fails again. I finally leave the foresaken facility with my package after 8 pm, swearing to myself that I will have my vengeance somehow. A suspended vat of boiling oil perched above the entrance of my apartment will do the trick.

4. Instead of living out my UPS delivery driver revenge fantasy, I try torelax. I kick some Okkervil River out of the speakers, pour a glass of mead and settle in for a little video gaming. False! Turns out the game is full, which has never, ever happened in all of my experience. What's another ten minutes of waiting after all of this crap? That's just two or three songs.

Vote or Die

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 14:57:00 +0000

In my voting ward in Madison, there are few decisions to make. First off, all voters with last names starting with A-L choose to die instead of coming out to the polling place. There is one substantial line, all registered voters with names beginning with M-Z. The election volunteers wisely break up the M-Z line to make things run faster. Only, it turns out everyone with a last name starting with T-Z also chooses death. So, we're all still in one line, all with names starting with the letters M-S. Even my first and middle initials start with M-S. Lame. Nevertheless, my waiting time is manageable, about half an hour at most.

To the substance of the ballot, there are only four decisions. All but two politicians are running unopposed for their office. I choose the president I want and my house representative, then it's off to voting on two referenda, one regarding health care, the other the school district's budget.

Everyone out there, please vote in the most important election in a generation, or at least the opportunity to undo 2000. And for the love of this country, vote correctly this time. I mean more than just an historic vote for Barack Obama. I also mean procedurally, no more mindless screw ups. We can't mess around this time. No more hanging chads, no more Ft. Lauderdale voters for Buchanan, no more nonsense.

Omnivorous

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Thu, 23 Oct 2008 15:29:00 +0000

Continuing Ismael's Post, I will list off my Omnivore's 100.

Instructions:
1) Copy this list, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you've eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.

I will modify for laziness and legibility. Bold Italics for items I've eaten, [brackets] for things I'd never eat. Plain bold isn't viewable enough, and strikethroughs are a hassle on blogger.

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea - no clue
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue - sorry, I don't like cheese
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari - both traditionally fried and not fried
12. Pho
13. PB and J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi - no clue
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses - no clue
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream - pistachio gelato is heaven.
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras - I'm just not that into pate.
24. Rice and beans
25. [Brawn, or head cheese]
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper - mmm, tastes like burning
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda - no clue
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl - I haven't managed the combo
33. Salted lassi - no clue
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar - I haven't managed the combo, but cognac is poor gasoline
37. Clotted cream tea - I'm a little scared but too ignorant to rule it out.
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat - I assume lamb curry counts here
42. Whole insects - I would definitely try a chocolate-covered grasshopper
43. Phaal - no clue
44. Goat's milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu - no clue
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi - no clue
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald's Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine - no clue
60. Carob chips - tastes like bad chocolate
61. S'mores - don't substitute carob for chocolate in this concoction
62. [Sweetbreads]
63. Kaolin - no clue
64. Currywurst
65. Durian - the smell is probably not worth the taste
66. Frogs' legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette - andouille counts, right?
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini - not the combo
73. Louche absinthe - Louche means "shady," so I'm not sure
74. Gjetost, or brunost - combine to form glasnost?
75. Roadkill - I'd eat certain things recently killed on the road, like cow, venison, elk, etc.
76. Baijiu - no clue
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail - only with a pound of butter
79. Lapsang souchong - no clue
80. Bellini - I've also had a bellini spilled on me
81. Tom yum - no clue
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant - Would anyone really refuse to eat this?
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers - I recommend fried zucchini blossoms
89. Horse - only in case of global depression
90. Criollo chocolate - I've probably never had the "rarest and most expensive" form of cacao
91. Spam - I only object on grounds of perfectly good real alternatives
92. Soft shell crab - Same trip as Mr. Vice's frog legs, this was terrible
93. Rose harissa - no clue
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox - I prefer peanut butter
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake - anyone else thinking about Indiana Jones?

Chucked in All Three Ways

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Wed, 22 Oct 2008 17:28:00 +0000

Last weekend, we had big plans. We would watch the Badgers bounce back against Iowa on the gridiron, then go outside to a corn maze or maybe even Devil's Lake to celebrate Mr. Vice's birthday earlier in the week.

