Chronicling my world since 2006! This is your source for a mix of sports, pop-culture, history, roads, music, current events, movies, entertainment, and life. Jump on board as we keep moving forward.
I don't need an organized moment of silence to honor the lives lost in war on Memorial Day.
I simply thank those who made that ultimate sacrifice.
And so, that's all I have tonight: thank you.
To those veterans who are still with us, I hope your Memorial Day has been meaningful.
We'll thank you and honor you more formally on Veteran's Day and every day.
***** Day 24: A song by a band you wish were still together
Well, there's a simple answer here.
The Beatles. I mean, come on.
But, I'm me. So I'm going to try something else.
The tough part is that there are acts like Fleetwood Mac, who solider on but are missing key members (Buckingham, Lindsey) and Genesis, who were going to reunite for a tour (and snobs like me feel that's great...but no Steve Hackett and, more importantly, no Peter Gabriel).
Then there's Queen and we've covered that one. Great -- there's a band calling themselves Queen that plays their music, featuring ... oh, forget it. I've had too many arguments on that one. Freddie Mercury is dead. This is not Queen, darling.
The Police would qualify, and that was one of the last truly great concerts I saw but there's still the Sting factor and, my God, him solo was arguably one of the worst concerts I saw.
The Doors and The Beatles and Nirvana and others with key members who have died all qualify, of course. But there's also no hope of them reuniting under their brand name (nor should they). Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin also fall under this category.
The Smiths? Nah, Morrissey is too much of an ass to make me care. I think similar things can be said about Oasis. Talking Heads left things sort of in the right spot but I suppose anything can happen, if only to see Tina Weymouth punch David Byrne in the face on stage.
So after some consideration, I went with R.E.M.
They continued on after drummer Bill Berry left the band in 1997 before ending things completely in 2011. Michael Stipe -- ever the enigma -- felt it was just time and that they had done enough. Mike Mills and Peter Buck have each done their own things (as well as Stipe) ever since. Stipe, of course, has also said he's not nostalgic so, unless someone needs money, the odds aren't great.
But that's probably my call, since John, Paul, George and Ringo won't be together anytime soon.
The other obvious answer is Huey Lewis and the News, of course, since Huey's Ménière's disease has probably ended the band's career. But, as of now, they're not officially over. So I'll stick with REM.
So the charity golf match with Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Peyton Manning and Tom Brady happened today.
It was fantastic and I'll be interested in the ratings.
There was smack talk and big shots and laughter and some drama. There were even celebrity cameos and lots of fun on Twitter.
This sports thing is pretty cool.
Add in auto racing coming back along with some tennis and we're getting there slowly.
We now await the official decisions on the team sports in the US (soccer is back in other parts of the world).
I have no profound words otherwise. I watched golf today and it was great.
I can listen to Peyton Manning talk for hours. The guy makes me laugh. His pre-match crack about having Eli, Nick Foles or Bill Belichick caddy for him was hysterical.
Tom Brady was funny and approachable but also grumpy at times. He also took good-natured ribbing and hit the shot of the day.
Phil Mickelson is the consummate riverboat gambler. That's why we love him. But he was also brilliant in breaking down the golf course.
And Tiger? He was great also. His personality was on display. We don't always get the more charming side.
This was all good, with the Turner group broadcasting it. Brian Anderson was a tremendous anchor, while Trevor Immelman and Charles Barkley provided fun and solid analysis. Amanda Balionis handled the interviews. Justin Thomas stole the show as the on-course analyst.
Oh, and speaking of stealing the show, take a few minutes and find the video of of Ernie Johnson explaining why he wasn't on the broadcast. There might be tears.
Kudos all around.
(Photo: Getty Images)
Let's do more of this.
***** Day 23: A song you think everybody should listen to
I'm going back to Huey Lewis.
The band was obviously a hit machine at one point but there were other songs that either weren't hits of weren't released as singles.
So I thought I'd highlight something else.
The song is called "So Little Kindness." The lyrics, admittedly, are pointed. They're about a relationship that is over but the woman in this case can't seem to find it in her heart to be cordial.
It features a fierce lead guitar performance by Chris Hayes, who co-wrote the song with Lewis and saxophonist Rob Sudduth. Curiously, it initially appeared on the Time Flies compilation album -- one of four new tracks tacked on at the end. Lewis felt that they could do it better so they re-cut it for 2001's Plan B album*.
* It's funny the things you remember. I recall buying Time Flies at the Borders in White Plains, NY and Plan B at a Wal Mart on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Go figure.
Unfortunately I can't find the Plan B version, so here's the Time Flies one.
This is the cover of the New York Times for May 24
Gov. Andrew Cuomo said the Hudson Valley can reopen.
Calm down, folks. It's a start.
Phase one doesn't mean a whole lot will change necessarily, but it is one small step.
The giant leap (that is, for people complaining about their hair) is in phase two.
Restaurants are in phase three and phase four is arts/entertainment/recreation (and that means sports).
I'm grateful to see us making progress but it doesn't mean social distancing is over by any stretch.
Look, I don't love wearing the masks and I know there are mixed messages about all of this stuff, but I just wear it and that's that. I wrote yesterday that the arrows in grocery stores are stupid and I stand by it. Why? Because many people are just not getting it and it creates more trouble.
Nobody is actively trying to ignore the arrows. They're just ... well ... clueless. That's the shortest answer.
There are social justice warriors who shame people about a lot of this stuff. I certainly don't need someone saying anything to my mother. Let's put it that way.
I sometimes go to a store that doesn't use arrows and things flow just fine.
Crazy idea! Common sense works sometimes.
