The institutional mouthpiece of Kjel.org

A new ongoing feature here at Kjel.org: What is the Jr. VP’s favorite song right now?

I’ll provide updates as it changes, unless of course the current leader remains his favorite forever. Possible I would say. Past leaders have included Ring of Fire by both Mr. Cash and Social Distortion, Rambling Man (Allman Brothers), Waiting For My Ruca (Sublime) and Unchained (Van Halen).

The current favorite? Werewolves of London by Warren Zevon. Ahhoooooo!

If the 2008 CEO could somehow travel back in time and converse with the 1987 CEO, that poor bastard of a 14 year old’s head might explode. Or, if he could find the the wherewithall to accept me and my red Japanese made time machine as actual reality, he could be completely and serenely happy like a Buddha. He’ll develop the belly later.

Scene: 14 year old CEO walking toward his house. Suddenly, flaming tire tracks appear on the pavement next to him and from out of nowhere a red Suby materializes, smoking and hissing, fresh from its journey through a rift in space/time.

CEO: Kick ass! 88 mph! That flux capacitor and the plutonium that the Ohio rep FedEx’ed me worked like a charm! 1987!! Whooo-Hooooo!!!!!

1987 CEO: What in the motherfuck just happened here? Where did that car come from? [removes Sony Walkman headphones from head; loud punk rock still audible] Who is that fat douchebag in the weird red car and why does he look oddly familiar? Why is he looking at me and smiling? That car is pretty damn sweet, but if he offers me candy and asks me to take a ride with him I am gonna kick that dude square in the nuts and then run.

CEO: Hey! You, in the Vans and the Gotcha shorts! C’mere!

1987 CEO: Uhh, no thanks. [takes step back, prepares to either run or kick some pervert ass as the situation warrants]

CEO: Whatever. Stay over there if you want — it’s all good. I’m you, here from the future. I just wanted to let you know that everything turns out OK, and that you should keep on doing whatever it is that you are doing.

1987 CEO: [internal monologue] I wonder if this guy is on PCP? [out loud] Awesome! Thanks future dude! I’m gonna get on home now I think!

CEO: Hold up, don’t leave — let’s catch up a bit. What are you listening to there, amigo? If I remember right it is probably Black Flag? or maybe the Dead Milkmen?

1987 CEO [thoroughly confused, in brain] Whoa. He couldn’t have heard that from my headphones yet I do have “Wasted Again” in the Walkman. What the hell is going on here? [out loud]. Uhh, Black Flag?

CEO: Awesome. Sorry I can’t say much more than this, as the rules are the rules after all. But I can tell you this: On August 28th, 2008, you will spend a good portion of your evening in the unfurnished living room of your beautiful Portland mansion, cranking the the exact same music you are listening to now, ‘dancing’ with your two boys. They will both laugh and laugh and laugh for several hours before falling dead asleep. Your lovely wife will be home soon. You will have rarely been happier.

1987 CEO: [stands there with mouth open for a while, slightly catatonic]

CEO: Well, gotta go. That 2006 Kentucky Derby is not going to bet on itself. You be cool, and be careful: remember, you’ve got, if not a bright future, at least a fun and interesting one. Hasta! [Red Suby peels out and disappears once 88 mph is hit 6.2 seconds later]

1987 CEO: I really need to stop sniffing glue.

On Easter Sunday the CFO attended her church and worshiped. On Easter Monday I went to mine and did the same. I attend The Church of Rock. Me, the Man from The Dalles, that man’s brother (who I also guess is a Man from the Dalles) took in a show from The Cult last night. It was pretty much what you’d expect; a lot of old people rocking out. The band must be getting old too: the show actually started and ended on time and everyone was out of there by 10:45. I even got home at a reasonable hour. Now if I could only do something about the ringing in my ears . . .

Suck. I (and the CFO) had a plan tonight to rock out with . . . The Presidents of the United States of America at the Crystal. As it turns out? No dice. Two boys currently have pinkeye. You can’t ask a babysitter to come over when that is the case. I volunteered to stay home and the CFO and one of her friends were gonna go, but it turns out the CFO is sick too and is already in bed by 8:45 on this Friday night. Our rock-n-roll lifestyle indeed. We’re pretty crazy here at the Kjel.org HQ.

