I know what you're saying

you're saying "I like 'The Boys Are Back In Town' and I like 'Ignition' by R. Kelly, but where can I hear them in a pensive acoustic cover TOGETHER by The Mountain Goats?
Here is where.

The Boys Are Back In Town - the Mountain Goats

My favorite band for the next few minutes...

is Punks Not Dad. Listen to their song "In Me Shed".




There’s a place where I wanna go
be on my own when I’m feeling low
Only place that I wanna be – ONLY PLACE WHERE A DAD CAN BE FREE!
If you want me - you know where to find me If you need me - you’ll know where to look – I’ll be…
In me shed - reading the paper
In me shed - stirring up some paint
In me shed - sorting out me jam jars
In me shed in me shed
In me shed - fixing a puncture
In me shed - oiling the lawnmower
In me shed - having a quiet fag
In me shed in me shed in me shed

Theres a place where I wanna be -
get away from the family
Where a bloke can be a bloke
put me feet up have a smoke
If you want me - you know where to find me If you need me - you’ll know where to look…
In me shed - varnishing a picture frame
In me shed - mending a toaster
In me shed - doing the sudoku
In me shed in me shed
In me shed - listening to the cricket
In me shed - sampling me homebrew
In me shed - cleaning a sparkplug In me shed in me shed I’LL BE IN ME SHED!
In me shed – looking for the Duraglit
In me shed – repotting me tomatoes
In me shed – having a quiet nap In me shed in me shed
In me shed – got a paraffin heater
In me shed – got an old leather sofa
In me shed – got a nice bit of carpet In me shed in me shed
In me shed – got a Razzle and a Mayfair In me shed – got a handy little workbench
In me shed – got a transistor radio In me shed in me shed
In me shed – I’ll be readin’ the paper In me shed – and stirrin’ up some paint
In me shed – sortin’ out me jam jars In me shed In me shed
In me shed In me shed In me shed In me shed IN ME SHED!

(found on BoingBoing)

**

At the coffee place this morning

ME: Medium coffee and a muffin please.
BARISTO (male form of Barista): We have a special going where if you get a large coffee the muffin is only a dollar.
ME: Would a large coffee and a muffin be cheaper than a medium coffee and a muffin?
BARISTO: Yeah, it would.
ME: But I don't want that much coffee because then I would want to drink it and I would be all twitchy and panicky. I only want a medium.
BARISTO: I'm just saying.
ME: Could you give me a large coffee but just put it in a medium cup so there's only a medium amount of coffee in my large coffee?
BARISTO: Sure, I could do that. Great idea!

INGENUITY!

**

I AM ON TO YOU

We're living in confusing times, thus it becomes necessary to identify truth and deception. We need to call out those people and institutions that we're on to.

You know the rules. It's not a condemnation exactly, more just a statement that while these folks/things/ideas might have other people fooled, they DON'T HAVE YOU FOOLED. You are on to them.

For further research, see:
First edition

Second edition
Third edition
Fourth edition
Fifth edition
Sixth edition

Okay, I admit this was all prompted today by hearing a Lily Allen song.

I am on to you, Lily Allen.
I'm on to you, Raisin Bran Extra. Yogurty clusters? Come on. Go check in with Raisin Bran Crunch on how to be a proper RB progeny.
I'm on to you He's Just Not That Into You. And I'm a little exhausted from that sentence.
I'm on to you, Apple, with your new proprietary headphones. Not. Fooled.
I'm on to you, Triscuits.
And you, Morning Glory Muffins.
Took me a while, The Strokes, but you have been found out. I'm on to you.
Icy sidewalks? I'm on to you too. Not that you care.
Everyone's on to you, minus 6 degrees in mid-March. Not that you care.
I wish I could say I'm on to you, Michael Steele, but I've totally lost the trail. I have no idea where you're going.

So. Your turn. Go!


**

Where Are We?

I'm writing this at Blogger.com. It's the website where I write the content that will appear on my blog, Monkey Disaster, which appears at monkeydisaster.blogspot.com. I started the blog way back in, jeez, 2003? Or something? Six years ago, just about. It was to be an outlet for my writing, my training facility for other writing, a way to stay in shape. Friends started reading it, then strangers, I've never made a dime on it and never will but I believe it's read by people.

Now, in October of 2007 I joined Facebook and soon after that enabled a feature there that imported all the posts from the blog over to Facebook. So sometimes when I make a post that gets a lot of comments, an I'm On To You post for instance, they show up both on the blog and on Facebook.

And, forgive me Facebook readers, but I've sometimes thought that you're getting it wrong. That comments belong not on the Facebook servers but the ones connected to the blog. That felt like the REAL place to me.

But I'm not sure about that anymore. Because, jeez, what does internet real estate really mean anymore (What did it ever mean, John?) (Shut up.)

I recently heard a speech by the new president of NPR, Vivian Schiller, who said that she sees a day in the near future where the NPR.org website just wouldn't matter anymore since people would receive that content on their Facebook and iPhone and a million other places. It should be noted that Schiller used to be at the New York Times and she claims credit for being the one to take down their dumb Times Select pay feature. Meanwhile, one of the brainy web people at my own company says he wants to move away from the idea of a radio show web page being a "Walden" experience, this pristine disconnected from all other realities. "More Emerson, less Thoreau," another colleague noted.

Meanwhile, I must admit I'm rather hooked on the press-the-lever-get-the-pellet nature of Twitter and do lots of writing there. We're at a curious time in our communications and technology history. It was a short while ago that I marveled at the idea that anyone could create a blog and have instant distribution to anyone who had access to a computer. It was the most dispersing and democratic thing I could think of. Now, this whole blog - which I have no plans to abandon - feels almost like a relic.

**

Today I read the Wikipedia entry on Kim Wilde

I have an excuse: I was trying to shoot some video in my office but I have western exposure and blinds so in the late afternoon I was getting a sort of Kids In America video feel to it. So that's why I was reading about it.

Check that. I have no excuse.

Anyway, there was this:

Her second career as a gardener has been equally successful, having received many accolades within only five years as a serious gardener, including a Gold at the 2005 Chelsea Flower Show. She also held an entry in the book of Guinness World Records for successfully moving and replanting the world's largest tree with fellow horticulturist Dave Fountain. Unfortunately the tree was blown away by a storm in January 2007.


Ah, hell, fine, here:



**

Well here's some music for you.

My colleagues at The Current cool people radio station that is hip but not alienatingly so have launched a little widget thingie. You can listen to The Current now from right here. I might put it over on the side bar later on. Let me know what you think.

Superuseless Superpowers

This is the funniest thing I've ever seen. Superuseless Superpowers. Like "Healing Punch":


Float like a butterfly and sting like the bedside manner of Mother Teresa. As a superhero, sometimes you have to resort to violence. Too bad your ferocious fists instantly heal the damage you inflict. Whereas most punches would deliver a crushing Ivan Drago-like knockout. Yours leave your opponent feeling amazingly refreshed and rejuvenated. At least until he counters with an uppercut to your esophagus.



Then there's:

SUPERUSELESS SUPERPOWER: NO-GOliath
Superhuman size. Totally human feet. Upon engaging the No-Go-liath power, the upper 95% of our superhero swells to impressive size. Shortly thereafter, he topples like Nick Nolte at an open-bar charity ball. Does anyone have a XXXXXL Hoveround?




Oh just go.

**

Walk to Work with Me

When we first moved to St Paul, we lived about 3 miles from where I work and, since it was Spring and then Summer, I would walk to and from each day. Now we live 4 miles away and Winter was here so I haven't walked as much. But today I did and, now that I have the handy iPhone these days, I took pictures of a few of my favorite landmarks on my usual route.

**

Do you have a broken hockey? Or even just a hockey that isn't running like it should? Take it here.

**

This statue is very interesting and located across the street from the broken hockeys. It honors the St Paul legend of a little girl who was born with the back part of a head of a bear and the front part of a head of an old man. She was cared for by a very tall man with a crack in his face who kept her in line using a shoe on a stick.

