The Tall Poppy Syndrome

I went to check my Yahoo (Yahoo is a registered trademark, any use or reuse of Yahoo without express written consent of Yahoo Corp is expressly prohibited. Whomever is shitting in my alley please stop) email this morning and before I could sign in I noticed that the top story on Yahoo news was "Miss USA winners trips." Not, "Oil Spill worsens" or "Bin Laden smells like burnt camel hair", but rather that the latest incarnation of an ethnic Barbie doll (she's a Lebanese immigrant) can't walk in high heels. Joy! How TMZ of you, Yahoo!

Supreme Court nomination

Nice to see that President Obama has dipped into the entertainment world and nominated Kathy Bates for the Supreme Court. I thought she was excellent in that Steven King movie. Y'know, the one where she took a basbeall bat to James Caan's legs so he couldnt escape her cabin. Here's hoping Justice Kathy Bates does the same thing to Dick Cheney.

The "gay" rumors are swirling about Elena Kagan. Couple things here: 1. Don't you think the Obama admin has pretty well gotten that one researched? I mean they probably did more than a Google search of "Elena Kagen womens softball team", right?

Secondly, or for all you poop joke fans, #2: Just because a women is short and blocky and has short hair doesnt instantly make her gay. It only makes her unattractive. Know the difference.

Hey, wasn't I a big shot at one point?

Since I was unceremoniously booted to the curb by MaxMedia (and do they occasionally have a ceremony for these sorts of things? If so, I'd still be open to a ceremony. I mean, I love parties.) I've noticed that I have lost all of my friends. I don't have a single friend left. It's almost like all the friends I had no longer find me interesting, charming, funny nor dashing. Which, if you know me, is impossible.
If I were a cynical sort I'd posit that the only reason my old friends wanted to hangout with me was because I was on the radio and they wanted their band on the air. Or, in a very specific case, they only hung out with me because I could (and did) give them a radio show on Indie 101.5.
There's one local band in particular who were my pals, my buddies, hell, they'd even put me on the guest list when they played a $5 dollar cover show. I had some sway with these guys, they liked me. Oddly, that washed up a week after I was, again without a ceremony nor even a gathering with alcohol, fired by the neat radio company.
What I'm getting at here peoples is that I'm fine with getting fired from jobs and therefore being friendless. All I want from these people that are ridding me from their person hood like I'm a pubic louse, is a ceremony. And it has to involve alcohol. You can all dump me. I accept that. But can't we do it "ceremoniously?"

It seems I'm quite prolific...

Wow, only 6 and 1/2 months since my lost "post." It doesn't seem that long to me. It seems more like October 22nd was, say, hmm, just 6 and 1/4 months ago. But as they say....
K, I probably wouldn't have remembered I (allegedly) have a blog if wasn't for my neighbor bitching at me about my uncut lawn. Hey, my lawnmower won't start and I think I'd look ridiculous cutting each and every single blade of grass with scissors, no?
With that said, my lawn is now nearly knee high. Or. it is knee high if you're really short. Why are so short? Short motherfucker.
Admittedly, my neighbor is trying to sell his house and he told me that my lawn is an "eyesore" and is making his house look bad to prospective buyers. Well, maybe. But I offered that he's looking at the whole situation as a "glass is half empty" sort of deal. The way I see it, my crappy looking lawn makes his semi-shitty house look even better that it actually is. It's like watching 2 and a half men. Whatever you watch after that seems like Masterpiece Theater.

Denver was better in 1988

While trying to name this blog I went through a bunch of names: Thane Smyka's Stash ("I'll take obscure homicide references for $300, Alex"), My Sister Jeannie has Arvada hair and...Denver was better in 1988. The latter got me to thinking, which is never a good thing. Like most Americans I prefer be anesthesized by something, TV, Twitter, Facebook, pick your dull diversion, so thinking gets me out of my comfort zone. But Denver was better in 1988. It was still a small cowtown with a dangerous after dark downtown and an inferiority complex about it's failures in the Super Bowl. Plus, Rock Island was underneath the 15th Street viaduct and when you ran out of money for drinking you could break into the warehouses across the street and throw barber chairs and couches out of 5th story windows.
Today, Denver is just another cliche. A thriving downtown nightclub district full of the usual dullards who've watched too much TMZ (one viewing, by the way, of that drivel is too much), the football and hockey teams have won championships (notice how I didnt say "we" won a championship. I didnt fucking play!), allowing the city to think, nay, intrinsically know, it's a better place to live than Omaha or Albuquerque. I don't know if the Avalanche winning the Stanley Cup really proved much about the city other than showing that LoDo dorks can't handle their Bud Lights "bro" and the stuff actually makes them more likely to mindlessly riot in the streets. Ah yes, Denver has hit the big time.
I realize this is a rather cynical start to the blog, I'll get better, become more positive. Promise. Honest Injun, err, Native American. I'll try to focus on the shows and the bands that make Denver almost as good as it was in 1988, with some overhead drunken conversations. Cheers!