Maybe you have to be about the age of the CEO or CFO and have grown up in or around Seattle, but for some reason this is funny as hell to me*. Hooray for the internet! Also, going forward I am going to refer to the AK as “Kid Sensation.”

* Gotta use Explorer in order to get it to load. Sorry.

One of my favorite moments involving the Chief Bride is the time that I busted out some quote from the movie Grease in front of her. She sat there just staring at me, eyes agape and jaw hanging slack. Her brain: I recognize the CEO in front of me. I recognize those words as a quote from Grease. But putting them together does not compute. You may not know this but the CEO has probably seen or at least heard the movie Grease more than 100 times. My sisters loved that stupid movie when they were kids and would put it on every single goddamn day when they got home from school, no matter what. Through no conscious choice of my own that movie has seeped into me, and I can probably quote every song lyric and most lines. Scary and disturbing I know. I get chills just thinking about it, and they’re multiplying.

The Bride, CFO, and some other ladies I think are going to the Grease Sing Along at Cinema 21 tonight. When I finally get sent to hell I imagine it will be quite similar. I hope they have fun though.

I look funny, but yo I’m making money see.

A whole slew of similar charts and graphs here.

The Man from the Dalles and I caught a show from the Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World last night at Dantes. Awesome. I didn’t get to bed until about 1:30. Suck. I’m moving a little slow today, and the tasty beverages consumed here and here beforehand aren’t helping.

1. I’ve been having a real hard time limiting the language that the Jr. VP is exposed to and subsequently repeats. Loudly. And repeatedly. Just when I think I’ve got my defenses firmly established something new comes in under my radar. I know “Rocking Ring of Fire” well enough to quickly mute it during certain parts of the song (and really who doesn’t want their two year old yelling “let it burn, motherfucker!“) but sometimes I forget about problems in other songs. The beginning of a particular Sublime song is the case in point. The song is entitled “Smoke Two Joints” so I really can’t say that the possibility of a problem just came at me out of the blue. Anyway, spoken at the beginning of the song, a snippet from some old-timey film about bad teens I’m guessing:

“She was living in a single room with three other individuals. One of them was a male and the other two, well, the other two were females. God only know what they were up to in there. And furthermore Susan, I wouldnt be the least bit surprised to learn that all four of them habitually smoke marijuana cigarettes… REEFERS!”

Of course the lad immediately starts yelling Reefers! Reefers! I was very glad that we were headed away from ’school’ instead of toward it; the ladies and other parents at his ’school’ look at me suspiciously enough as it is.

2. I took a phone survey the other week and at the end when they asked if they could me send a more comprehensive written version I said sure. I didn’t really plan to waste my time doing it but figured it might be interesting to look at it at least. The survey arrived Saturday. I opened it up and the first thing I saw was a crisp new $5 bill taped to the front of it. “Ah, trying to use generosity to guilt me into completing the thing, eh? Nice try, but no dice, suckers.” I bought a sandwich today with that $5 bill. It was tasty (the secret is extra mayo) and that survey is now at the bottom of a landfill somewhere.

3. Finally: the Intern is no longer just a hungry animated lump of poop production (that also occasionally barfs); he can now interact with the world around him. I guess we’ll keep him since he is getting to be much more fun now that he can do stuff, like move his head around to watch and even sometimes laugh at my assorted japes and capering. The Jr. VP tries to get him to laugh by laughing himself but Stinkboy’s fake-laugh is pretty bad. It sounds like he is doing an impression of Terminator-era Schwarzenegger when he fake-laughs. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! If he ever laughs like that and then says “I’ll be back” in that same voice I will need a surgeon due to the busted gut I’d incur. I hope that sort of thing can be fixed but if not it’d still probably be worth it.

