IPOD
RADIO
This world would be such a better place if I had a license to kill. The only problem I'd foresee is that I'd kill so many assholes that there wouldn't be enough people left to bury them all fast enough. Let me tell you, nothing stinks worse than a rotting asshole in the sun.
So in honor of Halloween tonight, we watched The Descent. I have to tell you, I think it was the scariest horror movie I've ever seen. Just the scenes in the cave before the monsters show up were scarier than most horror movies. When things really get rolling, it's almost unbearably intense. 
Judging by my interests, hobbies, and (lack of) ambitions, I clearly missed my true calling as the ne'er-do-well son of a doting oil billionaire.
We made homemade fish n' chips tonight. Some beer/flour battered tilapia and french fries. Totally cut our own potatoes, made our own batter, cut up our own fish! I think I broke every safety rule for frying ever -- frying with a quart of canola oil at 375 degrees -- using a probe thermometer to attempt to control the temperature -- in just a regular stainless steel pot, without a splash screen, in my underwear. I did (and always have) at least have an ABC fire extinguisher handy. But it turned out delicious and all was well. Think "Long John Silvers", except with fries that were fluffy and crunchy instead of soggy and floppy, and fish that was crunchy and light, and didn't make you feel like you'd swallowed a lead weight and then received a peanut oil enema. Yummy. This was the recipe we used, if you're interested. Courtesy of Alton Brown, truly a god among men:
For the fries:
1 gallon safflower oil
4 large Russet potatoes
Kosher salt
For the batter:
2 cups flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Dash Old Bay Seasoning
1 bottle brown beer, cold
1 1/2 pounds firm-fleshed whitefish (tilapia, pollock, cod), cut into 1-ounce strips
Cornstarch, for dredging
Heat oven to 200 degrees F.
Heat the safflower oil in a 5-quart Dutch oven over high heat until it reaches 320 degrees.
Using a V-slicer with a wide blade, slice the potatoes with the skin on. Place in a large bowl with cold water.
In a bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, cayenne pepper, and Old Bay seasoning. Whisk in the beer until the batter is completely smooth and free of any lumps. Refrigerate for 15 minutes. Note: The batter can be made up to 1 hour ahead of time.
Drain potatoes thoroughly, removing any excess water. When oil reaches 320 degrees, submerge the potatoes in the oil. Working in small batches, fry for 2 to 3 minutes until they are pale and floppy. Remove from oil, drain, and cool to room temperature.
Increase the temperature of the oil to 375 degrees. Re-immerse fries and cook until crisp and golden brown, about 2 to 3 minutes. Remove and drain on roasting rack. Season with kosher salt while hot and hold in the oven.
Allow oil to return to 350 degrees. Lightly dredge fish strips in cornstarch. Working in small batches, dip the fish into batter and immerse into hot oil. When the batter is set, turn the pieces of fish over and cook until golden brown, about 2 minutes. Drain the fish on the roasting rack. Serve with malt vinegar.
Listening to Hawkwind (who once released an album called Doremi Fasol Latido) the other day got me thinking about album titles, specifically bad ones. Bad album titles are interesting to me because of the disconnect between the amount of time, effort, and talent it takes to make a good record -- and some of the records listed below are undeniable classics -- and the lameness or laziness of the title with which those involved christened said album for posterity. It's as if you spent all day concocting a marvelous new pasta sauce, only to slap a label on it of "Shit, Vomit and Puss" when it was done. There are many types of bad titles, but it occurred to me that bad album titles can be broken down into five basic categories:
It's Funny Because They Think It's Serious:
Progressive (or "post-") rock is a great repeat offender here, but any band who consider themselves "artists" is bound to squeeze one of these out at some point. Notables excesses include:
1. Fiona Apple's When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks Like a King What He Knows Throws the Blows When He Goes to the Fight and He'll Win the Whole Thing 'Fore He Enters the Ring There's No Body to Batter When Your Mind Is Your Might So When You Go Solo, You Hold Your Own Hand and Remember That Depth Is the Greatest of Heights and if You Know Where You Stand, Then You Know Where to Land and if You Fall It Won't Matter, 'Cuz You'll Know That You're Right. This was almost immediately shortened, Prince-like, in the press to When the Pawn...
2. The Mars Volta Amputechture / De-Loused in the Comatorium. What the fuck?
3. Smashing Pumpkins Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness (Edging out MACHINA/The Machines of God only because, by that point, no one cared.)
