A Short Story

Whether I want to be, or not, I am a role model to youngsters. It's part of my job. As a result, I'm always aware of my role, and always careful to be just that when Justin and Kevin are around. I have to teach them all the right things, and lead by example, of course.

Let me give you a for instance. When AC/DC came to town, I knew I just had to take the boys to go see them. Beside the obvious entertainment value, there is much to emulate in the onstage presence of this upstanding rock and roll band. Lead guitarist Angus Young has an unparalleled work ethic. He probably loses 10 pounds nightly, just to put on a good show. And he always manages to show off his best side.

Now, really, who could ignore such showmanship? Dare I say, citizenship? So, naturally, the boys and I are obligated to do our part(s), too. You can thank us later.

For those about to rock, we salute you!

About Town

Once Lisa and I got off of work for the holidays, we played a little bit. OK, a lotta bit. First, we went to see a play at Houston's Alley Theatre, called "The Santaland Diaries." It's the real-life story of David Sedaris' experience as Crumpet the Elf in department store Macy's Santaland display. The production is completely irreverent and we were quite amused to hear the tales of odd elves, Santas, and parents with kids in tow. Then, we headed on over to an upscale Italian restaurant called Birraporetti's. I had the cheese tortellini, and I can highly recommend it. Lisa liked her garlic mashed potatoes, as part of her La Dolce Vita. (See their menu, and your mouth will be watering!)

We also made a visit to Galveston's Moody Gardens last week, to see their aquarium and their Festival of Lights display. I admit it was awesome to see a giant sea turtle, several sharks and a barracuda swimming just a couple feet over my head. If you watch the goofy penguins long enough, you will laugh. We had Italian cuisine that night, too, this time at Napoli's. The bar upstairs is actually pretty cool, with a great view.

For another very special night out, we dined at Bonnie's Beef and Seafood. My Porterhouse was pretty good, but Lisa didn't care for her catfish. The salad bar is very good, though, and the place is very cozy. Lisa did get a loaded baked potato, too, so we both left full.

I figure if Lisa and I do enough of this, we could start our own service on the web as your entertainment guide for Houston. You'd all fund such a service, right?

Whole Lotta AC/DC

I want to tell you a story
About a band I know.
Ahh.. Come to Rockin',
They steal the show.

It's hard to believe it took Rolling Stone magazine over 30 years to put this band on their cover, but it finally happened in November.

Big, loud and stupid, and offering no apologies, legendary rockers AC/DC stormed into Houston's Toyota Center on Sunday, 12/14. Rock School was back in session, and I took my peeps to the show. The ""thunder from down under" lived up to that name, blasting out Hell's Deci-bels louder than I'd ever heard in an arena big enough to hold 17,000.

And it was a sold-out show, too. I had to go to a scalper on this one, with most of the seats having been sold in the pre-show to fan-club members, very early on. Not expecting the band to be around much longer, I figured this would be my last chance, and the boys' only chance, to see them live. I bit the bullet, and the four of us got very good seats, anyway.

OK, so AC/DC has been making the same album over and over since the 1970's. What's your point? Yeah, I miss original crooner Bon Scott (RIP), but AC/DC is what it is. There aren't any surprises from this veteran band, but that can be a very good thing. No big hair, no big egos, just straight-ahead, foot-stomping rock and roll. As the boys would say, it's a long way to the top, and they're still there.

When a band that's been around as long as they have pick a setlist, the question isn't so much what to play as it is what to leave out. The must-haves were there. Back in Black, Hell's Bells, You Shook Me All Night Long, Highway to Hell, and For Those About to Rock, were all played, as expected. But new songs like Big Jack, and Black Ice were well received, despite the throngs that made their bathroom run during these numbers. Justin guessed that the new Rock and Roll Train might kick off the show, and he was right.

Speaking of guitar heroes, that Angus Young might look ridiculous as a 53 year-old geezer duck-walking around a stage, but's he's as good as ever. Note-for-note, spot-on solos. Brother Malcolm solidly handled the rhythm section, and all you need to hear are his vocals on Dirty Deeds to know from where this band gets their rock 'n roll spirit. The sound was awesome, too.

Kevin and Justin bobbed and bounced in time, and in approval. Even Lisa found the show "enjoyable," and she's never been a fan.

That's all for this class, but Lisa and I have been doing our homework. Join us for our next rock and roll lesson in March, because we've got tickets for the Pretenders.

See photos of AC/DC from the Houston show here.

The Puck 'n A Club

What the h-e-double Hockey Sticks?

Ya know, if I can take a backwoods Illinois-by-way-of-Arkansas lassie and a couple of her native Texan boys and teach 'em to play roller hockey, than I ought to be able to do just about anything. Pictured at right are my favorite skaters in the whole wide world. Ya just have to see it to believe it. Kevin skates like a fiend in the corners (and his brother had a black eye to prove it), Justin's mastering the fine art of passing, and Mom can stop on a dime -- once she runs into the end boards, and lets out a giggle like Betty Rubble. Fun for the whole family!

