Steve and I are back for another podcast full of rock & roll stories, sports blather and fun.  This time we talk about the first two weeks of The Black Crowes’ fall tour, including some stimulating set list talk.  Next, we discuss former Red Sox great Roger Clemens’ indictment.  Then we talk about Lou Pinella’s retirement and Dustin Johnson’s hard luck at the PGA.  Finally, it’s story time once again as Steve talks about going to the White House (yes, that White House) with the one and only Don Rickles (yes, that Don Rickles.)  Hey, don’t be a hockey puck – listen to this great podcast!

Click to listen: SGS! Episode #17

If you’ve been enjoying these podcasts, please check out the Steve Gorman Sports! website (where you’ll find an archive of podcasts and more), subscribe to the show on iTunes, and join our facebook community.

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Steve and I are back for another podcast full of rock & roll stories and fun.  This time we talk about the 15th anniversary of Jerry Garcia’s death and what it was like for the Black Crowes to open for the Dead back in 1995.  Next, we discuss the news of Steven Tyler joining American Idol as a judge.  Finally, we get on a long tangent about jamming with Slash, seeing Shaq rap and an all-night party at Prince’s Paisley Park.  It’s a long, strange trip indeed.

Click to listen: SGS! Episode #16

If you’ve been enjoying these podcasts, please check out the Steve Gorman Sports! website (where you’ll find an archive of podcasts and more), subscribe to the show on iTunes, and join our facebook community.

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My life as an obsessive music fan started early.  The first records that I can remember buying with “my own” money (a.k.a. allowance/gift money) were the 45 of Stevie Wonder’s hit single Master Blaster (Jammin’) and the LP of KISS’s Rock and Roll Over. The summer of 1980 was a big year for me.  For my 9th birthday I received Pink Floyd’s The Wall, Tom Petty’s Damn the Torpedoes and the epic double album soundtrack to the Village People’s Can’t Stop the Music (starring Bruce Jenner).

Okay, I might not have had the best taste in the world, but I had passion.  Over the years my passion for music has never diminished, although my taste has settled into blues- and country- based rock that sounds like it comes from 1972.  It’s not surprising, therefore, that my favorite band over the last 20 years has been The Black Crowes.  To my ears, The Black Crowes are one of the few remaining bands that plays new music that sounds like it comes from the heyday of guitar rock.  They are the torchbearers of a dying tradition.  And while the flame of rock and roll has been diminished, it hasn’t been extinguished – and it never will as long as bands like the Crowes keep on keepin’ on.

Life twists and turns in unexpected directions and in the last year I’ve found myself working with the drummer of The Black Crowes, Steve Gorman, on a sports and pop culture podcast.  With the Crowes about to celebrate their 20th anniversary with a new double album, Croweology, that features acoustic versions of 20 of their classic songs, I asked Steve if I could interview him on the podcast about the new album, the last 20 years of music and a lifetime in rock and roll.

If you have a passion for music (especially if you love rock and roll and The Black Crowes) I think you’ll really enjoy this conversation.  Please let me know if you do.  Thanks.

Click to listen: SGS! Episode #15

Please consider checking out the Steve Gorman Sports! website (where you’ll find podcasts and more), subscribing to the show on iTunes, and joining our facebook community.

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Another entry in a series of love letters written to random people that I don’t know. Think of it as nothing less than a celebration of humanity!)

Dear Jesus Is Lord Guy,

Please know that today and forevermore I love you.

I love how you stand outside of every sporting event and music concert in Boston handing out your pamphlets offering me the choice between heaven and hell. I love how you don’t presume to tell me to pick heaven, but you kindly offer me an option. I really appreciate that. I’ve never quite figured out whether you frequent big events due to the crowds or because drunk people are more receptive to your message or because drunk people need to be saved most. Does it even matter?

I love you because you’ve been doing this every day for as long as I can remember. As a matter of fact I can’t recall the last time I went to the Orpheum or the Garden and you weren’t there. Honestly, it wouldn’t be a show without you.

I love you because you be-dazzled the bag that you carry your pamphlets in with the same ‘Jesus Is Lord’ message that’s on your vest. Most people don’t appreciate the importance of consistency and simplicity when delivering a message. But when I see you, I know where you stand on the whole Jesus issue. Well done.

I love you because you use every square inch of your body to deliver that message. You’ve got the hat, you’ve got the pinny, you’ve got the front placard, you’ve got the rear placard and you’ve got the bag. A NASCAR driver could take lessons from you on using all of the available real estate.

I love you because you’re in great shape. While my weight has yo-yo’d up and down over the years, you’ve always maintained that trim figure. Hey, maybe that’s shallow, but I really respect a man that takes care of himself.

Obviously I have a few questions for you, like: ‘what motivates you to do this every day?’, ‘how many people have you saved over the years?’, ‘how do you pay your rent?’ and ‘have you killed any prostitutes?’, but those can wait for another time.

Jesus Is Lord Guy, I sincerely consider you a Boston icon, seeing you makes me happy and makes me feel grounded to this city that I love so very much.

Either way, I just wanted to say that I love you. And good luck with the whole salvation thing.

Love Always,

Mitch

###

Over the years I have clearly established my bona fides as a legitimate tough guy. And while my lifetime street brawl record stands at an unimpressive 0-1-0 (please bear in mind that there were extenuating circumstances,) I like to think that I haven’t been involved in more street brawls precisely because most people recognize my substantial badassness.

Sensei Harry Rosenfeld of Freehold, New Jersey obviously trained me well. Some would say that he trained me too well. I like to think of myself as one of the most accomplished green-belt-with-two-stripes karate experts in the Northeast. Look, 4th place 12-and-under sparring ribbons don’t come easy.

Many years ago, I learned a valuable lesson from a wise, kind, bearded, young spiritual master with long hair. He encouraged me to turn the other cheek. Sometimes, taught my Sensei, the best way to win a fight is to not fight at all.

And while I may possess only a small fraction of Sensei’s impressive knowledge (I was tragically forced to quit karate after an unfortunate incident at Hebrew school) I felt that it was important for me to pass along whatever meager wisdom I have before my untimely demise. Today’s lesson will focus on knowing when to turn the other cheek, or as I like to call it:

A List of People I Don’t Mess With

1) Naturally, all lists of people not to mess with begin with the standard warning to stay away from crazy hat people;

2) It’s smart policy not to pick fights with people that use a little igloo cooler as their lunchbox.

3) Similarly, don’t pick fights with people that eat lunch at 10:15. (Usually from a small igloo cooler.)

4) Tattoos are always helpful guides. I never mess with a neck tattoo wearer or anyone with a tattoo of a bloody dagger that says “a deal is a deal” in that scary gothic font.

5) You might be surprised to learn that I DO mess with people with droopy pants. Now, I’ll confess that I was initially terrified to learn that the droopy pant look is an homage to prison (no belts in prison), but I also learned that people with droopy pants have trouble running after you.

6) Never, ever mess with a woman in a hockey sweater (jersey), especially if she’s got a mullet.

7) I used to be scared of people that liked ‘80s heavy metal (e.g. Judas Priest) until I grew up and realized just how gay heavy metal was (e.g. Judas Priest).

8) Generally, I try to avoid most of the fighty countries south and east of Spain. Let’s just say that if I was running the U.S.’s foreign policy apparatus the phrase: “we didn’t really want that land anyway” would be heard a lot more frequently.

9) I used to mess with the Scientologists, but when you learn about the bridge to total freedom and start operating at a higher thetan level, well, then, there’s a lot less to make fun of, isn’t there?  Or maybe you’re just a suppressive person?

10) Babies. Their creepy little eyes look so human. It’s unnerving!

I hope you found this guide helpful. May I suggest that you clip-and-save it for future reference?

###

Q: What is the ‘Fat Boy Shuffle’?

A: The Fat Boy Shuffle (FBS) is a dynamic physical movement that deceptively gives the appearance of hurrying-up when walking but doesn’t involve any actual hurrying-up.

Q: When does one employ the FBS?

A: The FBS can be employed at any time when one is walking in the street but it is best used when someone in a car lets you cross in front of them.

Q: How does one perform the FBS?

A: The FBS is easy and fun to do! First, wave and smile at the driver as an acknowledgement of their generosity. Secondly, lift your knees up high when walking so that your legs appear to be moving faster. Finally, swing your arms vigorously to give the appearance of increased effort. Note: you should swing your right arm back when you lift your left knee up and vice-versa.

Q: Why should one do the FBS?

A: The FBS is a majestic sign of civility that has been tempered by laziness. To whit: you are at an intersection. A car comes and decides to let you cross. As a token of appreciation you want to acknowledge the driver’s generosity by hurrying-up across the street. But you really don’t want to break into a trot (which could jeopardize the sweat shield) so you bust out a FBS.

Q: What is the ‘sweat shield’?

A: That’s easy. The fresh feeling garnered from your morning shower is officially declared over when the first bead of sweat is produced. That feeling of freshness is actually created by a microscopic layer of soap between your skin and clothing. This layer of clean soap is the ‘sweat shield’. Sweating destroys the sweat shield and eliminates the fresh feeling until you shower again. Your daily goal should be to preserve the sweat shield for as long as possible.

Q: Do you recommend bar soap or body wash?

A: Body wash, always. With a loofah, if possible.

Q: Who can do the FBS?

A: Anyone! You need not be fat or a boy to employ the shuffle. All you need to be is mildly polite and lazy.

Q: So why is it called the FBS?

A: Because it was named after a well-mannered fat boy who lazily shuffles across the street when cars let him cross in front of them.

Q: Can I meet this well-mannered fat boy?

A: You already have!

###

Introducing…the World Cup

Every four years, like clockwork, the non-U.S. portion of the world re-commences their long-standing crusade to teach Americans about football, allegedly the world’s most popular sport. So desperate are our Euro-African-Asians friends to convince us of football’s greatness that they created an international tournament called the World Cup with the sole objective of trying to get Americans to watch their stupid game.

Of course, Americans are already familiar with the sport of football. It’s obviously the greatest sport ever played and it was invented right here in America. You know it as the entertaining game with the touchdowns and the field goals and the Tom Bradys.

(Side note to Europeans: when trying to convince Americans how great your sport is, don’t name it after a better sport that Americans already like.)

In order to distinguish real (pigskin) football from fake (boring) football, we’ve taken to calling the game ‘soccer’ in the U.S. The proper way to use the term ‘soccer’ in a sentence is:

“Sorry man, I can’t drink Bloody Mary’s at brunch with you today. I have to go to my kid’s stupid soccer game at noon.”

Soccer is a difficult game to explain. This is because to all outside appearances the entire game appears to involve watching the one good kid hog the ball while the rest of the kids wander in circles and their parents desperately stare at their watches.

But that’s an unfair characterization of the noble and historic sport of soccer.

Soccer is like hockey, with just a few minor differences: there’s even less scoring, it’s not on ice and there’s no checking or fighting. In other words, soccer is like all of the boring parts of hockey.