4. Kjel.org recently got a giant exercise ball. Someone has a new “funnest game in the world“: step 1. Lay on top of said ball. Step 2. Ball rolls forward, boy goes with it. Step 3. Put face into ground. Step 4. Repeat. Too fun Daddy!!! Too fun!!! Whatever, he seems to like it, bloody noses notwithstanding.

5. I’d be remiss if I didn’t wish you a happy Columbus Day. It’s one of my favorite holidays: today I am going to kiss any random Spaniards I come across and slap around any indigenous people I happen to stumble upon. I’ll do it to, you know, celebrate. It’s the spirit of the season! Yay Columbus! Stupid holiday that doesn’t even get the CEO a day off — pretty much mailmen sorry, letter-carriers are the main beneficiary of Columbus Day. Look, Cristobal was not even the first European to set foot in North America, let alone the first person, so honoring him as some legendary explorer is lame. Also, there are reasonable Americans that are offended by the fact that the federal govt sets aside a day to honor Columbus. I don’t share their offense (my side — aka Western Civ — won after all) but I hate to unnecesarily give offense to good people. Columbus Day is stupid; I propose that we instead do this. All-Sports Day. Make it on a Friday in early October every year, and let MLB and college and pro football use the day to schedule games. I expect many other fringe sports would follow suit, and within a year or three the holiday will be accepted and have it’s own fun traditions and norms. It worked for Kwanzaa, so why not this? It’ll be like the Super Bowl, but better — you get the day off, and then a whole weekend to recover from your bacon hangover. In a lot of the country early October is still pretty nice weatherwise, so it could in some ways be like a late Labor Day, but instead honoring something useful. Columbus Day? Overrated. All Sports Day? An idea whose time has come.

6. This could easily happen at Kjel.org, but I have a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be Mom with the hardware were this to go down near the HQ:

Mom Allegedly Flashes Gun at Bus Stop
JACKSONVILLE, Fla. (AP) - Jacksonville authorities say a mother pulled out a gun at a school bus stop because her son was being bullied. The police report says 40- year-old Johnna Briggs pointed the gun at other students getting off the bus and said, “Does anyone have something to say?” Her son was being bullied on the school bus and authorities say she wanted to put an end to it. Briggs is charged with improper exhibition of a firearm, a misdemeanor.

If physical violence is ever threatened or visited upon one of the lads’ enemies it’s not going to require CSI Portland to figure out which one of their parents is the more likely suspect. Hmm, which parent has a documented history of threatening to, quote, “maul” anyone who might harm or otherwise inconvenience any member of the this weird Kjel.org cult thingy? CEO: Sorry officer. That smartass fourth grader had it coming.

7. If you are a member of a professional or collegiate sports team of any type you had better hope and pray that the CEO never roots for you to win. As this last weekend has proved, beyond any scintilla of a doubt, the CEO rooting for you guarantees* that you are going to lose. Sorry.

On that note: Go Huskies!!!

* Not an actual guarantee. Kjel.org user terms and conditions can be downloaded at kjel.org/cares

If you are listening to music with the Jr VP and he requests “Ring of Fire”, it is the Johnny Cash version he intends for you to play. If he requests “Rocking Ring of Fire”, it means he wants to hear Social Distortion perform the song, preferably the version off their 1998 album “Live at the Roxy.” Screw that up and you’ll never hear the end of it from the boy.

Also, after watching this video an essential truth emerges: very few things are funnier than a gallon of PCP.

The Jr VP seems to want and need more attention now that the Intern also lives with us. Since I won’t give it to him in real life, I hope that this is enough. Two things:

1. The Jr. VP never ceases to amaze me. Watching TV last night an ad came on that featured a snippet of the Man in Black’s “Ring of Fire.” The lad immediately starts yelling Ring of Fire! Ring of Fire! The last time I can remember playing “Ring of Fire” at the HQ the Jr VP was 15 months old. Unless they play it for the kids at his ’school’ (seems an odd musical choice for a daycare) I have no idea how he recognizes that song. The Jr VP very possibly has a secret life that both I and the CFO know nothing about. A secret life that somehow involves listening to Johnny Cash.