White Album Turns 40

Regarding my Beatles obsession, my mom used to say to me, all those years ago, "How can you keep buying the same stuff over and over -- it's still the same!"

Silly Mom. (Like the Fab Four, she celebrates a birthday this week, too. Happy birthday, Mom.)

I am consistently amazed that no matter how much I've heard, seen and read about the Beatles, there is always something new that pops up. This week, the world celebrates the 40th anniversary of the release of "The Beatles" (aka the White Album). Just today, I was listening to a DTS surround sound version put together by a clever bootlegger, and I noticed a sonic revelation never before detected by my ears in 100's of previous listenings. On Paul's song, "I Will," the bass parts are punctuated by his vocalized "doot-doot-doot". I had to turn it up even louder to make sure my ears weren't tricking me. It's hard to believe I'd never noticed that till now.

Another new item regarding this long-familiar album was made clear to me in a recent special issue of MOJO magazine. There it was, a never-before published photo of Paul McCartney and the album's art designer, Richard Hamilton. Hamilton is seen gazing at a photo collage he was putting together to be made into the poster inserted into the LP. Amazing stuff for true Beatles nerds, fascinated by the makings of all things Beatle. As I said, there's always something new.

Several years ago, I was just as amazed when I caught a sonic revelation on the song "Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da." Paul sings throughout "...lets the children lend a hand." Listen closely, and you can hear various Beatles shouting out, off microphone, "arm," or "leg," or "foot," in different verses.

On my first listening of the Beatles' biggest selling album, I wasn't sure what to make of it. It was big. 93 minutes worth. It isn't exactly considered a pop album, then or now, but age certainly has had an effect on my appreciation of it. Sure, there are many tracks that have always been personal favorites, but songs I used to consider weaker efforts have grown on me, considerably. The simplicity of "Blackbird," for example, I now value as absolutely wonderful, with it's ringing acoustic guitar, solo-vocal, and tapping shoe for percussion. Some songs have become even better than they already were. Turn up "Dear Prudence," and just try not to get lost in the wash of sound as it pours over you out of your speakers. (And folks, if you're listening on an Ipod, or your tiny shelf system, you just ain't gettin' it.)

BBC Radio 2 is also celebrating the 40th anniversary of the White Album with an hour documentary on it's making. Fabulous stuff for nerds. Tune in online by clicking here.

NPR also has a new documentary of their own here:

People still debate whether the double-LP should have been a single disc instead, cutting out some of the lesser numbers. As Paul McCartney himself said, in a quote that's sure to be just as famous as the LP, itself, "It's great, it sold, it's the bloody Beatles' White Album -- shut up!"

Drop a line in the comments feature and tell me, what's your favorite white album song?

Creem Magazine and Montelimar

The VCR and the DVD - there wasn't none of that crap back in 1970
We didn't know about a World Wide Web
Was a whole different game being played back when I was a kid
Wanna get down in a cool way?
Picture yourself on a beautiful day
Big Bell Bottoms and groovy, long hair
Just a-walking in style with a portable CD player - No!
You would listen to the music on the AM Radio

AM Radio, by Everclear

Let's get nostalgic for a moment, shall we?
Back in the day, there was the eclectic pop sound of AM Radio. FM was still a baby, really. Rock and Roll was, wow, remember this, rebellious and irreverent.

In those pre-historic days, pre-round-the-clock marketing days when there was no internet, no MTV, just word of mouth, a couple of late night tv shows (Midnight Special, Don Kirshner's Rock Concert), and a handful of mags like Rolling Stone, Hit Parader, Circus,and my fave, Creem.
Creem Magazine was one of the few resources for music fans to get info on what was happening in the world of rock and roll. In fact, Creem called itself "America's Only Rock 'n' Roll Magazine". Like me, it was a product of Michigan, a fact I say proudly.

A few rock journalists made their names writing for Creem: Dave Marsh, Cameron Crowe, and another not-so-famous critic named Lester Bangs.

Later immortalized in REM's "It's The End of the World As We Know It," and in the film "Almost Famous," Bangs was more than just a critic for Creem. His reviews were not so much a criticism of music as they were statements on life, politics, society and philosophy. One could learn much from those pages. What criticism was offered by Bangs and others might sometimes have been considered something more like abuse.

I happened upon a lengthy audio interview with Bangs, and if you're so inclined, you can find out what this guy was all about by clicking the links below.

Part 1

Part 2


While I always hoped for something a little more informative and sincere, Creem's irreverence was kinda cool. And the photos were unbelievable, offering a glimpse into the world of rockers like Led Zeppelin, the Rolling Stones, Lou Reed, Marc Bolan and T.Rex, Kiss, Mott the Hoople, the Who, Aerosmith, the Ramones, Cheap Trick, the Clash, and so many others. The list of faces adorning the magazine in the early days was naturally heavy with Michigan artists. The MC 5, Iggy Pop and the Stooges, Bob Seger, Ted Nugent, and Grand Funk Railroad can all stand up and be counted.