**

Around the corner is La Cucaracha Mexican Restaurant.
PERSON 1: Well, we're all set to open that Mexican restaurant. All we need now is a name. Maybe La Fiesta? Something like that? Delicioso?
PERSON 2: Let's go with La Cucaracha!
PERSON 1: The cockroach? You want to name our restaurant after a cockroach? You really think that's the best choice? Out of the entire universe of names, out of the infinite possibility of human language, you choose the cockroach?
PERSON 2: Yes, because I want customers to get grossed out and never come here FOR I AM CRAZY!

**

Oh by the way

I'm on to you, Belle & Sebastian.
You too Sean Penn but congrats all the same.


**

Success

It's something I was never sure I had achieved. Until I saw this dude reading from my book on YouTube.



Thank you, Russ.


**

Jokes by Charlie Moe (age 8)

What kind of mythical beast do you put on spaghetti?
Pega-sauce!

Where do lumberjacks go after pre-K?
Timergarten!

Where do cows shop for books?
Barns and No Bull!


Talent show audition is on Monday. Wish him luck.


**

The challenge of photographing a baby

Sometimes there will be a stray crumb...



other times, a stray tear...



Still and all, it's a fun thing to do.

*

Not in the Brochure

We've been in St Paul for nearly a year now. It's been a busy year: arriving in new city, God trying to ice murder me, Margaret born, promoted to host the show, buying a house, show getting canceled, God resuming ice murder efforts.

What's really struck me (besides ice shards) has been the delightful surprises of living here. Things that I didn't expect but have come to love:

1. Kemp's milk. I don't know why but it is better than any other milk I've ever had. And I didn't even know some milk could taste better than other milk. I would drink gallons of this stuff at a sitting if I could get away with it and I just might try one of these days.

2. The bunnies. I've talked about this before but there are bunnies all over. They destroy your garden (solution: don't garden) and are delightful. My love has lessened somewhat with all the tiny bunny poops in my yard.

3. Less wealth. Seattle is a rich town. You go to a coffee shop there and even the people loafing around have top of the line computers. Houses are (were?) expensive but people buy them anyway. Here, there is simply less money and it is an incredible relief. I have become less acquisitive. In Seattle, I used to think about what kind of new car I wanted, here I barely even drive a car and I just don't worry about the whole wealth/status thing. It's nice.

4. Warm hats. Never needed them before but they're a delight! Now I know why all the sullen hipsters wearing them incongruously in warm climates love them so much. Doesn't thwart God but slows His progress.

Look, I'm not down on Seattle. I still love it and miss it in many ways but I think it is of value to look at what is secretly great about where you live.

What's secretly great about where YOU live?


*

Happy President's Day

ME: So if that's TEDDY Roosevelt, who is that there?
CHARLIE (age 8): I don't know. Is it Woodrow Wilson?
ME: No. He's related to Teddy Roosevelt. His last name is also Roosevelt. His first name starts with "F".
CHARLIE: Is it...the bad F word?
ME: No. No, they wouldn't name a president F*ck Roosevelt.
CHARLIE: BUT WOULDN'T IT BE GREAT IF THEY DID?!

**

ME: Kate, would you want to be president one day?
KATE (age 6): I don't know...it's a pretty big job...but I wonder if there's room service.
ME: You wonder if there's room service when you're president?
KATE: Is there?
ME: I'm pretty sure there is.
KATE: OKAY! I'll DO IT! And is there a hundred rooms in the White House?
ME: Maybe. There's a lot of rooms.
KATE: And does each room HAVE A TV?!
ME: Not every room. Some just have paintings.
KATE: Well, that's okay. I'll still do it.


**

A DARE!

Watch this and then try to be sad. YOU CANNOT DO IT!



My favorite? "I'm her mom!" "No, she's not."

Found at BoingBoing.

**

What, I ask you, is more delightful?

This beautiful Beck cover?

Or the fact that I learned about it from Rainn Wilson's Twitter feed?




**

Now we are Minnesotans

It was a parent-child ice fishing day at Fort Snelling in Minneapolis. So we go. It starts with an 80-minute presentation on ice fishing at the visitor center:
- Long safety video of people plunging into an icy lake in their cars and then struggling like hell to not die.
- Item by item presentation on ice fishing equipment. The ranger would talk about each item, tell how much it costs, and then tell you why you probably didn't need it.
- Every kid in the place was like, "uh...WHEN DO WE FISH?!"

Then we got to build our own fishing pole out a dowel and some line and a hook. Then out to the frozen lake! Where the ranger used a power auger to drill holes in the 10-inch thick ice.

And it was only then that I realized: wait a minute. Ice fishing takes forever to catch anything. That's why you sit there in special houses for hours, days on end. Also: no one in our family really even likes fish all that much.

So: "Tell you what, Charlie. Let me at least get a picture of you and then we can get out of here, knowing we are proper Minnesotans. Except without the patience."

Fine, he said.

And try to smile, I said.

Fine, he said.




**

My Pal Pull

Pull is an actor in New York. He's been on Law & Order a million times (always as different characters), he was on Ed, he was a bartender on a soap opera. When he was on the soap, he was always bartending in the same bar and wearing the same clothes. But they called his character by a different name each time so they wouldn't have to pay him as a recurring character. Nice.

Anyway, Pull is the customer in this video. THERE ARE SWEARS.


Sony Releases New Stupid Piece Of Shit That Doesn't Fucking Work


**

Career Advice

from a guy who's show got canceled. So take it or don't.

What you want do is this:

Find something that a) you love doing, b) that you have real ability at doing, and c) that the least number of other people as possible are doing well.

That is the formula. I'm convinced of it.

If you have one of the three, you are foolish to pursue this.

If you have two of the three, you are in for some frustration and possibly some rewards, depending on where luck goes.

If you have all three, you will be a success.

This is not to say that the something will be easy to find, it probably won't be, but that is your map.

*

This Week

So last Saturday was the final ever Weekend America, an occasion on which I have expended so many words and emotions that I'm frankly wrung out. I mourn the loss, I stride into the future. There.

Saturday included a party at one of our producers' house. Then there was a Super Bowl party over at our friends' Steve and Sarah's house. They're Wisconsinites so there was Leinenkugels and weenies. And on Sunday night I was thinking, "I'm not ready to go back to work." After escorting Weekend America through the death process, it felt plum goofy to plunge back in on Monday and begin the long and complex process of developing new national programming. So at the urging of my wife, who is wise, and my boss, who is doing this same thing and is also wise, I elected to take a week off. Use vacation. Clear my head.

Part of Jill's plan was for me to do Bikram yoga, which is this crazy thing where you go into a room that's set at like 110 degrees and then you fail for 90 minutes while you attempt to do things that everyone else's bodies can do. Today was day four.

In the afternoons, I've been seeing movies. Milk, Slumdog Millionaire, and The Wrestler.

The neat part is that I now can't wait to get back to work. I have more enthusiasm, ideas, inspirations than I ever would have had going back to work this week.

*

Advice

This is the advice of Thelonious Monk as recorded by his saxophonist.



Found here.

I Got No Quarrel With You

So obviously this blog is famous the world over for introducing the concept of I'm On To You. All the kids love it, Obama used it to get elected, it explains the Jonas Brothers. But I fear it may be too negative at times. We need positivitiness in America today (foreigners, don't sweat it, stay dour) so we got a new one this time:

I Got No Quarrel With You. For people, things, institutions that have been on the receiving end of backlash or criticism. But for you? They're fine. Come on. They're good. Or at least okay. You don't see the fuss. Why the hate? You got no quarrel.

- I got no quarrel with you, Kevin Costner.
- I got no quarrel with you, Beyonce.
- Pizza Hut? I'm sorry there are haters. But we're straight. No quarrel here.
- Hey Bigfoot documentaries? Look, the science isn't the best but I do not have a problem with you. No quarrel.
- You too, ghost documentaries.
- Aaaaaand you, alien documentaries.
- I got no quarrel with you, more airport food than you would expect.
- Matter of fact, I got no quarrel with you, Esquire magazine that I purchase at airports.
- Oh, and later seasons of The Simpsons? Yeah, we're good. No quarrel. I think you're funny. I know what all those people say about you but I'm not saying those things. No quarrel.