4. Coheed & Cambria's Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV, Vol. 1: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness. This one's implication of more to come is, alone, enough to terrify.
5. Kansas Leftoverture
The Bad Joke (a.k.a. The Bad Pun)
Spinal Tap canonized the idea that rock'n'roll is one of the last great preserves where forever-adolescents are allowed to roam in their natural habitat, and some bands decide to advertise their inner sixth-grader right on their record sleaves. As our good friend Fiona shows above, women aren't immune to bad titles, but this sub-category is almost exclusively dominated by men. Examples abound, but here are some of the most groan-inducing:
1. Limp Bizkit Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water. The fame, however temporary, of Fred Durst provides all the evidence anyone needs that Satan is still firmly in control here on Earth.
2. Van Halen For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge (Get it? GET IT?!), just edging out their previous OU812. Yuk yuk.
3. REO Speedwagon You Can Tune a Piano, but You Can't Tuna Fish. Good one, grandpa.
4. Butthole Surfers Hairway to Steven. Hard to choose with the Buttholes, but this one always made me chuckle.
5. William Hung (remember him?) Hung for the Holidays.
False Advertising
Whether through pre-meditated, cynical malice or the inevitable ego inflation of the momentary superstar, these album titles promise more than their makers could ever possibly deliver. You'll notice a lot of hip hop in this category, and, also, that many of these titles double as threats.
1. Puff Daddy Forever. Did you just shiver a bit?
2. Will Smith Willenium. Oh God.
3. Good Charlotte The Chronicles of Life and Death. Oh really? These cretinous, mouth-breathing frat-punks feel they're qualified to tell us about life and death now? I guess the brilliant social commentary of "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" would prepare one for that.
4. Michael Jackson HIStory: Past, Present and Future: Book 1. As of 1995, did Michael Jackson really think he had enough hits left in the "future" for a Book 2? Judging from the Jackson-as-gay-fascist-stormtrooper-Statue-of-Liberty cover -- a statue he also floated down the Thames river while promoting this album -- yes. Was he right? Doubtful.
5. Anything by Terence Trent D'Arby. Who could choose among such gems as Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D'Arby (because we look to him for the hardline, man), Terence Trent D'Arby's Symphony or Damn, or worse, TTD's Vibrator (vomit).
No Ideas
"None more black."
1. FEAR The Record
2. Leonard Cohen Ten New Songs
3. Filter Title of Record
4. The Kinks Something Else by the Kinks
5. Biz Markee I Need a Haircut
I Want What They're Having
Because who the fuck knows?
1. Captain Beefheart Trout Mask Replica
2. Frank Zappa Weasels Ripped My Flesh. But it does work well with that cover..
3. Guns 'n' Roses The Spaghetti Incident?. The question mark really makes this one.
4. Jimi Hendrix Axis: Bold as Love. Axis of what?
5. Beck Stereopathic Soul Manure. I'm not sure what that is, but it sounds gross.
... and there are really a thousand more. Comment with your favorites.
It's Funny Because They Think It's Serious:
Progressive (or "post-") rock is a great repeat offender here, but any band who consider themselves "artists" is bound to squeeze one of these out at some point. Notables excesses include:
1. Fiona Apple's When the Pawn Hits the Conflicts He Thinks Like a King What He Knows Throws the Blows When He Goes to the Fight and He'll Win the Whole Thing 'Fore He Enters the Ring There's No Body to Batter When Your Mind Is Your Might So When You Go Solo, You Hold Your Own Hand and Remember That Depth Is the Greatest of Heights and if You Know Where You Stand, Then You Know Where to Land and if You Fall It Won't Matter, 'Cuz You'll Know That You're Right. This was almost immediately shortened, Prince-like, in the press to When the Pawn...
2. The Mars Volta Amputechture / De-Loused in the Comatorium. What the fuck?
3. Smashing Pumpkins Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness (Edging out MACHINA/The Machines of God only because, by that point, no one cared.)
4. Coheed & Cambria's Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV, Vol. 1: From Fear Through the Eyes of Madness. This one's implication of more to come is, alone, enough to terrify.
