Yucky Salad with Bones

February 26 '08

A very brief Oscars wrap-up:

Worst Look: Harrison Ford with his stupid little earring. Why, why, why? Do you think it makes you look hip? You're 108 years old dude, just because your girlfriend has the body of a 12 year old, doesn't mean you have to act like you're 14. Indiana Jones would roll his eyes and shoot you.

Best Use Of Nickname: Robert Boyle-- the honorary Oscar winner referred to his buddy "Hitch" two different times. He wasn't talking about Will Smith.

The worst part about the Academy Awards moving to the Kodak theatre in 2002 is that since it is so much smaller than the old place, the only stars who show up are the ones involved. That kinda sucks. I saw the same 5-6 famous faces all night long. I want to see EVERYBODY-- it's the Oscars! Jack got the front row because he's Jack-- but we had to live without: Matt Damon, Ben Affleck, Julia Roberts, Brad Pitt, Tom Cruise, Angelina, Jennifer Aniston, Vince Vaughn, Keira Knightly, Ben Stiller, Drew Barrymore, Hugh Jackman, Rachel McAdams (yes she does, shut up)-- dammit, I want to see the entire A-List and half of the B's! But if you think Julia Roberts is going to show up when her invite says "row 19" you're crazy. The thing just lacks star power since the move to the smaller theatre.

The show itself? I have about as much to say as Ethan Coen did. Jon Stewart was great, he was, but it just doesn't feel the same without Billy Crystal doing the ridiculous musical number incorporating all the movies at the start. It's the only thing Billy Crystal can do anymore that isn't awful. But I'll take Jon Stewart over Whoopi any day of the last 3 billion years.

I hated Cameron Diaz. She came out to present and was all make-up and strut and then flubbed a line and proceeded to read the prompter like a 90 year old reading an eye-chart.

Okay, I didn't hate her, but she had the awful misfortune of taking the stage immediately after Marketa Irglova. It struck me as I watched them in succession that I would rather hang out with Irglova a thousand days in a row before I spent one with Diaz. You just get the sense that Cameron would ask you, "How do I look?" and then not pay attention to your answer, while Marketa would ask you, "How are you?" and actually want to know.

Okay, I have to pause while I get my 17-year old self's foot out of my ass. I'll explain to my younger self that although no movie star, Irglova is pretty darn cute and that all you can ever ask for out of a woman in this life is for her to smile at you like she smiles at Hansard the first time she watches him performing on the street.

The older I get one of the ways I like or don't like a movie is deciding if I'd like to hang out with the people in it or not. And I didn't see a movie all year where I wanted to hang out with the people in it more than those in "Once".

"Go raibh mile, maith agat. What are we doing here....this is mad." began Glen Hansard's acceptance speech. If I had been any more charmed you could have eaten me with oats and milk. The guy was so genuinely thrilled and humbled that my heart was growing like the Grinch's. Irglova stepped to the podium and only got out a "thank you" before getting the "shut up and leave the stage" from the orchestra. Normally a good thing, but the entire universe cringed this time.

Back from commercial break and Jon Stewart (and likely producer Gil Cates) firmed up their invitations to heaven by inviting her back on stage to give her acceptance speech.

"The fact that we're standing here tonight is proof that no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible. And you know, fair play to those who dare to dream and don't give up. (I love that! Can we steal "fair play" as a phrase? Nah, we'd just wreck it) And this song was written from the perspective of hope and hope, at the end of the day, connects us all no matter how different we are."

Sigh.

Then out prances Cameron Diaz and she says: "Blabbity blah blah, I'm wearing make-up and Christian Dior and I deserve everything I have and regular people are gross."

I was so caught up in "Once-feel-goodness" the next day that I read some Irish papers on line the next day. Hansard was thrilled to get a congratulatory text message from Bono:

"Ah, my God, that's just amazing. For me it was just like getting a text off the King of the tribe."

Upon his return home to Ireland Hansard said he is greatly looking forward to, "putting the golden man on the bar and having a night out!" Please, please, please can I go?

Ah yeah, these are people I want to hang out with. A thousand tanks back at you Glen.

