Category: Life

This year, instead of distributing Halloween candy, I’m going to invite trick-or-treaters into my home to watch this video clip of MC Hammer:

I chose this video because it has themes associated with Halloween. And, it provides a nostalgic journey back in time when rappers incorporated sanitized lyrics, dance moves, and tie-ins with children’s movies into their videos… presumably to sabotage their careers.

So, for all the neighborhood kids that have never heard of MC Hammer, nor seen a video this hokey, I plan to rectify that tonight. The question is, does this make me the equivalent of the guy that gives out raisins, or the guy that puts razor blades into caramel apples? Discuss.

High-fives have been down lately, that’s for sure. Chestbumps, too.

Hardly anyone is painting their face anymore.

Morale is definitely suffering on the Seahawks Bandwagon. I think I first picked up on this last week when a lot of people openly substituted their beer for Pepto-Bismol.

It’s hard to know what to do. We’ve lost too many key players and their replacements have ranged from horrible to abysmal. It’s flat-out depressing. Twice in the last three weeks I’ve completely stopped watching the game to spend time with my family. That’s how bad things have gotten.

Last week, I proclaimed that I could get off the couch, check into the game in my slippers and sweatpants with beer in hand, and still outperform our running back, Maurice Morris. Sadly, it wasn’t even that much of an exaggeration.

When I do watch the games, instead of cheering, I find myself yelling at the TV. And Sunday is supposed to be a day of relaxation. Yelling at people is reserved for the rest of the week.

And things have actually gotten worse. I’m sure you’ve heard that our Pro Bowl quarterback, Matt Hasselbeck, is injured too. Standard. However, we’re heading into Kansas City this Sunday, and there is breaking news that their quarterback might be injured too. Hallelujah! This has given the Bandwagon renewed hope. There is a legitimate possibility that their third-string quarterback will play crappier than our second-stringer.

And that is what we are rooting for this week: less incompetence than our opponent! Go Seahawks! And pass the Pepto!

You know, just in case you ever run into the guy:

1. He likes to make spreadsheets. Nothing too fancy, just diagrams to chart household expenses and whatnot. But the funny thing is, he doesn’t use Excel. He makes real spreadsheets. By hand. With actual graph paper. He’s got reams of it at his house for the creation of traditional, antiquated spreadsheets. Now fully retired, my Dad will spend hours making charts and graphs by hand. Not pie charts, necessarily, those are too hard. But he can make a sweet bar graph of the monthly electricity bill.

2. It’s a good thing “That 70’s Show” was cancelled last year. My Dad hated that show. The main reason? He doesn’t feel that it is an accurate depiction of the 1970’s. You can’t watch an episode with him without a muttered outburst of “people didn’t talk that way in the 70’s… this just isn’t realistic.” At these moments, I would remind him that the show isn’t meant to be a documentary on the 1970’s, but rather the 70’s are merely a backdrop for the sitcom. Of course, he hears none of it. And now that the show is broadcast in syndication 14 hours a day, I only fear his condition will worsen.

3. I can say this with absolute certainty: As you read this, my dad is either taking a nap or drinking a cup of coffee. Sadly, he’s not doing both. One day though, he’ll find a way to combine his two passions in life. I hear he’s working on filling a waterbed with coffee. It’s only a matter of time.

4. My dad likes things to be as plain as possible. If offered plain vanilla, he’d ask for something plainer. Thusly, when he goes to McDonalds, he wants his hamburger to be cheese-less. (He’s the only person I’ve ever met that prefers a regular hamburger to a cheeseburger.) Surprisingly, he actually has a lot of difficulty ordering an ordinary hamburger successfully. Half the time, he would get a burger not only without cheese, but without all the other condiments as well. And then the Atkins Diet craze happened. He’d go to McDonalds and order a plain hamburger, and end up getting just a meat patty with no bun. Finally, I think he just decided to get cheeseburgers like the rest of civilization. True story.

5. My Dad likes to find a way to make modern technology function as it’s earliest predecessor did when it was first invented. Accordingly, he set the ring tone on his cell phone to that of a rotary telephone. I’m thankful though. Whenever he gets a call, I get to say, “Dad, your phone is ringing, and it sounds like the 1940’s are calling…”

#5b. This just became a Top Six list, but I need to share one other anecdote. Suppose you are watching an NFL or college football game, and the camera pans to the players on the sideline. Unfailingly, the players will use the opportunity to mug for the camera and flash gang signs. Naturally, this has become my favorite aspect of televised football, because my Dad mimics the gang signs right back. He’s actually gotten pretty good at it too. Needless to say, my Dad is proud to represent the Eastside 420 Posse.

That’s it. Now, the next time you run into my Dad, you’ll have something to discuss.

Chalk it up to senility.

Or, at the very least, The Rolling Stones do not own an atlas. How else can you explain the fact that they booked a concert in Missoula, Montana last week?

Missoula, Montana. Were they confused? Was it a bad interaction of prescription drugs? Or was it a bad interaction of regular drugs?

Regardless, the biggest name in rock music found themselves on the outskirts of the middle of nowhere last Wednesday night. And I was there.