But I honestly don't see the big deal about sucking it up and wearing the mask and I follow the arrows. The mask is on in the grocery store. I do it (most of the time) for picking up and dropping my mom off at dialysis. I do it to go to the deli for her egg sandwich.
I do it in any enclosed space or wherever social distancing is not possible. That's what the governor has said to do.
I realize how silly it all is because the grocery store and deli have plenty of hazards but I still follow that rule. I go to a house (worship, home, whatever) and they have rules. I abide or I leave. Pretty easy. If Stop and Shop says "wear a mask," I wear it.
I don't see it as this great loss of liberty ("Murica!") and if that makes me a "sheeple" then that's for me to deal with.
Judge away.
This wasn't clear (obviously) in a Facebook post I put up yesterday about the grocery store saga.
I'm as ready to move forward as anyone, but for the right reasons and if it's done the right way. That's the best way I can say it.
This just in: I communicate for a living and I pretty much suck at it.
But have a look at that New York Times front page. It says a lot. It's impactful. Nearly 100,000 dead. This has never been a joke or a hoax or a conspiracy. Are the numbers a little dodgy? Maybe. But this stuff is real.
This is nothing to celebrate when it's over, in my opinion. I'll be happy to simply move on.
It hit my family and thankfully it wasn't fatal. That's enough for me.
The sooner we do the right thing, the sooner it's going to move forward.
And the arrows will get scraped off the floor.
***** Day 22: A song that moves you forward
After having no inspiration, this came down to between, ultimately, two songs.
Then I saw the suggestion of "Vienna" by Billy Joel, and my work here was done.
The song came out of a conversation with Joel's father ("Slow down, you crazy child") as the younger Joel was hard-charging through his music career. The story goes that Howard Joel was living in Vienna and implored his son to make sure to stay on the path but also enjoy it.
We could all use that advice.
Life, if you didn't know, is too short. I mourn that on a near-daily basis.
But, anyway.
I'll also always have affection for this song (besides it being a great song -- arguably top 3-5 in the Joel catalog) because of listening to Paul Silverfarb play it in a Boston piano store. If I'd had any guts, I would have tried to sing.
In the middle of "The Clubhouse," I discovered that the studio that I've built and rebuilt and modified and messed with for over two months wasn't functioning properly.
Basically, I was broadcasting in this case through the microphone of an iPad. Welp.
Dave Torromeo could see it in my face. Basically, I spent the rest of the show trying to figure out how to fix it in my brain.
I immediately began looking at wires and seeing the setup in my brain. My inner MacGyver was on the case.
I continued after we were off the air at 8 p.m. It took some playing but I think -- maybe -- I've fixed it.
Three old computers (two MacBooks) and two iPads with an old iPhone will get you through all kinds of things, I suppose. Upgrades would be lovely.
There's too much to think about tonight, and yet, our 30-Day Song Challenge just whacks us right between the eyes.
Day 19: A song that makes you think about life
Just...why?
There's so much. My immediate thought was "Let it Be" because it's about as close to a hymn as I normally get. Certainly "Imagine" works in that same way.
"One," not by U2 but by Johnny Cash, can make you ponder literally everything you've ever known. Any version of "Hallelujah" (Jeff Buckley with the go-to version) will work.
The entire soundtrack of Garden State also does the job. I've used that for many a moody, deep time. In fact, I was leaning towards something from Nick Drake, who has a song on that soundtrack.
When I get overwhelmed like this, I glance at lists on the interwebs for suggestions.
There it was: the brilliant Harry Chapin.
At first, it was going to be "Cats in the Cradle," just to purely torture me and have me sobbing as I finished typing.
But, instead, I think I need two old flames. One who's live the high life. The other who is just getting high.
If Creed Bratton was groovy, why can't we all be? (Reddit)
I almost exploded this morning.
I was looking at co-conspirator John Nash's Facebook post. I understood completely what he was saying.
I also understood the views and opinions of each comment (numbering 38 at last check).
The contents are the property of John and I'm not going to lay the whole thing out here.
Like me, John shoots from the hip but also works with a tongue firmly planted in cheek. It makes his writing worth the time but, given this was a Facebook post, it's not for public consumption.
But I share his frustration.
What concerns me -- not speaking for John -- is the extremism of this time. Those on the wings ruin it for those either closer to middle or in the middle.
That's entirely what is missing here: common sense.
Because it's not common.
So, instead of some rant, I chose instead to stay positive. I see a mostly sunny day with a temperature of 71 degrees at press time.
The bulk pickup that had been growing for two months at the end of the driveway was picked up today. Everything is gone -- even those things that shouldn't have been included because I assume the crew felt they could utilize it somehow. Seeing things be salvaged and repurposed makes me happy.
I'm healthy. My mom is fine. The cat is fine. Sean is here and he's fine.
Up to a point, I'm living my life because it simply can't be avoided, I go out nearly every day. I serve as a chauffeur and delivery man for my family. That's the shortest way to explain it and I appreciate nobody judging me.
I wear my mask and follow the guidelines, though I know I've failed a few times.
Still, I'm frustrated.
On the downside, I miss working and I'm scared. Very. I have a huge car decision to make and bills that have to be dealt with. Gov. Cuomo won't protect certain things. Let's put it that way.
There's no help for that.
There was bad news in the day also -- but not worth getting into. Things happen. I found the positive in it and moved on. It's a bummer but I'm certainly determined to make the best of the day.
I texted someone earlier and apologized for sounding like a motivational poster.
Tomorrow, this could all be different, but what have we said on this blog for probably 12-13 years?
Keep moving forward.