Though the magazine is no longer in publication, a beautiful book compiling stories and photos was published last year. Included are all the old features: Stars Cars (pimped rides of the rich and famous), Creem Dreem ( rock babes posing in full color), and Creem's Profiles (an artist pretended to be advertising for a mythical Creem beer).




This magazine made me wish I could be a rock journalist. I wrote them a couple letters, and one was printed in 1985.

These days, it's tough to get really good info on the music scene, but MOJO does it well, and XM radio is helpful. But Creem was the real thing. Boy Howdy!

Little Boy Blew

"Oh, no," I thought. Kevin was standing in the audience with a few other band members, holding just a drum stick. I was concerned because the rest of the Symphonic Band was taking the stage. Was Kevin not selected to perform? Did he... gasp, misbehave? Was he trying to make some statement by holding up a stick?

It turns out that my worries were for nought. After the opening notes of their first piece, Kevin and the others joined the band on stage. The band director of the region's top middle school musicians explained that the very select group of twelve kids spread around the audience were hand-picked by her because of their alert-ness, focus, and because they were remarkably on-task.

Huh? Was she talking about our Kevin? Yeah, who knew?

But there he was, up there playing with all the very best students from the many schools in our region. He was in the Region Symphonic Band. While they were playing, I looked over at his mom. She was doing that goofy smile she does when she's proud of her boys. Ya done good, Kev.

Guitar Hero

Justin is just the kid with an axe to grind. All he needed was a place to show off his, er, chops, and today he got it. The assignment was to do a presentation for the class, that would express their interpretation of the story, "Frankenstein." His progressive AP English teacher allowed him to bring in his guitar, amp, and buddies -- in all, a classic four-piece rock band, to play their version of "Bark At The Moon." They got their act in gear, and brought their gear, for a very loud and noisy, impromptu performance, with only a little, tiny bit of rehearsal. The video should do all the talking. (It was taken from a crude cell phone camera, so, be warned.) Now, together, everybody... Hoooooowwwwwllll!

So, Duh, Pop.

Over the years, I've had some very, very good students. Really smart students. But more than that, great kids. I wouldn't dare name them all, just because, well, so many reasons. But, since we're in the here and now, this year's Advanced Placement Calculus BC kids deserve a shout out. Each is special in his or her own right, and just the fact that they are enrolled in Calculus 2 -- while still in high school, mind you, should give you an idea of how truly gifted they are, and how lucky I am. We started a tradition of designing our own hoodies in the fall. What you see is this year's model. I submit, Calculus BC, 2008-2009, in da hood.

The Only Thing We Have To Fear Is Fear Itself

The McCain Campaign has accused Barrack Obama of palling around with terrorists. They've implied that he's connected to voter registration fraud. Some lunatic from Texas, working for McCain's campaign, filed a false assault charge on a a big black man, who she said carved a "B" on her face and beat her because she had a McCain sticker on her car. Then he robbed her at an ATM. Never mind that the idiot woman carved the letter backward, as she saw it in a mirror, that there was no transaction at the ATM, or that her story kept changing, or that it wasn't the first time she's done such a stunt. None of the truth could stop the Pennsylvania McCain communications director from issuing a statement to the press, one that embellished on an already fake story. Or Matt Drudge from putting in a large red font at the top of his website, before he knew the truth.

McCain's nut-jobs on the campaign trail freely shout "Kill Him!" and "Terrorist," say they know he's an Arab, and carry a toy monkey with the word Obama stuck on it.

A so-called Christian preacher man spoke before a Palin appearance and told his God to step up and do the right thing in this election, because he is bigger than the Hindu god or the Muslim god, that somehow want to bring this great country down.

Rush Limbaugh claims that Colin Powell's decision to endorse Obama was about race. He shouted it on his radio show.

A man in Missouri has placed a sign on his property along a major highway depicting Obama in a turban.

Now, someone has placed letters in Wisconsin mailboxes, claiming to be an official message from Obama, himself. Except it isn't. How sad it is that some frightened racist has to stir up more fear, with words like "Change means... BLACK!" and pretend it's Obama's decree.

Yet, right here in Houston, early voting is double what it was 4 years ago. One of the ways to make sure our votes aren't stolen this time, is to vote early. I voted on Friday. I had to wait about ten minutes. I'm told that waiting in line for early voting is a new event. (If you doubt that votes are not counted, that voters are disenfranchised, and that real voter fraud takes place -- on behalf of the Republican Party, then you really haven't been paying attention. There are several books and a few documentaries on the subject that don't get a lot of attention, but it's out there. You can start by reading "Block The Vote," available here as a pdf download, from the current RollingStone magazine.)

Mudslinging is almost expected around election time, but this time, it's really ugly. I think most Americans are sick and tired of this era of worse-than-ever "politics as usual." Vote. Take your voter registration card and an ID. Get to the polls early.

How did Dubya put it? "Fool me once... Can't get fooled again."

(Be sure to click on all the linked stories above.)