And The Rolling Stones put on a ROCK CONCERT. I cannot stress that enough. Their stage was six stories tall. It featured a section on an elevated track that transported the band to the middle of the arena, 10 feet above the crowd. There were fireworks that rivaled anything on the fourth of July. Their main video screen was easily 1200 square feet in size. There were fiery explosions generating heat that could be felt in the 27th row of the audience. And just for good measure, they inflated a giant set of lips (their logo) bigger than a school bus on stage. I could go on an on, but you get the idea.

I guess this is what you should expect for a $400 ticket. That’s right, $400 bucks for the 27th row, center-stage. I didn’t pay for it, nor did I perform any explicit favors on a roadie to sit this close. The ticket was a gift from my uncle, a huge Stones fan.

And I was thrilled to be there. Even on a smaller stage, the Rolling Stones play each concert as if it were their last, because, let’s face it, it could be. And watching Mick Jagger perform live is something I will always remember.

I think no other performer, with the possible exception of Elvis, better embodies the term “rock star” like Mick Jagger. He has the distinctive voice and personality. He has iconic moves on stage (the Rooster strut). He even has the quintessential rock star name: Mick Jagger. And it’s his real name too. In fact, I Googled celebrity pseudonyms just to be sure he wasn’t really born “Mickey Jaggerkowski” or something.

And even though he is 63 years old, he still summons the energy to be a rock star on stage. That is the standard he is held to, regardless of his age. And he delivered. I was pretty much in awe, watching him run up and down the stage for two hours. To put it in perspective, my dad is 56, and he needs a morning and afternoon nap just to have the energy to fish all day.

Some other thoughts on the concert:

• Aside from not having an atlas, The Rolling Stones must not have a calendar either. Not only was the concert in Missoula, but it was also held outdoors… in October. Thankfully, it worked out. It wasn’t too cold, and it only rained as people were leaving the arena. In fact, there was even a full moon. It could have been ugly though. I hope the Stones come back in a few years to play here again, but I have a sinking feeling that whoever booked this show probably wasn’t allowed back on the tour bus.
• I love living in Spokane, but I am also keenly aware that this part of the country is by no means considered a glamorous destination. And I always wonder what rock stars think about this region when their tour bus rolls in. They know it’s a limited engagement, but it’s still a new environment. Are they at all curious about the local history, climate, landmarks, economy… or anything? Do they even bother to look out the window to see what Spokane looks like as they drive through? Part of me honestly thinks that superstars might honestly care that little.

  I liken it to learning the name of the temps or interns at the office. Is it really worth it to get to know them? In most cases, it’s not. Should you even bother learning their name? Or, do you just settle for a nod of general acknowledgement when you pass them in the hall?

  Anyway, I always pay attention at the moment in the show where the rock star feels obligated to mention the name of the city he’s performing in. Will they pronounce it right? Will they drop a local reference or inside joke? I know this is a superficial measure, but this is how I gauge how detached the superstar actually is from his fans.

  So how did Mick do? Well, he welcomed the crowd from Missoula enthusiastically. And he took it one step further by thanking everyone that drove over from Great Falls and Spokane. Unfortunately, Mick botched this part. He pronounced the last syllable of “Spokane” as “cane” instead of “can.” I can’t fault him too much; he just made the mistake of trying to read it phonetically. He made up for it though. He joked that he “Loves this region of the country, because he got up this morning, and walked out of his trailer and shot an elk.” This got huge laughs. Well played Mick, well played.

• As you might expect, the audience was packed with baby-boomers. But just because they are pushing 60 doesn’t mean they don’t like to party. I realized this when the older gentleman in the row in front of me lit up some weed. Even though it was a rock concert, it just seemed out of place. Seriously, this guy was probably an orthodontist. Nobody even raised an eyebrow though, as it was actually plausible that it was for medicinal use. Needless to say, it was a surreal experience.
• Finally, I wanted to embed a clip from the concert here, just to give you a taste of what the performance was like. Of course, I searched YouTube and found a thousand low-quality clips of people filming the stage with their camera-phone from the nosebleed section in a darkened arena. This clip is no different, but it at least shows the scope of the production and the elevated stage moving across the arena… enjoy.

This is a true success story. After years of teetering on the brink of extinction, Little Caesar’s Pizza is making a triumphant comeback.

Like the American bison, Little Caesar’s once covered the landscape in vast numbers. Then, about ten years ago, they started to suddenly vanish. Their collapse was inexplicable, as they were certainly popular and profitable. Perhaps they were caught grinding up the homeless for pizza ingredients. As far as I’m concerned, that’s about the only thing that could simultaneously explain the low prices and the precipitous drop in franchises.

Thankfully, before Little Caesar’s was completely wiped out, the last remaining franchises were rounded up and put in a captive breeding program. And last week, one of the hatchlings was released back into my neighborhood:

For those unfamiliar with Little Caesar’s, notice the coupon on the right. Little Caesar’s was the first pizza chain to put out high-volume pizza deals. Four pizzas for one low price! Genius.

And now they’ve added another innovation:

They now have pizzas that are pre-made and ready to go. And they’re dirt cheap too. No need to call ahead, they’ve always got a pepperoni or cheese pizza ready when you pull in. Again, genius.

Are you starting to wonder how this enterprise could have ever failed? Seems impossible, right? I’m still not sure how it happened. Rest assured though, we had Little Caesar’s last week, and this time there was no hobo aftertaste. So far so good. With proper stewardship, I feel confident that Little Caesar’s will be around for future generations to enjoy.