Who/what/huh do YOU not have a quarrel with?

*

Friday Thoughts

1. Queen. Every time I hear Freddie Mercury sing, I understand religion. I also mourn. Damn, what a beautiful miracle is that man's voice. Here's what I wonder, though: if we can stipulate that Freddie's voice is what made Queen a transcendent band and not merely a great one, if we can stipulate that a Freddie solo record would lack something, what is the SECOND element that makes Queen so fantastic? Lyrics? Backing vocals? Brian May's innovation? Brian May's slightly harder edge serving as counterpoint? John Deacon on the bass?

2. Closing up the penultimate show of Weekend America. Having done both in the past year, I observe that ending a show is similar to moving out of town. There is sorrow, there is a deathy feeling, but there is also hope for the next thing. I'm looking forward to saying hello instead of all these goodbyes.

3. Microsoft laying people off? Microsoft?! For college educated types from Seattle, Microsoft is like the post office. As the saying goes, if all else fails, there's always work at the post office. In my case, that's been the big Redmond company. Unnerving. Odd. Also, probably not as big a deal as people make it out to be.

4, Thought I had this morning: you know what we need around here? More snow. And now it's snowing. So I'm...adjusting?

5. It did warm up, though, and we heard birds singing and saw the bunnies out in the yard again. Spring will happen, pitchers and catchers report in less than a month.

*

Previously on Lost...

people were confused.



*

A Conversation with Jill (age undisclosed) From the Past, About the Future

October 2006, I'm on book tour and call home one night at about 10:30 local time.

ME: So did the kids go down okay?
HER: Kate did but Charlie's still up.
ME: What's he doing up so late?
HER: Well, I was watching Oprah and he came downstairs. And Barack Obama was on. Then Charlie wanted to know who this guy was and I said he's a politician and he might run for president one day.
ME: So Oprah is on now?
HER: No, Oprah was on a few hours ago but Charlie's so excited about the idea of Barack Obama being president instead of Bush that now he just can't go to sleep. He keeps dancing around the room singing this Barack Obama song he just made up.

Still singing that dang song, too.

*

One of us one of us one of us

They're on to you, John Moe.

In a recent post, I talked about how Minnesotans are obsessed with weather and talk about it constantly.

It was swiftly pointed out that in the midst of observing this, I was obviously obsessed with weather and talked about it constantly.

Fair play. I will now accept this and revel in it.

1. Minus 20 this morning.
2. Minus 22 yesterday morning.
3. A tip in one of those parenting newsletters: blow soap bubbles with your kids and watch them freeze in mid-air. The bubbles, not the kids.
4. Nose hairs freeze and crystallize.
5. A couple at the Walgreen's was discussing which contact lens products would mitigate the risk of the lenses fusing to one's eyeballs.
6. Around here they call that "Minnesota Lasik".
7. It's terrifying, that cold.
8. It's also kind of funny. It's just so ridiculously cold, coldest around here in over five years by the way, that you just get amused.
9. You also wonder what would happen if the furnace stopped working and then the car wouldn't start and then the wolves came for you.
10. It's supposed to get into the pluses today. Possibly even breaking the freezing barrier early next week.
11. St Paul restaurants often have patios. I thought this was a bit silly for a while as the patios are often just some crappy tables out on the sidewalk where you eat your food as cars drive right by. I will not mock these patios again. I will fling myself upon the first table as soon as it is rolled out.
12. They have to replace Tavaris.

*

A Conversation with Kate (age 6) About Animals

(note: it was minus 22 at our house this morning)

ME: Boy, Kate. It's so cold I haven't even seen the critters outside lately. No bunnies, no squirrels. I hope the bunnies have dug some nice deep holes to stay warm in.
HER: Yeah. But what if they knock on the door?
ME: The bunnies?
HER: Yeah. If they knock on the door, what will we do?
ME: Well, of course we'd let them in.
HER: Yeah. And they can sleep in my bed. And hop around. Until summer, then we'd let them out.

Tickets to Kate's World will be available through a lottery system.

*

Speaking of poetry...

Here's a bunch of animated pictures of dead poets reading their poems. Is it creepy or is it beautiful?

One of them is Keats:


The answer: IT IS CREEPY.

(found via kottke)

*

Strange and Sweet

Brent Barry is one of the more interesting guys playing in the NBA. He used to play for the Sonics and developed a real attachment to the city, living a very public life there. Here he writes, uh, a poem. About a team he no longer plays for and that doesn't exist.

I can't help but sit here and think of what this means,
For the fans in the city of Seattle and what seemed to be routine.
Like a ferry ride to Bremerton or fresh salmon from old Pike Place,
A cup of joe while on the go, crossing bridges at a snails pace.
But this season there is silence, a reason not to cheer,
The balls have all stopped bouncing and the Sonics are not here.
Now life has more to offer us than just a doctor's game,
But for most of you, and it includes me too, Let me remind you of some names...

Read the whole thing.

_

Eustace Tilley contest entries posted

The New Yorker has posted some submissions for their annual cover featuring the guy in the top hat looking all froofy.





You can even submit your own and perhaps you should.

*

Imagined Conversations with Steve Martin Upon Seeing a Commercial for Pink Panther 2

ME: So you're doing another Pink Panther movie, huh?
STEVE MARTIN: Yeah. I just thought the original Peter Sellers ones were so funny and original and generally brilliant that I wanted to make more.
ME: Even though you did one a few years ago. You decided not to stop.
STEVE MARTIN: After this, who knows? I might keep going.
ME: I just think it's odd because it looks horrible, this movie. It looks stupid and over the top and just...just stupid.
STEVE MARTIN: Wow. Okay. Well, again, I just think it's a type of movie that was so great originally and I wanted to bring it back.
ME: Okay. Well, new topic then. Did I ever tell you I loved the 1983 Seattle Seahawks?
STEVE MARTIN: No, you didn't.
ME: Oh, they were great. Chuck Knox's first year coaching the team, Curt Warner was this amazing rookie running back. Dave Krieg was this scrappy quarterback. They made it to the playoffs and almost the Super Bowl.
STEVE MARTIN: Wow. That's great.
ME: Yeah, so here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to get that team back together except I'm going to start at quarterback instead of Dave Krieg. Then we're going to play against some modern NFL teams.
STEVE MARTIN: What? But all those guys are long since retired. Warner hasn't played in 18 years. And you have no business playing quarterback, especially today.
ME: But you don't understand, Steve Martin. I LOVED that team. I'm bringing them to a modern audience. And I'm inserting myself in the middle of it.
STEVE MARTIN: But that will be horrible to watch. Painful. Cruel, really.
ME: So you're saying that I should just leave the past alone? Let it be a good memory and that that's good enough?
STEVE MARTIN: Yes! Yes, of course!
ME: I see.

**

SCARLETT JOHANSSON: Hey, did you hear about my album? I recorded all these Tom Waits songs because I really like Tom Waits.
STEVE MARTIN: Really? Those songs are incredibly difficult. Not only are they very complex vocal arrangements but there's a depth of soul in them that is nearly impossible to pull off. I mean, you're a good actress and all but it's hard to see such an endeavor as anything but a vanity project.
SCARLETT JOHANSSON: You may have a point, Steve Martin. I guess just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.
STEVE MARTIN: Exactly. Hey, wait a min--
SCARLETT JOHANSSON: But here's the thing. Zillions of records get released all the time. Hell, with technology being what it is, anyone can put out an album that sounds professional. That means there's so much music that to hear anything in particular you need to seek it out. It doesn't come to you. So if someone thinks the idea of me singing Waits songs is ridiculous, well, they can avoid my record. I've had my fun, they've avoided it, no harm done.
STEVE MARTIN: Okay...
SCARLETT JOHANSSON: It's not like movies. If it's a big budget movie, it becomes a cultural event for anyone who consumes media. You can't watch TV or look at a newspaper without hearing about it. And God forbid you go to the theater, you may be forced to endure a three minute trailer for the goddamn thing. And if it's a horrible remake of a beloved film franchise, then it's like...uh...
STEVE MARTIN: Like what?
SCARLETT JOHANSSON: I guess I'll go with "someone pooping on your memory".