The Greatest Band That Ever Lived

When rockers Weezer released their eponymous-ly titled album earlier this year, given the nickname "The Red Album," it was clear that they really didn't care what anyone thought about their music. Various band members penned songs (not just leader Rivers Cuomo), and they traded off on the usual instruments they play. With lyrics like "I'm a troublemaker, not a double-taker/doin' things my own way, and never givin' up," (from "Troublemaker) or "One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink/I don't give a hoot about what you think" (from "Pork and Beans"), and "After the havoc that I’m gonna wreak/No more words will critics have to speak" (from "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived"), they left it no doubt how they feel about criticism.

To paraphrase, they don't care, they don't care, they don't care.

That set the stage for their stop in Houston on Thursday (10/23) at Reliant Arena. (The arena is more like a convention hall, but the venue was cozy enough, making for a good view and good sound.) The band came on in white over-alls, and burst into the raucous "My Name Is Jonas." Except Rivers wasn't singing. In fact, he relegated his vocal parts to other band members, throughout the show. He even played drums, sometimes. And the guys played and joked around all night, as if having fun was all that mattered. They played rare b-sides. They removed the over-alls to reveal red track suits. Rivers jumped on a mini-trampoline, and ran across the stage sliding on his knees. At the encore, they brought on about 50 people for what they call a "hootenanny", all carrying instruments ranging from flutes, to guitars, to cellos and tubas to play two songs with the band. For the song "Beverly Hills," Rivers invited the men in the audience to sing the chorus parts, and the women to chime in with a high pitched "gimmee, gimme."


They even did a spot-on cover of Pink Floyd's classic "Time." So good, in fact, I have revisited the original, realizing the sonic mastery that song truly is. Drummer Patrick Wilson played lead guitar and sang. When he introduced the number as "very heavy," he wasn't kidding. A perfect rendition.

Rock 'n roll connoisseur Kevin asked his mom what her fave was. She liked "El Scorcho," but "Hashpipe" will always be tops with her. Ever the inquisitor, Kevin followed up by asking me the same question. I went for the weird and wacky "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived." Justin just shrugged and said of the show, "It was alright."

They said they’d be back in 2009. I can't wait.

Freedom of the Press

Shocked. And Stunned.

Read this endorsement from the local rag, the Houston Chronicle:

"After carefully observing the Democratic and Republican nominees in drawn-out primary struggles as well as in the general campaign, including three debates, the Chronicle strongly believes that the ticket of Sens. Barack Obama and Joe Biden offers the best choice to lead the United States on a new course into the second decade of the 21st century."

I can still hardly believe it. The Chronic-cull, firmly in the Bush camp in 2004, actually made it official on Sunday that Obama and Biden are the best bets to lead our country. In fact, this endorsement is only the second time since 1960 that the newspaper has backed a Democrat for President. Wow.

I'll say it again.

Wow.

Yeah, I know, it's a no-brainer of a choice (it's the economy, stupid), but right here, deep in the heart of Bush country, folks in general, and big institutions like the Houston Chronicle, are uber-conservative. Just to the right of Rush and Hannity.

The announcement came on the same day that Colin Powell tossed his hat into the Obama ring, and the morning after Caribou Barbie appeared on Saturday Night Live. Yikes.

Get this: "The Obama-Biden ticket maintains its strong lead in the race for daily newspaper endorsements, by 124 to 46," according to Editor & Publisher. The website goes on to say "At least 27 papers have now switched to Obama from Bush in 2004, with just four flipping to McCain."

The Times (and the Chronicle), they are a changin'.

Is Your Roof Most Like A Staircase?

"Some of the strongest winds are being found along the west end of Galveston Bay in locations such as Clear Lake, Kemah, Seabrook, Shoreacres, and La Porte where winds are in the 85 to 105 mph range." (From the weather channel.)

After Hurricane Ike huffed and puffed and didn't blow my house down -- but sure the heck did rip my fence apart, along with a few roofing shingles, and spread some neighbors trees around, I called my insurance company. As part of their 10 minute survey (after 45 minutes of beautiful muzak), the agent asked me the above question. I paused. "Er, excuse me?," I mumbled. She repeated her question. Then she followed with "How steep is your roof?" Getting her explanation, I said, "Oh, I see. Um, not steep." What I was thinking but didn't say was "Not as steep as my insurance premium." I wondered how I could phrase that question in a way she'd understand. How about "Are your rates most like the Iraqi war? You know, always escalating when you least expect it, and with no end in sight?"

But I didn't do that. I was very fortunate, living close to the water, and with a predicted 20 foot storm surge that didn't come my way, after all. For that, I am thankful. My fence is tacked up for now (thanks Justin and Kevin, for your fine hammering skills), and soon to be replaced. The cats are happy to run in the backyard. And I can post right here on the blog. (Ptewie! Still hate that word...) What could be better?