Well, the Badgers confirmed their incompetence in such areas as offense, defense, special teams, coaching and intangibles, losing big to Iowa. The football team demoralized our ambition. Additionally, Mr. Vice had a cold.

What to do? How about the first season of the spy comedy Chuck on dvd? Indeed. Over the course of the remaining Saturday we watched as much as we could stand, complementing the plot with cocktails. On Sunday evening, we reconvened to finish off the season.

Chuck isn't exactly a brilliant show like Lost, the Wire or Arrested Development. It's more of an enjoyable guilty pleasure, watching a geek reach beyond his day job at a big box store to save the world and kind of get the spy girl. Let's just say she's very attractive. Plus, Jayne from Firefly/Serenity returns as the same badass character, rechristened and repackaged as Casey.

Doubling down on the dvds from last weekend, I downloaded the three shows already aired from the second season and recorded Monday's new episode on my dvr. Now I'm up to date, thanks to dvd, internet and broadcast versions of the show, all displayed on my pretty television. Life is good if you ignore the worst football seasons in decades for my teams.

Don't worry, if any of you in Madison feel left behind, I still have the second season episodes and the tolerance to watch them again.

A Report of Hope in Lions Land

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 15:19:00 +0000

The worst general manager in NFL history, Matt Millen, has reportedly been canned. One reason he goes down as the worst ever was his ability to remain in his position despite all sorts of incompetence and failure. Live on to lose another Sunday is my motto for him. Millen was allowed to try three different head coaches and yet none of the blame for their crappy play stuck to him in the eyes of his boss. There is a theory out there that Millen had compromising pictures of the team's owner, William Ford Sr.

I started hoping on Sunday once I learned that the owner's son and heir apparent, William Ford Jr., took his frustrations with Millen public following the Lions' third straight horrible loss. Now, reports indicate that there was a high-level meeting last night, and that Millen's personal effects were in boxes this morning. Good riddance to "an NFL-worst 31-84 since Millen took over in 2001" era.

It's hard to keep cheering for the this team. They haven't challenged for the title in the Super Bowl era. The last time they were really good, my father was a toddler. Lions = epic fail.

UPDATE 9/25: I later thought of this summary, failure is no longer the only option!

Updates and Cheap Home Upgrades

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Wed, 24 Sep 2008 01:08:00 +0000

First off, I've returned to live in Madison. The move out of Chicago, involving a temporary storage unit, trucks, and a trip to Michigan to see family on Labor Day, was too stupid and exhausting to describe in detail.

I'm working in criminal law. I've gone from big city to small town, but I'm excited because I'll be back on the front lines.

I'm settling in to a nice old place downtown with a new bathroom and kitchen. My only problem with the apartment is something I didn't really investigate before moving in, the outdated two-prong outlets. There are three-prong outlets, but in all the wrong places for my assorted electronic toys. But tonight I've permanently solved it.

I had been running extension cords from the updated three-prong outlets to my power adaptors. That's fairly lame and encumbering, so I looked up how to ground a two-prong to three-prong adapter the right way. I made sure to buy adapters that had the grounding post under the male prongs as in the picture. Fortunately, the post lines up with the screw in the middle of the outlet cover. The theory is that the screw should be grounded in most homes. The guides I found recommended that one buy a tester to make sure the post was grounded. Fortunately, some of my power strips have indication lights for "protected" and "grounded." When I plugged one of the strips into the adapted and screwed-in outlet, voila, all systems go, protected and grounded. Woohoo!

UPDATE 9/25: Lame, the living room wiring fails miserably, as the outlets are not grounded and not particularly fastened to the walls by anything but paint it seems. The kitchen and bedroom are good to go, but I'll have to run an extension from the kitchen to the living room.

Farmers' Market

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Sat, 09 Aug 2008 16:34:00 +0000

Here is my drying harvest from this morning's market. The purple basil is fairly pretty. It's too bad all the fruit was overpriced. At least the fruit I wanted was too expensive. In balance, having a good-sized organic farmers' market two or three blocks from my lair is fantastic.