The History of Football (Soccer)

Without going into a long history lesson, soccer was invented in England in the 1600s by Lord Borington of Little East Strikerham. The first ball was actually a sheep’s bladder stuffed with pig’s intestines. This ball worked well until the game was exported to Scotland and the Scotsmen started eating the ball mid-game. The familiar black and white checkered ball pattern was soon unveiled to ward off the Scotsmen, as they were frightened by monochrome patterns.

For the next 300+ years the British Empire conquered lands across the globe, setting up low-quality developmental football leagues in their far-flung colonies. Even after declaring independence from the British throne, these colonies kept playing football, which psychologists recognize as the first recorded example of Stockholm Syndrome. The only exception to this rule was in the new land of America. Historians attribute this anomaly to the fact that the pilgrims hooked up with the cool-ass Native Americans and spent their time smoking weed and eating popcorn, forgetting all about the boring kick-ball game.

Our little trip down memory lane proves one thing: soccer only became the most popular sport in the world because the mean British people threatened to shoot you if you didn’t play. However, given better alternatives (i.e. smoking weed, eating popcorn) people would gladly not play soccer.

So, here we are in America 400 years later and soccer is still the 7th most popular sport in the country, even after 18 world cups and 5 failed professional leagues. That’s right – in America soccer is currently less popular than football, baseball, basketball, hockey, auto racing and even lacrosse (which is kind of sad, because lacrosse isn’t even a real sport – it’s just what rich white kids tell their parents they’re doing when they’re really out drinking and scoring roofies.)

But I don’t want to play the part of the ugly American. It would be rude for the whole world to throw a whole big soccer party and for us to not even show up. So here goes nothing…

2010 World Cup Handicapping for the Non-Football Fan

If you’re a soccer fan you probably already know which teams are good and which teams are bad, so you don’t need my help. However, if you’re a degenerate gambler looking for an edge you’ve come to the right place. I’ve analyzed every player on each roster to determine my game by game selections.

Group A:

South Africa (#83): I guess South Africa is an okay place now, but growing up it was all apartheid this and FW DeClerk that and I’m still actively boycotting Sunoco (can I stop yet?) Plus, all of those movies about South Africa are so boring.

Mexico (#17) is a totally awesome country with the best food in the world. Sure, their cervezas are crappy and Mexico is just the sunnier, shootier version of America, but, Sabado Gigante!

France (#9): I’m generally a fan of France, even though their food is totally overrated. They have lots of hot chicks, although I’d personally like to see a little more showering and shaving. Oh, and their star player (Thierry Henry) is even more handsy then Ben Roethlisberger.

Uruguay (#61): I think Uruguay might be the country where the Jonestown Massacre occurred, and even if it wasn’t, there are way too many “U”s in their name. Plus, it’s easily confused with Paraguay.

It’s a close call between Mexico and France in Group A, but I’m going Mexico in the upset.

Group B:

Argentina (#7): You’ve got to respect a South America country that’s famous for steak and has a bunch of Jews in it. Then again, Jews suck at soccer (we rock the hardwood.)

Nigeria (#21): Without going into too many details, my life was forever changed when a young Nigerian Prince enlisted me to help him unlock his fortune. Sure, I had to front him a few bucks, but once he gets his birthright we’re both going to be set for life. Big time.

Good (South) Korea (#47): Poor South Korea. Look, we’ve all lived across the hall from a creepy middle-aged neighbor that locked up his under-aged girlfriend in an apartment building that might have been a crack house. It’s very unnerving. Sure, they could break their lease, but then they’d never get their security deposit back. Damn North Korea and that (now probably deceased) Kim Jong Il.

Greece (#13): Talk about a country resting on its laurels. In the last 2000 years we’ve gotten exactly one bad rom-com movie and lots of gross food from the Aegean contingency. And I hate their NY diners.

It’s a walk in Group B – Argentina takes it.

Group C:

England (#8): Football is their game, they’re good at it and they seem to like it. Haven’t they suffered enough with Sarah Ferguson? Can’t we just let them have this one?

United States (#14): Fourteen is a pretty good seed for a country that isn’t even really trying. I’m sure that soccer will be huge in the next 70-137 years, but it’s not our time yet.

Algeria (#30): Algeria still has to answer for Albert Camus – he of the “novel that sounds really cool but isn’t.” Actually, wasn’t Camus French but he died in Algeria? Damn, I wish there was some free online resource to check out things like that.

Slovenia (#25): Is Solvenia a real country? I swear that this is the first I’m hearing of them. That can’t auger well for their chances.

England takes Group C. (Good for them. I’m secretly still loyal to the Crown.)

Group D:

Germany (#6): There’s a lot to like about Germany, but if they win it’s going to be all lederhosen and oompa-loompa music until death’s sweet embrace finally releases us. We can’t let them win.

Australia (#20): What’s not to love about Australia? Beautiful women and rugged men drinking beer and making fun of New Zealanders. Sure, they’re criminals, but that’s the best part! It’s like a whole country full of dangerous women spies and sexy bad boys.

Serbia (#15): I was a big fan of Slobodan Milosevic – not as a murderous dictator, mind you, but as a court-room entertainer. Could you imagine that dude on Celebrity Apprentice?

Ghana (#32): I once had an intern from Ghana. I was impressed by his too-tight designer clothes and his BMW keychain (I never saw the actual car.) That left me with a very favorable impression of Ghana.

Group D is going to Australia. You just can’t beat giant sexy super spy chicks.

Group E:

Netherlands (#4): Are they the ones with the meatballs and the cheap furniture or the wooden shoes and the windmills? I can never remember.

Denmark (#36): Wait, was I thinking of the Danes? Are they the ones with the chocolate and the cheese?

Japan (#45): Japan is beyond awesome. Think about it – they’re the only Asian culture that features non-disgusting food items. Plus, video games!

Cameroon (#19): I don’t know anything about Cameroon, but I know that macaroons are good maybe once a year, at the Passover Seder, if you’re kind of drunk on Manischewitz.

Big Upset in Group E, with Japan winning. Sorry random Northern Europeans.

Group F:

Italy (#5): Another great, great country full of sexy women and delicious food. Plus, it’s my ancestral homeland – hooray for Jewtalians!

Paraguay (#31): Didn’t we already cover this one, with the massacres and all of the “u”s?

New Zealand (#78): Didn’t we already talk about hillbilly kiwis?

Slovakia (#34): Didn’t we already talk about made-up countries like Slovakia and Slovenia?

No contest here – Group F goes to Italy.

Group G:

Brazil (#1): Brazil has really cultivated a solid reputation over the last few decades. It’s almost like a focus group of drunk frat boys designed the country…”all you can eat steak buffets…endless parties…lots of talk about girls’ pubic hair.”

Bad (North) Korea (#105): How did a 105th seed get into this exclusive tournament of 32 teams? Did Emperor Weekend at Bernie’s II threaten to nuke us if they couldn’t compete?

Cote d’lvoire (#27): Look Ivory Coast, it’s one thing to have a weird name for your country. But it’s quite another thing for you to insist that we pronounce it the Frenchy way. I call you the Cote d’Pretentious.

Portugal (#3): I like your attitude, Portugal. In my mind you’re a part of Spain, yet you still insist on having your own culture and language and all. You’ve got moxie.

Tough call between Brazil and Portugal, but…”all you can eat steak buffets…endless parties…lots of talk about girls’ pubic hair”…can’t be beat. Brazil wins.

Group H:

Spain (#2): I’m going to call bullshit on this whole tapas thing right here. Eating overpriced appetizers at midnight isn’t dinner. Stop charging me entrée prices for mini-mozzarella sticks.

Switzerland (#24): Oh, yes, that’s right – Switzerland is the cheese/chocolate/secret bank country. I have no strong opinions on them either way.

Honduras (#38): I want to like Honduras, I really do. But when everything goes all kablooey in 2012 they’re taking the biggest piece of blame pie. Never kill Mayans, capiche?

Chile (#18): Chile, I find your emphasis on being tall and skinny hurtful. It is not my fault that I’m chubby. I have a hereditary glandular issue and an admitted addiction to snack cakes.

As much as I hate to admit it, Spain is going to roll over Group H.

The 2010 World Cup Winner

It would be too boring to run through all of the possibilities of winners and runners-ups, the round of 16, yadda yadda yadda, so let’s just cut to the quick:

To recap, here are the top 8 teams: Mexico, Argentina, England, Australia, Japan, Italy, Brazil and Spain.

And while just being nominated is an honor in and of itself, I’m going to have to throw my support behind the land of my forefathers, Italy.

(Yes, it is true. One branch of my family comes from Italy. We discovered this when we found an old family tree book while cleaning out my grandmother’s house a few years ago. Apparently back in the 1500s my great-great-whatever was one of the leading Rebbe’s in Italy. Obviously being a great Rabbi doesn’t make you smart because he decided to emigrate to Eastern Europe or Poland or some other lame loser country. Needless to say, I could have been a bad-ass Italian Jewboy (instead of your generic soft-ass American Jewboy) if only Rebbe made better decisions in life. So be it.)

Enjoy the 2010 World Cup, my little soccer friends!

###

Old man in the Mustang
What are you doing
Waiting at the train station
Each and every morning

Why do you sit there
You’re not dropping off
You’re not picking up
But you’re always there

Why do you wait
On the little side street
Like a creepy stalker
Who are you stalking

Is it your ex-wife
Or a former friend
Are you trainspotting
Or planning a hit

One thing I know
Is that you’re quite old
‘cause you have a navy cap
On the back window sill

I would love to ask you
Why you’re always here
But I’m afraid of you
Old man in the Mustang

(Even if it’s a new Mustang
Made out of cheap plastic
Instead of a bad-ass Mustang
From Nineteen Sixty Eight)

###

Growing up my greatest desire in life was to have long hair. I didn’t care about fame or fortune. I didn’t dream about power or prominence. I just wanted long, flowing locks. Back then, long hair stood for something important. It stood for rock and roll.

When grown-ups spotted a man with long hair they would inevitably think of him as a derelict or remark that he looked like a girl. Not me. I saw a rebel. I saw a free thinker. I saw the man that I wanted to become.

By the turn of the decade (the decade being the 1980s) rock and roll was under assault. Punk, disco and new wave conspired to make rock and roll seem dated and irrelevant. But for us, the last generation raised on The Beatles and the Stones, on Zeppelin and the Who, we still held on to the dream. We wanted to live the rock and roll lifestyle of sex, drugs and rock and roll. Sure, sex wasn’t happening and allergy shots were the drugs of choice, but we could still rock.

And nothing said rock and roll more than long hair.

Once I was old enough to throw off the shackles of my mother’s stylistic tendencies – she who seemed to favor the Prince Valiant haircut and polyester jumpsuits for her boys – I knew that I would immediately commence OPERATION: LONG HAIR. I figured that I’d hit shoulder-length by 15 and Crystal Gayle by graduation.

And then a funny, horrible thing happened. My hair, finally given the chance to grow DOWN decided to grow OUT. It was clear that I had the curse of our people – the dreaded Jewfro.

I should have known better. One of our favorite family stories involved a young Woodstock-era uncle, a bottle of hair relaxer and some panty hose. What a fool I was to think that I could break the curse and achieve the long hair. Nope, the closest that I would come to being rock and roll was Art Garfunkle.