5. Kansas Leftoverture
The Bad Joke (a.k.a. The Bad Pun)
Spinal Tap canonized the idea that rock'n'roll is one of the last great preserves where forever-adolescents are allowed to roam in their natural habitat, and some bands decide to advertise their inner sixth-grader right on their record sleaves. As our good friend Fiona shows above, women aren't immune to bad titles, but this sub-category is almost exclusively dominated by men. Examples abound, but here are some of the most groan-inducing:
1. Limp Bizkit Chocolate Starfish and the Hot Dog Flavored Water. The fame, however temporary, of Fred Durst provides all the evidence anyone needs that Satan is still firmly in control here on Earth.
2. Van Halen For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge (Get it? GET IT?!), just edging out their previous OU812. Yuk yuk.
3. REO Speedwagon You Can Tune a Piano, but You Can't Tuna Fish. Good one, grandpa.
4. Butthole Surfers Hairway to Steven. Hard to choose with the Buttholes, but this one always made me chuckle.
5. William Hung (remember him?) Hung for the Holidays.
False Advertising
Whether through pre-meditated, cynical malice or the inevitable ego inflation of the momentary superstar, these album titles promise more than their makers could ever possibly deliver. You'll notice a lot of hip hop in this category, and, also, that many of these titles double as threats.
1. Puff Daddy Forever. Did you just shiver a bit?
2. Will Smith Willenium. Oh God.
3. Good Charlotte The Chronicles of Life and Death. Oh really? These cretinous, mouth-breathing frat-punks feel they're qualified to tell us about life and death now? I guess the brilliant social commentary of "Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous" would prepare one for that.
4. Michael Jackson HIStory: Past, Present and Future: Book 1. As of 1995, did Michael Jackson really think he had enough hits left in the "future" for a Book 2? Judging from the Jackson-as-gay-fascist-stormtrooper-Statue-of-Liberty cover -- a statue he also floated down the Thames river while promoting this album -- yes. Was he right? Doubtful.
5. Anything by Terence Trent D'Arby. Who could choose among such gems as Introducing the Hardline According to Terence Trent D'Arby (because we look to him for the hardline, man), Terence Trent D'Arby's Symphony or Damn, or worse, TTD's Vibrator (vomit).
No Ideas
"None more black."
1. FEAR The Record
2. Leonard Cohen Ten New Songs
3. Filter Title of Record
4. The Kinks Something Else by the Kinks
5. Biz Markee I Need a Haircut
I Want What They're Having
Because who the fuck knows?
1. Captain Beefheart Trout Mask Replica
2. Frank Zappa Weasels Ripped My Flesh. But it does work well with that cover..
3. Guns 'n' Roses The Spaghetti Incident?. The question mark really makes this one.
4. Jimi Hendrix Axis: Bold as Love. Axis of what?
5. Beck Stereopathic Soul Manure. I'm not sure what that is, but it sounds gross.
... and there are really a thousand more. Comment with your favorites.
Been pretty sick this week. Started last week, but caught up with me Wednesday. Called in sick for work that day, but came in the next day. The Vice President of my department heard me coughing and sent me right back home -- call-center, you definitely don't want anyone giving everyone a lung bug. Anyway, went to the doctor today, he said I have another "upper respiratory infection" and chronic asthma. Boy, life sure is different when you have insurance. In years past, the doctor would've just given me some samples of antibiotics and wished me well.
Not when you've got good insurance, though. They gave me a breathing treatment of some steroids dissolved into vapor, then wrote me a handful of prescriptions -- albuterol, four days worth of prednisone, and advair. Advair is pretty cool because it's a maintenance inhaler you take twice a day every day - it has low levels of both long-acting dialators and a steroid, so it helps your lungs work better all the time. It's not a rescue inhaler you take while you're having an asthma attack. The doc also advised me to get some regular allergy medicine to maybe keep me from getting the seasonal drainage that probably causes me to have this stuff every year, so I got some OTC claritin too.
Not when you've got good insurance, though. They gave me a breathing treatment of some steroids dissolved into vapor, then wrote me a handful of prescriptions -- albuterol, four days worth of prednisone, and advair. Advair is pretty cool because it's a maintenance inhaler you take twice a day every day - it has low levels of both long-acting dialators and a steroid, so it helps your lungs work better all the time. It's not a rescue inhaler you take while you're having an asthma attack. The doc also advised me to get some regular allergy medicine to maybe keep me from getting the seasonal drainage that probably causes me to have this stuff every year, so I got some OTC claritin too.
DECEMBER 2006
NOVEMBER 2006