On my walk back home, I overheard two little street urchins playing in an alley. One asked the other, "why are you crying?" The answer was compelling, "because LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The kid didn't even pause, this wasn't a statement where one can't think of the right words and resorts to a tantrum. I think this was just eloquence.

Nowhere Nothing Etc.

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 22 Jul 2008 05:06:00 +0000

Here's an apology for the loyal few that still wait for a new post to show up. I've got a lot in the mental hopper. At some point when everything's straightened out, I'll figure out what to do with RPM. Thanks for reading, and I promise I'll be back with more info soon.

George Carlin, RIP

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 24 Jun 2008 04:55:00 +0000

George Carlin was by far my favorite comedian. He had an amazing ability to question language and culture while making everyone laugh, evidence of a grounded personality, empathy and a first-class mind. More than anything, he had an amazing bullshit detector he shared with those willing to question things for the last five decades.

In lieu of rehashing proper obituaries, I'll just share a few precious Carlin quotes and sentiments:

First off, nothing is ever completely off-limits. Carlin's fearless cussing may have angered the squares, but the point remains that anything can be funny in the right context.

"Why do they lock gas station bathrooms? Are they afraid someone will clean them?"

Euphemisms are cowardice, and the prefix "pre" is overused.

"People add extra words when they want things to sound more important than they really are."

RPM June Update

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 01:32:00 +0000

Chicago currently has the puzzling atmosphere of a tornado swamp: hot, humid and windy enough to knock you down. As my friend points out, America is gross right now.

I'm working full time and apparently doing well at it. However, I still don't know what to really do with my life. My interests jump in a thousand directions at once. In olden days I could have pestered Benjamin Franklin to let me be his Renaissance apprentice. Now, I have to pick a horse and run with it. Will Big Brown take the first Triple Crown in 30 years tomorrow?

I am fortunate to be able to listen to music on headphones while working. I've been binging on podcasts. Here are my mainstays - This American Life, Filmspotting, SModcast, All Songs Considered, Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, Talk of the Nation, and Savage Lovecast.

Yeah, it's heavy on the NPR. I've started to branch out, but the only experiment I've stuck with is Chicago's film duo at Filmspotting. Frankly, a lot of podcasts I've checked out are dull and boring without the resources of a radio show or the bottomless "wanna see my cock?" humor of Kevin Smith and Scott Mosier. I'll keep looking for new material though, since I've already burned nearly all the way through the archives of all of those shows when available. For This American Life I'd have to pay for back episodes, which is almost worth it, but I can just listen to streams at home if I want to go back and listen to "The Super" episode, only one of the best stories I've ever heard. All Songs Considered is the best source I've found for new music that's actually good most of the time. Bob Boilen is a national treasure.

My Detroit Red Wings won the Stanley Cup on Wednesday, beating a young but resilient Pittsburgh Penguin team in a little game held on frozen indoor ponds in June. I had a great celebration at a Michigan expatriate bar that night as the clock expired and the clearly over capacity crowd exhaled with triumph. The fete even included a simulated champagne uncorking brought to you by Miller Lite or some other bottled beer shaken by the guys five feet to my right. Even though I personally had nothing to do with Detroit's amazing effort, I walked home that night with a huge smile on my face.

Speaking of Michigan expatriation, tomorrow morning I'm driving to the other side of the lake, back home for two personally historic occasions. My family is celebrating my parents' 30th wedding anniversay a little early. I'm also going to live out my own version of Grosse Point Blank, joining in my 10 year high school reunion while on assignment as a loving son. I wonder who grew up to be a contract killer.

Still Competent After All These Years

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Wed, 28 May 2008 05:01:00 +0000

Tonight was my first night in the world of summer Chicago Coed Softball. I was a little worried, since I haven't played any form of organized baseball for at least 15 years, and because our team is in an intermediate league. That may not sound particularly scary, but my most recent frame of reference is beginner's level Madison Ultimate Frisbee, where the competition was intense. I get quite competitive myself, so I went along, but it was unfair to those expecting fun and exercise only.

Our softball team is composed mostly of strangers, coworkers or at least clusters of friends that barely know each other. We didn't practice, and I'm rusty. My expectations were fairly low.