February 25 '08

I was sooooooo glad that "Falling Slowly" won. That was my favorite win of the night, and honestly the only one I really cared about. How cute were Glen Hansard and his little underage Czech girlfriend?? So cute. He's 37, she's 19 (not really underage but she was 17 when they got together), God bless us everyone so long as they keep making beautiful music together.

So on the red carpet, Tilda Swinton, or as I like to call her, David Bowie, admitted to Ryan Seacreast that she'd never even watched the Oscars before and had no idea what went on at them. Which I wouldn't have believed for a second if not for the fact that she was wearing a Hefty bag and zero makeup. I cannot think when wearing a Hefty bag is appropriate but Tilda, most certainly not at the Oscars. Accesorized by nothing but a pair of scary green contact lenses; Mary Jeanne said she looked like a light bulb in a fright wig. True that; I did get retina burn from looking at her, which came in handy when Renee Zelwegger popped on screen.

Renee, what the hell! Get your hands out of your hair, what do you have lice? You got a crap haircut, just deal with it and quit picking at it. Seriously, every time they showed her she was playing with her ridiculous Lloyd Christmas 'do and once I swear I saw her mouth "How does my hair look?" to a paparazzo. Well it dun' look great, honey, but don't worry, Diablo Cody's dress is right behind you and as long as it exists, there's no awful left over for anyone else to wallow in.

I'm actually kind of glad Diablo wore that mess, I've really missed having someone look that heinous at the Oscars.

More proof pregnant women should never, ever style themselves: Cate Blanchette and Jessica Alba. They both looked insane.

Jennifer Garner looked smashing, so did Hillary Swank and once again, Helen Mirren's dress was just perfection. She's had some work done to her chesticles, all her wrinkles and age spots were gone from that particular area. Heidi Klum won bessed dressed, hands down. Ellen Page...eh. Bleh. She just looked totally bleh and she walked like she'd never worn a dress before. If that's your personality, fine, so be it, but then don't wear a dress. Better to wear pants than to wear something you don't like, because your discomfort is contagious and I don't want to feel it. It's just selfish, if you really think about it. Which I have.

Marion whatsername, the French girl, I didn't love the mermaid dress and I didn't see that movie, but on the red carpet, when asked her if she was having fun she said "I'm having a eunuch time". Either she doesn't speak English all that well or talking to ol' Ryan caused her to make a fruedian slip. Oh snap!

Um, Cameron Diaz, this is the Academy Awards, not a freaking 3.2 bar in Fresno...You want to save your belches for Jack Nicholson's after party?? Fer cryin'. Yep, we get it, you're just one of the guys. Save it for the OTB, Cam. Muzz rightly pointed out (siiigh...for the second time last night, she gets in a better line than me) that Cam looks like if Kristin Chenoweth had Gigantism.

Leeeeeeeeeeeeeerve Casey Affleck. He looked great, so did Johnny D of course, as ever. Kenny brought over a "Sweeney Todd" cake for us all to enjoy, a heart-shaped, white chocolate-frosted bloody red velvet confection. 'Twas delicious, distubing and made me feel slightly sick yet exhilirated, just like the movie.

Am I the only one who thought it was really stupid that Pirates of the Carribbean IIIXXV was up for best makeup? I mean really, was it that hard to put six pounds of eyeliner on Johnny Depp? As opposed to his usual five?

Makeup artist for Pirates of the Carribbean 1,000: "No seriously, you guys, I went through like, 4 eye pencils on that movie. I got the worst hand cramp, I'm not even kidding."

Person she was talking to, only half listening because Project Runway is on: "huh...you should totally win an Oscar for that."

Is Javier Bardem really just John Travolta in Spanish makeup? Look at these two: Both have heads the size of trash cans and huge faces, both have big dimples, they look like twins but one is a good actor and one is John Travolta. How about Johnny saying he'd give back all his awards to bring Heath Ledger back from the dead? Gosh, really, you'd do that?

A) That's a pretty selfless offer, all your acting awards for a human life...I'm sure Heath's family is touched beyond words. Really, you're making the rest of us look bad, cut it out, would you?

