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Thursday, March 31, 2005
We’re Done for Now. More 80s Madness Next Week
I stopped the voting at 5 p.m. my time, in case I don’t get to post this before I leave (DAMN YOU, BLOGGER!). Anyway, it looks like the Go-Go’s squeaked by Berlin, but Cyndi Lauper and Blondie ended in a tie by my (somewhat unreliable) count. So, I’m casting my tie-breaking vote for . . . Ms. Lauper.

In other news, this blog isn’t so funny anymore, is it? Could we trump that with a Death Pool? Perhaps a question of who will live longer: the Pope or Michael Shiavo*? I’m already going to Hell; y’might as well gimme a hand basket to ride in.

* I’m in no way condoning the murder of Mr. Shiavo. I just wouldn’t feel too safe if I were him. Wal-Marts in Orlando are gonna start selling gun-range targets with his face printed on them.

Wednesday, March 30, 2005
No, Really, Stop it With the Fuckin’ 80s Shit Already. Christ!
If you were to ask me, “Scott, how long do we have to endure this silly ‘voting for the best 80s band’ shit . . . can’t we just tell you Duran Duran was the greatest band of the 80s and end this madness?” Well, shit. If you put it that way, then I’d probably say, “Sure.” So, today’s matchup is an either/or proposition: Either vote in the next pair of matchups, or tell me why Duran Duran is the greatest band of the 80s. Or both. You could be doing us all a favor, no?


Cyndi Lauper vs. Blondie

Go-Go’s vs. Berlin

These seem like really close ones to me. But if you feel that no-one is going to top the aging, fey New Romantics named after the evil robot from Barbarella, then let me know.

Monday, March 28, 2005
It’s All in (or ON) Your Head
There’s nothing quite like a good, juicy lice scare to ruin someone’s Easter. Fortunately for us, our child (and her parents) have seemingly escaped the daycare’s louse outbreak, but not everyone was so lucky. Kind-of put a damper on the “family” festivities. That and me winning everyone’s money (again). And if this keeps up, they’ll stop inviting me to play.

And what about the tornado watches and warnings? Seriously, Tallahassee spent a good chunk of the weekend under Department of Homeland Security-esque warnings that varied between those of the severe-thunderstorm and tornado varieties. There was a moment Saturday night when we actually contemplated waking Mia up and hiding in the bathroom when the Weather Channel guy was telling us, “If you live in the Tallahassee area, take cover.” It turned out to be a “Doppler-indicated tornado.” Because the world didn’t sound like it was falling apart like it did several years back when I experienced a real tornado (that I didn’t know was there at the time), I figured we were safe. And it was all over in a few minutes.

Oh, and basketball was exciting, wasn’t it? Unfortunately, I can only win the pool outright if Louisville goes all the way. Which is probably a lot like Urkel going “all the way.” Or Paris Hilton not going all the way.

Back to the 80s
I know everyone was hoping this would die but, alas, it must go on. Let it not be said that I don’t finish anything.

Round Two begins with the “men’s” bracket:

Duran Duran vs. Thompson Twins

Human League vs. Adam Ant

Vote for your favorites. Defending your choice(s) results in more points (not for you, but for the bands).

Thursday, March 24, 2005
Kamikaze Thursday: The “It’s Raining Lawsuits (and Segues)” Edition
For those of you who have been following and/or care about the saga of my mother’s health, she has now been moved to a physical-rehabilitation / “skilled nursing” facility. The good news is her back seems to be healing, she’s eating more regularly, her blood thickness is back to normal, she’s no longer hallucinating-ly dehydrated, and her (second) bladder infection is clearing up. We went through a bad period over the weekend because she slipped into some sort of paranoid / delusional sub-personality that prompted a psych consult, but that’s mostly been alleviated by getting out of the hospital, where she seems to think she received less-than-sympathetic care.


Speaking of sympathy . . . show of hands: Who feels sorry for Barry Bonds? Who thinks he’s being unfairly dogged by the media? Anyone?