Michael & Me

Michael Moore was recently on "Larry King Live" (9/5) to talk about his new book, and his upcoming film. The book, titled "Mike's Election Guide," pokes fun at the 2008 presidential election. His film, called "Slacker Uprising," documents his quest to get out the youth vote. The film is available for free, via download at slackeruprising.com.

Moore published an alternative newspaper in Flint, Michigan called the Flint Voice in 1976, that reached wider circulation in 1983, under the new banner of the Michigan Voice. The newspaper ran stories exposing corruption, police abuse, chemical dumping and racial discrimination.

In 1980, the Flint police raided a local printing firm looking for information related to an article in the Flint Voice criticizing the city's mayor. By that summer, the ACLU defended the Voice, when their case reached the Supreme Court, eventually moving Congress to pass a law prohibiting such searches.

In addition to the newspaper, Moore hosted a Sunday morning radio show on Flint's WWCK 105 FM, called "Radio Free Flint." This is where I discovered the brash activist. I couldn't believe some of the "radical" ideas that came out of his mouth at the time, but after tuning in weekly, I became a convert. His plain-talk, common-sense view of local and national politics made a lot more sense to me than the drivel and gobbledy-gook that was aired everyday on every tv news program. Even if I didn't always agree. And unlike the popular commentators today, he never yelled and screamed at his guests or his callers, and he never called them names.


My feeling is that it's that approach that scares politicians so much that they feel compelled to bring his name up in the unlikeliest of places. At the 2008 Republican Convention, Joe Lieberman mentioned him. Four years ago, John McCain did the same. Why? He isn't a candidate, he isn't even a politician! Are these folks so afraid that the common citizen just might be listening to this man? You bet. Millions of people buy his books, see his movies, and find a resonance they can understand. That's political influence. They should be very afraid.

In 1980, I was working at a Pizza Hut restaurant in Flint, and a phone order came in. It sounded shaky to me. We used to get fake orders all the time, so I called the number back to verify. It was the Flint Police Department! I hung up, and threw the order away.

Twenty minutes later, up drives Michael Moore to the drive-through window. "I'm here to pick up a pizza for Moore," he said. Ooops. It was a real order. We had this guarantee that if the order wasn't ready when we said it would be, the customer would get the order for free. I had some explaining to do. I told Mr. Moore what happened, apologized for my goof, and quickly made his pizza. While it was baking, I took the opportunity to have a chat with him. This turned out to be the first of several rap sessions he and I had from that drive-through window. On those invariable Saturdays, we'd talk about current events, political happenings, whatever was in the recent issue of the Voice, and his speaking appearances at the University of Michigan-Flint.


Michael left Flint in 1986 to take a job at the magazine Mother Jones. When that didn't turn out so well, he headed back to Flint, got a film camera, and made his first documentary, "Roger & Me" in 1989. By that time, I was teaching in Dallas. Michael appeared on Larry King's radio show on January 16, 1990. Excited that someone I "knew" had made a film (about my hometown, no less!), I just had to call in.

You can listen to our conversation by clicking the button below! Michael remembered our window-side chats at the pizza joint. He remembers to this day "where he came from." Whatever our political views, we should all be so moved to get up and do something about them.

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

Within the past year, I've been lucky enough to finally see some of the rock legends I've never seen before. These legendary figures include John Fogerty (of CCR fame), Bruce Springsteen, and from this past Friday night, Tom Petty.
After all these years and all the concerts I've been to, it's hard to believe I hadn't seen them, but at the time when they were most popular, things like ticket costs and availability made attending their concerts prohibitive for me.
The gosh-awful freeway exit to the Woodlands Pavilion took 30 minutes to traverse, causing Lisa and I to miss part of another classic rocker's act, Steve Winwood. There are a series of ironies here. Firstly, Winwood fronted an old group called Traffic. Second, our tickets were for row PP. No lie. And I had to go, but my gal pal urged me to wait because we were almost there. Yeah, as Tom sang, "The waiting is the hardest part."
But none of that diminished the show. Winwood did a great "Dear Mr. Fantasy," even if his time on the stage was a bit short. Tom Petty brought his Heartbreakers, and he didn't disappoint the throng who came out to see him.
The setlist included most of your faves, but as Lisa pointed out, "Here Comes My Girl" was noticeably absent. Anyone would be hard-pressed, though, to not find something they liked in the lineup: You Wreck Me, Listen To Her Heart, I Won't Back Down, Even The Losers, Free Fallin', Breakdown, Learning To Fly, all leaving the crowd breathless. Absolutely great rock and roll, and I can now cross one more name off the list.

Metal Hearts

Last night the "Metal Masters Tour" came to Houston, and Lisa, Justin, Kevin and I took our expensive seats in the 4th freaking row! We got to see, up close and personal, all the facial expressions, all the gestures, and all the rock theatrics of classic metal gods Judas Priest, Heaven and Hell, and Motorhead.

As I watched my heroes onstage, I couldn't help but pinch myself -- Tony Iommi, Ronnie James Dio, Rob Halford, Glenn Tipton -- they're RIGHT THERE! When they'd come over to our part of the stage, they'd just look and smile, or point, or nod. Folks, you just don't get that when you're sittin' waaaaaaay back next to the hot dog stand.