**

STEVE MARTIN: Peter Sellers?! What are you doing at the foot of my bed while I sleep?! You're dead!
PETER SELLERS: Yes. But this movie of yours...I started rolling in my grave. Then I figured I may as well get up. I was wondering if you knew what made the Pink Panther movies so funny in the first place.
STEVE MARTIN: I think so. I've made two of them now. What really makes it work is the funny French accent!
PETER SELLERS: No.
STEVE MARTIN: Oh. Well, then it's got to be the way over the top acting. Like you take a situation and then you just go all CRAZY and then it's funny
PETER SELLERS: No. No. That makes it less...never mind.
STEVE MARTIN: Okay okay. Maybe you should just tell me.
PETER SELLERS: How many of these have you made?
STEVE MARTIN: Two now.
PETER SELLERS: I really have to get going. I like your stuff in the New Yorker.
STEVE MARTIN: Oh. Thanks.

**

So you've moved to Minnesota. Well...

how IS it out there?

That's what people ask me. People from back in Seattle, anyway. It's odd, I still think of this blog as being read by Seattleites and I'm sure that's still the majority of the readership. But it stands to reason that there must be some Twin Cities folks reading it as well. The idea in my mind of a mostly Seattle audience kind of reveals that I still feel like I'm a visitor here. Perhaps it's an extended visit, like college or something, but it does not yet feel permanent.

Anyway, it's been nearly 10 months now. Here's how it is out here:

1. Weather is a huge topic of conversation.
2. People will talk about the weather wherever you go. Especially about extreme cold. The novelty has not worn off for them even if they're 90 and have never left Minnesota. Weather = fascinating!
3. The fact that people constantly talk about the weather means they constantly talk. It's a social place.
4. I think that's because it's based on farming and settlers. These people had to be social in order to NOT DIE. And it stuck.
5. I slipped into being a Vikings fan quite easily. This is probably because they are good and the Seahawks are not. The shallowness of my football fandom is now clear.
6. Still a Mariners fan. No wavering at all.
7. Trying to become a Timberwolves fan but the suckiness of their play and their dopey name makes that difficult.
8. I still can't get past the idea of Minnesota being funny, somehow. Like the entire state seems inherently whimsical, somehow. It's just a funny state. That perception on my part has made it harder to feel like this is home. I still feel like I'm living in a skit.
9. The accents. My god, the accents.
10. Humans are adaptable, it turns out. We had a few days there of minus 11 degrees or worse. We went out in it anyway, kids went to school, life continued. Then it heated up to 4 degrees and I couldn't believe how warm it was. Humans are adaptable.
11. There's this band out here called Cloud Cult. They're from Minneapolis. People talk about them constantly.
12. But they don't talk about Prince as much as you would think.
13. Great coffee was easy to find. So was great beer. Good Thai food took a while but was found eventually. Great pizza? The search continues.
14. Did that #8 thing make me sound like I didn't like it here? Sorry. No, I like it here. I like it a lot. It feels like a home. But I think it still feels like I'm looking into someone else's home. Will it be more like MY home, maybe after a year or two? Yeah probably.
15. I must admit, though, that the cancellation of Weekend America was a bummer. Did you hear about that? Our last show is 1/31/09. Crappy economy, big expensive show, you do the math.
16. I'm staying with the company, though. Future projects to be announced in due time.
17. I have developed a snow shoveling technique that works for me.
18. I have bought sidewalk salt.
19. I used to go entire winters without wearing a hat or gloves. Now, I have many pairs of gloves and many hats. I have a hat that makes me look like a ninja.
20. Minnesota, and especially St. Paul, feels like a place that is uniquely my own. I grew up in the suburbs of Seattle, went off to various places for short term things, but then returned to the city where I lived for years. We stay in our hometowns by default, it's what we know. St. Paul is not what I know, which makes it all feel very fresh and exciting. It's my Midwest crisis, as my sister said.
21. Everyone in Seattle was from somewhere else.
22. Everyone here is from here.
23. People here don't consider themselves from here if they're from a suburb. "So did you grow up in St Paul?" "Oh geez no, I grew up way out in Mendota Heights!" Mendota Heights is on the other side of the bridge.
24. I thought I would miss the trees and the mountains but I don't. Not at all. Not even a little.
25. I miss my friends, though.
26. And I really, REEEEEEALLY, miss being in a rock band, especially the world's most important rock band. Tentative reunion concert in the works for next summer.

_

Merry Christmas. And close the hatch.

_

I'm not much of an Onion linker

but this made me laugh for a long time:

Typo In Proposition 8 Defines Marriage As Between 'One Man And One Wolfman'

SACRAMENTO, CA—Activists on both sides of the gay marriage debate were shocked this November, when a typographical error in California's Proposition 8 changed the state constitution to restrict marriage to a union between "one man and one wolfman," instantly nullifying every marriage except those comprised of an adult male and his lycanthrope partner. "The people of California made their voices heard today, and reaffirmed our age-old belief that the only union sanctioned in God's eyes is the union between a man and another man possessed by an ungodly lupine curse," state Sen. Tim McClintock said at a hastily organized rally celebrating passage of the new law. But opponents, including Bakersfield resident Patricia Millard—who is now legally banned from marrying her boyfriend, a human, non-wolfman male—claim it infringes on their civil liberties. "I love James just as much as a wolfman loves his husband," Millard said. "We deserve the same rights as any horrifying mythical abomination." On the heels of the historic typo, voters in Utah passed a similar referendum a week later, defining marriage as between one man and 23 wolfmen.

_

Items

1. I keep meaning to write long meaningful posts but have no time. Many kids. One a baby. Busy job. God trying to ice murder me (negative seven this morning, wind chill today of 35 below). So: items.

2. The baby loves cheese. Like a whole lot. Is this a result of us moving to the uppwe midwest or did she uterusly guide us here?

3. The baby can be calmed by music, including, curiously enough, The Hold Steady and The Pernice Brothers. When I play Neil Young songs, she gets all intrigued and concerned looking. So she's healthy.

4. Man, I try to make one off the cuff remark on the air and up show the grammarian lunatics: http://languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/nll/?p=908

5. I stopped twittering a while ago on account of I was going crazy. I still twitter at twitter.com/TheWeekend but I pretend I'm a radio show when I do that.

6. I've heard hardly any traffic reports since arriving in Minnesota. But weather? Almost constant updates. Los Angeles updates traffic AND air quality. I think cities issue the most updates on whatever part of that city will likely kill you fastest.

7. kaygottagobye.

_

A Conversation with Kate (age 6)

We're sitting around the dinner table.

CHARLIE: Does Obama have to have people come and move his stuff to the White House?
ME: Yeah. But I think he's keeping the house in Chicago.
KATE: Who lives in the White House now?
JILL: President Bush, until January, then Barack Obama moves in.
KATE: Is the oldest president buried here?
ME: Where?
KATE: Here! (pointing to dining room table)
ME: The table?
KATE: Yeah!
JILL: You're asking if the oldest president of the United States is buried inside our dining room table?
KATE: Yeah! Is he?
JILL: No. No, there is no president or anyone buried in our dining room table.
KATE: Where is he?
JILL: Probably buried in the ground.
KATE: Oh! Like my hamster!
ME: You're hamster isn't dead, Kate.
KATE: OH YEAH! I FORGOT!

_

Smart People: Get On This

So the kitchen sink gets all floody and starts to flow into the dishwasher and there's water everywhere and ick.

After my own feeble "let's check the trap" plan yields nothing, we call the plumber. Because that's what you do, right? Of course it is.

So the guy shows up, says he'll fix it for x amount of money but also says we have another leaky hose that indicates a larger replacement being necessary for y amount more of money. And x+y = huge pile of money.

We do what you might do: tell the guy to do the x fix and not the y fix. It's a ton of money and also it just feels like he's piling things on (he also tried to sell us $65 worth of organic solvent stuff, no sale) the way you would expect a plumber to do.