That's what we're doing today.
*****
Song challenge time. I could have used the same song that I used yesterday.
Day 18: A song from the year you were born
As usual, I obsessed over this. Then, it hit me.
I love The Office. I probably even love it more now than when it was on. I listen to the Office Ladies podcast and respect those who don't get it or don't like it.
I worked in an office. I understand the insanity, especially in the corporate world. I've dealt with basically all of the characters.
While good ol' 1968 wasn't such a great year in that a) we lost MLK, b) we lost RFK, c) Vietnam was still raging, d) it wasn't '67 (and the "Summer of Love" was over), and d) I was born, there were some pretty good tunes.
And Creed Bratton was playing guitar in The Grass Roots, long before Creed Bratton moved to Dunder Mifflin in Scranton.
Thus, "Midnight Confessions" is the call (that's Creed playing guitar on the left).
Pandemic diary, day 4,357*: There have been steps taken forward and a step taken back.
New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo began the process of reopening more regions of the state, including the Capital District. Selfishly, that's important to me because my niece and her fiancée are getting married in August not too far from Albany.
Also important was Cuomo along with the governors of Texas and California saying that they are open to allowing professional sports to be played in their respective states. The games would be complete with safety precautions and no fans.
I see that as a good step, but of course, it could all mean nothing.
Closer to home, my region is not open yet. New York City isn't either.
On the down side, from a mental standpoint, Connecticut Gov. Ned Lamont said that beauty salons and barbershops could not reopen as scheduled on Wednesday. Look, I feel for the people who work at them. I get it. On the other hand, we still have to keep a perspective on things.
Those needing their hair cut in the Nutmeg State (and don't cut it themselves like me!) will have to adjust. They'll wait until June. First World Problems and all.
So I see that one as a bit of a negative.
Win some, lose some I guess.
(*4 3 5 7 are the numbers of Gehrig, Ruth, DiMaggio and Mantle that were retired, in order. Because I'm weird)
Day 17: A song you'd sing a duet with someone on karaoke
My mind drifts back to Sean being young. Except he's not a little kid anymore and probably wouldn't be caught dead singing. At one time, it would have been "Eleanor Rigby" or "Yellow Submarine" or "Octopus's Garden" or a few other song. I'd load him in the car as we drove home from daycare and he'd give me his request. Put it this way: we didn't play kid's music.
I don't want to use The Beatles again, nor do I want to use Huey Lewis again, though his duet with Gwyneth Paltrow on "Cruisin'" was a hit from a movie about karaoke singers (Duets).
Honestly, I'm a little flummoxed on this one.
Of course, I could turn to all of the times that Chris Erway and Ryan DeMaria joined me for some silly singalong to change the lyrics to any song by inserting Chris Kaelins' name in it.
So I guess I'm breaking the rules. There are enough verses here for everyone to sing some, or it can just be a duet.
They didn't need a fancy name. They were just The Band.
Oh, just one thing: I get the verse about crazy...Chester. Yes. Chester is his name.
It was NASCAR at Darlington, SC. My dad often talked about going there whenever we'd pass through just a few miles to the east on I-95.
The FOX broadcast was really well-done. You would't know the broadcasters were in a studio. You wouldn't know any of the logistics unless FOX told you because they were that flawless in the presentation.
The point is that it worked.
To that end, here's a "pro tip" literally all other sports and those who tweet about them: shut up.
Seriously. Shut up.
I'm tired of the talking. I'm tired of the 6,000-page MLB COVID-19 handbook that's being broken down like it's a newly-discovered work from Shakespeare.
I'm tired of the armchair analysts who "don't see it happening."
I'm tired of the people who don't get IT'S A NEGOTIATION. It's stage one, and every press release has said that very thing.
So, at this point, come back or don't.
But shut up about it.
Baseball will look terrible if it doesn't come back due to money. Blake Snell didn't exactly endear himself the other day.
If safety is your concern since you can't spit, high-five and the myriad other guidelines that the FIRST DRAFT put in place, then so be it.
Time is ticking.
The messages remain ridiculously mixed everywhere.
That's why I've mostly been writing about music. I haven't wanted to lose my stuff over everything.
People are just being...well, people, I guess.
Maybe I'll let that fly here eventually.
But I just finished watching The Last Dance. I'd rather focus on GOATs.
Michael Jordan is, simply, The Greatest of All Time.
To that end...
Day 16: A song that's a classic favorite
I was going to try to be different.
Maybe go with Elvis. Sinatra. Maybe some Chuck Berry. Maybe Clapton.
A classic favorite. Consider the gods.
Nah. I'm in the mood for the GOATs.
Babe Ruth. Vin Scully. Wayne Gretzky. Jim Brown.
In this case, musically, a team that went out on top. A team that we wanted to see regroup.
The Bulls.
The Beatles.
You hear about this band from Liverpool. You buy their first album (in the UK), Please Please Me.
Day 15: A song you like that's a cover by another artist.
This is actually one of the easiest ones I've come across and I knew my answer probably two weeks ago.
Sure, Hendrix blasted Dylan's "All along the Watchtower" to another level. No question. The Beatles took "Twist and Shout" from the Isley Brothers and made it their own. Aretha Franklin did the same with Otis Redding's "Respect."
There's also "Heart and Soul" by Huey Lewis and the News. You didn't know that was a cover, did you? Exile did the first version in 1981 and the BusBoys did a version in 1982. HLN perfected it in 1983.
In each case, the cover is more famous than the original.
I'll tell you in advance that Huey Lewis is the correct answer to our song tonight.
The song is "The Boys Are Back in Town."