Just ask Kevin about wanting to vomit when the pounding bass drums of Heaven and Hell vibrated every part of his body. Justin joked, "I thought it was going to collapse my lung!"

All of us jumped and pumped our arms to all the metal anthems you could want in a single evening. There was the trademark epic and namesake, "Heaven and Hell," "Sign of the Southern Cross" (from H&H), "Breaking the Law," and "The Hellion/Electric Eye" (from Priest). Justin says Heaven and Hell's performance of "Falling Off The Edge of the World" was the best, and Kevin got his wish to hear both "Metal Gods" and "The Green Manolishi" from Judas Priest. Lisa said she preferred the sound of Motorhead to the "mash" of the two other bands. To each her own, I guess. Me? I kinda liked watching my peeps get off on the kick-ass rock 'n roll I've been worshipping for all these decades. The family that rocks together, gets tinnitus together. Or, something like that.

Fontspace: The Final Frontier

If you're looking for cool fonts to dress up your documents, make cool stationery, or just to add zip to your Myspace page, Fontspace is for you! They have almost 9000 free fonts for you to download, organized by category. I typed in the search keyword "Beatles" on their site, and found the fab four fonts, as pictured here. Whatever your thing is, they have a font for you. Check it out.

Beatles Nugget

Goldmine magazine is a bi-weekly publication for music collectors that runs an annual Beatles-themed issue. They've collected the last ten years of these special issues onto a CD-ROM , in PDF format, called "Goldmine Presents Meet the Fab Four. " I just received mine in the mail, and I'm happy to report that it's well worth buying. The nicest thing about it is that all those articles (featuring interviews with McCartney, Starr, and so many Beatles "insiders") are completely searchable. And, if you're like me, you'll appreciate the saved space, without all those magazines stacked around the house!

Emo Fudd

We were celebrating Kevin's 12th birthday at Fuddrucker's yesterday, and I was describing the various photos of the Beatles hanging on the restaurant's walls. One of them is from September 1962, and George Harrison was sporting a black eye. Ringo had recently joined the group, and legend has it that George was popped by an angry fan, who preferred original drummer Pete Best. (Except, the legend is really a myth -- but that's another story.)

Note the early haircuts in the photos. Paul has the famous "Beatle Haircut" going pretty well, but contrast that with the cut of new kid on the block, Ringo. (Click the photos above to get an enlarged view.) One of their German friends, Jurgen Vollmer, had his hair styled that way, a little long for the times, and combed to the front. John and Paul asked another German friend, Astrid Kirchherr, to cut theirs that way, too. These German friends were known as "Exis," from existentialism, who dressed in black, were intellectual, artistic, and avant garde.

In our discussion, the young ones dutifully put up with yet another lesson from me about the Beatles. The insightful Justin, in his wise years of 17, commented, "That's what the Emo's do, now." Very interesting observation, I thought. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Today's kids who call themselves "Emo" dress and look very much like the Bohemian youths did way back in the early 1960s. OK, Emos, go find a copy of the film "Backbeat", a dramatization about the Beatles' early days in Hamburg, for your own little deja vu.

Weigh With Words

I was reading a book by another of my heroes, the great scientist Carl Sagan. Sagan said that his teachers were not particularly great, except for his parents. My parents were great teachers, too, but what Sagan was really complaining about was a lack of inspiration from his teachers. That's a shame, because I can name a few teachers who greatly inspired me.

Dr. Judith J. Kollmann was my English 102 professor at the University of Michigan-Flint. Like all great teachers, she was demanding. More than that, she had a conversational approach to her teaching that I really appreciated. As kids say these days, she was "keepin' it real." I try my best to do the same in my own classroom.

One of the dreadful things she required of her class was to keep a daily journal. "Ugh!", I thought. I mean, I'm studying to be a high-falootin' mathematician! Why do I need to consume my time with a journal, for crying out loud? She told us we had to turn it in every few weeks, and that she'd grade it.

Whenever I could squeeze in time between my "real studies," I'd write something in my journal. I started very slowly, to say the least. What would I write about (daily!), and who would even care? More to the point, was that crazy Kollmann even gonna read the darned thing? I had my doubts about that, you see. There were a bunch of students, and how could she possibly have time?

Sure enough, she read everything I ever wrote in that journal. She made pithy comments in the margins, too. Better still, and much to my surprise, she actually liked my ramblings. "Excellent journal," she wrote, attaching a score of 9 out 10, in the very first grading. Hmmm. I didn't know what to say. My Chatty-Cathy journal entries were like, ya know, good? Who knew?

She gave me advice too, when I blathered on about personal goings-on. She asked questions about me. She responded to some of my comments with answers of her own, and gave insight into her own viewpoints. A real personal touch. And gosh, she actually...cared!

She was very encouraging, too, to this wacky kid.