And I'm thinking, what do honest plumbers do when a customer really needs something extra done but that customer is so conditioned to plumbers being dishonest that the customer refuses to believe it? It's not like you can say, "No really, you have to listen to me, I'm honest." We saw how well that worked when Nixon said he wasn't a crook.

Instead, customers like me with no real knowledge of plumbing are in a position to judge the veracity and merit of what a professional plumber is telling me. I still think he was piling on (there may be a wee tiny leak but not y dollars' worth) but I only think that because I'm me, with my checkbook, with my no idea about plumbing, and I'm in charge.

There must be a better way of doing business than this. A way of repairing the plumbing image, of educating homeowners, of having an independent third party who would not profit from repairs acting as arbiter in the situation. It's like car buying, it's just all broken. We can put a man on the moon. Although we haven't done so in some time and, if we are to believe terrible OJ Simpson movies from long ago, never even did that in the first place.

UPDATE: Hmm. So after agreeing to clean out the drain for x dollars, dude struggles for a while and then announces he can't do it. He thinks it's because he didn't bring the right tool. And then-- THEN-- he wants to get paid. And Jill is like, well, huh?, No! She calls the plumbing company, dude leaves, and they dispatch a new guy. New guy shows up, does the drain clearing for 60% of the first guy's price and also makes the leak go away with a little tightening here and there.

Now it gets weird. The new guy, the awesome guy, was not an employee of the original plumbing company, just another plumber they called out in a pinch. This conversation then occurred (paraphrased):

JILL: So what company do you work for?
GUY: I can't tell you that?
JILL: Wha-- why not?
GUY: I just can't.
JILL: Are you not supposed to tell me? Are you under orders from the plumbing company I called?
GUY: I ca--
JILL: How about this: can I follow you out to your truck and right down the name that it says on the side of your truck?
GUY: Well I can't stop you.

So that's our new plumber.
_

Margaret (age 6 months), I have something to tell you

It has to do with spoons and food. I have decades of experience using spoons to eat food. I've had soups, cereals, yogurts of many kinds. Your dad knows about this stuff.

I was feeding you tonight. Applesauce. A classic. And you got the idea that you had this eating from a spoon thing nailed. You've been watching me do it for a while, you figured, "How hard could it be?" I held out for a while but you were persistent.



Well, it's harder than you think. Some things you should know about spoons:
1. When you tilt the spoon, the food will generally fall off.
2. After the food is eaten off the spoon, there is no more food on the spoon until you return it to the bowl.
3. The mouth is really the only place where the food goes in any substantial way.
4. Sure, the spoon is a lovely toy, I guess. Easy to hold, kind of shiny. But here's the thing: if you won't let go of the spoon and you also haven't mastered spoon technique, I can't feed you. Sure, you can complain because you're still hungry but it won't matter if you won't release the spoon.



I applaud your confidence, Margaret, I really do. You are someone who, despite crapping your pants daily and occasionally toppling over from a seated position, looks at the world and sees something that can be grabbed, controlled, ideally shoved into your mouth. But there's a gulf between believing in yourself and true accomplishment. In other words, just because you KNOW in your heart you can work a spoon, that doesn't mean you can work a spoon. I love you, Margaret, and I embrace your confidence. In general, Margaret, my point is this:
Give me the SPOON.




Okay fine. Take the spoon.

Yeah, that Bill Cosby has still got it.

_

I'm STILL on to you!

Inspired by a Twitter tweet (what?) from the estimable Scott Simpson, I realize we're way overdue for another round of I'm On To You.

You know the rules. Tell us who or what isn't fooling you for a minute. Tell us about whom or what the jig is up. The truth is out. Come clean. Put the topper on the cake, call Aunt Betty, strap the harness to the wolverines because I'M ON TO YOU!

I'm on to you, Mike Huckabee.
I'm on to you, Dirty Sexy Money.
I'm on to you as well, artichokes on pizza.
Of course, of course, I'm on to you, Axl Rose, that should come as no surprise.
And obviously the American auto industry, on to you.
Also, you've been putting one over on people for a long time but I'm on to you, grapefruit.

YOUR TURN! GO!

_

I want you to have disturbing dreams.

_

A Modest Proposal to the Berenstains

Berenstains, look. I feel like I know you pretty well by now. That's because Kate (age 6) demands several Berenstain Bears books at bedtime every night and has for a while. I've read your family of bears deal with God, death, the Gimmees, all the big issues.

Here's something that we both know that a lot of other people don't: that shit is long. Your books. They take a lifetime. That means several long bedtime minutes - minutes I could be spending doing other stuff- spent putting up with all the elements of these bears' lives. Including:

- Mama Bear's smug bossiness and persistent housecoat wearing.
- The fact that the two older kids are named Brother and Sister and that even their friends call them that.
- The fact that the parents are named Mama and Papa and that even their friends call them that.
- The fact that this treehouse of theirs is amorphous and mutable, sometimes huge, sometimes tiny.
- The fact that bears have opposable thumbs, wear clothes, walk erect all the time, and drive cars. And have jobs.
- The disquieting fact that there are no humans.
- The lack of anthropomorphizing in regard to other animals. Dogs are still dogs.
- Did I mention how LONG these books are.

So look, Berenstains, I've contributed many hours to your books. I've built up your brand. I couldn't do more for you unless I tattooed character illustrations on Kate's cerebellum.

And that's all fine.

All I want is one thing. One book where a human shows up, possibly just hiking through Bear Country, and the bears behave like bears. I want a mauled camper. Give it to me. Connect me with reality, Berenstains. Make it graphic.

This can be a secret edition, send it to me in a plain brown wrapper. I will acquire a wall safe and hide it there so the kids never see it, at least until they're eighteen, well sixteen, and can really appreciate it. Fourteen.

Do this for me, Berenstains. I'll never ask for anything again.

_

You think it's #280?

When you buy a grande' coffee beverage at Starbucks, there's always at least a decent chance that you're going to get my The Way I See It cup. I saw this and wondered if I'm part of the Straight Talk Express.


_

A Conversation with Kate (age 6) About Canine Footwear

HER: I don't think we should get a dog.
JILL: Why not?
HER: I think it would ruin my shoes.
ME: What? How would it do that?
HER: I like my shoes.
JILL: Are you scared the dog would chew the shoes?
HER: No. Just with the claws.
ME: Wait. Are you afraid the dog would put your shoes on and walk around in them all the time and damage the shoes as a result?
HER: Yeah. So that's why we shouldn't get a dog.
ME: Well Kate, dogs don't wear shoes. They don't like putting shoes on and besides I don't think they could put them on even if they wanted to.
HER: Oh! Okay! Let's get a dog!

_

I'm Proud of All the Stories on Weekend America

They are all my children. But some children you love an extra bit.

Two stories I'm really excited about this week:
1. Our second annual 30 Second Tales of Terror. As with last year we asked some fave writers to come up with scary stories that last 30 seconds or less. Because who has the time these days, am I right people? We have Dana Gould, David Rakoff, horror writers, children's writers, comic book writers. Check it out. IT WON'T TAKE LONG!

2. I wrote a couple of days ago about scary childhood movie moments. I ended up tracking down one of the original flying monkeys from the Wizard of Oz. I mean, an actor who played one. He was 13 then, 83 now and doesn't think they were so scary. My story also features the horrifying Bigfoot documentary, Willie Wonka, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

_

I Don't Know...

It seems like the ad team on the Obama campaign might have lost its focus just a bit.



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Scarred For Life

I'm working on a story/essay for this week's show about kids and scary movies. I'm coming to believe that it's not the scary movie that really does the damage to the kids since most adults have sense enough not to show truly scary movies to kids under, say, ten years old. And some of those very suspenseful films wouldn't make much sense to younger kids anyway.