In other words, not very rock and roll at all.

As my Jewfro grew I grew to resent it more and more. Every mousse, gel and random cream that I found in my father’s vanity failed to tame the beast. All of my academic, athletic and romantic failures could be traced back to that accursed Jewfro. That goddamn chia pet on top of my skull was the bane of my existence.

Luckily, over time I began to accept my lot in life. Sure, I’d have moments of delusion where I’d try to grow my hair out and convince myself that it looked good, or I’d get angry at it and cut it too short. But time has a way of softening the hurts of life and I began to embrace the ironic use of facial hair to compensate for my inability to do anything even remotely cool with my hair.

Of course, time also has a way of teaching you painful lessons, and as my forehead continues to grow and my hair line continues to shrink, I’ve begun to miss that old Jewfro. We sure had some good times together. And while long hair is clearly better than a Jewfro, a sweet Jewfro is assuredly better than being bald.

So, some advice to our young male readers: don’t hate your Jewfro. Celebrate it. Love it. Revel in it. Because, as the saying goes, you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone.

And besides, Bob Dylan has always sported an amazing Jewfro, and you can’t get any more rock and roll than that.

(Cross-posted at jewsclues.com, the internet’s #1 source for mildly Jewish humor!)

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Unless it’s a smutty double-entendre I’m generally not a big fan of words that have multiple meanings. So I was trying to think of the most egregious example of a word that poses the greatest threat of misinterpretation. And after many, many years of reading dictionaries, attending prestigious universities and interviewing linguists, I think I’ve found it.

The most dangerous word in the English language is….Truffles!

That’s right – truffles. Please allow me to explain.

On the one hand, truffles are the most wondrous creation in the known universe. Who can resist those delicious little balls of chocolate that are filled with a variety of smooth fillings? I’ve tried just about every type of Lindor truffle and they’re all good. Just thinking about the peanut butter truffle makes me want to drive to the mall, scam a free truffle, leave the store, go to the costume shop, buy a costume and go back incognito for more free truffles.

I even invented a novel way of eating truffles. I call it “doing a rainbow.” You should totally try it RIGHT NOW. Go to the store, buy a large variety bag of truffles, go home (or sit in your car in the parking lot) and eat one of each flavor. Get it…you’re eating a “rainbow” of flavors! And it’s totally not just a terrible excuse for eating 6 truffles in one sitting.

So, you see, a truffle is a wonderful thing and the word ‘truffle’ should evoke feeling of overwhelming joy.

But it doesn’t. Why? Because ‘truffle’ is also the name for a disgusting mushroom. And I like most mushrooms. In fact, I usually order mushroom omelets. But truffles are just revolting. They’re like the worst-tasting mushroom combined with the worst-tasting dirt.

One time I was a Smith & Wollensky’s for a business lunch. At the time I was a vegetarian and my choices were limited, to say the least. But they had a mac and cheese dish on the menu. Score! Sure, it was infused with truffles, but I figured that cheese is more powerful that mushrooms, so I ordered it. Big mistake! It was beyond revolting. The first bite made me gag. The second bite made my cry.

Do you know how embarrassing it is to cry at a business lunch because you don’t like your mac and cheese?

Now, I’m not really surprised that truffles taste like garbage. Do you know why? Because farmers use trained pigs to find truffles. Guess what, Francois, PIGS EAT GARBAGE. Of course they love truffles. They love garbage.

I’m totally pro-France but they’re crazy with their food. Think about it – the most prestigious foods in France are truffles, caviar and foie gras. That’s gross mushrooms, gross fish eggs and gross liver to me and you, kids. They’re just lucky that they invented French fries to redeem themselves.

So there you have it. Truffles – one of the greatest and one of the worst foods in the world dangerously sharing the same name. I propose that one of them (i.e. the gross mushroom) gracefully back down and adopt a new, less deceptive name.

###

Congratulations!  Your decision to pursue a career as an officially licensed cab driver in the City of Boston will provide you with an exciting and lucrative opportunity filled with mystery, intrigue and fascinating strangers.

As Boston is a world-class city steeped in history and tradition it’s important for you to recognize the vital role that hackney drivers play as community ambassadors.  Oftentimes you will provide visitors with their first and last impression of Boston, so please make it a positive one!

To that end, following are 5 simple guidelines that will assist you in providing exemplary service to the assorted tourists, business people and drunken college students that fill our streets looking for a ride.

1) Vehicle Upkeep

By law, you are required to keep the “check engine” light lit at all times.  Your patrons will appreciate the uncertainty that accompanies riding in a potentially dangerous vehicle.  And remember, the light says “check engine” not “check engine NOW.”  You can address any alleged mechanical problems whenever you feel like getting around to it.

For the health of passengers smoking is not permitted in any vehicle unless YOU want to smoke – then roll down both front windows and enjoy that sweet, sweet nicotine.  Don’t worry – you can cover up the smell by hanging multiple stinky trees from your rear-view mirror.  We recommend the vanilla.

2) Passenger Safety

In order to keep abreast of any potential emergencies, it is recommended that you wear a Bluetooth headset and stay on the phone with your girlfriend at all times.  Please feel free to argue with her.  If the fare tries to interrupt your conversation by providing directions or instructions, point at your ear and make it clear that you’re on the phone and they are bothering you.  Some people are so rude!

3) Collecting Fares

First off, never tell the passenger about any additional charges for tolls.  It’s important not to disclose what the bonus charges are actually for or riders might begin to realize that they frequently get charged for bridges and tunnels that they never actually used!

Also, thanks to that meddling Mayor Menino, all cabs in the City of Boston are now required to accept credit cards for payment.  But that doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it!  If a passenger attempts to pay by credit card:

First, say “credit card?” in a sad and questioning manner.

Then say “you don’t have enough cash?”

If they still want to pay with a card, you can always pull out the timeless classic: “machine is broken.”

If the passenger keeps insists on paying by credit card (jerk!) then at least try to get the tip money in cash or drive away before they can get their luggage out of the trunk.  That’ll learn ‘em.

4) Providing Receipts

If the passenger asks for a receipt when paying, always ask them “how many do you need?” with a wink.  If they accept your offer for multiple receipts then you know that you have a passenger with questionable ethics.  Now is the perfect time to offer them a great deal on meth or tranny prostitutes.  Remember – it’s not a receipt, it’s a test!

5) Choose Your Own Adventure

Let’s be clear here: you’re a taxi, not a bus.  Why should you have to drive to parts of the city that you don’t like or pick up passengers that look sketchy?

May we recommend a proven technique that we call ‘profiling’?

(Please note that ‘profiling’ is a catch-all term and doesn’t necessarily apply to refusing rides based on a person’s race.  You may also wish to avoid: ugly people, BU students, old ladies going to Shaw’s, Bruins fans, etc.)

One Final Note

You know that the South End and Southie are two different places.  We know that the South End and Southie are two different places.  But they don’t know.  A simple rule of thumb is that the South End is where you take fares looking for the “shortcut” to the airport and Southie is where you take people looking for those overpriced fancy restaurants.

We hope that you found this Quick Start Guide helpful.  Best of luck in your new endeavor!

###

If you like Boston-centric humor, you might enjoy these hilarious essays as well:

In Defense of Jaywalking in Boston

How to Drive Like You’re From Boston

Riding the Rails, Boston-style

The Boston Sports Fan’s Guide to Choosing a Jersey

Fight Club Discovered North of Boston

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Why didn’t anyone tell me?

The other day, at the supermarket, my son and I were surveying the snack cake aisle, looking for a delicious dessert treat for the week. As I’ve mentioned many times before, I have a weakness, nay an addiction, to snack cakes.

(Please note that when I say “snack cake” I mean Hostess or Drakes snack cakes – not those low-rent Little Debbie knock-offs. )

I’ve always loved snack cakes. Case in point: as a child, my parents were dismayed by my lack of skills or interests, so they “gave” me a hobby. I was conscripted into being a coin collector. In truth, being a coin collector isn’t as glamorous as it sounds. Basically, people from my extended family would bring me back foreign coins whenever they traveled overseas. I would briefly inspect the coin and then throw it into a little plastic McDonaldland trashcan bank in my closet. That was the extent of my hobby. One day, when I was around eleven years old, I took the entire collection to a local bank in an attempt to turn it into real money. I guess the exchange rate between the Bahamian quarter and the US dollar wasn’t very strong in the early ’80s, because I recall getting about $2.50 for the entire trashcan. I promptly biked over to the local Kwik-e-Mart and spent the haul on a Suzie-Q, a Chocolate Cow and two games of Ms. Pac-Man. Best money I ever spent!

So where was I? Oh yes, the supermarket. So we’re going through the snack cake options and I see this disturbing note on the Drakes box:

“Drakes by Hostess”

WHAT? I’m outraged. Globalization has gone too far this time. You know, I don’t get too worked up about cloning or GMOs, about international monetary fund policy or off-shore tax shenanigans in the Cayman Islands. But this is completely unacceptable. Hostess and Drakes are mortal enemies! And now the noble Drakes duck has to live with a Hostess logo under him?

So, in memory of a free and independent Drakes, today I present to you …Rating the Snack Cakes!

Hostess

Twinkies: always dependable, it’s the golden cake with the creamy filling. It’s a little sticky on the fingers, but quite light and tasty. Twinkie the Kid is one cool cowboy, too. 8 (out of 10)

Chocodiles: The holy grail of snack cakes, the Chocodile (and its pimped out mascot Chauncy) is now only available west of the Rockies. It’s a chocolate-covered Twinkie and it’s spectacular. Why are we denied this sublime pleasure on the East Coast? 10

Suzie-Qs: Great song, great snack, the Suzie Q is hardcore. It’s a big rectangular chocolate cake with tons of creamy filling. In my high school people used to separate the halves and try to get the Q to stick to the ceiling in the cafeteria. 8

Ding Dongs: round chocolate coated chocolate cake with creamy filling. The combination of chocolate cake and chocolate coating is heavenly. 8

Cupcakes: poorly designed. The chocolate top often separates from the too-dry cake. And the golden version is a travesty. 5

Ho Hos: a sophisticated treat with an unsophisticated name, the Ho Ho is a fancy swirled cake and cream combination covered in chocolate. Best saved for dinner parties or holidays. 8

Donettes: the powered version is as bad as the chocolate version is good. Either way, there are better donut options in the world (e.g. glazed pop ‘ems). 6

Sno Balls: creepy and dry with a terrible mouthfeel. Only eat when desperate! 3

Fruit Pies: Fruit Pie the Magician is a cool mascot and the pie is pretty good, but I prefer the two mini pies (Drakes style) over the one big pie.  As far as flavor preference goes you’re talking cherry, apple, blueberry.  6

Mini-Muffins: When did they invent this travesty? Are parents supposed to think that this is a healthy option? Absurd. 3

Glazed Honey Bun: my preferred breakfast in school, it’s a sticky mess but it’s well worth it. And it’s even better warm. 8

Drakes

Devil Dog: inexplicably popular, the Devil Dog is sahara-level dry. It sticks to the roof of your mouth, too. 4

Yankee/Sunny Doodles: chocolate and yellow cupcakes, sans icing. Cupcakes just aren’t that great, come to think of it. 4

Ring Dings: these are really just Ding Dongs, but they’re also known as King Dongs (awkward!), King Dons, and Big Wheels, each with it’s own mascot – the Indian Chief Big Wheel and King Don himself. 8

Yodels: Yodels are the same as Ho Hos, with a European-style name, making it even more sophisticated. These are for fancy dinner parties with the boss or country-club friends. 8

Funny Bones: I love Funny Bones. Once again the marriage of Chocolate and Peanut Butter rocks my world. I’d probably opt for this bad boy on death row, it’s so good. 10

Coffee Cake Junior: more of a breakfast treat, the coffee cake was a mature way to start your day. It’s a little dry, but it has a nice flavor and it’s a change from the chocolate-cream combination. 6

Fruit Pies: it’s just a personal preference, but as mentioned above, I like the two mini-pies over the one big pie. Fruit pies are good for when you’re dieting, obviously, because they’re made with fruit. 6

I’m speechless. Here I was all outraged over Hostess owning Drakes and yet it’s clear that Hostess has always owned Drakes, at least metaphorically. Better selection, better taste and better mascots (except for the Chief. I loved that guy.) And if it wasn’t for Funny Bones, Drakes wouldn’t even be in the running.