Still, we won the game 13-8 or 13-7. I played competently, going 1-3 at bat, flying out with good hits the two times I didn't reach base. Since we had too many players for everyone to play defense at once, I played right field half the game without much incident, scooping a grounder competently. I'm not going to be MVP, but I'm happy to not be a weak link in the chain. The game was fun, and the mood was positive. Intermediate on our team seems to mean encouragement after a good play and empathy after a botched play. It doesn't seem cutthroat, so more reason to have a good time.

Additionally, my penchant for injury persists, this time in the form of a really sore thumb from wailing the ball into the outfield, the metal bat reverberating like a mofo. I'll wear gloves next time for sure. At least my prior sports injuries have all been glorious corporal sacrifices, like landing on my tailbone for a big catch or getting a concussion colliding with a larger player on the basketball court. This one is just lame, reflecting a lack of gear rather than hustle or bravery.

Mr. Dillinger, Prepare to be Shot

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Mon, 26 May 2008 20:11:00 +0000

I went for a bike ride on this wonderful Memorial Day to buy a softball glove and cleats for the league I'm in this summer. Riding up Lincoln Avenue, north of the Halsted/Fullerton intersection, I encountered some strange obstacles in the middle of the road. Someone had lain rail tracks down the median of the street.

My first thought was a street car, a different era. Next came John Dillinger due to the location. The notorious ganster was gunned down in a blaze in front of the Biograph Theater, which still stands at 2433 N. Lincoln Avenue as "Victory Gardens at the Biograph."

My strong powers of deduction reached the conclusion that filming is imminent or underway for a Dillinger-related project. Sure enough, on IMDB, there is a Michael Mann film scheduled for 2009 release called Public Enemies. The cast is impressive, with Johnny Depp as Dillinger, as well as Christian Bale and recent Oscar-winner Mariane Cotillard.

Okkervil River in My Head

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Sat, 24 May 2008 02:52:00 +0000

It was impossible to turn volume loud enough on the headphones tonight. Featured this evening in the old brain:

"For Real"

"It Ends With a Fall"

Real Guitars for Real Heroes?

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Wed, 14 May 2008 04:14:00 +0000

GuitarRising
by jakeparks

I really hope that Guitar Rising becomes a full-fledged game. You know why? Because acoustic Guitar Hero guitar isn't quite there yet. Click click click.

Cougars and Employment

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 01:46:00 +0000

A live cougar was strutting its stuff about three or four miles northwest of my apartment in Chicago today. Police cornered it into an alley. Surprisingly, the cougar was not amused by this maneuver. Little did he know not to taunt police officers, who promptly shot at the beast and eventually killed it after it absorbed bullets and ran around for awhile.

It was a lovely, crisp Spring day in Chicago today. I don't blame the cougar for taking a walk. I took a walk too, ambling home from downtown. I stopped by the grocery store on the way and filled my backpack to maximum capacity. What can I say? I'm a packmule. I push myself in preparation for a potential career in Army hauling heavy equipment.

No, I haven't given up all hopes of legal employment. No, I haven't followed Buster Bluth into Army. I have found a job! It's temporary work, but it's a start. Tomorrow is my last weekday off for a while.

Only in the Midwest: Thundersnow

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Thu, 27 Mar 2008 21:28:00 +0000

Snow is falling in Chicago, and I hear thunder. What a strange spring day.

Goodbye Favre

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 04 Mar 2008 16:28:00 +0000

At the risk of retraction, I report that legendary Green Bay Packer quarterback Brett Favre will retire. This means he will not play next year, unless he decides to play.

Poor backup Aaron Rogers has to be in a permanent state of readiness without expectation. You ready, Aaron?

Past indecision aside, I truly admire Favre as a player. I grew up a Lions fan, so I must say I hated this guy that came out of nowhere and kept beating the (Paper) Lions twice a year. Once the mature resignation that the Lions will always suck as long as the Ford family is in charge settled into my mind, I was able to sit back and appreciated Favre's determination and risk-taking. With a lousy team, he played lousily. Yet given one or two talented teammates, he could ignite a ferocious winning streak. Sure, sometimes he threw the worst pass in history, but he somehow still found glory more than almost anyone else. He won championships and the hearts of football fans everywhere, regardless of their favorite team.