But everyone I talk to has memories of movies they saw as kids that maybe weren't MEANT to be scary but freaked the crap out of them regardless. I have yet to meet someone who doesn't point to something along these lines. The clubhouse leader is the winged monkeys from The Wizard of Oz. Other candidates include some bad guys on wheels from Return to Oz, anyone from The Dark Crystal, and the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

For me? Bigfoot. For years I've told people about this one documentary w/reenactments I saw when I was very young. Never knew it's name, I just knew there was one scene where a woman is home, it's nighttime, there's a Bigfoot outside but she doesn't know it, Bigfoot starts smashing up her house for no real demonstrable reason, and she runs to the door, opens it, AND THERE HE IS!!!

AAAAAA!!!

Here's the world we live in today: I found the clip on YouTube. It's one minute and forty-four seconds that changed my life forever.



I am STILL SCARED. Laughing about it a little, sure, but STILL SCARED!

What movie scene do you remember from childhood that still freaks you out?

_

A few things

1. Marvin Gaye, a capella, to show you that you live in a world of beauty.



_
2. Wow!

3. This morning as Charlie (age 7) was getting ready for a routine day at school he said, out of the blue, "You know, I think it's true. The universe really does have a balance of dark and light." There's cute, there's precocious, and then there's unnerving.

4. The other day I was picking the kids up from school and saw a minivan parked out front with two bumper stickers. "McCain" and "Work Harder, Millions on welfare are counting on you!" The driver was inside sleeping at 3:30 pm on a Monday. He must have weighed 320 pounds.

5. If you don't regularly spend time at cakewrecks.blogspot.com and fivethirtyeight.com, well, I just don't know what to say to you.

Minnesota Politics

In 1998 Minnesota elected Jesse Ventura as governor. I couldn't believe it at the time. But a friend who lived here then explained that the guys he was running against were just terrible and, well, you had to be here.

Now I'm here. One of those guys Ventura beat was Norm Coleman, now a US Senator running for re-election. His campaign is presently being derailed by charges that a wealthy contributor bought him some suits and that he gets a really ridiculously screaming deal on a DC apartment.

Here's Coleman spokesman Cullen Sheehan addressing reporters and being left to die. I hope you never see a more painful press conference than this one.


He's running against Al Franken.


Ventura almost ran again this year.

_

Baseball Playoffs As I Would Like To See It

This round:

Cubs vs. Dodgers - Root for the Cubs because come on. Also, Weekend America carried in both cities so that's a wash.
Phillies vs. Brewers - Hard one. Moyer plays for the Phillies and he's a Mariner favorite as well as the stepfather of President Taft and he was present at the Big Bang. Brewers were owned by Bud Selig who is no good. But it's great that a small market team made it this far and on my book tour Milwaukee and the folks at Harry Schwarz bookstores were great. They don't carry Weekend America in either city presently but we're working on both. Hmm. Phillies.

Red Sox vs. Angels - Red Sox. Angels are a Mariners' rival. In the same way that a beef stick is a dog's rival but still. Red Sox should not win it all, though. It's getting silly and the Sox fans were too smug before. Weekend America in both cities.
Rays vs. White Sox - Toughest one in the bunch. Rays dropped the "Devil" from their names, thus angering the Dark Lord Satan. The White Sox have AJ Pierzicyzzskizc who IS the Dark Lord Satan. Sox also have Ken Griffey, Jr. but sometimes a man just needs to accept that Tiffany broke up with you and she's never coming back. Rays, even though only Chicago carries Weekend America and even though the media relations lady was horrible and condescending to me when I did a story about the team and how can you be condescending when you work for the Rays, like who do you think you are?

Next Round:
Cubs vs. Phillies - It's a real showdown of the doomed. Two teams that just don't win big. But okay. Cubs. Fine.
Red Sox vs. Rays - Rays. Of course. Rays.

World Series:
Cubs vs. Rays - Universe collapses under the weight of improbability.

Hi Blogaversasphere

Sorry for my neglect. As always, full refunds for all.

1. I realized tonight, while loading the dishwasher, that the song "Anchorage" by Michelle Shocked was one of the reasons why, at age 21, I decided to move to New Jersey for grad school. Rutgers University was near New York and actors from that program (I used to be an actor) became New York actors. There's a part in that song where Michelle is living in New York and reading a postcard from a friend in Anchorage who says, "New York City, imagine that." And so I imagined that and imagined people imagining that of me. And I wanted that. Then after being there for not very long I realized, Whoops, I don't want that any longer. Good song, though.



2. This Sarah Palin thing. Oh my. You know what's interesting? You feel whatever you want to feel about Palin but watch Katie Couric and her sorrow and confusion. Meryl Streep plays Couric in the movie. Palin is played by Joan Cusack.

3. Thanks for all the jokes! Keep 'em coming.

4. I went to Hollywood recently for a big fancy public radio conference. Among pub radio glitterati, I met Melissa Block and I met Stewart McLean of Vinyl Cafe and he was really nice.

5. I'm doing an essay on CB radios for this week's show. Why? Because Saturday is October 4th. Figger that one out!

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Joke sought

Trying some social networking for professional goals here (and Facebook and Twitter). I was thinking it would be good to have a joke at the end of this week's show. If it really catches on maybe it's something we do every week so people have a reason to stay tuned all through the credits. A little bon bon like This American Life does with Torey Malatia at the end. So I'm looking for a joke: something quick, tight, maybe newsy or maybe not, clean. Heard any good jokes lately?

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"Michael Vick is like, 'Why am I in jail?'"

Bill Clinton goes on and is Bill Clinton. Then Chris Rock comes on.


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A Conversation with Charlie (age 7) That Punches My Ticket to Hell

HIM: Dad, what color were Jesus's eyes?
ME: You mean the actual eyes or what color were the lasers that he shot out of his eyes?
HIM: HA! YES! TAKE THAT ROMANS! POW!

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I think...

That this template and all Blogger.com templates, really, look like crap. It de-motivates me from writing. Unlike the blog of my soon-to-be-ex-boss who will soon be more like a colleague which looks great. But what to do? Where to switch? Suggestions?

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On David Foster Wallace

No eulogy or obituary here. Lots of other places to get those.

From me, just a complaint. We were robbed.

I've always admired Wallace's writing, of course, as anyone who has crossed the threshold of literacy really must to some extent. His non-fiction work, especially, is astounding. As Peter Sagal pointed out, everything Wallace wrote became the best piece of writing on that subject. He wrote the definitive piece on state fairs, the definitive piece on cruises, on porn conventions, on talk radio, on lobsters. He was that good.

I never met the guy. I do know that when he was asked to be on the "Good News, Bad News, No News" segment on our show he said he'd rather put a fork in his eye which we all thought was pretty great. I never knew him like a surprisingly large number of my colleagues did, all of whom loved him.

No, I was just a consumer. My relationship with them was one of a customer. An audience member. And we were robbed.

Robbed of Wallace's next book, his next explanation of the world we're all living in together. We were robbed of that portion of the beauty of insight. We were robbed of AHA moments by someone, one of the few people among all us billions, who can generate them, in his case seemingly at will. We live in a darker place without that book. We could live in a lighter place with new Nirvana records. We could be illuminated by what Spalding Gray can tell us but instead we were robbed of that light by his disease. We were robbed by medicine, by that person, by dumb luck, by society, by a lot of things but it was sure as hell a case of theft.

Hemingway robbed us. Virginia Woolf robbed us. Elliott Smith robbed us.

Ever been robbed? Like where your house is broken into and someone steals your stuff and you're just sitting there thinking about it? Your stuff is gone. Suddenly. Your goods, the things you acquired to make your life better, are just gone. You're angry, you're confused, and you're scared because that's the world you live in.

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Sophie Can Walk

Brave film making here. One father refuses to believe the Big Pharma / Western Medicine corporate conspiracy that says his newborn baby wouldn't be able to walk until she was a YEAR OLD. As the father of a non-ambulatory 4-month-old, I feel his pain. Thanks a lot, DOCTORS!

John's Still Mad, Few Jokes Here

McCain campaign manager Rick Davis said Sarah Palin, who would like the citizens of the United States to make her vice president, would not be interviewed "until the point in time when she'll be treated with respect and deference."

And okay so, um, WHAT? Respect? Absolutely. Of course. Deference? No. That wouldn't be an interview. That, sir, would be propaganda. She must be challenged, questioned, not allowed to wiggle, microscoped, cross-examined. Because this job she wants the American people to give her is an important job.