One day, in that fall of 1981, she came into class, her arms full with our journals. She had read them all. She pulled one off the top of the pile, and told us all that she liked this one particular journal entry. She liked it so much that she read it to the class, right then and there. Try to stick with it, as I re-tell what she read:

Oct 25, 1981

You're not going to believe this story. It's my alibi for missing the English class on Friday, October 23. Now, I never go anywhere except to work and school. Well, this particular Thursday, I went to the planetarium to see the new Laserdrive show. I was gone about 2 hours. When I was returning home, the only passage to my house was road blocked by the police. So, thinking logically, I went around trying to get in another way. (I didn’t know it was completely blocked off.) This failed. So, I spoke to an officer, hoping to find out how I was going to get home. He told me that it would be a while. So after he explained that a madman was now in an apartment building holding a girl hostage with a shotgun (absolutely true!), I drove around, and checked back to see if I could go home. I did this every few minutes. I didn’t get home until 12:30 am. Well, when I got home, I began working on my English paper as I had planned to do at about 10:00 pm. (Honest to God, I did my paper!) I didn’t get to bed until nearly 4:00 am. Well, what happened was that I overslept Friday morning, and I missed my English class. Sorry! Hard to believe? It’s all true.

Yup, I still have that journal.

When Dr. Kollmann read it, I just kept my head low. I was proud, though, when my classmates laughed in the appropriate places. The manner in which Dr.Kollmann read it sure helped, too. She didn't mention any names, and I didn't tell anyone that it was my journal she read, either, but her actions sure were a big boost of confidence for me. She didn't know it, but her attitude, her methods, and her approach influenced and inspired me more than I can say.

I try to remember that when I'm standing in front of a room full of impressionable kids. Today, I actually require my students to keep a journal of sorts. We call it the "Calculus Manual." Kids tell me every year how helpful it is to them when they move on to college.

I e-mailed Dr. Kollmann a few years ago, and finally thanked her for being such a great teacher. She remembered me, and my journal story. I shouldn't have been surprised -- she really is that good. If Carl Sagan had been as lucky as I to sit in her class, I'm certain he'd have a different opinion of at least one of his teachers.

Dr, Kollmann is retired, now, and she was named Professor Emerita at the university.

Lucky me.

Paris Hilton Plays The Hair Card

Last week, John McCain launched an ad comparing rival candidate Barack Obama to Britney Spears and Paris Hilton. The people at Funny Or Die approached Hilton to make a video rebuttal. Not only did she agree to shoot the video, she did so without compensation. (View the video by clicking here.)

Wearing a bathing suit, Hilton said, "that wrinkly, white-haired guy used me in his campaign ad, which I guess means I'm running for president. So thanks for the endorsement white-haired dude."

Ever watch McCain read his note cards on camera? He could use a course in public speaking, to be kind. The folks at Funny Or Die say that Paris didn't even use cue cards. Take that, wrinkly, white-haired guy!

Storm Troopers

Tropical Storm Edouard spun through the Houston area on Tuesday. We spent all day Monday moving everything we could off the floor in my house. The good news is that we didn't flood, this time. (Just last August, with 9 inches of rain, the flood waters came within 3 feet of my house! Fortunately, Edouard only brought about 6 inches of rain.) A big sigh of relief, here. Now the task of putting everything back in its place...

Radio Free R.E.M.

My Phone Call to R.E.M.

Rock band R.E.M had just released their album Automatic For The People, and as part of their promotion tour, they appeared on the Global Satellite Network's call-in radio show, "Rockline." This is the still-running show that allows listeners to interview their favorite rockers, live, and on-the-air.

On this particular Monday (October 12, 1992), band members Peter Buck and Mike Mills were behind the microphones and fielding the questions. Well, I just happened to dial in and pose a question of my own.

As you might guess, getting through on the 800 number isn't an easy task. Every R.E.M. fan and his mother is trying to do the same thing -- mostly dialing frantically and getting a busy signal, and then dialing again. Even if you get a ring, I discovered, there's no guarantee that someone on the other end will pick up the call. After many, many rings, the call may be dropped, and you can start all over again! After dozens of attempts, I finally got through, to a real live person. I was ready; I went through my list of questions until the screener agreed one of them was worthy. Then, I just had to wait with the phone pressed up to my ear for my turn to talk to two of my musical heroes live on the radio!

After letting Peter and Mike know that they were both my favorite half of R.E.M., I asked them about the expectations of AFTP being a "return-to-rock" album, and what had changed that idea. Here is Mike's answer:

"Well, we kind of expected that too, but when we wrote all the songs, we looked at 'em, we picked the best ones, and Michael chose the ones he felt like writing words to, and we found that they were slower and mid-tempo. And, you know, our main interest is in creating the best record possible, with the best songs possible, so rather than take the rockin' songs that might not have been as good as others and trying to force them into a record, we took the ones that we thought would make the best overall sound. And it turned out that they were this way. We were as surprised as anyone I think, by this turn of events, but we're very pleased with it, I think that the songs are all very well realized, and I like the record."