2. The Jr VP has honed his skill at extending bedtime to the last possible instant. These aren’t one-off tools that he uses; the entire list might be run through in a 90 second period.

Tricks of the trade for the master procrastinator:

“Look, a (queen, puppet, rocket, kitty etc)! Lookit!!” (said as he points to an ABC’s poster showing all kinds of stuff corresponding to letters of the alphabet.)

“Can I tell you a secret?” (one of his classic moves)

“Close the door!” (the closet door MUST BE CLOSED prior to sleep. The lad will make sure you are well aware of this rule)

“More milk please.” (whether he is thirsty or not)

“Where is my puppy?” (one or more stuffed puppies must accompany him to bed every evening)

“I am a puppy!” (not sure about his thinking on this one)

“Looking good Daddy!” (I then must answer “Feeling good, Jr!”)

“I want the Wiggles book!” (I swear he saves this one for when he knows it is out in the car)

“One more hug!” (difficult to refuse; often used when the bedtime situation is looking dire)

“I love you Mommy!” (again, a potent weapon, probably the most powerful one in his arsenal; the boy knows that he will at least get an “I love you too” back from Mommy. Difficult for him to go to the well too many times with that one.)

“Rambling Man?” (a last ditch desperation move. No Stinkboy, we are not going to put on an Allman Brothers cd before bedtime)

I have no doubt that tonight he will ask for Ring of Fire before bed. If he does I just might give in. Hell, there is no just about it — the CEO will fold faster than Superman on laundry day if the lad wants to hear some Johnny Cash before bed. Better let the CFO tuck him in tonight.

Last night on the drive home from ’school’ Stinkboy and I were listening to some classic Southern Fried Rock. The first words out of the lad’s mouth when he greeted the CFO at the HQ? “Mommy, I was born a ramblin’ man!” A pretty standard sentiment for your average two-year-old I think.

Once again, the Rock Gods have given me a reason to live: Van Halen (featuring Mr. David L. Roth!) is playing the Rose Garden on Dec. 1. The only question is whether of not to take the Jr. VP. I’m leaning toward yes.

The Jr VP likes to dance. The music doesn’t matter: it can be Jojo the clown, the Misfits, or a McDonalds ad on TV. The boy just likes to get down. As such I’ve tried to help him in his dance endeavors. I’ve taught him to do a version of the MC Hammer dance, where he spreads his legs and then kinda shuffles along sideways. Break it down! Duh duh duh duh na duh duh na duh duh duh na duh duh duh na da - Stop! Stinkboy time! Hopefully the lad never wants to wear parachute pants, but if he does, at least I’ll know why.

My version of Mr. Hammer’s dance and a little dance I call The Happy Robot are pretty much the only two dances I know well enough to teach. Probably better for him in the long run. And the short and medium run too for that matter.

Speaking of new favorites: The Jr. VP has a new favorite song. His favorite for a long time was Waiting For My Ruca by Sublime; he liked the dogs barking at the beginning. Lately though he’s been really into David Lee Roth era Van Halen. He likes to yell “Ow!” just like Diamond Dave so often does. I think that Unchained off 1981’s Fair Warning is probably his current favorite. How do I know? In the car last night Unchained comes on. There is a 20 second or so guitar intro, then the first lyric is Dave screaming All Right! Jr nailed it, screaming All Right! in perfect time with Dave. I looked back and he was doing a little dance in his car seat too. We have a winner I think for New Favorite Song.

Jr. lately has become quite adamant in his entertainment tastes. Specifically, he demands that one song on one particular CD be played over and over and over again. It is not a bad song (or a bad CD, really), but I now hear the song playing in my head 24 hours a day. The lyrics make no sense; they are basically dadaist poetry. They consist of the words “violin”, “hippo” (which Stinkboy sings as elbow and then points to his elbow), “speck of dust”, and something about fractions of “George Washington’s head.”

