This photo of my dad’s Dodge Charger SRT8 is my most viewed photo in my Flickr stream. As of today it is now over 10,000 views. Yes, that’s the right number of zeroes. TEN THOUSAND views.
My next highest ranked photo has just over 3,000 views.
What’s interesting to me is that the vast majority of this traffic (85%) is from Yahoo search. Another 6% is from Flickr search. The rest is scattered among a million little things.
Part of the reason I find this so interesting is that I have 1,825 other photos posted on Flickr. I have several other photos of Dodge Chargers. Why, out of all of these photos, is this one so popular?
It’s certainly not my best photo. It’s certainly not my most sensational photo. Heck, I have good photos of famous people. I even have photos of famous people that have been blogged by the famous people in the photo!
What’s so special about this? Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I’m just curious.
One of my top 5 favorite movies of all time is The Big Lebowski.
I’m sure that my loyal readers, both of you, are shocked to hear this.
I absolutely love the scene which generates the following dialogue, resulting in the dude indeed getting kicked out of the cab he had hired:
The Dude: Jesus, man, could you change the channel?
Cab Driver: Fuck you man. If you don’t like my fuckin’ music get your own fuckin’ cab!
The Dude: I had a rough…
Cab Driver: I pull over and kick your ass out!
The Dude: Come on, man. I had a rough night and I hate the fuckin’ Eagles, man!
Personally, I love the Eagles. But I can totally relate to the way The Dude is feeling here.
You see, deep within every music lover resides a deep hatred for one or two acts that everyone else might seem to believe are the quintessential examples of rock and roll perfection. Usually you tolerate them on the radio, or in social settings. You may even know all the words to their songs, after all, as well-loved as they are you may have heard them with enough frequency to commit them to memory.
Then, one day, when you’ve had a particularly rough go of things, you’ll find yourself in a mood where you’re just NOT GOING TO PUT UP WITH IT TODAY.
Today Merlin Mann posted something on Twitter that unleashed my inner Dudeness.
Seriously. Click through on that link. I promise it’s not a Rickroll. I’ll be here when you get back.
…
OK, did we all make it back? Good.
SWEET JUMPING JEHOSEPHUCK, WHO THE HELL GETS A BOB FUCKING SEGER TATTOO?!?!
Did they know this was Bob Seger and not Bob Saget?
Bob Seger
Bob Seger is at the top of my list of “get kicked out of the cab” artists. I’m not sure exactly what it is about his music that particularly irritates me. It’s OK. I just don’t find it particularly good. And maybe that’s it — that he has squandered his fame with dizzying volumes of mediocrity.
(I’ve always found that song title to be a bit ironic, since you could probably name any song on any of his albums “Still the Same” … every one of them feels like it’s the same as the one before to me.)
I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who think that not liking Bob Seger probably makes me a communist or something. Just to reassure those people, let me state for the record that I prefer Coke over Pepsi (and will take RC if you’ve got it), I pull for Dale Earnhardt Jr., and I drive a bigass American pick’em up truck.
Are we cool? Good.
So who else is on my list? Who else might you be wise to avoid putting on the iPod if I’m carpooling with you? I’ll give you two:
1 - Eddie Money
To be perfectly honest, I find Eddie Money more objectionable than Bob Seger. He may be the nicest guy in the music business for all I know, but I just find every song I’ve ever heard of his to be absolutely dreadful. I think it’s no coincidence that “Two Tickets to Paradise” is the theme song for the most retarded show in the reality TV genre: Paradise Hotel.
2 - Jackson Browne
I know I’m supposed to like Jackson Browne. I just don’t. And he’s a good songwriter. I can objectively admit this. In fact, I love “Take It Easy,” which he co-wrote with Glenn Frey for The Eagles. And I understand he had a hand in making America’s “Sister Golden Hair,” which is a total hit with me as well. Both of those songs get very high marks from me.