Obviously, the song is forever the property of the great Thin Lizzy, fronted by Phil Lynott. The Irish-born Lynott met Huey Lewie...ahem...Huey Lewis when Lewis was in Clover in the 70s. Clover opened for Thin Lizzy at a difficult time for country rock and were booed mercilessly.
Lewis and Lynott became friends, with Huey playing Harmonica on Lynott's 1980 album Solo in Soho. Huey would take the song he played on, "Tattoo (Giving It All Up for Love)," and re-record it for 1982's Picture This with the News.
Huey and the News, in fact, worked with Lynott on a solo album in 1985 that would never see the light of day. Lynott died in Jan 1986.
Flash forward to Madison Square Garden in May 1987. Huey and the News were touring in back of the album FORE!. They used the song "Whole Lotta Lovin'" from FORE! to spin into "The Boys Are Back in Town" with a transition in between.
I was blown away.
I eventually recorded a copy off the radio one night of another concert, when they toured for the Small World album (a tour that never landed in New York City, for reasons I never knew). Several bootlegs exist and they've found their way to YouTube.
It in no way removes the greatness of the original. But, damn, does this take me to a happy place as Huey honored his friend Philip.
We've reached the end of the fortnight in the 30-Day Song Challenge
Day 14: A song you'd love to be played at your wedding
Hmmm. How to answer this one?
We all know there are so many songs that speak of love. Honestly, do I need to put the links up?
Some just get it so right.
There are rockers and slow-dancers and mid-tempo and up-tempo and I'm sure you get the idea.
Some songs work perfectly. They say the right message. Some, well, um ... "Every Breath You Take" is just wrong unless dangerous obsession is your thing.
The song I immediately thought of speaks of the power of love (hey, I like the sound of that). It speaks of just being blown away that someone loves you, and loves you right.
To be honest, it probably isn't a "first dance" song (though I guess anything is possible). It might be an introduction song or a cake-cutting song or a filler. But I think I'd want to hear it.
And I'd want to hear it right.
I appreciate the studio version but the true power of this Paul McCartney classic about his beloved Linda comes in the live version on the Wings Over America album.
This just hits it. Oh, and if you want a slower Macca tune, try "My Valentine," written for wife Nancy Shevell.
McCartney: The Mullet Years (Credit: Michael Putland/Getty Images)
It's Thursday night and patience has run down.
I'm not afraid to let the feelings flow but there are times where the message seems unnecessary (and just missed).
So, we'll lay off that.
The 30-Day Song Challenge has certainly been helpful in that I haven't had to scrounge for topics.
However, they threw me a curveball for today.
Day 13: A song you like from the 70s
For one thing, last night was my pre-teen years, which was the 70s.
So, now I have to find another one.
OK. This isn't a big deal.
The 70s produced its fair share of monstrous hits and cringeworthy nuggets.
Think about it: the 70s produced the Stones at some of their best and some of their questionably worst (the 80s wouldn't be so kind to them). We did the Hustle and other dance moves in the middle of the decade before disco completely took over and was killed in a ballpark.
We had punk. We had the singer-songwriters of Laurel Canyon.
The Eagles ruled. So did Joni Mitchell. So did Chicago. So did the Sex Pistols and Blondie and Bowie and on and on...
We met Queen after the early 70s stretch of glam rock. Freddie could have been glam but he was far more than that. Fleetwood Mac drifted from their early blues work to their biggest album.
We also got to know Billy Joel.
Each Beatle found a level of success. John Lennon made seminal music before he went on his "lost weekend." Then he found fatherhood. George Harrison turned spiritual and made a masterpiece with All Things Must Pass. Ringo bounced through solo highs and lows. Paul McCartney was the most commercially successful and made his best work with Band on the Run.
Oh, and a guy from the Bay Area went to England with a country rock band (also a thing during the decade) just as punk hit it big. So, he came back and, by 1979, formed Monday Night Live, which became the American Express. But, his story would play out in the 80s when they became Huey Lewis and the News.
In truth, there's a ton of music I love from the 70s.
So anything could go here. From "The Night Chicago Died" to "Kung Fu Fighting" to other things that say, "I'm old," it's the decade that gave us "Layla."
But, love it or hate it, there's one sax riff that either incited pure hatred or pure joy.
We've reached another entry in our 30-Day Song Challenge
Day 12: A song from your preteen years
Honestly, that could be anything. Did I have to be alive when it was made? I decided that I needed to be, so anything between Nov, 1968 and Nov 1981 was in play.
I grew up in a house of music. We had WABC and WNNNNNNNBC on in the car. We played some FM with "Music From the Terrace" on WHUD and other FM stations emanating from the stereos of my siblings.
We could find music on TV, such as The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour.
(Westchester County Historical Society)
And, on many Saturday nights, you'd find us in the corner booth of the old Crompond Diner in Yorktown.
A trusty old railroad-style dining car, it had booths with a jukebox at each table. For some reason, it strikes me that you got two songs for a quarter but my memory might be off on that.
We played the hits of the era in the 70s before they made improvements, adding a "fancy" dining room in the back. Eventually the whole thing would get changed, the place would change hands, and we stopped going. Time moves on.
Oh but to the simpler times of getting that trusty quarter, working the keys for the selection and, through those lo-fidelity crappy speakers, out came Elton John.
I'd like to tell you about a broadcaster named Chuck Thompson. A great broadcaster who did football and baseball in Baltimore for many years, Chuck called the bottom of the ninth in Pittsburgh as the Pirates won the 1960 World Series over the Yankees. Bill Mazeroski homered to give the Buccos the title (the call starts at 1:01).