It could be worse: at least the lad does not seem interested in the Wiggles, or Barney, or any of that sort of syruppy crap. I hope that holds. If it does, I think a lot of the credit probably goes to the steady diet of punk and heavy metal I fed him as an infant. Perhaps the CEO should write a book on how to raise a well adjusted toddler . . .

More power to you, Lance. Please don’t anyone tell me that this was a surprise. The CEO fully expects announcements from the rest of ‘N Sync within the week.

There’s a reason Social Distortion has been around so long: because they are just so goddamn great. I forgot just how awesome those guys are live. Mike Ness? Still kicks ass. The Crystal Ballroom was packed and about 90 degrees. The bathroom upstairs? About 115. My comrade and I walked in about 5 minutes before the Supersuckers started, just enough time to get beer and get set. The Supersuckers were really good, and we both agreed we’d go see those guys again in a second. The crowd was just what I expected: some hardcore punk rock kids, a few weirdos, but a lot of older music fans too, guys old enough to feel like they don’t have to try so hard at the shows anymore. Still, I may have been the only person in there without a tattoo. There were more girls than I expected too. At Social D shows there is a rockabilly vibe, and a lot of the girls go with a kinda weird 50’s - punk hybrid look. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but let’s just say that in a couple of instances it really worked.

After the show I was walking to my car when some wiry greasy-haired methed up loser rode past me on his 10-speed, then did a U-turn and asked why I was looking at him, and if I had a problem. He wanted to fight. Since I am like a slightly better fed version of Gandhi I told the guy to relax and kept on walking. He followed me for a few steps and I thought he was going to take a swing. Maybe the guy came to his senses at that point; if we had gone at it the CEO would very likely have killed all 107 pounds of him. I knew that with the Chief Educator back in town my corpse disposal options were limited, so I was very happy when the stupid tweaker backed off.

The CEO and the last man to escape The Dalles are headed to a show Saturday night. The CEO loves the punk rock, but these days he rarely gets out to see any bands. The last punk show I saw was the Misfits and GWAR, which (while absolutely AWESOME) was too long ago. Social Distortion is an old favorite of the CEO’s from 15-20 years ago; I just hope the kids at the show won’t mind an old, closeted punk in jeans and a golf shirt. Black golf shirt, at least. And, since my sister’s (the one Jr. calls Annanananananana) friend’s sister’s roommate is dating the Social D drummer, it’s like we’re practically in the band anyway.

I also really need to get out and see 800 Octane sometime soon. Chief Pimpaho, talk to me when you want to go.

I knew it. Chef wouldn’t willingly abandon the South Park boys; his exit from the show is actually a plot by the L. Ron Hubbard clones. Fox’s lawyers won’t let Roger Friedman say it, but that’s obviously what it is:

Isaac Hayes did not quit “South Park.” My sources say that someone quit it for him. I can tell you that Hayes is in no position to have quit anything. Contrary to news reports, the great writer, singer and musician suffered a stroke on Jan. 17. At the time it was said that he was hospitalized and suffering from exhaustion. It’s also absolutely ridiculous to think that Hayes, who loved playing Chef on “South Park,” would suddenly turn against the show because they were poking fun at Scientology.
. . .
Friends in Memphis tell me that Hayes did not issue any statements on his own about South Park. They are mystified.“Isaac’s been concentrating on his recuperation for the last two and a half, three months,” a close friend told me. Hayes did not suffer paralysis, but the mild stroke may have affected his speech and his memory. He’s been having home therapy since it happened. That certainly begs the question of who issued the statement that Hayes was quitting “South Park” now because it mocked Scientology four months ago. If it wasn’t Hayes, then who would have done such a thing?

Please don’t sue me.

Stinkboy and I have been listening to a lot of Def Leppard lately. Like Daddy, he’s a Pyromania man. Not that there is anything wrong with the other albums, but Pyromania is simply untouchable. Jr agrees.

Our foray into Leppard the other night reminded me of one of my 2005 highlights, and certainly the year’s best Wednesday night:

The Chief Educator and I heard Bryan Adams from an outside table at the Kingston, across the street. We figured that was close enough. Thankfully he went on first. It was a hoary late afternoon, but our fires were kept lit. We somehow found our way into PGE just before he was done.