B) What awards? Despite popular opinion, you are not, in fact, Javier Bardem.

OK. Yeah, her dress was hilariously horrible, but I'm glad Diablo won. Well deserved, that movie was great and the script was brilliant. All those "Juno" backlashers just stop it, 'cuz it was. I'm also glad the Coen bros won, though I have no plans to see that movie. Sorry, just not my thing.

And of course, you must read JDubs thoughts on the evening; he gets up earlier than me and therefore beats me to all the good punchlines. (Particularly excellent: I hear that Clint Eastwood is doing a Japanese-language version of "Atonement". Actually, I hear that Clint is going to do a Japanese-language version of the part where the American soldiers awarded best short documentary.)

February 24 '08

OSCARS DAY!!

Wheeeoooooo! Are we excited?? Yes we are! In fact we're so excited we have 2, not 1 but 2 kinds of chicken wings on the menu and very soon I will lock the kids in the attic and threaten them if they bother me or make any noise until tomorrow.

C'mon, I'm joking. They're already in the attic. Kidding again! Meg is actually excited to watch with me this year, and to know I'm raising my girl right fills me with satisfaction of a job well done. Every time she lets loose with a snarky one liner about some idiot on the cover of a magazine at Lunds, my eyes mist up with tears of pride.

OK, so obviously I want Juno to win Best Picture. I never saw No Country for Old Men, and it's the odds on fave to win and the Coen bros are cool and all that, so yeah, that'd be great too, and you gotta love all the Minnesotaness at the Oscars this year. Last night I saw Atonement, which I've wanted to see since it came out.

It stunk! Total, total bore and a terrible ending. Now, I read the book so I knew how it ended, and I hated it but I still wanted to see the movie just because sometimes moviemakers can fix crap books. And I know it's a total blashpemy to ever say anything bad about Ian Mcewan but whatever, the book blew. At any rate, so did the movie and I have no idea how it got nominated for best picture. Inever felt engaged the whole time, I never cared if the lovers got together (and I always care if the lovers get together! I'm the queen of caring if the lovers get together!) and there were so many dragged out close ups of the blah pan face of the girl who played "20 year old Briony" I thought I was watching a Sophia Copolla movie. The last scene of the movie is one big disturbing close up of Vanessa Redgrave and all I could think was "I wonder if my eyes look that wrinkly".

Take the kiddles to church this morning, the homily is all about comapassion and how Jesus loves us even though we sin and we shouldn't judge others and all that good stuff, and as we're walking out to the car I'm contemplating this message and hoping my children understood it and am about to ask them as such when Finbar says "The whole mass I was pretending I didn't have arms."

February 21 '08

Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive bloggin' Idol! The Results Show.....duh duh duhnnnnnnnnnn....didn't even see the guys night of singing, so I'm really flyin' by the seat of my pants here...first goof just got voted off, he's about to sing his swansong...oook, sounds like a girl. Skinny, dirtbally looking, scuzz stash, sweet face, what's with the hat? Song's over, good riddance, dude, now you'll have more time to smoke weed in your garage.

Commercial, so I can quickly recap what I know so far: Love Australian guy who thinks he's Jim Morrison, love the hot guy who looks like if Orlando Bloom and Luke Perry had a baby but I have no idea what he sounds like, still love the skinny, puffy mouthed sassy pants kid who no doubt has a large collection of feather boas in his closet (that's the only thing in his closet, if you read me...wah wahhh wahhhhhh) kinda over Chekeeezie or whatever his name is, he sounds like every Luther Vandross imitator ever, oops, commercial's over...time for the girls!

man...lotsa pretty blonde Carrie Underwood clones, huh? Dang I love the Janis Joplin girl! In the silly sing-a-long at the beginning of the show everybody else was so peppy and tryingso hard to be upbeat and she just kinda stumbled out all "BRRRRrrrraaaaaaaap Ahm druuuunk!!"

Seems to break down half pretty blondes, half pretty black girls and Janis. Go Janis!

Owwww! The girl who got the boot is singing, make it stop, someone have mercy...no wonder she can't sing, for she is neither blonde nor black. How did she even get on this show?