I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about Jackson Browne that seems to irritate me personally. It’s like he’s that guy everybody knew in high school who was overly friendly with everybody. So much so that it was kinda creepy. Then you find out at your high school reunion that the guy grew up to be an anesthesiologist and lost his license for taking pictures of his patients’ naughty parts after he’d knocked them out. I dunno. There’s just this vibe about him that weirds me out.
My buddy Dave took me as the +1 to the press screener of Speed Racer this evening.
HOLY CRAP IT WAS WONDERFUL!
Yes, I’m shouting. I don’t care. This flick was everything I had hoped it would be.
You have to understand, that when I was knee-high to a grasshopper there were two shows that I DID NOT MISS. One was Speed Racer. The other was B.J. and the Bear. Hmmm … both shows prominently feature driving and chimpanzees. Coincidence? But really, this tells you just about everything you need to know about how the mind of a seven-year-old boy works.
And if you are, or ever have been, a seven-year-old boy, THIS IS THE MOVIE FOR YOU. With Speed Racer The Wachowski Brothers have created a world where racing is king, the laws of physics don’t apply, comic violence is art and Willy Wonka’s choice of color palettes would be considered “understated.” There’s no shortage of rocket powered cars, cool gadgets, explosions or monkey poop gags.
Seriously, if you even remotely remember what it was like being seven years old, you can’t help but love this movie. (I’m not even ashamed to admit that I cried.)
The kids in the audience clapped at more than a few moments. The critic sitting next to me even gasped “YES!” under his breath when the trademark saw blades popped out of the front of the Mach 5. Yes, this movie totally scored with those in its two core target audiences: Those seven year olds, and every 30-40 year old geezer in the audience who remembers watching the show every afternoon they could.
Seriously, this movie was perfect. (OK, not quite perfect … the Black-Eyed-Peas-esque song over the closing credits practically chased me from the theater.)
But no doubt, there are plenty of people who will probably hate this film, or at the very least should not watch it:
1. People who get motion sick
2. People who may be epileptic or seizure-prone
3. People for whom everything must “make sense”
4. People who can’t appreciate a good monkey poo joke
5. Anyone else who can’t see the world with the wide-eyed wonder of a kid
It’s 3:30am and I’m still totally jazzed about the movie. It may be late, and I may be a little giddy from the lack of sleep, but there are three things I know for certain:
A couple of friends have forwarded me this video (which I’m sure will be taken down from YouTube by the IP police shortly) of Prince covering Radiohead’s “Creep” at Coachella. It’s been making the rounds on the internets this evening with comments like “EPIC!” and “OMFGTHISISTHEBESTCOVEREVERNOSERIOUSLYEVER!”
I respectfully disagree. It has some fantastic elements, no doubt. (I do absolutely love the guitar solo.) But the rest of it kinda makes me want to shove a screwdriver in my ears.
Jesus Christ, GET TO THE POINT Mr. Nelson! This song should not be seven minutes long. And this is coming from a guy who just saw RUSH and loved it, for chrissake. The arc of the original song truly WAS epic. This stretches it to the point it feels belabored.
I love Prince. I love Creep. But this is not a case of “two great tastes that taste great together.” This is like combining filet mignon and vanilla ice cream. They’re both wonderful things, but are not meant to be eaten together. (Come to think of it, that wouldn’t be kosher, anyway.) The ice cream will melt, and then you’re just left with sticky meat.
This song was not meant to be sung sans the F-word. Seriously. It ruins one of the most poetic uses of the word in modern pop music. (On a similar note I liked Prince better back when he was a little - or a lot - naughty. The mischief is gone, and with it, some of the magic.)
The original song has some of the best dynamics in modern pop music. This doesn’t crescendo in nearly the same way. The way the original builds up, the chorus hits you like a ten pound sledgehammer to the chest. But then it lets you down softly and you “float like a feather” back to the ground. Prince’s version seems almost binary in comparison.
I dunno. Maybe I’m being overly critical or a little harsh. Maybe it will grow on me. (I’ll listen to it again for the guitar work.) But this just rubs me the wrong way.