###

Please pardon the promotional nature of this message but I wanted to spread the word about the launch of two very exciting projects that I’ve been working on.

Steve Gorman Sports!

Last fall I began talking to Steve Gorman, best known as the drummer in the legendary rock and roll band The Black Crowes, about taking the sports talk radio show that he and his partner Brandon Gnetz were hosting in Nashville and turning it into a podcast (if you’ve never listened to a podcast before, it’s basically a radio show on the web that you can listen to on your computer or on your iPod.) After many, many months of planning and scheming we’re thrilled to finally share with you the first episode of Steve Gorman Sports!

Steve Gorman Sports! is a show that even casual sports fans will love. They’ll be plenty of entertaining talk about sports, pop culture and music; we’re going to have some really fun guests and an audio version of Steve’s popular advice column What’s Wrong…With Steve? We hope that you’ll make the show a part of your regular listening routine.

In addition to the podcast, we’ll also be delivering what we call the Set List – our (hopefully) hilarious take on the biggest stories of the week. Podcasts will be uploaded as frequently as we can produce them and the Set List will be released each and every Friday.

You can find Steve Gorman Sports! at:

On the web at http://stevegormansports.com
On facebook at http://www.facebook.com/stevegormansports
On twitter at http://twitter.com/tbc_gorman

JewsClues.com

Back in the late 1980s when my friend CJ Kaplan was training me to replace him as the register boy at the Waldenbooks in Needham, MA we could never have envisioned that 20+ years later we would co-create a website that has, quite literally, taken the internet by storm. And yet, here we are.

Our website, JewsClues.com is a humorous look at all the stuff we learned growing up Jewish.

Each day, we’ll dispense a small piece of advice, wit or wisdom designed to help our Jewish and non-Jewish friends alike live happy, productive lives based on all the nonsense our parents put into our heads.

Categories include, but are not limited to: rules for children, food and drink, family, relationships, school, careers, sports and more!

As the site grows, we’ll have other features including chai-kus, longer essays, a recommendations page, a “Design our Logo” contest, and guest columnists.

We hope that you’ll stop by JewsClues.com each and every day. And, by the way, would it kill you to leave a comment?

On the web: http://jewsclues.com
On facebook: http://www.facebook.com/jewsclues
On twitter: http://twitter.com/jewsclues

I sincerely thank you for your support!

###

In general, I’m a big fan of hash tags. Like many things in the social media world they’re both useful and full of comedic possibilities.

Except for one. I’ve grown to despise #fail.

At its best, #fail can be useful shorthand for calling companies out for perceived lapses in customer service. Ideally, companies would be monitoring their brands online, spot the criticism and would attempt to rectify the situation. Painted in that light, #fail is legitimate form of consumer feedback, intended to help companies do a better job.

In reality, #fail seems to reflect the most malicious and destructive tendencies of the online community. It’s frequently used as an attempt to tear down other people’s ideas or work in order to make oneself look like an expert. There’s a palpable sense of schadenfreude demonstrated when people gleefully draw attention to other’s peoples failures.

Failure is a huge component of creativity. Many ideas don’t work. Sometimes it takes a lot of trial and error to get things right. Yet, nowadays, any misstep is seized upon and exploited, used as a tool for building one’s ego at the expense of another’s.

In these Wild West social media times shouldn’t we be encouraging people to experiment? Shouldn’t we be encouraging them to create? Shouldn’t we be celebrating noble failures?

I know that there’s a role for legitimate criticism in the world.  And content creators need to possess a thick skin (even though in my experience most creative thinkers tend to be insecure and sensitive.) But is #fail really sincere constructive criticism or is it just mean-spirited pettiness?

Ask yourself these questions before you’re tempted to leave that nasty blog comment or #fail tweet:

• Is your criticism beneficial?
• Is it fair?
• Could it be delivered in a private e-mail?
• Is it really intended to make you look better?
• Is it necessary?

###

(You can listen to the show here.  Hug a taper!)

In the 15 years since the death of Jerry Garcia in 1995, Phil Lesh and Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead have been searching – sometimes together but frequently apart – for the right way to keep their music alive without the presence of their friend and reluctant bandleader.

They seemingly chose two radically different paths: Lesh played with a rotating group of “friends,” bringing in fresh voices from outside of the dead family in an attempt to continuously reinterpret the classic sound. Regardless of the band members, Phil’s sound was typically in the mold of the late 1960s version of the Grateful Dead – bluesy and psychedelic, experimental and risky, with an equal opportunity for success or failure.

Bobby took a very different road. His band, RatDog, was built for consistency and professionalism. The sound was much closer to the late 1980s iteration of the Grateful Dead when the “Bobstar” was in ascendence. RatDog’s music is tight and jazzy. While the songbook is large, the setlists tend to be fairly formulaic.

The one area where Phil and Bobby seemed to agreed was in how to handle the ‘Garcia dilemma.’ Rather than trying to find a replacement for Jerry’s two dominant voices: his guitar and his vocals – they seemed to specifically avoid putting anyone in that hot spot. In RatDog, Bobby took over singing duties for all of the Jerry tunes and put Mark Karan in the lead guitar slot. Karan is an amazing musician (as evidenced by his terrific debut album, Walk Through the Fire <review>) who plays in service to Bobby’s vision, as opposed to taking the dominant Garcia role. Phil’s friends – Warren Haynes, Joan Osbourne, Ryan Adams, Chris Robinson, Larry Campbell, Trey Anastasio, Jimmy Herring, Steve Kimock – never attempted to mimick Garcia either. If anything, many of Phil’s friends seemed to be filling the Pigpen slot in the band.

In a weird way it made sense. Garcia was such a force of nature that it seemed impossible, perhaps foolish, to try to replace him. So the challenge over the years became one of presenting a compelling version of the Grateful Dead without its key ingredient. Sometimes it worked – PLQ, TOO ‘98, Phil & Chris, Dead ‘03 – but oftentimes it also felt like a watered-down version of the Grateful Dead.

Given the history, it was shocking when Phil & Bobby announced last year that they would forming a new band without Billy Kreutzmann & Mickey Hart but with the inclusion of John Kadlecik – best known as “Fake Jerry” in the much respected Dead cover band Dark Star Orchestra. For the first time in 15 years Phil & Bobby were consciously choosing to “replace” Jerry Garcia in the band. It was a risky decision. If it worked, the Grateful Dead – the real Grateful Dead – might finally be back. If it failed, they would have committed their legacy to the nostalgia heap forevermore.

###

Arenas, even small ones like Manchester, New Hampshire’s, are a challenge when one is used to attending theater shows. The atmosphere and acoustics are designed for minor-league hockey games, not musical parties, but as far as arenas go, this wasn’t a bad one. It’s comparable to the Agganis Arena in Boston. I suspect that sound quality is entirely dependent on where you’re sitting. We were diagonal from Jeff Chimenti, so we got a lot of piano in the mix – which isn’t a bad thing at all. Ticket time was 7:30 and the band took the stage at precisely 8:00.

As soon as the band started warming up two things became readily apparent: first, we’d be getting a Feel Like a Stranger opener. Secondly, JK’s guitar tone was perfect. Stranger was solid – a languid version that seemed to embrace rather than rev up the crowd – but the guitar tone was unmistakable. I’ve heard better Strangers in the last 15 years, but I’ve never heard one that sounded as “right” as this version. The gauntlet was down – John Kadlecik announced from his very first note that he was definitely going to deliver the unmistakable Garcia guitar sound.

Next up came a standard reading of Loose Lucy that featured very strong vocals by Bobby. He sounds and looks great right now. Bobby’s appearance is usually a pretty reliable indicator of his performance level and right now he’s obviously in a very good place. In fact, 2010 might feature the skinniest front 3 in 30 years or so. Appearances aside, nothing could prepare us for what would come next.

John’s first lead vocal performance on It Must Have Been the Roses was nothing short of astounding. I’m not sure if it was the song, the performance, or the fact that it was my first exposure to his talent, but it was the single greatest version of a Grateful Dead song that I’ve heard since Jerry died. He didn’t just nail the song, he fully inhabited it. At that moment, everything made sense. I suddenly understood why Phil & Bobby, after so many years, had finally decided to replace Jerry. Instead of trying to find a new path for a Jerry-less version of the Dead, they were trying to resurrect the Grateful Dead. We all felt it – the Grateful Dead had finally returned. It was one of those rare, magical moments that explains why we seek out live music.

Although the emotional peak of the night was reached so early there was still plenty of music ahead. Bob and John alternated verses on a fun version of Deep Elem Blues, which also featured a great solo by Jeff. The fallow portion followed with the Brent tune Just a Little Light followed by a newer RatDog song Money for Gasoline (how did Bobby sneak that one past Phil?) It’s not to say that those songs are bad or that the performances were weak – Jay Lane in particular was great on Money for Gasoline – it’s just that those songs can’t measure up to the many, many stellar tunes in the Grateful Dead songbook.

I predict that a new mantra, “let John sing,” will sweep through the Dead community, especially after hearing him give new life to old warhorses like Loser.  I’m an Bobby fan from way back when (okay, from way back in the ’80s) but there’s no reason for Bobby to sing Jerry songs when John is standing right there.  Natural order can finally be restored to the universe: Bobby can sing cheesy rockers and cowboy songs, Phil can sing Phil songs and John can sing everything else!

The set closed out with a great Sugaree, once again driven by John (perfect solo) and Jeff. It was a short 72 minute set, but it was long enough to demonstrate that Furthur was very different than previous iterations of the Dead. The only thing that seemed to be missing was Phil. His presence wasn’t absent in the first set, but it wasn’t dominant either. Hopefully the second set would rectify that problem.