Ha! Muzz just sent me an email saying Jason Castro is a gelfling.

aaand we're back. Time to talk about the judges...oh yes, Paula is going to perform!!! Oh, c'mon, it's just a video...for her new single "Dance like there's no more vodka".

Wait, what? It's "Dance like there's no tomorrow"? My title makes way more sense. She's not even dancing, either, just posing and her voice is all electronica. C'mon! This is no fun at all. I want to see Paula Abdul try to sing and dance live, is that too much to ask?

WHAT!!! FAKE JANIS JOPLIN GIRL IS ABOUT TO GET VOTED OFF!!? FOR THE LOVE OF DAUGHTRY!!

Phewwwwwww. Pretty black girl goes instead. She has a really good speaking voice; she should host a talk show. Ooop, she's singing. Not good. She should definitely host a talk show. Plus, this girl keeps talking baout what a struggle her life has been because she's a "plus sized" gal. But a look at her bio says she's a plus sized model. Whatever, pretty black plus sized model, stop trying to pretend your life is hard!

An albino guy and Chekeeezy are on the chopping block...and Albino kid goes home. Sorry Albino kid, good luck and God bless. Aww, Paula is giving him her amphetamine fueled "keep on truckin'" speech while he tries not to bawl, and holy cow, Simon just literally told him no to quit his day job. Harsh, even for Simon. Sheesh. Kick an albino while he's down, why don't you. Time for him to sing...uh...mmm...woof...gonna have to go with Simon on this one.

And finally, the close ups of all the other contestants crying and hugging. So sweet.

So I watched a couple of reeeeaaaaally bad movies this past week while I was in 'zona caring for my sick children; The Jane Austen book Club and No Reservations. I really didn't expect either of them to be great, but I didn't expect them to suck so bad, either.

The Jane Austen Book Club was the better of the two only because I expect a whale of a lot more from Catherine Zeta Jones. How she even got past the lousy script of No Reservations is mysterious; she obviously lost a bet and it was either make the movie or sleep with her gross old husband again. Anyway, TJABC is your typical chick flick with all the stereotypes in place: the hippie old hippie lady, the saucy independent one, the victim, the uptight one with the neanderthal husband, the super pretty lesbo who thinks she's smarter than everyone else..and yeah, I got that they're all supposed to mirror Austen heroines, but please. Insulting is what it was. The ending was the same ending as every movie ever made and I only wish "Stella" would come back to Comedy Central just so it could spoof it. (Actually I'd like Stella to come back for many, many reasons, but that is one of them.)

No Reservations...ugh. PUKE.

Beautiful uptight chef inherits orphaned niece! Difficult neice won't eat fish with head still attached, what is wrong with this kid!? New, male chef comes to restaurant, he wears crazy pants and crocs on his feet! He listens to opera! He gets difficult orphaned child to eat spaghetti! Who knew kids like spaghetti?? He is obviously the uptight chef's soul mate because he is unconventional and she is not! Hey, a scene where he feeds her some fancy sauce off a big spoon! Never seen that before, my God, did Stanley Kubrick come back to life and direct this movie? He must have, there is no other explanation for a scene this fine! What of the orphaned niece, you ask? Who cares? Why indulge a bummer story line like a ten year old girl whose mother just cacked when two fetching people are falling in love?

Aaron Eckhart plays the guy. I really, really expect more from him.

February 19 '08

Morning, y'all. Where you been all week? Oh wait, I've been gone, not you; in Arizona since Thursday evening.

The house we've been staying in is lovely; we were slated to say in a condo but for some reason they put us in a house instead, which is very nice because it's so much bigger. As I say, it's lovely, the view of the McDowell Mountains is spectacular, but this place looks like it was decorated by Henry the VIII if he were Hugh Hefner. Which, if I'm to believe everything Phillipa Gregory writes, he was.

If the person who owns the house I stayed in all week is reading this, I apologize for hurting your feelings but it's for the best, and at least now you can make the necessary changes and your friends will stop sniggering behind your back (yes, they were). Seriously dude, that giant painting by the front door? Not good. Almost as bad as the overly ornate, hulking throne chairs by the window. This is the desert, not medieval England. And while you're throwing out the chairs, I'd advise tossing the 47 pound gold fringed porny couch pillows onto the fire as well. Your welcome.