And now may all of my friends who believe that neither Prince nor Radiohead are capable of doing any wrong let loose with all of the “You just don’t get it! This is absolutely brilliant!” comments.
Like I said, I love them both, but this just ain’t right.
UPDATE: Found another video of the performance (Which is also sure to disappear from the interwebs.)
Last night my buddy Scott and I saw Rush at the Superstarnoff Musicplex Center.
Good gracious, what a ridiculously awesome show.
In the last year or so I’ve been catching up on a lot of the “classics,” and this show was BY FAR the best of the bunch. The Police was fairly disappointing, The Who was great (though obviously past their prime and missing half the band), but Rush was absolutely FANTASTIC.
The band has certainly aged, and cracked jokes about needing an intermission because they’re “not spring chickens anymore” but musically they haven’t lost a beat. In fact, I’d venture to say that if anything they’ve only gotten better. Geddy Lee still belongs on the cover of Bass Player magazine and hops all over the stage. Alex Lifeson makes me drool both over his immense talent and his immense collection of gear. Neil Peart could still make Thor blush with the thunder that he brings forth. (Though I’m sure Mr. Weir still disagrees.)
And as for the spectacle of the thing … sweet jeebus, do these guys know how to put on a show. Pyrotechnics, frickin’ laser beams, the McKenzie brothers from Strange Brew, a badass song intro courtesy of Southpark…
Such a damn good show. Everyone should experience this, at least once in their lives.
A couple of observations on the crowd:
1 - The nerdiest crowd of any “mainstream” act you’ll see
Well, what else would you expect from a band whose lyrics are often inspired by science fiction and Ayn Rand novels? If you were in any nerdier of an audience you’d probably be wearing a costume of some sort or dodging flying boxes of Kraft Cheese and Macaroni. There were several cars in the parking lot with bumper stickers like “My Other Car is a Tardis” and “Marching Bands Do It With Rhythm.”
2 - Superstarnoff Musicplex Center sells a lot of hot dogs to this crowd
That’s not because these are particularly the kind of people who like concession stand food, but because for being such a nerdy crowd, this is the closest thing many of them will get to an Allman Brothers or Grateful Dead show. Though it doesn’t seem to be nearly as common at concerts much any more, there was a thick haze over portions of the crowd that couldn’t be attributed to the fog machine. And you know, after a while, man, those nachos just start to look sooooo good.
3 - It was an overwhelmingly male crowd
There tends to be something about Rush that just draws Y-chromosomes and repels estrogen. As far back as I can remember, I’ve really only known one girl who liked Rush, and a lot of people pretty much already assumed she was a lesbian. That’s fine. Truth be told, we guys are quite happy to enjoy air drumming along in the audience without being told to cut it out because “we’re making a scene.” Speaking of which…
4 - You will never see more “air drumming” in your life
90% of the dudes in the crowd looked like this:
The internets were full of all sorts of handy tips of everyday things you can do to save resources and save the planet — things like turning the water off while you brush your teeth or keeping your tires properly inflated.
For the most part, I’m fairly environmentally conscious. I reuse and recycle just about everything I can. I don’t buy bottled water. I avoid plastic bags whenever I’m shopping. (Seriously, dude at 7-11, don’t put my single pack of gum in a bag!) I leave my thermostat set a couple of degrees higher than most people in the summer and lower in the winter.
With all that said, I’m going to use this post to make three confessions. I have a a few habits that many would consider environmentally unsound, but I do them anyway. And I have no plans of changing.
1 - I take really long showers.
We’re talking “until the hot water runs out” long. The shower is a sacred retreat. There are few places more comforting to me than the “think tank.” I love the steam. I love the white noise. I love the lack of distractions. I can’t hear the phone. I can’t hear the doorbell. I can’t hear the cars pass by on Park Springs Boulevard. I love the shower. You can take my steamy, hot shower away when you pry the loofah from my cold, dead, pruney hands.