Leppard came on at about 7:30 or so, and played for a couple of hours. It was undescribably, unbelievably awesome. Damn I love those guys. I’m still a little bit pissed at not winning the huge Powerball last week, but when I do finally win I plan to hire Def Leppard to play a show at the Old Barn. Open bar and free nachos for anyone who can make it. You’re all invited.

The CFO was out tonight. The boys ran wild. We started with a great dinner: me and the boy split 1.5 pounds of cheddar, a ham, half a bag of Cheetos, 3 bananas, 1 jar of Vegetable Beef baby food, 4 beers, and a small tub of gourmet ice cream.

We also had music time. He’s been showing signs of dancing lately, so we started with a brief dance-off involving The Crazy Eights. I’ve no idea really who won, but the boy was looking pretty tough. Not that its difficult to beat the CEO in a dance-off.

After that, I thought it was time to seriously rock. First Leppard, then Van Halen, and then some Maiden. Jr. loved it all, but he’d heard it before. Turns out he wanted to hear something a bit more, ah, urban. The CEO pulled out Run-DMC; Jr. pronounced it def. He got to hear also some PE and some NWA; both dope, to use his term. And certainly appropriate for small children. His favorite by far though was The Humpty Dance — we both got down to that one. “Hey yo Stinkboy, come here, are you ticklish?” He was. A good night all around.

I’ve started to implement the earmuff policy with Jr., both when Daddy or someone else says something that should not be repeated. Deployment of said policy has revealed some interesting insight into comparative offensiveness in this day and age. At least at Kjel.org. Example:

We were listening the other day to a little Cyprus Hill, and, quite understandably “earmuffs” was called many many times. The lyrics generously use the F word, and the N word; both were of course earmuffed for the Jr. VP. Certain music choices at the HQ may need to be re-thunk in the upcoming months.

Obviously you’d like your one-year-old to never hear or say either of those words, but if it was a certainty that Jr. was going to yell one or the other loud and clear in a crowded Fred Meyer, which would we prefer he choose? For Kjel.org anyway, there was no need for discussion. The CFO and I pretty much immediately agreed that, of the two choices, we’d much prefer Jr. to announce the F word to the assembled shoppers.

“Wow am I glad that Jr. just screamed FUUCKKK!! at the grocery store and not something really terrible.” An odd thought to have really, but well, here we are.

We didn’t consider the original four-letter friend-getter itself, “the C word” (and I’m not talking about crap), or calculate where in the hierarchy of unwanted toddler exclamations it would place. I’m guessing it doesn’t do much worse than third or fourth.

Kjel.org naively thought last night that it could walk into Kells and enjoy a pint or two of the black before heading to the show. Several concert goers apparently had the same idea and Kells, to their great credit, took full advantage: $20 cover at the Kells door at 6:00 pm last night. The place was packed. We went down the street to McFaddens for our Guinness and Strongbow. Not quite the same though.

U2 never disappoints, even after all these years. I thought the band really shined on a couple of songs where they toned down the spectacle and then cranked it up to eleven. I agree that I Will Follow was a highlight, and Sunday Bloody Sunday another. The sound was not perfect and actually pretty muddy in parts, which really surprised me in this day and age of computerized mixing. The Rose Garden is what it is I guess. The last show I saw there was Bon Jovi, but I think maybe I assumed then that the bad sound was not unintentional.

After the show there were three thousand people trying to take the Max back to the good side of the river. Of course Tri-Met in their wisdom sent along one train along every 15 minutes. Without Tokyo-style professional subway packers, Portlanders are unable to make this sort of thing work: trains were leaving with plenty of nooks and crannies still unfilled.

Taking the advice of the CFO Kjel.org walked across the Steel Bridge instead of waiting for a train we could squeeze onto. Not a bad walk, except that of course we took the sidewalk on the wrong side of the bridge and added four dark and glamorous Old Town blocks to the journey. I almost had to wrestle a homeless woman in order to pass the corner of 4th and Flanders. Luckily she was distracted by a yelling junkie just long enough that we were able to slip past. I’m pretty sure I could have taken her.