One problem: Art Ditmar didn't throw the fateful pitch. It was Ralph Terry who would be vindicated by winning the seventh game of the 1962 World Series. Ditmar stewed over it for years and even went to court over it.
In 2015, I got the pitcher right...
"And a high fly ball to right..." Er. OK. So far.
"Back goes..."
I know, at this point, I was looking for my defensive chart. Somewhere -- somehow -- I blew it. Instead of just not trying to identify the right fielder, I found the name of the starter.
"Mini...it is GONE!"
It wasn't Eric Mini. It was Anthony Ferraro.
F***. And I knew it immediately. I corrected myself.
"Ferraro turned and looked at it! It's a walk-off (some hate that expression), two-run homer in the bottom of the eighth and New Canaan knocks off Greenwich 8-7."
I wouldn't normally do any of that. I'd probably lay out more (let the crowd noise rule).
John, at that point, was literally stunned. Hell, we all were. We were standing just off to the side of the Greenwich dugout (I later heard someone was mad at me from Greenwich but never knew why).
Finally, John spoke.
"Just bedlam in front of us, Rob!"
I don't know that there was anything else to add, at least not until we had a chance to get our heads back on straight. It was a wacky game.
A little bonus "Easter Egg" nugget: if you listen closely, someone standing nearby (I won't say who it was) exclaimed, "Holy s*it. He just hit a home run to win it!" (That's a paraphrase as it is not entirely clear what was said). We all laughed about it later.
As these are moments that live through time, it's obviously important to get them right. Screwing up (I stumbled on "standing straight towards home plate" before the last pitch) and saying the wrong players name will always gnaw at me.
As for me, I'm a hard judge and I hold myself to a high standard. Not like, you know, Michael Jordan or whatever but in that same concept of always giving my best.
As for Chuck Thompson, after the Mazeroski home run, he said the final score was 10-0 before correcting himself to 10-9. It happens, I guess.
***** Day 11: A song you never get tired of
To me, this is the same as the song that makes you happy, but I won't use the same one over again. I've also not repeated artists through the first 10 days. So, I'm going somewhere else.
There are tons of songs by my favorite artists that I never tire of. That's too easy.
But, is it possible to not get tired of a song? I know of a guy who strolls (well, used to stroll) into a place and see someone sitting at a nearby table. Without fail, the countdown would be on to the playing of a particular song. Pretty soon, that song became a little tiring.
I digress.
My choice here is a 1967 song by Procol Harum called "Conquistador." The most famous version is a live one from 1972 (the studio version is incredibly different). It's only slightly obscure, but not really if you know classic rock. I put it on one day when I was driving to Ridgefield for work. Four minutes and fourteen seconds later, I replayed it. And again. And again.
And didn't stop until I turned off the engine in Ridgefield.
I think the first time I read Norman Chad was in the long-gone National Sports Daily.
So, just a primer, the guy has been around over 30 years.
Mostly, he had disappeared from my radar, and that was due to his getting involved with things like the World Series of Poker. It's just something I don't watch normally.
He has continued to write a weekly column called Couch Slouch and, boy, did he rise from "obscurity" yesterday.
I glanced at Twitter while enjoying some rare normalcy on Mother's Day and saw Chad was trending.
The computer of my brain began to search for relevancy as my phone rolled through the data to pull up why Mr. Chad was being talked about.
One might -- call me crazy -- actually read the story and not just the headline.
Which, I guarantee, the Twitter mob crowd (most of whom have never heard of Chad and let's leave why out of this) did not do.
And, even more, the joke is on all of you telling Chad to "be better" or whatever.
- His net worth is quite comfortable, let's just put it that way, as he is a well-regarded nationally syndicated columnist for some 30 years. But that aside...
- YOU CLICKED ON THE ARTICLE. As such, by clicking, retweeting, and getting it to trend, you got ME to read the article.
And, now, I'm laughing at all of you, regardless of how foolish Chad's column is.
Continue to beg on Twitter for people to notice you. Keep focusing on things that attract flies. You have a long way to go, Grasshopper.
Norman Chad is trending. He's now relevant. The post is receiving crazy clicks. That attracts advertisers and puts more money in Norman Chad's pocket.
He got you and you fell for it.
Advantage: Chad.
Here endeth the lesson.
*****
OK, 30-Day Song Challenge people, this one will be rough.
It's a rainy, cold, dreary day in New York and I've just written about Norman Chad (and, I suppose, me) schooling folks. I'm in a good mood and laughing. Yet...
Mother's come in all styles. Foster, adopted, pets, natural, grand, great-grand and so on.
So, whatever you are, have a happy one.
*****
Howard, Dandy Don, and Giff -- 1977
I was reading reactions to the mercy-killing of the Monday Night Football broadcast booth. I'll put it this way: their style just didn't work.
Like it or not, the broadcasters are a part of the show -- every show. Sure, some are less intrusive, but that's never been the MNF formula. Keith Jackson didn't quite fit the style coming out of 1970 so in came Frank Gifford and, obviously, there's no duplicating Frank, Don Meredith and Howard Cosell. There were other parts in through the years before it became Frank, Dan Dierdorf and Al Michaels. And other parts after that.
It all changed once Sunday Night Football took over. They had the flash of the stupid theme song, a veteran production team, the marquee games and the marquee both with Michaels and Cris Collinsworth, plus the terrific Michele Tafoya.
MNF has been in flux ever since with dicey games, followed by the departure of Mike Tirico.