###

At 10:00 a slow and tasty Truckin’ got the action started again. We seemed to be getting a lot of the “big” songs, which contrary to popular belief, isn’t always a good thing. It’s often hard to find freshness in songs that have been played and heard so many times before, but Furthur was bringing a different vibe to the classics. They sounded both new and old at the same time, probably as a result of bring in the “old” voice of Jerry through John, in addition to the newer perspectives of Joe Russo and Jay Lane on percussion and Jeff Chimenti on keys. It needs to be said that Chimenti is a beast on the piano. He plays somewhere between the boogie-woogie blues of Pigpen and the clean improvisation of Keith Godchaux. For a band that’s gone through quite a few keyboardists in the last 40 years, Jeff is definitely a keeper.

The opening bars of Viola Lee Blues had a transformative effect on the crowd and instantly we were transported to a Phil & Friends show. To me, Viola Lee is the quintessential Phil song and the long jam was just great. Man, I loves me some Viola Lee and this was a good one.

Years ago Phil realized that Ryan Adams does a better job of writing contemporary Americana (i.e. GD) music than any other living artist and he was wise to incorporate many Ryan tunes into his songbook. Tonight we got (as I predicted in the car!) an excellent version of Nobody Girl, sung by JK. Next, Phil came roaring back with a tremendous Bird Song that again showed his gift for elevating simple compositions. Bobby, not to be shown up, treated us all to a Born Cross-Eyed, a difficult song to perform that was pulled off quite well.

The second set continued on its epic (yeah, I said it) path with a great Scarlet Begonias. All night I was trying to put a “date” on the band. They sounded too polished to be the early Dead but they definitely didn’t sound like Brent-era Dead either. During Scarlet I got a very strong 1976 vibe, so I’m sticking with that. Furthur sounds closest to 1976 vintage Dead (sans Donna). I can’t imagine anyone complaining about that.

Unlike 1976, they followed Scarlet with Fire on the Mountain, which was great, even if a part of me missed seeing Mickey with his fucking beam rapping the lyrics. We’ll always love you, Mickey.

The set ended at 11:41 with Sugar Magnolia/Sunshine Daydream played perfectly. The second set, both in performance and design, was masterful. It was a set worthy of the good old Grateful Dead.

Two short minutes later Phil came out to make the Donor Rap and the band played The Weight to close out the night just before midnight. It was a fitting end, with John, Bobby and Phil sharing the verses as well as sharing their visions of the past and the future of the Grateful Dead.

###

Many months ago I asked the question, “Is it a good idea for Bobby & Phil to go Furthur?” My fear was that they would finally, fatally turn the Dead into a nostalgia act by including a Jerry replacement. But the Grateful Dead was always a band defined by living on the edge of disaster and taking risks. Embracing the possibility of failure was a key component to their success. For 15 years Phil and Bobby did everything they could to avoid being the Grateful Dead. Out of respect or perhaps out of fear they left the Jerry spot vacant. And while the results were frequently enjoyable, Jerry’s absence was always present on stage and in the sound of the music. But by bringing in John and bringing back the voice of Jerry, we no longer have to miss Jerry – we can celebrate him and revel in his legacy.

Here’s the truth: John Kadlecik doesn’t bring us Fake Jerry. He brings us the real Grateful Dead.

(Yup, it’s that good.)

###

Plenty more concert and album reviews can be found here.  Thanks for reading.

As a child I always figured that I’d grow up, work for a few months, save up a couple thousand bucks, tell everybody to screw off and then live off the land and my sweet bankroll for the rest of my years.  Now this might sound like some crazy freegan delusion, but believe you me, this was no fantasy.  I had it all worked out.  No way was The Man going to make me join his evil rat race.

And yet…here I am, lo these many years later, still working and hardly ever telling anyone to screw off.  What happened?

Let me tell you what happened.  You see, as the years went by I discovered that there are certain things in life that you can’t live without once you start living with them.  And once you start “needing” things then it’s a slippery slope right into The Man’s clutches.

So what are these evil things that I can’t live without?  Well, I’m glad you asked!

The Dishwasher

One of the first luxuries that apartment dwellers fall for is the dishwasher.  After years of manually scrubbing, rinsing, drying and putting away the dishes finally a machine promises to automate everything (except for the scrubbing, rinsing and the putting away parts.)

Come to think of it, dishwashers suck and I’ve never met one that actually does a good job.  Plus, it takes a small nuclear generator and 3 hours to do a job that previously took 10 minutes. I’d get rid of the dishwasher in a second if it wasn’t for the substantial ego boost that I receive as a result of my Tetris-like gift for squeezing another meal’s worth of dishes into an already full machine.

Air Conditioning

Where I live, near the water, the houses are old and A/C is not a common feature.  Realtors always tell new home buyers that they don’t need A/C on the coast because of the sea breezes.  That is a lie.  What they meant to say was, “when you are sweltering in the summer heat it will definitely smell like fish when you open your windows in a desperate attempt to catch the mythical sea breeze.”

Please note that it is consider impolite to brag about having A/C in the company of your A/C-less neighbors and they will probably not be overly sympathetic when you complain about having a summer cold “because the A/C was set too low.”

Leather Belts

For my entire childhood I used a humble length of cord to hold up my britches – I honestly never knew there was an alternative.   Well, imagine my surprise when I moved to the big city and discovered that fancy folks were using leather straps with holes in them to suspend their trousers!  And the buckles were so beautiful!  Well, ever since that day I’ve spent a substantial portion of my fortune collecting belts and/or buckles.

Automatic Transmissions

People don’t watch black and white TV anymore because someone invented color television.  People don’t have to read Dostoevsky anymore because someone (presumably Cliff) invented Cliff’s Notes.  And yet when it comes to cars people still like to pretend that standard transmissions are somehow superior to automatic transmissions.

Let me get this straight: you want me to have to use a clutch, change gears every 5 seconds and have a minor heart attack every time I park on a hill, even though they figured out how to make the robot do all of those things for me?  Really?  You say things like “I have more control” and “it’s more fun” but I have TWO FREE HANDS for texting and road raging while you have none.  So who’s really having more fun on the roads?

Well, I’m sure there are more examples but I can’t think of any right now because The Man has also ruined my attention span with his stupid internet.  What are the things that you can’t live without?

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At this juncture in history I think that it’s important that we all acknowledge that Led Zeppelin is the greatest band in rock and roll history and there will never be another band that comes close to the greatness of Led Zeppelin.  They are the alpha and the omega of rock and roll.

Now, please don’t misinterpret this irrefutable fact.  I did not say that Led Zeppelin is my favorite band.  I did not say that they are the best songwriters in the history of rock and roll.  I just said that they are the greatest band in rock and roll history.  Here’s why:

Led Zeppelin is the greatest band in rock and roll history because each member of the band is the most valuable player in rock and roll history on their respective instrument AND the sum of the parts exceeds their individual contributions.

Robert Plant is the greatest vocalist in rock and roll history.  He is also an excellent harmonica player.  I can’t think of anyone who even comes close to Plant.  Maybe Rod Stewart in his prime? 

Jimmy Page is the greatest guitar player in rock and roll history.  He also produced all of their records.  Sure, I love Clapton, Beck, Hendrix and the old blues masters, but who else has the range of Page?  He delivers the crunching chords as well as the heart-wrenching solos.  Page is like Keith Richards and Mick Taylor combined into one player.

John Bonham is the greatest drummer in rock and roll history.  Sure, Ringo Starr and Charlie Watts are amazingly talented drummers.  Keith Moon was a monster.  But Bonham beats them all.  I get physically tired just listening to him play.

John Paul Jones is the greatest bassist in rock and roll history.  He is also a great keyboard player.  JPJ never gets enough credit but his work is stellar.

Led Zeppelin’s first seven albums are perfect.  Sure, the songs are overplayed but can you think of another band that went 7 for 7?  (Yes, In Through The Out Door kind of sucks, but it’s certainly better than most albums released by classic rock bands in 1980.  And Coda doesn’t count as a real album.)

Led Zeppelin also gave the world the insanely entertaining film The Song Remains the Same.  Each time I watch it I am amazed that someone greenlighted the concept.  It’s a concert film!  It’s an art film!  It’s a film about people making tea, talking funny-style English, racing cars and roaming the countryside with devil eyes!

That said, does anyone remember laughter?

Led Zeppelin also had the good sense to call it quits after Bonzo died, keeping their legacy intact.  Sure, it was mean of Page and Plant to reunite without JPJ, but how sweet is it that they really believed that there couldn’t be a Zeppelin without Bonham?  Plus the initial Page-Plant reunion project, The Honeydrippers, was super cool and provided us with our wedding song (“Sea of Love”).

The only bad thing that can be said about Led Zeppelin is maybe, just maybe they had a tiny problem with pinching tunes from the old blues masters.  Now, on the one hand, plagiarism is a bad thing and the courts seemed to agree that Jimmy might have lifted some riffs.  On the other hand, the blues is a traditional form of music and building upon songs from the past is a part of the tradition.  If you don’t believe me, you might want to give Bob Dylan’s Love and Theft a spin.

 So there you have it – my completely unnecessary defense of Led Zeppelin’s legacy.  I will now retire to my bedroom to stare at my blacklight hermit poster and draw runes on my Trapper Keeper.

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While the rest of you are wasting time making personal improvement resolutions, I’m kicking off 2010 by coming up with new and exciting schemes for securing global fame and fortune.

I’m thinking that inventing this year’s hot new sandwich might be a good angle. 

It seems like each and every year a new sandwich takes America by storm and what could possibly be easier than: 1) inventing a delicious sandwich that’s never been thought of before, 2) opening a restaurant that sells the aforementioned sandwich, 3) garnering many positive reviews in the media and creating an insatiable demand, 4) franchising the whole operation and 5) retiring on a houseboat with all of my delectable sandwich money?

Last year’s big sandwich was the Vietnamese concoction known as the Bahn Mi.  A bahn mi is a baguette filled with pickled carrots and radishes, cilantro, cucumbers, mayo, and literally anything else that can be jammed into the bread: meat, eggs, old newspapers, whatever.  Now, that may sound disgusting, but the Bahn Mi was the perfect sandwich for the recession year of 2009: it’s super-cheap and it has a cool name (bahn mi means ‘bread’ in Vietnamese.  Methinks that “bread sandwich” is somewhat less catchy than “bahn mi”.)

So there are the first two pieces of the puzzle: our new sandwich for 2010 needs to be cheap and it needs a cool name.

In Boston we have the truly awesome chacarero sandwich, which is allegedly a traditional Chilean sandwich.  (I say allegedly because no one has ever been to Chile to confirm its provenance, or for that matter, to confirm that Chile really exists.)  The chacarero features homemade bread (kind of a cross between a roll and a pita), green beans, avocado, tomatoes, muenster cheese, hot sauce and either beef or chicken (or both).  The chacarero is very popular and commands impossibly long lines at lunchtime.

Studying the Chacarero gives us two more secrets for creating the perfect sandwich: the crucial role of good bread and the need for a mysterious origin/backstory.

Many of you may be familiar with the wrap sandwich.  While tasty, the wrap sandwich represents cultural imperialism of the worst kind.  You see, the wrap is nothing more than a bastardized burrito.  A good burrito is a wonderful thing – the perfect lunch that’s just big enough to ruin dinner and set you up for a night of early dessert gorging.  But the reason that the wrap will never be cool is because people seek authenticity, and there’s nothing authentic about a burrito made out of tuna fish.  Our perfect sandwich will most assuredly be authentic.