Now before you get all mean and start flinging snarky comments my way about what a spoiled brat I am, you should know the weather here has been less than ideal. Better than negative 17, as it's been in Minnesota the last few days (or so I've heard) but it's been a little too chilly to sit in a pool in a swimsuit for anyone over the age of 12, too.

To make matters more interesting, Molly woke up in the wee hours yesterday morning so hot you could fry an egg on her forehead (and I did, and it was delicious) and sounding like 3 pack a day smoker (which she is). We brought her in to a nearby clinic and they tested her for the flu...I didn't even know such a thing was possible, but it is, and said test clearly indicated that she does indeed have the full blown influenza. So we get her a prescription for something called Tamiflu, which sounds like a feminine hygeine product, and some Tylenol with codeine. Both medicines are administered upon our arrival back at base camp and she immediately puked them both back up.

So yesterday, which was the nicest day of the trip, was spent indoors with a fluey, pukey 6 year old. That's not entirely true, we all took turns with her, so I did fit in a little run through the desert, which I love. But I got lost. Not too surprising since even though I've run these trails a million times my body is still commanded by my brain, which likes to turn off at the most inconvenient times. I looked down and the trail I'd been on had all but disappeared,and I realized my choices were to either go out on the highway and battle the oncoming traffic or stay where I was and risk death by rattler.

All right, I was probably never really in danger of getting bit by a snake and from what I understand dying from a snakebite is pretty rare, but the romantic side of me likes to think I was flirting with my mortality and I did find a scorpion in the dryer, so there. At any rate, I went with the trucks.

Then this morning, Finny went down to the basketball court to shoot some hoops with his dad and was attacked by a jumping cactus. If this has never happened to you, count your blessings cuz it ain't fun. Kid screamed like he was being disemboweled, but we got all the pricklers out and are now about to get on the plane back home. Seventeen below never sounded so good.

I feel sick.

February 13 '08

I'm so glad Josiah didn't make it. Who's Josiah, you ask? Are you saying you haven't been watching American Idol?? Well, what the hell are you watching, it's not like just because the writer's strike is over, all new episodes of your favorite shows have just miraculaously re-appeared. I don't even know why I'm feeling so defensive anyway, everyone watches Idol and with that in mind, I know I don't have to explain to you that Josiah is that chubby little cross-eyed poseur who thought he was the love child of Sean Cassidy and Madonna. What was with that British accent?? Be more affected!! And what was he taking about with that whole "I've made so many mistakes in my life, my life is totally just like the blues" nonsense? Dude, you're

A) 18 and

B) not Billie Holliday.

UCK! His dismissal of the band was the most obnoxious bit of hubris, I wanted to barf! And then he sucked. I'm soooo glad they sent his fat little arrogant psuedo-British ass packing.

Love Irish girl, Australian guy, skinny black girl, Janis Joplin girl and cute little 16 year old kid, though he isn't as good as they say he is. I also like the Carly Simon girl, kinda over the amazingly beautiful blond horseback riding kickboxer girl because she obviously already has everything and will probably be strarring in The Bourne Supremacy 4, does she really need to win American Idol, too?

How bad did I love that dink who sang "Hooked on a Feeling" while tapping impotently on the drums? That was so great! Gawd he was awful, it was a beautiful thing.

Anyway, we've got what looks like a solidly good top 24 on our hands and I'm pretty stoked. Last year was an abortion. It was. Let us not pretend any of us care if we ever see Melinda Doolittle again.

So I never told you about my weekend in the woods, mostly because I've been so busy since I got home I haven't had time to do much of anything but stick food in my gob and not clean my house. You'd be amazed how much energy not cleaning my house takes, you should try it sometime.

Oh, and I'm sorry I said "come back tomorrow" on Sunday night, when obviously I wasn't here on Monday. I have lots of good excuses but I won't bore you with them, but I think I know better now than to keep making promises like that. I'm the blogger who cried wolg. Wolg? I meant "wolf", but I actually like wolg better. The blogger who cried wolg.