The buzz was that Joe Tessitore, Jason Witten, and Boomer McFarland were in trouble from the start. The issues went from the "Booger Mobile" to Witten's obvious discomfort trying to become the "next Tony Romo" to Joe Tesses' perpetual cheerleading, bordering on Gus Johnson-esque calls that seemed like he wanted to sell me on the game.
Buzz is that Steve Levy is the likely new PBP voice. I'll say this: there needs to be a little sizzle with the steak.
The A-Team is available, as Chris Erway and I were laughing about it yesterday. It could be a full Connecticut pedigree, with Dan Orlovsky in the booth.
As I pay attention to such things (including uniforms, much to the dismay of some), I will be keeping an eye on it.
Now, back to our regularly-scheduled 30-Day Song Challenge.
Day 9: A song that makes you happy.
There are so many choices here. That happiness can stem from a memory of hearing the song or that the song itself is so happy.
So this is a fairly open-ended idea.
And so we come to the world of "(I Got You) I Feel Good," basically anything by Sly & the Family Stone, and the super-saccharine sweet sounds of too many others, perhaps represented in this case by "Silly Love Songs" (if only to irritate some). Certainly "A Hard Day's Night" brings me amazing joy as does a lot of other great songs.
But, I was reminded of chatting with a friend one time when they played a song on the jukebox.
"I'm not the biggest Tom Petty fan," they said. "But I like this song for a reason."
Little Richard -- born Richard Penniman -- died at the age of 87.
There is no true originator of rock and roll, of course. Just like baseball, rock was an amalgam of things that formed into a movement in the mid 1950s. Sure, there was jazz and bluegrass and blues and gospel and ragtime.
It's generally accepted that the forefathers of rock and roll include Big Joe Turner, Fats Domino, a pre-Tina Ike Turner along with Elvis Presley, Bill Haley and His Comets, Jerry Lee Lewis, Carl Perkins, Chuck Berry, and even Johnny Cash.
And Little Richard -- WOOOOOOO!
Shut up.
Little Richard's passing makes me sad because, of those who put rock and roll on the map, only Jerry Lee is left.
But thinking about Little Richard makes me smile because his outsized personality matched the brash rock and roll that he played.
“I am the architect of rock ‘n’ roll!” he said in 1988. “I am the originator!”
He influenced everyone -- The Beatles and James Brown and Otis Redding and, basically, everyone.
Among his latter work was on The Imus Ranch Record -- yes, as in Don Imus -- singing "I Ain't Never." The album raised money for The Imus Ranch (and is outstanding).
If there's a rock and roll heaven, man, look out tonight.
I was going to pick any one of those, and then...well...
Long before they changed their focus (and name) and allowed this to happen there was a band called Jefferson Airplane and as soon as I thought of this title, I began hearing that opening bass line played by Jack Casady. It screams of psychedelic imagery and was written by Grace Slick, who was apparently coming off an acid trip at the time of composition.
Sure, sometimes you need traffic/weather/news (especially around Washington, DC). Or it could be time for a ballgame.
Sometimes, after turning the dial and simply lacking inspiration, silence isn't a bad thing.
But, mostly, it's music.
Day 7: A song to drive to
It was 1984 (I think) and we had just left a Howard Johnson's (our lodging of choice -- my father slept well there). It looked like snow was in the forecast as we rolled out of North Carolina and into Virginia.
I was in charge of the radio and turned the dial looking for something. My father didn't often overrule me.
He did here.
"Give me something with a beat," he said. He wanted something that rocked so he keep the energy moving along Interstate 95.
I've never forgotten it.
By the way, I thought we'd maybe make Richmond or DC and get snowed in. I think we saw maybe ten snowflakes north of Emporia, VA and made it home without seeing anymore.
I'm overthinking this one (who? me?). I thought about "Fever" by The Black Keys and Girlfriend by Matthew Sweet" and "Are You Gonna Go My Way" by Lenny Kravitz (and I still remember hearing that for the first time at Virginia Commonwealth University). I toyed with INXS and Eric Clapton.
I decided to not repeat The Beatles (and, by extension, any solo projects) or Billy Joel.
But, come on. I have to use them sometime. I have to use this song sometime.
They have so many songs that are drivable and have been the soundtrack to many a car ride.
They're almost the soundtrack of my life.
Yes.
Maroon 5, of course. Oh, wait. That's what I'd listen to drive a sledgehammer into my skull. Different kind of driving.
Sometimes, while trying to be different, track one/side one is staring you right in the eye. It's the travelogue of road trips songs.
There are only 24 versions of it listed in my iTunes between live, session takes, studio cuts, single edits, greatest hits and other compilations.
I promise to not reference the (arguably) most forgettable album (and era) in the long and glorious history of Genesis (the band, not the first book of The Bible) beyond the title of this post and picture.
Genesis, frankly, wasn't much of a danceable band, though I think you can cut the proverbial rug to almost anything.
Though I will tell you one dancing story. Sean and I would have this game we would play every time we went to Stew Leonard's in Danbury where we would race (without running, of course) to the button that would make the animatronic Miss Chiquita dance and sing. He found Miss Chiquita to be annoying and, most of the time, he'd find a way to run and beat me but, once in a while, I'd speed walk and beat him.
Then I'd break out into this rumba meets salsa meets cha-cha meets I don't know what the hell it was. But it mortified him and that made me love every minute of it.
Anyway, sorry. I digress.
Day 6: A song that makes you want to dance
This one baffled me.
Have I danced? Yes, though the last time I did and felt like I wasn't an idiot (non-Chiquita Banana Division) was probably 10 years ago (though I did do a few numbers at the wedding of Chris and Genna Erway -- different story).
I immediately thought of "I Saw Her Standing There" but I'm sure all 30 days of this challenge could be Beatles songs.