Are they required to make her available to talk in a format other than in front of friendly audiences speaking someone else's words on a teleprompter? No. Of course not. Do they have that responsibility? Yes, they do. It's a job interview. You don't hire someone for an important spot on your team based solely on the resume.

_

Fr...Saturday Question - Ooh, I got one

A favorite conversation around our house.

Dinner party. You can invite three living people (not including whoever you live with because of course they'd already be there). Who are they?

Bonus: what do you serve?

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Friday Ques...ah, forget it.

Look, it's like this. Friday's are my bonzo banana days at work now since it's the day I write the show you'll hear tomorrow plus host the panel discussion and sometimes file a story too. So whereas my week used to be heavy at the beginning, then heavier, then lighter, now it's a slow build. I love it, of course, the new job, but hard on Fridays. So maybe we'll start doing a Tuesday question or something.

I also thought I'd give up the whole blogging deal but I'm not going to. I started this thing in 2003 when Rewind was going off the air and I thought it would be a good way to stay in writing shape. It was. It is. If you're a writer, you should blog. Who cares who reads the dang thing, if anyone. You're a writer? Write. But now I've kind of arrived at everything I've ever wanted professionally what with the show and books and stuff. But I will still blog. I feel like it's just in the bones now.

Also, here's a YouTube clip that chilled my spine. This Sarah Palin they have here, she doesn't do interviews. They're running her for Vice-President on a ticket with an old man who has survived cancer before and whose body has had some hard days and who has a family history of heart disease. So this Palin lady is someone who might be THE MOST POWERFUL PERSON IN THE WORLD AND SHOULDN'T WE GET TO KNOW HER?

No, says the McCain campaign. Watch this. The refusal to grant interviews is chilling enough but the sneering contempt exhibited for the simple notion of talking to the press is appalling. And bear in mind, this has nothing to do with politics. This isn't about what Palin or McCain believe or what Obama or Biden or Bob Barr believe. This is about secrecy and contempt and it's terrifying.



(wow, when did John get all serious? Or wait, was there a punchline? No? I looked for it but I didn't...)

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I knew Obama's background was unusual...

I didn't know it was THAT unusual.




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Friday Question: Promoted from the comments

A couple of weeks ago, I asked for YOUR questions. On account of laziness. Now that I'm hosting Weekend America, Fridays are actually fairly insane.

Cara suggested:
What piece of clothing have you owned the longest, and what is the story behind it?

Good one.

Me, I've been on a purge binge what with two moves and all. So at the moment, and Conservatize Me readers alone will know this one, it's the Puffy America shirt.

How about you?

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On Bunnies, Squirrels, and St Paul, Minnesota

So here in St Paul, we have all these bunnies, right? It's different than Seattle. Instead of crows we have all kinds of colorful birds. And instead of squirrels we have bunnies and also lots more squirrels.

Talking to the neighbor across the street as another bunny hops by.

HER: Yeah, they're cute but forget about it if you want to grow vegetables.
ME: Really?
HER: They'll gobble them up. Whatever you grow. Flowers too. They're relentless.
ME: Hm. Okay then.

Minutes later, I'm talking to Charlie (age 7)
ME: So what it means is that we shouldn't garden. If we garden, we'll grow to hate the bunnies. But if we DON'T garden, we not only get to love the bunnies but we also get to NOT GARDEN. Leaving us more time for everything else. And we don't have to eat disappointing salads.
HIM: Maybe we should get some carrots and then keep the leaves but replace the carrots with hot dogs.
ME: And then do...what...with them?
HIM: Put them back in the ground. Then the bunny thinks he's having a carrot and he's like "Oh no! I'm a carnivore now!" And he'd be so freaked out he'd leave us alone to grow carrots.
ME: I don't know. Seems like a lot of work. And ruined hot dogs.
HIM: But it would be funny.

By the way, regarding squirrels:
1 squirrel on a tree, unnoticeable
2 squirrels on a tree, cute
3 squirrels on a tree, weird
4 squirrels on a tree, troubling
5 squirrels on a tree (happened this morning), GET OUT OF THERE

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Friday Question: Summer's Most Memorable Moment

What was the one moment that stood out in your summer this year? Part of a vacation? A particularly good ice cream cone?

For me, it was a day in July when, as we had done so often, we loaded up the kids to go look at houses. They were reluctant. Truculent. Surly. But there were some new listings and we hoped it would pan out this time. First on the bill was a house we had looked at and liked but on second pass it just seemed too small. Then on to house #2. It was having an "agents open house", so it was a lot of real estate agents and a big steaming tray of egg rolls (as is the custom in St Paul with this type of showing). Jill went in first while I hung out with the kids in the van. Then it was my turn, and this was the moment of the summer, I went in and thought, "Oh! I'm home!"

We bought the house and moved in two days ago. Lovely place. I hope to be there for years and years.

(Birth of Margaret was technically a springtime event.)

What was the most memorable moment of your summer?


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On the set of this Hall & Oates "video"

Arm chairs? Check.
Oates's mustache volumizing gel? Check.
Cigarettes? Check.
GUY IN DEVIL COSTUME? Check on that.
Oates's tux ensemble from space? Checkity check.



Wheelbarrow full of quaaludes? Check.
Wait, we need one wheelbarrow for Hall and one MORE for Oates.
Yep. Check on both those. We even brought a weird robe for Hall.

Okay, then let's shoot this thing.

_

A Conversation with Kate (age 5) About Avian Funeral Practices

KATE: Dad, do you remember that dead pigeon Charlie found?
ME: Sure. A couple weeks ago. Down the street there.
KATE: Dad, I never saw the dead pigeon.
ME: I know. By the time you came back to see it, it was gone. Did you want to see it?
KATE: Yeah. But I was too late.
ME: Well, you weren't missing much.
KATE: I think what happened was his pigeon friends came down and buried him.

As always, the world Kate lives in tops the world the rest of us are stuck with.

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Friday Question

Gah. Overloaded at work. Sinking. Vision. Failing.

How about this:

What questions do you have? Submit your own Friday Question in the comments and/or answer someone else's. It will be just like human interaction without any of that cumbersome human interaction.

Gotta go.

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I Should Tell You About the Angry Mob Faced by Charlie (age 7)

On Sunday night, I took baby Margaret for a lovely stroller stroll around our St Paul neighborhood. It was a warm night, there was a nice breeze, and I thought about what a pleasant friendly place we lived in. But when I got home, something was strange. On the porch were some baseballs and some underpants. Charlie's underpants. He often leaves random things laying around the house but rarely does that include piles of underpants on the porch. Something was amiss.

Jill told me that there had been talk of a war between Charlie and some neighborhood kids. Charlie had initially thought that he should fight them with a baseball bat but then changed his mind and had opted to shoot underpants at these kids instead. Then he abandoned that plan and the underpants and went inside. "Was it, like, play war or was there going to be a real fight?" I asked. Jill thought it was play war but it happened fast and weird and she couldn't be certain.

A few minutes later I was in the kitchen when I noticed a group of six kids ranging in age from about four years old to maybe nine standing outside our house, gazing up at it. "That's him! I think I saw him move! Let's wait here!" they mumbled to themselves. They were cute as hell these kids but they were also, and this is important, an angry mob. I slipped out the back door and walked up behind them.

"What are you guys looking at?" I asked, as if I was a passer by.

"There's a boy in that house and he threw a rock at us. And we're going to GET him!" said one boy excitedly. "And THIS is the rock he threw!" he added, holding up said evidence.

The group included a boy about Charlie's age on a bike and carrying a baseball bat. A couple of other kids carrying nothing and a small girl named Gwyneth, the youngest of the angry mob, with some safety scissors. "And I'm going to POKE HIM!" she vowed. One other kid carried a hula hoop though it was unclear if it was intended as a weapon or was just a hula hoop. It was held in as menacing a way as you can hold a hula hoop.