Speaking of the media, anyone heard about what’s happening to the poor woman in Florida who’s in a vegetative state? Y’know, her husband wants to kill her, and all the benevolent, altruistic politicians are trying to save her . . . including the Governor of Florida and the President of the UNITED STATES? Jesus.

I’m really touched that Tom DeLay can find time in his harrowing schedule to elevate the discourse on the Culture of Life with all of his legal problems; I’m sure his buddies in the House will help him out, though. Again.

This whole thing makes me sick. Really. I don’t know where I stand on the issue, but it’s good that the politicians know where they stand. Culture of Life, my (motherfucking) ass.


Speaking of ass (and fucking), Mark* forwarded me a link to this website that it seems I remember hearing about because of the Miss Vermont scandal, although I’d never read it. Whoa. This guy is dirty and sleazy and godawful in so many ways, but I’ll be damned if his stories aren’t very entertaining. In a dirty, sleazy, godawful way.

* I am not implying, in any way, that Mark fucks asses. In fact, I have to admit that the very first story I read on the site was “Tucker tries buttsex; hilarity does not insue.” And I can’t warn you enough that this probably isn’t the best place to start your exploration of Tucker Max.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005
The Elite Eight(ies)
When I left work earlier, there were seven (only seven? what happened to 23?) comments from people voting for the best 80s band. At that time, depending on how you tallied the votes, the Go-Go's and Eurythmics were either tied, or Belinda and the gals were up by one. In a tiebreaker, I'd pick the Go-Go's, but the whole point was made moot when Snowy stepped in, leaving a comment/vote for the Go-Go's. So, y'know . . . bye-bye, Ms. Lennox.

In the other matchup, Blondie trounced The Motels, which makes me a little sad. Still, Blondie's not a bad choice. Like, perhaps Heaven 17. Jesus.

So, now the sun sets on the opening round of the tournament and the crowds are getting smaller. Interest is waning. Or is it? I'll let that thought ferment for a day or two before we start the next round. In the meantime, I'll return to more traditional posting. I feel an intimate, "why-I'm-doing-this-type confessional coming on. They're all the rage, don't you think?

Monday, March 21, 2005
The One Where I Whore My Band and Whine About My Bracket
My Space is doing a lot more for me than Friendster (or Enemyster, for that matter) ever did. My band is on there, as is Michelle’s. I have a personal page (complete with MS Paint self-portrait). Everyone wants to be my friend.

Unfortunately, you have to be a My Space member to look at additional comments or read ‘blog entries. But the music (on the band sites) is automatic. Just a warning, because it usually plays as soon as you load the page.

Meanwhile, the NCAA tournament killed me just a little bit Saturday night. Wake Forest was the cornerstone of both of my brackets . . . and they lost in double overtime to West Virginia. Has anything good every come out of West Virginia? Maybe? Anyway, it was a great game. Now I have to put all my hope in Illinois and North Carolina. And Wisconsin. Go Badgers!

The Musical Madness from Beyond
It almost came down to a tie-breaking vote between Human League and The Smiths, but the League won by a vote. And the Adam Ant / Heaven 17 battle wasn’t even a contest . . . as in, no-one who was even involved in nominating Heaven 17 showed up to vote for them.

And, for those of you who were wondering, The Cure was my favorite band for the last half of the 80s and into the early 90s, but I don’t really think of them as an 80s band. The same with The Smiths, although their entire history was contained within the 1980s. REM, New Order, and Depeche Mode are kind-of like The Cure . . . more of a “modern rock” phenomenon, not really representing the same 80s feel.

Today, we wrap up the first-round matchups. Vote early, vote often.

The Go-Go’s vs. Eurythmics

Berlin vs. The Motels

Friday, March 18, 2005
Sportscunter (Funny What a Difference One Little Letter Makes)
Our office seems cosmically prepared for March Madness. A lot of the managers are out of town in meetings. The conference-room T.V., which is not hooked up to cable or an antenna, gets only one channel . . . and that channel is CBS. And the workload is light enough that we can put things aside for 20 or 30 minutes while the early-afternoon games are ending and we can update the brackets.