I thought of Huey Lewis also, because Huey Lewis. Of course. But he'll be showing up during this month for sure.
Then, it hit me. Not a song that makes ME want to dance, per se, but a song that REMINDS me of dancing, and maybe I would actually dance to it if I ever got over myself to not feel so awkward again.
Instead, it reminded me of the time a song came on and someone decided to get up and dance because they wanted to imitate someone.
And they danced in the style of Belinda Carlisle.
And it was gloriously awesome.
The thing is, I like the Go-Go's. Sure, they made pop, but they could also rock.
"Head Over Heels" was a perfectly fine pop song in 1984.
We've reached day five of the 30-Day Song Challenge that is making the rounds on the socially-distant interwebs.
Day 5: A song that needs to be played loud.
Doesn't any good song -- I mean, really good song -- need some volume?
You know, like the amplifiers in This Is Spinal Tap: "These go to 11."
But I do suppose there are songs that have me looking for volumes that can't be achieved. There's a running gag about "Revolution" by the Beatles (Not "Revolution 1" and sure as hell not "Revolution 9"). If there's a dolt flapping their gums nearby, just let the guitars on "Revolution" drown them out. Works every time.
Certainly "Enter Sandman" does the job as well, and I'll be totally transparent and admit that it became a song to play even louder after it became the theme of one Billy Wag...nah, Mariano Rivera.
There are honestly just too many in this category, but I have to give you something.
For some reason, while thinking about this one tonight, I found myself reaching for Billy Joel. Now, not just any Billy Joel, though I will tell you there are many of his songs that work the volume knob ("You May Be Right" and "Scenes From an Italian Restaurant" both qualify) but "Miami 2017" is the winner.
And, yet, not the studio version. Oh, no. It has to be the magnificence of the one on Songs in the Attic.
From the whir of the siren as Joel's science fiction ode begins to the roar of the no doubt heavily stoned Madison Square Garden crowd in June of 1980, the song gives me need to be alone. Preferably in the car on an open road with a sound system that will not be good for the health of my ears.
The pace and beat are faster than the studio version, powered by the beat of Liberty DeVitto (please, Billy, would you guys make up?).
We won't get into whether or not Staten Island is not acknowledged, though I still say "island bridges" qualifies.
This is the one I've been dreading in the 30-Day Song Challenge.
Because, how do I write about this one at all?
Day 4: A song that reminds you of someone you'd rather forget
We all have those people. Chances are they are relationships (romantic/emotional ones) that have soured.
Musical taste often pays a price in that.
I'm trying to reconnect with Van Morrison, for instance. I've struggled with The Police and have a very on/off thing with U2 that's mostly "meh" right now.
Sometimes someone will come into your life that will help you rekindle that. But, often, it's a fatal connection.
I'm vacillating here.
The call here is "Take on Me" by A-Ha, and here's how I had it reach a point of tolerance.
You probably know that I'm divorced. It was (and sometimes still is) an emasculating experience that I could write a book on. "Take on Me" was her favorite song when I met her and, to be fair, I picked on it a lot.
Eventually, I let it pass but, obviously, it was a song I never wanted to hear again and, of course, it's a song that will never die, in the hell that is "Jack and Diane," "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" and "Old Time Rock and Roll."
Commercials use it. Stadiums use it for sing-alongs (a la "Living On a Prayer," which could also use a rocket launch).
Thankfully, Family Guy used it also, and that's where we reached a point of redemption.
"Daddy," Sean said to me years ago, "it's funny. Think of Chris Griffin."
That did it.
So, now, every time I hear it, I groan and then utter to myself in Chris Griffin's voice: "I DON'T KNOW."
(Sirius XM -- hey, have I mentioned you can hear "The Clubhouse" there, on channel 211? Not sure if I've said that ...)
It's Sunday.
No, really. I just checked. Despite the belief to the contrary, it's not just "a day." It's Sunday.
It's Jazz brunch day. It's Breakfast with The Beatles.
It's perfect for Yacht Rock.
But, hold that thought, as we dispense with the song challenge.
Day 2: A song you like with a number in the title.
One comes up nicely, stretching from U2 to Billy Joel (C'etait Toi --You Were The One) to even Huey Lewis (The Only One). I mean, we could do this all day. I could go with the pandemicesque (I'm creating words now) loneliness of "One" by Three Dog Night (written by Harry Nilsson, and you get two numbers in the process!).
But, I'm leaning to a guilty pleasure: the album Heart and Soul by Joe Jackson. The song I chose is of wanting love again but, hopefully, one that isn't complicated, set against a sheen of 80s production and wailing saxophone.
I was recently told even my guilty pleasures are cool and, while I appreciate that, I don't think so, but...this probably isn't. "Be My Number Two," for the second day of the challenge, is the call. For the record, "99" by Toto also hits the mark perfectly.
Now, to Yacht Rock. First, I need a ruling and, after consulting with Susan, I'm reaching for the High Priestess of Yacht Rock herself, the one and only Kathy Dempsey. Is this song -- in her opinion -- Yacht Rock? I guess I'd like to know where they got the notion.
Now, to my next concern. Have you ever considered the story of "The Piña Colada Song?"
As in, these two are terrible people? Credit to Susan, as she and I have broken this down to basic dissertation levels. This is masters level, Rupert Holmes 401!
Think about it: they're a miserable couple and they're looking to cheat on each other! She places a personal ad. He responds!
And, of course, it just has to be at an Irish bar (O'Malley's) where they'll cut through all this red tape.