Well, I want to be objective and all but when a mob, even an adorable mob, comes after your boy, it's kind of hard to see clearly. "Threw a rock at you, huh? And I suppose you did nothing to deserve that? My son threw a rock at you for no reason at all?" I asked. Now they knew I was not just some adult asking questions. I had a dog in this fight.

"(mumble mumble) nohejustthrewitatuswedon'tknowwhy (mumble mumble)". Gwyneth holding scissors at the ready.

"Maybe you guys should get on home and stop staring at my house," I advised. Hoping that was the end of a weird misunderstanding I went inside. But as I went inside, Charlie was coming out, BAT IN HAND. Apparently the plan, bought into among both camps, was to have a "baseball bat sword fight" to resolve differences. I paused to imagine that confrontation and exactly how quickly it would dissolve into ambulances and lawsuits. What, four seconds? Five? I also paused a moment to admire the pluck of my son: faced with an angry mob, he was ready to step in and settle it with freaking baseball bats, regardless of the harm that may come to him from safety scissors and hula hoops. But I couldn't let that happen. I stepped in and corralled both adversaries, gathered them all together. We talked.

Apparently, one of the mob kids rode his bike too close to Charlie in our yard, raising concern in Charlie that "he was trying to kill me" (who among us in an urban area hasn't felt the same about cyclists?) . This triggered the thrown rock, the subsequent mob outrage, and the gathering up of scissors, hoops, and bats. This all made perfect sense to everyone involved.

It's a funny thing about resolving conflicts among people who are significantly less powerful than you are. They listened to my talk about misunderstandings and how we all live in the same neighborhood and how no one wants to hurt each other. But I could see in their eyes, they were thinking, "Nah, bullshit, we absolutely want to hurt each other but now we know that adults know about these plans and we can't administer the beatings we so desperately yearn for." Nothing changed, they didn't all become friends (maybe they will one day), they just looked at each other with the knowledge that the bat sword fight and the poking and whatever terrible thing happens with the hula hoop would have to wait.

Until I'm older. And they're older. And they have more power than me. And then it is so on. I will die with safety scissors sticking out of me, I just know it. Her name is Gwyneth.

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Tardy Friday Question

Sorry. Had a lot on my mind lately with work and all.

Maybe I can use that.

Friday Question is this:

What would you like to hear on the radio on a weekend?

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Cake Wrecks

Late to the party on this one as well but dang this is a funny site. Cake Wrecks, displaying and commenting upon the worst PROFESSIONALLY DECORATED cakes. Thanks to Sleater-Yandel for pointing it out.



Oh, also there is a Facebook page for Weekend America now where you can be a fan. It's perfect for when you want to confirm to yourself and the world that, yes, you enjoy certain things.

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An Unusual Day at the Office

This is starting to filter out now so I figure I should mention it here. It was announced today that I will be the new host of Weekend America, starting with the August 16th show. The show has been based in L.A. and St Paul but it was decided that we would consolidate operations in St Paul. From a hosting perspective, that means that Bill Radke who has been hosting the show from there will no longer be with the program. Meanwhile, Des Cooper who has been hosting the show from St Paul along with Bill will become a Sr. Correspondent based in Detroit where she lives (she's been commuting between Detroit and St Paul for the last year). So we'll have one host and it will be me.

I haven't known Des all that long but have come to deeply admire her journalism chops, her storytelling, and her work ethic. Plus she's a heck of a friend. I've known Bill Radke much longer, as anyone who knows my radio career will realize. He helped break me into the radio biz ten years ago when I started writing for his show Rewind on NPR. Then he hired me as a staff writer on that show and allowed me to guest host when he was absent. Later, after he got hired on the show that would become Weekend America, he recommended me there as well and after some freelancing I came aboard full time. With no Bill Radke, there's no me on the radio. He, also, is a heck of a friend. Nicer people don't roam the earth and rarely does someone's brilliance match their niceness as is the case with Bill.

When I moved to St Paul, I hoped that I could one day host a national show. Had no idea it would happen so soon. And it's making me rethink my opposition to Jimmy Fallon taking over Conan's spot on NBC. I mean, sure, I don't think he's ready but I haven't seen him host a show before and just because Conan was/is so great, doesn't mean that Fallon can't be okay. Fallon probably sees the task as daunting, sure, but I bet he's also really excited about the opportunity. And he was pretty funny as Barry Gibb.

Anyway, yeah, so...that. Now you know.

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Billy Gibbons

This article appeared in Talk of the Town in The New Yorker a few years ago and for some reason it has always stayed with me. It's about Billy Gibbons of the band ZZ Top. And it's about his eccentricities and, really, about his unanticipated eloquence:

For example, here is his answer to the question “Who was that?” after he’d talked for a while on his cell phone: “Elwood Francis, our guitar technician, took a brief absence from the tour in order to escort his wife to China, where they successfully adopted a baby girl named Joshi. In his absence, his post was attended by a talented technician named Sammy Sanchez, who introduced me to a guitar called the Turbo Diddly, which is made from an old wooden cigar box. It has what you call a resonator, and it sounds like a bad recording from 1949. The guy who makes it, Kurt Schoen, is a pilot for UPS.”

You should read it.



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The Onion's satire jet buzzes too close to my house

McSweeney's Rejects Mike Mussina's Seventh Consecutive Submission

Good to know I'm better than Mussina at something.
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Friday Question: Late to the Party

Posting has been light lately. Busy, crazy times. I'll refund your subscription.

So in the past week I've become a voracious consumer of music by The Hold Steady. Blissfully hard rock music, masterful lyrics, a singer who doesn't sound like he should be in a band but is awesomtacular regardless (I'm a sucker for singers like that), and great use of piano.



The thing is, this band has been around for a while and has lots of fans already. I'm late to the party. This has happened before when I "discovered" The Magnetic Fields many years after everyone else had. In both cases, I was all like Why didn't anyone tell me about this?

So:
Why didn't anyone tell me about (x)? I'm really late to the party regarding (x)!

What does x equal?

Could be a movie, a band, a TV show, a painter, a city, a type of dog, anything. Share it with the world so that others don't have to go without as you did.

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Potentially Exciting News

Charlie (age 7): Dad, can I start a blog?
Me: Why would you do that?
Him: So I can be famous.
Me: Well, I don't know if that's how it works.
Him: You have a blog, right?
Me: Yeah. I used to talk about you on my blog. Like when you were six and then eight babies. But I stopped talking about you so much because I didn't know if it was okay with you.
Him: It's fine with me. I want to be famous.


I suspect it would be like the hamster. He would get to name the blog and pet it sometimes but I'd be cleaning up after the damn blog all the time.
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HEY LOOKY LOOKY

I hosted Weekend America this weekend, America.

I recently found out that since moving to St Paul I've lost a bunch of pounds. Like way more than I had expected to. So that combined with the fact that I'm a big time celebrity means I can offer diet tips.

1. Move to a city that, though you love it and are glad to be there, really can't hold a candle to Seattle in terms of restaurants. Not trying to insult anyone, it's just a fact.
2. Engineer a worldwide energy crisis such that the price of gas soars and it just makes more sense to walk or ride your bike to work and everywhere else.
3. Have the earth maneuver such that summer arrives. Blistering hot, humid Midwest summer. Then sweat like crazy.
4. If possible, have three kids, including a newborn. This will mean less time to cook or even eat and your dinner will often be whatever part of a hot dog gets left behind.

That's it! Book me, Oprah Wimifrey!

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Friday Question: Movie Math

(note: this was originally posted not as a Friday Question but then I realized it was Friday and that it made a pretty good question. So some of the comments might be a bit out of context, like the one where Glenn Fleishman berates me.)

If you remove Minnie Driver from Good Will Hunting, a good movie becomes great. If you remove Minnie Driver from Grosse Pointe Blank, an uneven movie becomes very solid indeed. So then if you take the remaining Driverless parts of those two movies, you get a crazy fantastic movie that could take over the world. And you'd have a double Driver movie of such intense annoyance it would threaten the existence of goodness itself.

These are facts!

What kind of addition or subtraction or multiplication can you suggest to make a bad movie good or a good movie great? I encourage you not to just use this as a diatribe to rail against least favorite celebrities. Don't hate, additionate!

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