Kids, it's so late and I'm so tired. I must go to bed. I seriously don't know how much longer I can keep up this pace, and dat's the truth. Wah, wahhh.

February 10 '08

Sunday night...bone weary, sitting on my couch watching the Grammys. Alicia Keyes...it's too bad she's so unattractive. Not a pretty girl.

I kid, of course; she's living proof that life is not fair, and because she has hogged heaping helpings of both stunning good looks and talent, I feel perfectly OK making fun of the goofy black leggings she's sporting. They're all shiny, like the ones Jane Fonda used to wear in the series of workout videos she put out on the eighties. Remember those? Of course you do, and if you don't you're likely not even reading this blog, you're probably over at My Space trying to make friends with Zac Efron.

Amy Winehouse is on now. What can I even say about her that hasn't been said already? Britney Spears is like, "Damn Amy, you a hot mess."

Oh wow, she just won album of the year and actually looked genuinely surprised and astoundingly happy. Someone must've told her the statuette is full of booze.

I did not understand a word she said, she just blatted out something in cockney that seemed fairly hostile. You know what I'd like to see? A Shelby Lynne/Amy Winehouse smackdown. I love Shelby, she was rocking the whole "uber-talented, effed-up bad girl" m.o. when Amy Winehouse was still a spark at the bottom of her daddy's crack pipe.

Plus she's southern, and everyone knows those girls don't fight fair.

Josh Groban and Andrea Bocelli are now singing 'The Prayer", a song they have already sung in public with a television camera pointed at them no less than ten trillion times. Here's a prayer for you, fellas, hows about you learn a different song?

Oh, I get it, it's a trip down musical memory lane. They have now released a parade of old fogies to hum of few bars of whatever put them on the charts back in the day; old fogies and Josh Groban. I'm confused. I wonder how Josh feels about being lumped in with the likes of Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis. I'm sure if you asked him, he's blow some b.s. about "feeling honored", but c'mon, it's gotta sting a little to know that he stands about as much chance of getting invited to the "cool" after parties as he does flying to the moon. When Micheal Buble feels free to give you an atomic wedgie in the green room, you know you're a dork.*

* the writer has no idea if Michael Buble has ever given Josh Groban a wedgie of any kind in a room of any color. But it's fun to imagine it, don't you think? It is, admit it.

I have to go to bed. Come back tomorrow, there is much to discuss.

February 3 '08

"U-100 Boogie Check.... how's your boogie?"

All you stuffed shirts out there can have "To Be Or Not To Be".... but for me there will never be a better question asked than, "How's your boogie?"

How could there be? Are you kidding me--How's your boogie?!?

It was the summer of 1976 and my boogie was just fine, thank you. U-100 was the new AM pop station in Minneapolis-- and it took on KDWB and WDGY, two solid AM Top Forty stations. But U-100 was new and edgier and gave everyone who showed up at Lake Harriet 20 free stickers to put anywhere they wanted. It was a simpler time-- mass sticker distribution worked.

My cousins from Pittsburgh were in town and the eldest of the group was a rocker-weirdo. I listened to U-100 Boogie Check every night with him. At 9pm every night that summer, U-100 turned the station over to call-in requests, call-in commentary, call-in everything-- "how's your boogie?" My Pittsburgh cousin had pretty outlandish tastes-- he had just bought the Stones "Goat's Head Soup"-- an album cover that I looked at 946 times in the two weeks they stayed with us. It was literally a severed goat's head in a bowl of soup! My boogie's a little freaked out, thank you very much!

So why so much interest in my boogie, you wonder? Dude, it was 1976! On the radio that year were the following: Jungle Boogie, Boogie Fever, Boogie Nights, Boogie Wonderland, Boogie Oogie Oogie, Get Up And Boogie, Boogie Shoes and I'm Your Boogie Man.

It's no wonder the new, hip station in town called their main-draw call in- 9pm show "Boogie Check".