It isn't the cutesy, "Aw, it's you," that our protagonist jackwagon says. In truth, even that isn't so cute. "Aw, it's you?!" Sounds like the time I deadpanned "Oh, there you are" and have never heard the end of it to the point that even I find it funny. You can't go wrong with the classics.
But, beyond that, he's awful. Who, in their right mind, even in 1979, refers to his girlfriend/wife/partner as "My old lady?"
Yet, there's more. How did they get together in the first place? Sure, I forget things. I might forget a favorite flower or something like that. But, to forget that she likes piña coladas and getting caught in the rain but doesn't like yoga? Still, you forget that she has half a brain? And, trust me, if she's someone who likes making love at midnight in the dunes of the Cape, you will not forget her!
Shameful, dude. Like, ponderous.
They no doubt didn't last very long. Or, they were actually Jack and Diane all along.
Yet, somewhere, another part of me has just died as a DJ/computer hits "play" on that drivel.
I can jump on immediately -- if not before they become a trend. Or I can wait (or never participate).
I've resisted many of the various challenges, regardless of the pandemic.
But, for my own reasons, I've decided to do the 30-day song challenge that is going around.
I thought about sitting here and giving you one post with all 30 days but that felt like too much.
So we'll roll from here. We can start tonight and end it on May 31.
I'm not aware of rules about repeating artists or anything like that, so we'll do this "Rob Style," or even "Rob's Rules."
But, let's come back to that.
Day 1: A song you like with a color in the title.
While one can opt for Joni Mitchell "Blue" or Coldplay "Yellow" or Kermit the Frog "Bein' Green" this is me, of course, and maybe its because of yesterday's post (which I have since climbed down off the bridge and thank you for the inquiries -- and there were some either directly to me or to others about me), but I think I must once again give Sean some love.
Sean and I drove together a lot and we listened to a lot of music, especially in his preschool years. I would load him into his car seat and he'd put in his request. He has, you might know, a healthy love for The Beatles, I'm proud to say.
This is probably still his favorite. I love it more because of that.
You've probably figured it out, and I'll waste no more time on the buildup.
Oh, the "Rob's Rules" thing. Seems that, when backed into a corner in a debate, it's the thing to say that I have "rules."
Hmm. No. I have opinions. Easy mistake, I suppose.
See, if I think Babe Ruth is the greatest baseball player ever (and I do...duh) that's an opinion. Doesn't mean you have to agree. You might disagree. The beauty of it is you can respond to that with an opinion of your own. Then I can reply. That's called a "debate."
If you want to think it's Ken Griffy JR or Barry Bonds or Willie Mays, well, that's great. I don't agree.
So, if I say, oh, "Black is not a Mets color" and that I like the Mets in their classic uniforms, including the ones with the pinstripes, then that's an opinion. Scholars can explain this concept much better than I can.
See, I think the Mets putting pinstripes on their uniform in 1962 is sort of bad ass, in that they -- as the METROPOLITANS -- used not only Dodgers blue and Giants orange but they dared to add Yankees pinstripes. Get it? Metropolitan New York? It was a kick in the pants.
If the Mets want to go with black tops, which their lead radio voice Howie Rose decried, and bring back the non-pinstripe all white vanilla unis, then BRAVO! Have at it.
I also hate the Red Sox red batting practice tops and think they're borderline offensively criminal.
They're ugly, but that's my opinion!
Doesn't mean they have to do it. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
You do you.
Have we resolved this confusion or will we go through another round of insanity?
New York schools officially closed for the rest of the 2019-2020 school year a few minutes ago, per Governor Andrew Cuomo. Connecticut is sure to follow.
And, frankly, at this moment, if your response is to tell me "It's the right thing to do" or "There was no other way," TAKE TODAY OFF.
IGNORE THIS POST.
I'm tired of the fighting I see over this. I had to watch a post of mine drop into political idiocy the other day. I've been rational about this whole thing. I've tried so hard.
Today, I'm not.
My son lost his senior year. So did a lot of others.
And, right now, this is my avenue to spew.
I need these feelings right now.
I'm mad.
Hurt.
Distressed.
Disgusted.
I'm not even sure who I'm furious at. Sure, I don't like the politicians. But that's easy pickings.
I'm doing what any parent would do -- defending my son and his friends and the many other seniors I've met and know.
In my world, when someone hurts, I rage for them, especially when they won't or don't.
So, why am I spouting?
Sean, just now: "I'm upset by this, yeah, but I can't get mad over it. There's really nothing I can do, so it just seems like a waste of energy."
He's a smart kid. So, I'll explode for him.
And, frankly, I've lost a large amount of income to this. Gone is literally all of my springs sports. No Mahopac, John Jay, Greenwich, Brunswick, Fairfield.
I drove by a store -- a store that is about back yards -- and they're OPEN. Like, I'm glad they're open, but HOW ARE THEY ESSENTIAL? (And don't suggest to me they're some kind of hardware store or whatever. Right now I'm not interested)
The messages have been mixed. One day positive. The next negative. Mostly, a ton of gloom and doom.
I don't dispute the numbers. I don't dispute the issues. I've talked to too many people.
But, still.
The prom --likely, gone. Graduation -- same. Memories -- changed. No overwrought farewell music concert that probably would have had me in tears.
Right now, I do not want to hear about silver linings. I'll see them AFTER I work through this.
Where, oh where, is the line? What's it going to take? See you in 2021? See you in 2022?
I'm mad. Just mad at the whole thing.
This is my outlet to get rid of it.
Let me rant.
Allow me -- and others -- to feel irrational and raw.
I'll come back down off the bridge, which I seem to do on a daily basis.