2 - I drive a bigass pickup truck.
Well, there might be a little remorse here. It’s not so much that I wouldn’t rather be driving a smaller truck, but that I couldn’t cost justify it. And sadly, the “smaller” trucks these days (a) really aren’t that much smaller and (b) don’t get significantly better gas mileage. Put a new Dodge Dakota next to the old Chevy LUV pickup I drove in high school and you’ll see what I mean. When you combined the higher resale value, better utility, and the ability to actually FIND them here in Texas, the bigger truck just made a lot more sense. (Seriously, most dealers don’t even bother stocking the small trucks around here. Go figure.) All in all, I’d love it if they brought back the LUV. That was a great, economical little truck. But when I can get 20mpg in my Sierra, the “mid-size” options just don’t make much sense. I should also point out that I don’t commute. I work at home, so the truck hardly gets many miles put on it anyway. So far I’m on pace to keep the odometer in the four digit range all year long.
3 - I eat cows. Lots of them.
Cows are tasty. Supposedly they consume a disproportionate amount of natural resources, and I think for cows that spend their entire lives on feed lots eating imported grain there may be some truth to that. But seriously people, have you eaten grass-fed beef? Have you had a thick steak grilled over an open fire until it was a nice juicy red medium rare in the middle? If you’ve only been eating “well done” beef, you may as well have been eating charcoal, anyway. You go ahead and switch to a vegetarian diet. I’ll eat your cows for you.
I stumbled upon the niftiest thing this morning on Boing Boing Gadgets. I’d summarize it myself, but Joel Johnson did a much better job than I could possibly do myself at 7am on a Sunday…
Despite having nothing to do with Cheap Trick at all — except for the cheap trick we all play on ourselves believing there is anything unique or selfish about the need to love and to be loved — “I Want You to Want Me” is an interactive art project built from data mined from various dating sites, organizing into a heart-achingly beautiful touchscreen presentation where each person is represented as a balloon.
I find this serendipitously wonderful for so many reasons.
I’ve had ideas of doing something akin to this even before I took my first of two jobs in the online dating industry about five years ago. I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of “the wisdom of crowds” and this project appears to have elegantly portrayed both the strength of the collective and the significance of the individual. Usually I’d be bummed out thinking, “DAMN! Somebody’s taken my idea before I could do it!” But this looks so darned wonderful I’m happy they did it first, because they certainly appear to have done it right.
I’m especially drawn to the way they related the fundamental human emotions back to the underlying data. One of the biggest challenges faced when making decisions in the online dating business is that the people making those decisions are inherently clouded by their own experiences, philosophies and emotions about relationships. It’s not uncommon to hear things such as these in meetings:
“Women always prefer a man in a nice suit.”
“Since this product is for women, we should make it pink.”
“I like guys who are athletic and I think most women would agree with me, so…”
“OK, so it’s agreed that we’ll build this so it matches up men with women 1-5 years younger than themselves?”
Undoubtedly, statements such as these do rely heavily on “majority” opinions of the populations they are analyzing, but at the same time, they could lead to decisions that possibly alienate certain segments of the population which may not be all that insignificant. I’m sure we could each come up with a pile of examples of people whose relationships wouldn’t fit within the classifications outlined above. (And I’m sure all of the Bruce Springsteens and Mia Hamms and Zach Braffs and Ashton Kutchers of the world are relieved.) It’s virtually impossible to strip those biases out, so I love the idea of relying strongly on objectively collected data about highly subjective subjects such as these.
Also, the Cheap Trick reference makes me giddy in a totally geeked out way. There’s something really humanizing and individually touching about the sentiment it portrays, despite being such a mass-market arena rock pop song. (And a damn fine one at that.) It fits the concept in a way that’s just too damn perfect. Personally I found a way to sneak a shout out to that line into just about every variant of my profile I ever filled out. (And gals who picked up on the reference were immediately about 10X cooler right off the bat.)