We made it to the car and then on to the HQ without further incident. A good night all around.

Kjel.org was happy to hear that the U2 show tonight at the Rose Garden isn’t cancelled or postponed due to inclement weather. It’s nice because we want to see the show of course, but it is doubly nice because the purchase price Kjel.org actually paid for the concert tickets exceeds their face value (and hence any available refund for a cancellation) by a non-trivial number of dollars.

The set list from their show in Salt Lake last night:

City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
Elevation
I Will Follow
Still Haven’t Found
Beautiful Day
Original of the Species
Sometimes you Can’t Make it On Your Own
Love and Peace or Else
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Bullet The Blue Sky
Miss Sarajevo
Pride in the Name of Love
Where the Streets have No Name
One

Until the End of the World
Mysterious Ways
With or Without You

Stuck in a Moment
All Because of You
Yahweh
40

Not bad at all, but tonight is the last show of the tour, so I’m told we should expect the playlist to be a bit more random, with maybe an extra encore or two — should be fun. I’ll do my best not to get up on stage again this year.

The CEO and the Jr. VP are home tonight without the CFO. I’m not sure she understands what goes on at the HQ when she leaves, but she does need her time with the girls after all . . .

Jr. has been exposed to a ton of punk lately; it’s probably a good time for the boy to hear some metal, too. This evening I introduced Jr. to the majesty that is Iron Maiden. He loved it. Aces High may be his new favorite song.

He’ll be a well rounded boy.

I’ve loved the Misfits’ Walk Among Us for years and years now , but for some reason I never bought Static Age until a few weeks ago. Sweet merciful crap its a good record. Or disc, in this case. VP loves it too, but he’s always loved the Misfits. He’s worn their T-shirt since he was but a small Fiend.

Best Halloween music ever.

It’s been Ford Truck Month for a great goddamn long time now. No one can dispute that I love TV with an unbridled passion, yet I also hate country music with at least a medium-warm fury.* Stupid Ford Truck ‘Month’ has been causing the latter to intrude on the former for a year now, minimum. Truck “Month” my ass.

And don’t get me started on the phrase “got a HEMI”. I’d rather not be asked to expand on my theory of dual-rear-wheel pickups (a “Duly”) and the self-perceived size of the, er, ego, of the little men who drive them . . .

*Johnny Cash is not country.

Sitting here with the radio playing quietly, and then “Six Pack” by Black Flag comes on. I really wanted to crank it, but, well, having a 10-month-old in the house is not very punk rock. I’m listening to the Warped Hours by the way, a show on KNRK Friday nights. Old and new punk and good hip-hop. I wish it was on every day all the time.

I first heard Black Flag when I was in Jr. High, and it was a revelation. It came to me that This Music Kicks Ass, and why doesn’t all rock music sound as badass as this? Even now when I hear it I feel like I should (at the very least) be out getting drunk and beating up hippies. Good thing the football game tomorrow isn’t in Eugene.

Today I was the guy on eBay that everybody hates. There was an auction for concert tickets that had been running for days. I never touched it until today, when I placed my first, and only bid, with about 20 seconds left in the auction. By the time the “OUTBID!” email made it to the other bidders, the auction was over and I’d won. And at what seems a reasonable price, even.

To me!!

Cheers, lads — see you in December at the Rose Garden.

40 oz To Freedom playing in the car this morning. Not a good thing for me to listen to as I head toward a busy day. You know how some records remind you of a certain activity or time in your life? This is one of them for me.

A new (to me) 800 Octane cd arrived in the mail the other day. The Junior VP loves it. Oddly enough, he does not like music that is actually meant for babies. He’s way ahead of the game — I didn’t start liking punk until I was in junior high.

I’m sure that any right thinking parent would completely agree that 800 Octane (turned up to “11″) is absolutely appropriate for babies.

And really, which album cover is scarier?

This or ?