Bob Coburn, the host, then asked "In general terms, is it easier to write an up-tempo song?"

Mike replied, "It's easier to write an up-tempo song, but it's harder to write a good one, one that hasn't been heard a million times."

After my part on the show ended, I stayed on the phone line listening in to the off-the-air conversation taking place while “Man On The Moon” was being played, and then even longer, during the commercial break. I was supposed to hang up, but this fly on the wall opportunity was in my grasp! I listened for 5 or 10 minutes before they disconnected me, and I wish I could have recorded it, but I'll tell you what I remember. Drummer Bill Berry had called two callers before me, so during the break Peter commented that he wished lead singer Michael Stipe would call.

Mike Mills: "I doubt he's listening. No offense!"

Peter said that Michael never knows about the media and promotion side of things. "We'll be doing some promotion and we'll come back and he'll say 'where you guys been?'"

Mills: "And we'll say ‘what do you mean, mother ___, we're out plugging your record!'"

Another topic of their discussion dealt with Al and Tipper Gore, and the Parents Music Resource Center, etc.

Mills: "She means well."

Bob Coburn talked about censorship and said someone had made the argument "Why don't we start with Shakespeare?"

Mills: "...or country music."

Mike also commented that he still couldn't figure out the lyrics to "Ignoreland!"

As an added bonus to calling in, the good folks at the show sent me two REM cds, and here you see the letter that was mailed with them. (Click it for the bigger picture.)

REM also has archived every appearance they've made on Rockline on their website, and you can listen to my actual call here!

By the way, I made it onto yet another Rockline show a few years later, but you'll have to wait for that story!

Catcher In The Wry

The scene is a warm summer evening (July 28, 1991, to be exact!), still very daylight, at Arlington Stadium, home of the Texas Rangers. Of course, I was there to see the visiting Detroit Tigers. This was the third game of the home stand, and my brother Clarence and I, as we did for several years, saw every Tigers game there. For the last game of each of their visits, we liked to sit in the cheap outfield seats for one very good reason: We shagged home run balls during batting practice. We caught many a fly ball at that park, as we camped out in the hot sun with our baseball gloves. Batting practice catches were nice, and snagging a foul ball from an actual game was even better, but to catch a real home run ball from a Detroit Tigers player, that would be a rare prize.

So, there we were, in the front row of the left field bleachers, rooting for our Tigers. It was the top of the second inning, and Tigers shortstop Travis Fryman was the batter. On the mound was the feared flame thrower and future hall-of-famer, Nolan Ryan. The count on Fryman was two balls and a strike. Ryan reared back and hurled a blazing fastball. Fryman swung hard and lined the ball into left field, right up into the glaring sun. It was nearly impossible to see -- I had no sunglasses, and all I could focus on was a black dot in the middle of a bright flash of light. My brother yelled -- "It's coming your way!" Indeed it was, but would it be over my head, or would it land short? Now, I played outfield for many years, but from the crowded grandstands, one can't exactly chase the ball down! Here it comes! I could now see the ball was going to be a little short, so I leaned over the short fence that lined the bleacher seats, stretched my glove out, and smack! The ball was safely in my webbing. In one motion I grabbed the homer and sat back in my seat, quick as a wink.

(Click on these photos to get a bigger picture!)

Clarence leaned over to me and mumbled "Did you get it?" He was standing right next to me, but that sun was so bright he didn't know for sure! I showed him the ball, still tucked carefully in my glove. "Cool!" he said. Then a guy behind me asked the same thing. "Yeah," I replied, trying to downplay it. Have you ever seen folks on TV grab a home run ball, after it bounced all over Timbuktu, and then they start jumping up and down like they won at Vegas? Yeah, I didn't want to do that. But when I realized that even the fans sitting closest to me didn't know I caught it, well, I decided I should tell 'em! I turned around, and sure enough, everyone in the bleachers -- thousands of baseball fans -- were looking at me! Except, um, almost all of them were Rangers fans, and there I was, decked out in a Tigers shirt and baseball cap! Oops! What else could I do, but stand up, thrust my arm high into the air, and let them know I caught that sucker! To my surprise, they all started clapping! A truly awesome sight! Feeling cocky, how could I resist pointing to the "D" on my baseball cap, so they'd all know I was a true- blue Tigers fan! Right away, the entire bleachers turned into a chorus of loud boos! Clarence started laughing! Next thing you know, they're all chanting "throw it back, throw it back, throw it back!" Yeah, right!!

Then a security guy from the Rangers came down and asked me " Are you okay?" Of course I was okay! "Well, if you want me to, I can take that ball for safekeeping. Sometimes the fans get rowdy." "No," I assured him, "this ball isn't leaving my sight. I'll take my chances!"

I later had Travis Fryman sign it for me, when the Tigers came back to town the following year. At right is a picture of the baseball Nolan Ryan pitched, Travis Fryman knocked out of the park, and I caught!

Below is a video clip I made of the home run. (approx 4 mins 15 sec)