A Taste of Spring

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Sun, 02 Mar 2008 20:58:00 +0000

Spring has come for a day, as the weather is around 50 F and sunny in Chicago. I had seen a forecast of warm temperatures and rain, so when I woke up this morning to the sun, I knew I had to pounce on the opportunity. As much as I love bicycling, the first warm day is nothing but dirty puddles. Instead, I walked a three mile circuit up to my favorite coffee shop and back. I had one of my favorite soups, caldo de pollo, at a nearby Mexican restaurant. I love it so much, I've ordered it all three times I've been to the place. I can't bear to go there and miss out on the opportunity of having a bowl of tortilla chips and a giant bowl of savory broth filled with half a chicken and vegetables, with rice and tortillas. All this for the price of a burrito plus tip.

A Call for Cover Songs Superior to Original Songs

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 19 Feb 2008 23:43:00 +0000

After just listening to Nickel Creek's version of the Pavement song "Spit on a Stranger," I must compliment Nickel Creek for improving upon the original. The Pavement version is kind of boring, an instance where spare low-fi sound just fizzles. Don't get me wrong, I love a lot of their music, but after hearing Nickel Creek, a bluegrass band, play the hell out of it, I can't really appreciate the original.

The upgrade is almost as mind-blowing as Jimi Hendrix's wild version of "All Along the Watchtower," which had been just another acoustic guitar/harmonica Bob Dylan song. While Jimi's arrangement is more drastic than Nickel Creek's changes, I must say that the subjective improvement in quality is even greater since I still like the Dylan original.

There are lots of covers that are better known than the original version, like Manfred Mann's ubiquitous "douche" version of Bruce Springsteen's "Blinded by the Light." However, that example highlights the plain truth that popularity is no indication of quality. In one version, an exuberant young E-Street Band plays its collective heart out at warp speed. In the version played at least three thousand times a week by the Madison, WI classic rock radio station, meandering organs dance around a peculiar pronunciation of the word "deuce" (as in little deuce coupe) as "douche," vocals drag and a piano breaks out into "Chopsticks" for some reason.

Moreover, I think the Manfred Mann version sucks because it betrays what I call the triumph of the first listen. I probably heard the Manfred Mann version of "Blinded by the Light" thirty times before I even got a hold of Springsteen's first album containing the original. I have a tendency to get accustomed to how a song runs through my head based on the first version I hear. When the second version is different, I'm usually disappointed, regardless of which version is actually better. Given this bias in favor of the first listen, Manfred Mann sucks even more.

A more typical example of the triumph of the first listen is "Respect," a solid song by soul legend Otis Redding. Aretha Franklin belted it out from a female perspective and made it one of the most successful singles in popular music history. Aretha's cover is better known and solidly ahead as my first listen, but both versions are great. As a side note, Otis Redding is the only person in history that doesn't have to be ashamed of his version of "Satisfaction."

So, loyal readers, I invite you to share some of your favorite covers.

Senate Induces Vomiting

noreply@blogger.com (RPM) — Tue, 12 Feb 2008 23:20:00 +0000

The Senate has the collective spine of a limp washcloth, endorsing President Bush's vision of limitless surveillance power. The Democrats have failed to heed their colleague Senator Dodd's 20 hour (bless his heart) call to rule of law. The House has stood up to this shameless case of cover Bush's butt forever and ever. Nonetheless, some sort of negotiation between the chambers of Congress may still give the weeny phone companies immunity from lawsuits based on their illegal information-hemorrhaging.

The Orwellian nightmare deepens into an even inkier darkness. Apparently, willful violation of statute and Constitution is deemed patriotism, even "good faith." Money quote: "But supporters of the plan said the phone carriers acted out of patriotism after the Sept. 11 attacks in complying with what they believed in good faith was a legally binding order from the president."

This failure of governance unsurprisingly starts at the source, from a leader that doesn't care for law. His selfish mandates create wiggle room for subordinates and even corporations to color their malfeasance as following orders. May future generations have mercy on us all.

Edit - An alternate title to this post could be "Lawmakers? More Like... Law-breakers." Something about the Senate brings out the childishness in me.