Finally, we must also remember to include bacon.  “Vegetarian’s kryptonite” as I like to call it – bacon is the perfect food.  The problem with bacon, of course, is that everyone knows that it’s bad for you.  As a result, people feel guilty when adding it onto their sandwiches.  Our challenge is to include bacon on our sandwich without making people feel guilty about ordering it.

So there you have it.  The big idea sandwich for 2010 needs to:

1)      Be cheap ($5 maximum)

2)      Have a cool name (i.e. not English)

3)      Feature good bread (no seeds or oats or grains or weird shit)

4)      Possess a mysterious backstory (think J. Peterman)

5)      Be authentic

6)      Include bacon (but not that fake Canadian stuff)

*** 

Introducing…The Chazer Mekheye

In ancient times, a small but forgotten tribe of Jews, known only as the Hogakanazi, fought the rabbinical authority and refused to consider the world’s most delicious animal, the pig, as treif (or non-kosher).  These brave Jews spent thousands of years in hiding, honing and refining the perfect sandwich – known only as the Chazer Mekheye – as a symbol of their devotion and solidarity.

The dying wish of the last of the Hogakanazis was to finally share this incredible sandwich with the rest of the world.  The secret of the Chazer Mekheye was entrusted to just one man – me – and now I will share the fruit of the Hogakanazis with you.  In 2010 I invite you to experience this nearly-forgotten culinary delicacy.

Each Chazer Mekheye is lovingly hand-crafted on our unique artisan Hogakanzi bacon-infused bagel, with a dab of horseradish mayonnaise, crisp leaf lettuce, vine-ripened tomato, Vidalia onion and your choice of beef, chicken or combo.  All for just $5.

The Chazer Mekheye.  It’s so good you might just plotz.

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With the Christmas season upon us, I once again find myself pondering the big theological question that’s on everyone’s mind:

Who’s the worst Christmas villain?

First, let’s start with the obvious choices.

The Grinch was clearly a bad dude. He terrorized Whoville, abused his dog Max, stole all the presents and decorations and foisted a shitty Halloween sequel on us (“Halloween is Grinch Night”). Then again, was it really his fault? The Grinch had a congenital heart defect (you try living with a heart that’s two sizes too small) and he rehabilitated himself, without any help from Dr. Drew or the Scientologists. If anything the Grinch is a Christmas hero, not a villain.

Ebenezer Scrooge is the other most famous Christmas jerk, but was he really all that bad? Scrooge was a small business owner – no different than your average Joe the Plumber – during the worst recession since the Dark Ages and he still gave that slacker Cratchit a full day off with pay to celebrate Christmas. And how does Cratchit thank Scrooge for his generosity? By whining about not getting a half-day on Christmas Eve! Poor Scrooge was so upset that he went home, smoked a little Jacob Marley (obviously laced with PCP), had a few bad hallucinations, woke up and started giving away turkeys like there was no tomorrow. In other words, Scrooge was another genuine Christmas hero.

So let’s talk about some real Christmas villains.

Donner was one of the most famous reindeers on Santa’s varsity sled team. He was also a vicious child abuser who treated his son, Rudolph, with open contempt. He berated his son and made him cover his beautiful red nose but was all too happy to take credit when Rudolph saved Christmas. Now that asshole was a real Christmas villain.

Charlie Brown might be the worst of the bunch. While we’re never clear whether he’s been treated for his clinical depression or not, Charlie makes it his mission in life to ruin Christmas for everyone, including his amazing dog. Sorry, Charlie, but it’s not our fault that you’re a friendless loser. Being alone and sad on Christmas isn’t enough for Charlie, though. Charlie must take revenge on everyone and everything by constantly railing against presents, decorations and entertaining stage shows. Now that’s one little rage-filled communist that the government should definitely keep an eye out for.

So, who’s the biggest Christmas villain on your list this year?

(Note: Joe Lieberman doesn’t count.)

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Someone’s got to fix this situation. Pronto.

For a while there it seemed like the fist bump was going to take over as the world’s go-to physical greeting gesture. Sleek, efficient and powerful, the fist bump (also known as the ‘terrorist fist jab’) was riding the crest of an incredible wave back in 2008. When Barack gave Michelle that little jab on election night we all experienced the incredible power of the fist bump first hand. And once the swine flu hysteria spread I figured that the hypo-allergenic fist bump would displace handshaking once and for all.

But lately it seems like the fist bump is losing a little steam and now I’m utterly confused as to how to properly greet people. When I see acquaintances I end up doing some kind of weird Kabuki dance, thrusting out fists and palms randomly, never quite knowing what to do. It’s awful.

Let’s review the other options:

1) The Traditional Handshake. Your safest bet is to stick out your right hand and go for the traditional handshake. Everyone has seen it before and most people know how to execute it properly. The downside is that some people have clammy hands and once you shake a clammy hand your own hand feels weird and tainted for the rest of the day. Also, the traditional handshake may be viewed as being excessively formal and some people may feel slighted by not getting a more friendly or casual gesture.

2) The High-5. Outside of sporting events, the high-5 has really fallen on hard times. I suspect that this is because the high-5 is a surprisingly advanced maneuver and there’s nothing more embarrassing than a missed high-5. Look, these are dangerous times we’re living in and people just don’t want to take the risk of mis-firing a high-5 in public. Here’s the secret to a perfect high-5: the initiator needs to offer up the high-5 palm and hold steady. DON’T MOVE THAT HAND! When the initiator moves the hand is when the high-5 breaks down.

3) The bro-hug. A bro-hug is when you clasp half-twisted right hands (fingers on top) and bring the left arm around for a loose hug. The (oxymoronic) key to the bro-hug is that you can only bro-hug someone that you’ve previously bro-hugged with. Bro-hugs have to be pre-arranged or assumed. NEVER SNEAK ATTACK A BRO-HUG! If you’re not expecting it, the bro-hug is awkward and very uncomfortable. The one exception is if you’re at a Dead (excuse me, a Furthur) show – then please feel free to bro-hug away, my patchouli-wearing, dreadlocked, unshowered friend!

4) The full hug. I’ve discussed this in the past. Full hugs are exclusively for people that are related or intoxicated. No exceptions.

That’s really it. In order of intimacy and difficulty we’re looking at fist bump, handshake, high-5, bro-hug and full hug. And given those choices, I’m going to have to go with…

The gladiator handshake!

Whatever happened to that bad-ass move? The gladiator handshake, for those of you not in the know, is when you grab opposite wrists. It’s like an extreme handshake. It’s easy to execute, it’s cool and it’s super-macho. Plus, I can probably filch your watch if you’re not paying close enough attention.

Best of luck ‘greeting’ this holiday season.

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Thanks as always for reading. Other humor essays are here. Music essays are here. You can subscribe to this blog’s feed here and you can follow me on twitter here. And please tell your friends (just the non-clammy ones) to stop by.

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Some people like film. Other people like fine art. I like concerts. There’s something about the live music experience that is pure magic. It doesn’t even really matter if the band is good or bad – as long as they’re playing rock and roll and they’re putting their hearts into it.

Over the years I’ve seen a lot of shows. I always catch my favorites when they hit New England and I try to see as many of the “legends” as I can. So here’s my list of Top 10 concerts. To avoid the inevitable Black Crowes clutter, I’ve actually made two lists: my top 10 concerts and my top 10 Black Crowes concerts. After my picks, old friend Kenny B has graciously provided his list as well.

Mitch’s Top 10 Concerts (in chronological order)

Neil Young & Crazy Horse, Great Woods, Mansfield, MA 9/20/1986
It was my first real boy concert (I had previously seen John Cafferty & the Beaver Brown Band at Six Flags/Great Adventure – they were pretty awesome and I stayed for the late show, by the way) and Neil truly delivered. We walked in during “Like a Hurricane” and for the next two hours the band literally blew us away. (Get it? Hurricane = blew away. Ha!)

Grateful Dead, Worcester Centrum, Worcester, MA 4/8/1988
My first Dead show and the only one while Brent was still alive. In retrospect the show itself was good not great (Jerry’s voice was rough, but no complaints about the “Jack Straw” opener and “Black Muddy River” encore), but it was still an amazing experience for a 16 year old. My parents made me attend a USY sleepover trip to the “Rocky Horror Picture Show” in exchange for seeing the Dead. Do you want to guess which show was more fun? (Listen to the show here!)

Hall & Oates, Palace Theatre, Albany, NY 2/14/1991
My college girlfriend and I had our first “official” date on Valentine’s Day at an amazing acoustic performance by the underappreciated duo from Philly. I guess it worked – we’re still together 18+ years later. Daryl & John strike again!

R.E.M., Knickerbocker Arena, Albany, NY 6/20/1995
It was the perfect timing to see R.E.M. live, as they were supporting their excellent rock album Monster and Billy Berry was still in the band. I’m not sure if I need to see them again, but we really dug that show.

The Artist (Prince), FleetCenter, Boston, MA 7/25/1997
Say what you will about Prince, but he is an incredible performer. He sang, he danced, he shredded and he threw a hell of a party. The only thing missing was Morris Day.

Tom Waits, Orpheum Theatre, Boston, 9/21/1999
It was a dream come true: one of my favorite artists – who rarely tours – hit Boston and took us on a trip through his fertile imagination. I’m not even sure if it was a concert – it was more like musical performance art. He was part carnival barker, part spoken word poet, part musician and altogether amazing. I’d go see Tom again anywhere, anytime.

Jimmy Page & the Black Crowes, Worcester Centrum, Worcester, MA 10/16/1999
I couldn’t believe the news when I heard that my favorite band would be playing a Led Zeppelin show with Pagey himself. It was an incredible experience, capped off with a sit-in by Aerosmith’s Joe Perry. I still can’t believe this show happened. If you don’t own a copy of Live at the Greek (the double CD from the show in LA), then you’re missing out on one of the best collaborations in music history.

Phil Lesh & Friends featuring Chris Robinson, Agannis Arena, Boston, MA 12/1/2005
When C-Rob first hooked up with Phil for the 3 show cycle in December of 2004 I knew it was an inspired pairing – Robinson’s singing, harp playing and stage presence plus Phil’s musical genius and the Dead songbook – how could you beat that combination? This is probably my #1 show of all time. The Dolphins! Ruben & Cherise! (Listen to the show here!)

Boz Scaggs, Bank of America Pavilion, Boston, MA 8/17/2006
My wife and I were so excited to see Boz for the first time that we brought the ruckus to the Pavilion that night. The septuagenarians wanted to chill out, but our section ended up rocking out - thanks to us (until security intervened) You know that Slim appreciated the energy, though. (Review)

Ryan Adams & the Cardinals, Orpheum Theatre, Boston, MA 2/21/2009
Boy, I wish I got on board with the Cardinals earlier. At least we were able to catch their last show in Boston before Ryan’s retirement. Adams and Neal Casal in the same band, playing their inspired brand of jammy country-rock, is a special thing indeed. (Listen to the show here!) (Review)

Mitch’s Top 10 Black Crowes Concerts (in chronological order)

Saratoga Winners, Cohoes, NY, 11/29/1990
We both loved Shake Your Money Maker, so when Longhair and I heard that the Crowes were playing a tiny barn just north of Albany we had to make the trip. They were young, sloppy and playing off of a small setlist, but it was obvious that they had the chops. I can still remember details of the show vividly almost 20 years later.