But something happened on an August night in 1976 while listening to "Boogie Check" that certainly changed my life forever. It was near the end of the show-- and after playing songs by The Silvers, KC And The Sunshine Band and The Bee Gee's.... the DJ at U-100 went off the page and played a hot new track that was making some headway-- it was a little bit off the beaten path and the sound was way different than what was "hot" at the time.

I was 10 years old and pretty sure I was lacking in the "boogie" department, so I gave this new song a chance. My older cousin from Pittsburgh, who I listened to "Boogie Check" with every night, didn't seem to hear this new song, as he was off in his own boogie world -- but I heard it loud and clear.

It was a "guitar" song, it was by a brand new group called "Tom Petty And The Hearbreakers" and the song they were breaking on the radio was called "American Girl".

"God it's so painful when something is so close...... but still so far out of reeeeaaaach, oh yeah, allright, take it easy baby... make it last all night"

This was my Boogie Check. I was only 10, but I now knew what I liked. Sure I sang along to "Boogie Fever", but my musical soul woke up to "American Girl".

Things changed quickly. John Travolta, who pretty much told America what was cool back then, changed his disco shirts for a Cowboy hat. Carter lost the election to Reagan. Disco DID suck. Bruce Springsteen was the superstar who everybody knew and loved. New Wave slowly pushed disco aside.

By the time "The River" was done playing, I was old enough to go to parties-- and things had totally changed. "Boogie" was totally gone-- U-100 had folded up it's tent and gone and gone away and sadly, my cousin from Pittsburgh had died of a heroin overdose (a lot of the best "boogiers" did).

Music was up for grabs. Hip high school kids were wearing skinny ties and singing along to The Cars and The Boomtown Rats. Dope smokers were pounding their heads to ACDC. Cheerleaders were listening to Hall and Oates. But take it from somebody who was there-- at the end of the night, all everybody wanted to hear, and I mean EVERYBODY-- was "Damn The Torpedoes" by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. It hit you on every level. The lyrics actually meant something.... to high school kids, they meant everything.

When Judy the Cheerleader told you how great "because your kiss, your kiss is on my list... of the best things in life" was, you countered with: "It was nearly summer, we sat on your roof.... we smoked cigarettes and we stared at the moon.... and I showed you stars you never could see, babe it couldn't have been that easy to forget about me"..... and she'd stare at you and finally say, "god I love that song"-- and then you'd kiss her and you'd thank Tom Petty. We all loved that song. The jocks, the druggies, the cheerleaders, the nerds.... "Damn The Torpedos" was the one thing we could all agree on.

I was in 10th grade when "Hard Promises" came out, and I'll just say it: I've never loved an album more in my life. I've never listened to an album more in my life. I'll argue that it starts out better than any album ever made: a simple, gorgeous guitar riff followed by these lyrics: "Oh baby, don't it feel like heaven right now, don't it feel like something from a dream". TP said what a million songs before him had tried to say in a million different ways-- he just said it, and he nailed it. I don't know how many times I listened to that song in high school, but I know it's over 500-- and I loved it more every time. What did you think would last longer, "woah, here she comes, watch out boy, she'll eat you up, she's a maneater" or "don't let it kill you babe, don't let it get to you.... I'll be your bleeding heart, I'll be your crying fool, don't let this go too far, don't let it get to you".

There isn't a Tom Petty song ever written that doesn't hold up. "American Girl" is 32 years old and it could have been recorded a month ago. Free Falling... Runnin' Down A Dream... Here Comes My Girl... Even The Losers... The Waiting... Straight Into Darkness... Refugee... Don't Do Me Like That... Yer So Bad... Rebels... Learning To Fly... Insider... Breakdown... Listen To Her Heart... The Best Of Everything... Last Dance With Mary Jane... a hundred more.

I wrote this post because I've been a little pissed off at the reaction to the announcement that Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers would be playing the halftime show at today's Super Bowl. Moronic talking heads like Skip Bayless saying it was a bad choice-- that they aren't hip anymore and the kids don't know who they are.

It was the perfect choice. This is quite simply the best American Rock 'n Roll band of all time. The Super Bowl is a party and at the end of the party.... or halfway through the party as it were, everybody wants to hear the best thing you've got:

TP, the stage is yours.