Not much to report in the first day of the tournament. Our office pool has 13 brackets (two of them mine) and none of them were too badly ravaged yesterday. Except for that one woman who picked Alabama to get to the Final Four. Personally, I’m waiting for the moment North Carolina shows what a bad tournament team they are and the red ink really starts to flow.

Meanwhile, in the real March Madness, it looks like Cyndi Lauper and Blondie destroyed the competition (Siouxsie and Bananarama, respectively). Today, it’s back to the men’s side . . . well, sort of.

Human League vs. The Smiths

Adam Ant vs. Heaven 17

I’ll count the votes Sunday night. Have a great weekend, everyone. And thanks again for the discourse.

Thursday, March 17, 2005
"I Hate People"
I find myself muttering that under my breath a lot while I’m driving around town. No, I don’t hate you, the Internet. But my misanthropy is, I think, becoming a very "guilty until proven innocent" situation. Like in military courts. People who drive too slow, people who drive too fast, people who cut me off, people who smoke in their cars with kids, people who give me dirty looks in their rearview mirrors, people who give me dirty looks in my rearview mirror . . . all of them are going to Hell.

The Madness Continues
Well, I’m a little late posting this but, hey, what can I do? I was at the hospital checking on my mom. And then I couldn't get into Blogger. All afternoon. Anyway, looks like Duran Duran crushed Devo, but the Thompson Twins slipped by Flock of Seagulls in a very close, come-from-behind win. Again, thanks for playing everyone. Next up, some girly bands!

Cyndi Lauper vs. Siouxsie and the Banshees

Bananarama vs. Blondie

Vote! We'll go until tomorrow morning . . . say, 8-ish?

(If you have no idea what this is all about, please read the previous post.)

Tuesday, March 15, 2005
March Madness
You can rest assured that the day you consider blogging about your teeth hurting due to a suspected sinus inflammation is the day you end up in the ER with your mother all afternoon. And not for your sinuses.

Strangely, the suspected culprit of mom’s delusional (“altered” in EMT-speak) state wasn’t the heavy narcotics she was taking for back pain. The thinking is that she was severely dehydrated. And her blood was dangerously thin . . . enough so that she could have an aneurysm or other hemorrhage-related incident. Results are still coming in.

This idea will either be genius (though likely not original) or irretrievably stupid (or “daft” for those across the pond). I thought it would be really cool to pay tribute to the March Madness “bracket” phenomenon by creating a “tournament” (or series of tournaments) to get to the bottom (very bottom) of the quandary of Who’s the Best of the Best™. I was going to introduce this concept yesterday (see above) and start it today, but we’re just gonna dispense with hype and jump right in, mkay?

I, along with my selection committee (the Girls and Mr. ADD), have come up with 16 bands/performers from the 80s. They have been seeded and are ready for action. So, here’s the deal. For the first round of the “tournament,” I will post two pairs of bands each day. You, the Internet, will be charged with picking the winners by voting. A simple vote (just typing the band’s name into the comments) will result in one vote. But choosing a band AND telling me why that band is better / more representative of the 80s (or whatever criteria you want to use to choose a "winner") will garner two votes. The voting is open until noon the following day, when the next pair of matchups will be posted.

Voting can be done through the comments or by e-mail. I cannot vote, except to break a tie (making me the Dick Cheney of this Madness).

First up?

1. Duran Duran vs. Devo

2. Thompson Twins vs. Flock of Seagulls

Thursday, March 10, 2005
It’s been a little over four months since the election and a year since the primaries were all but decided, and I just saw my first campaign bumper sticker. For Bob Graham for President. And I live in Florida.

I may have mentioned here before the part of my America-Loves-a-Winner-and-I-Hate-That opinion as it relates to George W. Bush. How it seems like bumper stickers supporting Bush are more prevalent now than they were before the election. Stupid, right? Oh, and, the Internet, have I told you how much I hate those little black, indie-band-sized stickers that have the “W” and, underneath, “The President,” huh? Because if you really wanna support the president, be PROUD! Get a BIG bumper sticker in a bright, neon color. One that reads, “I (heart) Dubya . . . But Not Like That.” Or, “I Made the Right Choice for President. My Husband Said So.” Or, “Diebold Sure Knows How to Pick ‘Em. YEE-HAW!”