Knickerbocker Arena, Albany, NY, 2/5/1991
Opening up for ZZ Top (before they got kicked off the tour) it was great to see how much the Crowes had progressed in just 3 short months. I remember hearing the long “Shake ‘Em On Down”>”Get Back” jam and thinking that they were definitely starting to stretch things out. ZZ Top, while solid and professional, seemed a little too slick by comparison. I think I still have a bad VHS copy of this show somewhere.

H.O.R.D.E., SPAC, Saratoga, NY 8/13/1995
When the Crowes were headlining H.O.R.D.E. at SPAC, just four days after Jerry died, they were a very different band than they were in the early ‘90s. They achieved lift-off on “My Morning Song”. It was transcendent. They were playing on another level. No other band at that festival could even come close to them.

Orpheum Theatre, Boston, MA 10/26/1996
There were a lot of shows for us at the good old Orpheum and 10/26/96 was a real barn-burner, full of treats from 3 Snakes. If you were there, you’ll remember the crazy energy in that room. They were peaking and the loyal Amoricans were happy to go along for the ride. Triple encore!

Furthur Festival, Great Woods, Mansfield, MA, 7/1/1997
It was a long day in the sun at Furthur. There was a lot of acoustic rock in the afternoon (Bob/Rob RatDog, Arlo Guthrie) and by the time the Crowes hit the stage late it was like a slap in the face. They played a blistering hour-long set, with lots of bluesy nuggets like “Shake Your Money Maker”, “Spider in the Sugar Bowl Blues” and “Crow Black Chicken”, plus amazing originals like “Wiser”>”Ballad”, “How Much for Your Wings?” and “Another Roadside Tragedy”, plus a cover of Keef’s “Happy”. This show clearly illustrated the divide between the Deadheads and the Amoricans (the Crowes were far too heavy for many of the ‘heads) but by the time the night ended, with the all-star jam on “Not Fade Away” and “Knockin’ on Heavens Door”, we were all joined together, grinnin’ and spent. (Note: this marathon show is why my wife doesn’t do hippie festivals anymore!)

Orpheum Theatre, Boston, MA 2/23/1999
While the Audley Freed era isn’t my favorite Crowes period, there’s still plenty of good music to be found under that sweet ‘fro. This show was our last before we had kids and the Crowes went on hiatus. We were treated to a first-time “(Only) Halfway to Everywhere” and a loud, fast, fun show that delivered a “No Speak, No Slave” prior to a triple encore. Plus, we were practically sitting on the stage for this one.

Hammerstein Ballroom, NY, NY 3/26/2005
When the reunion was announced I immediately bought tickets, not “realizing” that the show was in NYC the night before Easter. Good thing that I’m a Jew and my wife is sweet on me. I could have died happily when “Cursed Diamond” kicked off the show. The only black mark was that this show occured before Gorman came back. I always knew that Gorman was a great drummer, but I didn’t realize just how important he was to the band until he wasn’t there. Never leave us again, Steve!

Somerville Theatre, Somerville, MA 3/5/2008
After they announced the one-night only Warpaint launch shows I knew that I wanted to go in blind. What an experience it was to hear their first new album in 7 years live in a movie theater! Sure, we had to get single tickets, but it was well worth it. In addition to hearing the excellent Warpaint tunes, we were treated to a few nice covers, including a perfect rendition of Clapton’s “Don’t Know Why”. (Review)

The Opera House, Boston, MA 10/17/2008
This was the show where Luther Dickinson really won me over. Beautiful venue, great setlist, everything was perfect. Just a perfect, perfect show. That “Bring On, Bring On” was astoundingly beautiful. It was another great night in Boston. (Review)

Bank of America Pavilion, Boston, MA 8/27/09
The tour to support Before the Frost….Until the Freeze started a few days before the record was released, so again I got the opportunity to hear a bunch of new tunes played live for the first time. And as much as I love the new material, it was the kick-ass version of “Sometimes Salvation” that sent me home with a big smile. (Review)

Kenny B’s Top 10 Concerts (in descending order from #10 to #1)

Jackson Browne, Sedona, AZ 10/5/1996 (solo, benefit for Native American School)
This was just one of those spectacular fall days in Arizona and the music was a perfect complement to the red rocks that surrounded the stage. It could have been Raffi playing “The Wheels on the Bus” and it still would have been a great day.

Rolling Stones, Rose Bowl, Pasadena, CA 10/21/1994 (Voodoo Lounge tour)
Seeing the Stones live had been a dream of mine since I was 13 and I started listening to Beggar’s Banquet on my friend’s father’s turntable. They were great. Mick’s voice was above average, but it was their energy that really made the show great.

Grateful Dead, Compton Terrace, Chandler, AZ 12/5/1992
I hate to repeat praise, but outdoor, afternoon concerts in Arizona (unless it happens to be between March 1 and September 30) are just spectacular. This one featured the completely unexpected “Here Comes Sunshine” which hadn’t been played since 1974 and a guy in a big, yellow ultralight (those little flying mopeds) circling overhead. Bobby said “Jerry says it looks like a Texas dragonfly.”  Why Jerry couldn’t have told us that himself remains a mystery…well, probably not such a mystery when you think about it. (Listen to the show here!)

Eric Clapton, America West Arena, Phoenix, AZ 3/11/1994 (From the Cradle tour)
This was Clapton in his comfort zone. White painters pants and a white t-shirt blowing everyone away with old school blues.

Neil Young, Desert Sky Pavillion, Phoenix, AZ 9/27/1992 (solo tour)
I love acoustic Neil Young! Okay, I’m pretty much a fan of all things Neil Young (except that disastrous Shocking Pinks album), I even like the album he did with the Blue Notes and no one liked that one (based on the things people were yelling at him when he ended his show at Great Woods in the summer in 1989.) Give me Neil acoustic anytime. He was phenomenal. I am usually not a fan of the pavilion shows (Tweeter Center…er, Comcast Center) but I had third row seats, so I had that going for me too, which is nice.

U2, Sun Devil Stadium, Tempe, AZ 10/24/1992
This concert happened to also be my first date with a lovely young lady I had been looking to court for some time, and who naturally dumped me a couple months later. But like the romances of my early twenties, my relationship with U2 was equally as fleeting. I loved the show, I liked the girl. When we were together, it was magical. After a couple of months the newness wore off and I’ve never seen either one of them again. But it was fun while it lasted and it was a time I’ll never forget.

Aerosmith, Compton Terrace, Chandler, AZ 7/29/1993 (Get a Grip tour)
I saw Aerosmith only twice, but I’ve heard lots of live stuff from them. I’ve never heard Tyler sound like he did this night though. He hit every single high note and scream with precision and authority. And the boys rocked it hard. It was, as previously mentioned however, July in Arizona so was just a tad on the warm side. And don’t give me that “it’s a dry heat” crap. Stick your face in a hot oven for about two hours. That’s dry too!

Grateful Dead, Silverbowl, Las Vegas, NV 5/29/1992 (Steve Miller opened)
A great “1/2 Step” to open the show and a solid first set. Just as the second set was opening to a great “China/Rider” the sky behind the stage began to turn into one of those crazy summer storms that you only see in those touristy pamphlets you find at rest stops. As the first few notes of “Looks Like Rain” began, the thunder began to quietly roll and a couple of lightning bolts crashed down way off in the distance. And just when Bobby starts screaming “I can’t stand the rain! I can’t stand it no!” as Jerry’s guitar poured the raindrops down, the thunder became louder and the lightning was brighter. Some claim it was Mickey playing around on the percussion, some claim it was God. I don’t know which is true, but it was awesome! (Listen to the show here!)

Pearl Jam, Mesa Amphitheater, Mesa, AZ 11/7/1992
It took me a while to accept grunge. I thought Kurt Cobain was a punk and that his angst was just a gimmick. But when Pearl Jam’s debut album, Ten, came out I loved it. It wasn’t my crowd, I was more attracted to a Dead show than the mosh pit scene, but I still had to see these guys. They did not disappoint! Everyone in the band is a great musician on his own, but it was Vedder’s voice that absolutely captivated. His emotions were real – you could feel it in every note. The crowd favorite “Black” was the highest of the highlights. As a side note, I then went back to listen a little more closely at Nirvana and began to appreciate them a little more. Pearl Jam was still #1, but Nirvana was okay in my book too. Cobain later proved that my theory about his gimmicky angst was very, very wrong. RIP, Kurt.

Jerry Garcia Band, Warfield Theater, San Francisco, CA 1/14/1995
I had gone up to San Francisco with a couple of friends for 3-nights of Jerry at the Warfield. The Friday night show (1/13/95) was good with a couple of highlights. Actually, the whole weekend was good with a couple of highlights each night. But the crown jewel of the run came to open the second set on Saturday night. A 27-minute version of “Shining Star” (the 70’s hit by The Manhattans). Somewhere in the middle Jerry was just leading the crowd with a quick note on the guitar every bar or so as we all sang to him “You are my shining star, don’t you go away! I want to be right here where you are, till my dying day!” In hindsight, it seems sort of prophetic.

So what are your personal favorite shows? Please feel free to share them in the comments.

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Thanks as always for reading. Humor essays are here. Music essays are here. You can subscribe to this blog’s feed here and you can follow me on twitter here. And please tell your show buddies (just the cool ones) to stop by.

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One of the problems with today’s hyper-speed news cycle is that people barely get their full 15 minutes of fame anymore. One minute you’re surrounded by the paparazzo everywhere you go and before you know it – poof! – nobody cares about you anymore and you’re forced to rush out a bad memoir named after an X-Men character.

It sure seems like it’s gotten easier to get famous nowadays (thanks to more celebrity-based media and reality TV) but it’s much harder to stay famous. Worst of all, the truly talented people are getting lumped in with the general riff-raff (e.g. Jon & Kate) that are inexplicably clogging up our trashy magazines, website and TV shows.

In the future, if we want to keep evolving as a celebrity-obsessed culture, I think we’re going to need to create a new level of categorization somewhere between “celebrity” and “nobody.”

Now, you might be thinking, “isn’t that what the D-List is for?” And the answer is no. The D-List is for people that earned their way to celebrity-hood but didn’t have enough talent to stay famous or relevant. But that doesn’t take away from their initial accomplishments. For example, Corey (Feldman) & Corey (Haim) at their worst are still more culturally important than Octomom at her best. The D-List is still a part of the list and you need talent to get on the list in the first place.

Personally, I’d like to use the term “infamous” but that implies being known for negative reasons and most modern reality stars are more tedious than negative. Plus, killing sprees involve a lot of messy work, so “infamous” probably needs to be reserved for serial killers. Just like middle name usage.

So, unless you have a better suggestion, I’m going with “lamous.” Basically, we replace the term “fame” with “lame” in all of its uses to make it clear that this person is known, but they’re not famous. They’re lamous.

So that solves our first problem of separating the famous from the lamous and the celebrities from the celamebrities. But how can genuinely talented people stay famous in this unpredictable media era?

My theory is that many creative people get famous for being themselves. Their first book, album or TV show is original and authentic and society embraces them for being slightly more talented versions of regular people. But then they can’t sustain their fame because being famous changes them and takes away what we liked about them in the first place.

This happens on Food TV all the time. Someone like Rachael Ray is initially appealing precisely because she’s goofy and unpolished. Then she hits it big, becomes a “personality” and loses all of the goofiness that we found appealing in the first place. Look at Guy Fieri. I’m sure he’s a nice guy but they turned him into a caricature of himself with the stupid backward sunglasses and the sweat band and the ridiculous shirts and hair. When he was just a regular schlub and he dressed like that he looked fine. Now he looks like a douche. Plus, that dude will literally eat garbage. No one likes a celebrity that eats garbage.

Many, but not all, musicians suffer from the sophomore slump. People think that the sophomore slump is a result of the artist having run out of good material. But I don’t think it’s the absence of quality material. I think it’s that their environment has changed. They went from being poor, unknown chumps to being stars. You can’t write about everyday life and relate to regular people when you’re taking private planes everywhere and partying with Verne Troyer.

The simple answer seems to be to “keep it real.” But that’s unrealistic advice. Nobody is going to live in a shitty apartment or eat Ramen noodles just to keep it real. That’s not authentic, either.

Nope, the key to staying famous is to never relate to regular people in the first place. By definition, you can’t lose touch with people that you were never in touch with in the first place. That’s what makes celebrities like Madonna (or her modern-day knock-off Lady Gaga) so compelling, even though their music is awful. They don’t seem like real people. They don’t look like they were ever kids or not-famous. They appear as if they were birthed fully-formed as celebrities, like Athena from Zeus’s head.

(My apologies for that burst of pomposity.)

In conclusion:

If you have talent and want to sustain a long career of fame, don’t be a regular person that hits it big – people will get bored with that. Be a famous person that occasionally treats the commoners to a glimpse of greatness.

If you don’t have talent, but you want to be well-known, please feel free to go on a reality TV show or a multi-state killing spree. But be forewarned, you’ll never be a real celebrity and we might use your middle name.

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While many people will scratch and fight and basically do anything they can to avoid getting old, there is a small minority of individuals (okay, just me) that actually enjoys aging. I’m guessing it’s because as a child I was blessed with three glorious old men in my life – my two dearly departed grandfathers and my writing idol, Andy Rooney.

I love old men, with their lax hygiene and their stubbornness. I love their rambling, pointless stories about multiple unnamed characters. I love their complaining about anything and everything. And I especially love their old man cars.

Oh my, do I ever love their old man cars. Give me a Lincoln or a Mercury any day. If I had the money I would single-handedly save the American car industry. I dream of one day owning a Cadillac and putting a box of tissues and a navy cap on the rear shelf. I love that fabric roof top that looks like a convertible but isn’t. I love driving a little too slowly and drifting over the center line a little too much. And I love getting mad at anyone that tries to tell me to pay attention to the road.

But my big problem is that time moves so damn slowly. I’m just not getting old fast enough. It’s taken me practically a whole lifetime to get to be my current age and I’m not sure that I have the patience to wait until I’m officially pronounced old (I’m calling 70 old these days).

To ease my fractured nerves, I’ve been thinking about some of the signs of aging so that I can anticipate and celebrate them as they happen. You know, I’m just looking for a few positive markers to keep me motivated during my long journey.

So today, I’m excited for the day when I can no longer feel the roof of my mouth.

Let me explain. If you’ve ever worked in a restaurant (I was a cook for 7+ years) then you know that soup can never be hot enough for an old person. No matter how bubbling, boiling or scalding the soup is upon delivery, it absolutely won’t be hot enough for an old person. I’ve served thousands of bowls of soup in my day and I have never once heard an old person say “that’s too hot!” (Although I did once hear an old lady say “that’s hot!” like Paris Hilton and it haunted me for months.)

Since the same exact thing happens with old people and their coffee, my educated guess is that old people must lose all sensation on the roof of their mouths at a certain point in their lives. My palette, on the other hand, is still as sensitive as a baby’s bottom. In fact, just yesterday the roof of my mouth got all “skin-y” from an overly vigorous toothbrushing session.

Speaking of coffee, why do old people drink it with everything? Next time you’re in a diner sneak a peek at the old people and you’ll see that they all drink coffee (black, maybe decaf) no matter what time of day it is or what they’re eating. Coffee and an english muffin? Sure. Coffee and a tuna fish sandwich? Of course. Coffee and spaghetti? Why not?

So, as I was saying…wait, what was the point of this essay again?

Hey! I really am getting old! Hooray for me!

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One of the best things about being a man is having facial hair. Not only is growing a beard totally fun but it also allows a guy to completely change his look. Unlike women who can color and cut their hair to mix things up, most adult men just don’t have enough head hair to do anything exciting.

(On a side note, I once had a meeting with a 40-something guy with perfect hair: flowing locks, full and shiny. I was mesmerized by it. What Faustian bargain did he strike to score that hair? And how come actors and politicians always have more hair per capita than regular guys? Is it the hair that makes them successful? Would it be awkward if I ran my hands through your hair?)

I first fell in love with the beard when I got a copy of Springsteen’s “The Wild, The Innocent & The E Street Shuffle” as a young boy. Bruce had a great, scraggly beard on that LP cover and I dreamed about having a beard like that one day. A few years later Tom Selleck and his fantastic moustache appeared on Magnum, PI and I was smitten. Now that was a moustache that you could set your watch to!

I always wanted to be that kid in high school with the facial hair. Remember that one guy that hit puberty way early and was already shaving on a regular basis? Yeah, I wanted to be that guy. In retrospect, that guy seems weird and creepy but at the time he seemed very mature and debonair. Then again, it wasn’t really an option for me as I couldn’t grow a beard in high school. Actually, the beard came in first, but the moustache was still pretty sketchy my first year in college.

Nowadays I’m a regular facial hair growing machine. I can bust out a credible beard in just under a week. I’m pretty proud of myself for that, by the way.

I almost always wear some kind of facial hair as my skin tends to be a little ruddy and my nose seems even bigger without the facial hair (yes, I’m painting a very attractive picture for you today.) I usually vacillate between 3 main looks:

Look #1: The Full Beard

Actually, the full beard would imply no shaving and I usually clean up the neck a little. Also, I trim it before it gets too bushy, or else you look like a crazy mountain man. Trimming requirements aside, the full beard is by far my favorite look. I think that it makes me look more rugged and macho and let’s face it – I need all the macho that I can get.

The only problem with the full beard is that it doesn’t work in the summer. Not only is it hot and itchy, but it’s just looks weird – like wearing cords in August. Or wearing manpris, any time.

Look #2: The Goatee

I actually hate the goatee because I think that it’s for fat guys and baseball players. Since I’m trying not to be a fat guy and I’m not so great at baseball I just don’t feel right with the goatee. But, the goatee is the go-to option when it’s too hot for the beard. I don’t think the goatee looks as good on me as the beard but it looks better than clean shaven, so I stick with it.

I’ve tried many of the fancy goatees but I just don’t like them – the beard only, the disconnected top and bottom, the wide goatee, the narrow goatee – nothing really strikes my fancy, though.

One time – just for fun – I shaved my goatee into a Fu Manchu and picked up my son at the YMCA summer camp. I knew that it must have looked creepy when parents were literally shielding their children from me. The Fu Manchu: It’s not just for bikers anymore!

Look #3: The Soul Patch

For some odd reason my wife likes the soul patch on me, but I feel like a tool when I have it. Mine is just too rectangular and a good soul patch has to be triangular. It seems like such a half-assed attempt at being a hipster, too. I mean, when you pull up next to me in traffic and I’m belting out some later-era Elton John power-ballad with the car seats in the back, don’t you just despise me and my stupid soul patch? Don’t you want to smack me for ruining the soul patch and everything that it stands for? I do.

One summer when I had the soul patch there was another daycare dad that had one (first). So we called him “Soul Patch Man #1” and I became “Soul Patch Man #2”. For the next few weeks whenever we spotted a soul patch man we would add to our list. It was fun, like we were a little club – the soul patch brotherhood. The moral of the story is that soul patches are more popular than you might think, but I still look like a loser with one. Sorry guys, I’m out of the brotherhood.

The Experiment

Lately I’ve been trying to figure out if people treat me differently based on the style of facial hair that I’m sporting. Like yesterday, I’ve got a very rugged 4 day stubble going – just enough to show that I mean business. And the barista at Starbucks gave me a venti for the price of a grande. And when I asked why she just kind of giggled, as if to say: “because you look so damn sexy today, Mr. Stubble, because you look so damn sexy!”

Or, maybe she just hit the wrong key on the register. But I think we know that it was the stubble. Anyway, I’ll keep tracking the results and will update you with any interesting findings.

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I’ve always thought that I could really succeed at prison life. And I don’t mean the local lock-up or even the county jail. I’m talking medium-to-maximum security prison-prison. Now, I’m not saying that I want to go to prison, nor am I implying that I accidentally killed a man in Boise and deserve to go to prison. I’m just saying that I think I could survive – and possibly even enjoy – a little time in prison.

Things that I think I’d like about Prison Life:

1) The clothing: prison garb consists of loose, flowy pants and shirts that ride the line between sweats and real clothes. Sounds comfy to me!  Plus, the vertical stripes are very slimming.

2) The alone time: while I’m no Unabomber, I’m also a person that can go long stretches without needing to leave the house and/or interact with other humans. Solitary confinement sounds kind of awesome if you think about it.

3) The mobile library: here I am, like a schmuck, going to the library and bookstore while in prison they bring the books to you.

4) The food: they don’t serve that fancy chef-inspired crap that I detest so much in prison. We’re talking Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes and other real food three times a day, every day. Yum!

5) The gangs: I feel like I’d do pretty well working my way up a prison gang hierarchy. I’m not great with a shank, but I’d definitely work on my skills if I knew that I was going to be in the joint for a while.

6) The free Johnny Cash concerts: ’nuff said.

Things that I think I wouldn’t like about Prison Life:

1) The yard: never a great athlete, I feel like my lack of sports skills might prevent me from getting on the prison soccer/football team and planning a dramatic escape.

2) The guards: they seem mean and are always demanding favors and bribes. I don’t like their attitude at all.

3) The gangs: I’m not sure which gang to align myself with. I’m leaning Latino, but I’d have to brush up on my Spanish a bit first. The skinheads would definitely not like me. I’d like to read some brochures before I commit, though. It’s such a major life-decision – kind of like picking a fraternity to pledge, I’d imagine.

4) The pay: $1.65 an hour to do the laundry seems a little low. Sure, I could always supplement it by dabbling in the cigarette-strawberry wine trade, but still, I’d like to make at least $6 an hour.

5) The sheets: I hear that the thread-count is below 300. That’s really not going to cut it. I have sensitive skin, you know.

6) The free Billy Ray Cyrus concerts: ’nuff said, again.

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