I think the strangest thing I’ve seen, which seems to support my theory of post-election Dubya band-wagonning, is a car with a Kerry-Edwards 2004 sticker half-pealed off (and half-torn), with a Bush-Cheney 2004 sticker right next to it.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Florgia (or Would it be “Fleorgia?”)
The Rebel flags (Confederate battle flags) have always bothered me. I often go days without seeing one, and then I’ll see five within 10 minutes. Most often on cars. Yesterday, I saw a truck that had no less than three on it, along with a very large sign (not a sticker) that read, “Take a Rag Head Deer Hunting.” This is where I live and breathe, ya’ll. Y’hear?

I’m a really big proponent of creating a new state comprised of the Panhandle of Florida (all the way to the coast at Jacksonville, and south to . . . I dunno, how about we make Gainesville a border city?) and rural Georgia south of Macon (and west of Savannah). That would be Florgia. The remainder of Florida would be renamed something like Orangeland or South Earlybird or East Disneyonia. And the remainder of Georgia would be renamed West Carolina or, simply, Greater Atlanta.

I like what this guy proposed but, really, Atlanta has little in common with southern / rural Georgia, which seems to comprise a lot of the newscast here in Tallahassee--which could easily be the capital of Florgia. I mean, that would be expected. (Naturally, Orlando would be the capital of Orangeland or East Disneyonia, but Boca Raton might have to the be capital if it’s South Earlybird.)


In other news, our heater broke again (hello, cold front), my mom has another godforsaken CT scan this afternoon (hello, percocet + oxycontin + industrial-strength muscle relaxers = slurring, right?), and I’m purging some of my archives (just the stuff that makes me sound bad and/or dangerously stupid).

Monday, March 07, 2005
I can hardly remember the life I had before I watched Finding Nemo for the first time. And the tens of times Mia has made us watch it since. This is serving to highlight the need to get more movies for our daughter to watch. Ones with actual plots where characters are developed and things happen, unlike the video library we have now where disembodied hands play with baby toys and toddlers and their millionaire baby sisters frolic to classical music.

The funny thing is that the copy of Finding Nemo isn’t even ours. It’s my mom’s. The only “movie” we own is a 50-minute Miss Spider video that was previously Mia's television-related obsession. It tells a story, and Mia loves it, too. I’m sensing a theme. A mission.

In other news, the weekend (and days leading up to it) was not eventful enough to ‘blog about . . . apparently. There must’ve been a half-dozen times I thought, “Funny, I should write about that.” And then wrote nothing. Not about the continued adventures of my mom’s convalescence, or my father quitting smoking (that was quite a shock), or the bully toddlers at Tallahassee’s newest mega-playground, or finally winning some money at poker, or my band’s late and woefully under-attended show Saturday night. Not even about last night’s episode of Deadwood.

But I will say this about my new haircut: It makes me look a lot like I did in eighth grade (cowlick and all), with the look of glazed-over innocence and optimism replaced with a goatee. And straighter teeth.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005
. . . Or Wu’s Pigs’ll be Gnawing on Your Fucking Liver!
I wouldn’t be fulfilling my duty as a blogger, a friend, or . . . hell, I’m not ashamed to say it . . . an AMERICAN, if I didn’t remind you that this show returns on Sunday night.

Look, I know how empty the past nine or ten months have been for you. I feel the same way. But I’ve seen the previews, so I know what we’re in for. So admit it: You, too, can’t resist powerful attraction that is the dynamic whoring duo of cleans-up-nice Trixie and the lesbi-tronic brothel-madam-to-be Joanie Stubbs. The steamy seduction of the Seth Bullock / Alma Garret Black Hills fuck action, pounding like the force of a thousand jack-hammers. Or the sight of Al lying the mud, brandishing a knife, blood on his face, shouting, “Welcome to fucking Deadwood!”

I know you miss Sol and Cy and Jane and E.B. and Dan and, of course, Mr. Wu. It’d be a shame, a damn shame, if you missed out.