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Taking Matters Into My Own Hands

Rentsign

Psssst.

You there.  Yeah, you.

It's me.  Cheeky's Hideaway.

Have you noticed it's been sorta quite around here lately?  I think CroutonBoy's brain took a long walk off a short pier or something.  The lazy piece of shit hasn't been by in days.

Frankly, it's sorta pissing me off.  I look old and unkempt.  Visiting here must be like visiting a crazy old uncle's house who hasn't bought new furniture since 1983.  It's not retro...it's just lame.  And who suffers?  Me.  The blog.

I've heard his excuses before.  "I'm too busy.  I'm tired.  I can't think of anything.  Blah blah blah."  He needs to get off his pathetic ass and type something.  People have been writing every freakin' day this month, but the best he could muster up was a lame music retread, a bizarre Italian video, and some weak-ass shit about being sick.  WAH!  I for a fact know he was back on his feet by Thanksgiving.  Freakin' Nyquil, man...it may taste like licking a carny's undercarriage, but the stuff works. 

(Not that I'd know.  All I usually need is an A/C adapter and an occasional reboot.)

Anyway, maybe you can help him out.  Some of the other blogs on my sidebar (which you should really spend more time exploring) occasionally throw out requests for post ideas or the equivalent of an "ask CroutonBoy" section.  Maybe a little outside input will get him pull out the Pledge and wipe some of the dust and cobwebs away. 

But don't tell him I told you.  I've seen him work on spreadsheets and I'm one errant delete key away from oblivion. 

Misery Loves Company

Sick_pumpkin_2_353x470 On Thursday I went into the Duane-Reade on 40th and Madison looking for some cold medicine.  I stepped over half-opened boxes of Christmas supplies and shimmied past the sad little greeting card section to get to the pharmacy, where I assumed most of the medicines would be.  I went up and down each aisle half-a-dozen times, scanning the shelves for Dayquil, Vicks, Robitussin...anything!  I kept thinking I was lost, that I wasn't looking in the right place, until I realized the problem; I couldn't find them because they weren't there.  The empty shelves I assumed were just another example of New York's legendary lack of customer service were actually barren because they'd been picked clean.

It's that time of year in the city.  And Casa de Cheeky is representin'.

Cheeky's voice has been muffled behind a membrane of mucous for the last week, except for the intense, grating squeals she's perfected when she's having an emotional breakdown (now as frequent a Old Faithful).  Attempts to cheer or tranquilizer are met with baffling tirades and meandering conversations in Simlish.  We're torn between feeling incredibly bad for her and wanting to lock her in a hermetically sealed mayonnaise jar on Funk & Wagnel's porch until she feels better.

My coughing comes like gunshots, as my body tries to dislodge the goblin living deep in my trachea.  Worse, it's been coming in staccato bursts just as I'm falling asleep, jolting me to delirious consciousness and frightening dogs around the neighborhood.  I've been sleeping on the couch to keep from startling Oodgie out of sleep (which usually doesn't take much; six hours of staring at the ceiling would be considered "better than average" rest for her) but it's done little good.  And cough "suppresants?"  Who are they kidding?  They're about as useful as anti-drug posters at an Amy Winehouse concert.

Poor Oodgie complains that her head is completely stuffed and has the battered look of a Somali refugee.  In addition to battling whatever little buggers are coursing through her blood stream, she also gets the added bonus of a psychotic, snot-drenched toddler and a doped-up, useless husband.  But I give her credit, as she handles it all with her usual blend of strength and grace.

So we've been quarantined for the last couple days.  Fortunately it's "dead week" in the blog world, in which nobody is actually reading any posts (including this one) because they're too busy cramming all the last minute Turkey Day planning into 48 hours.  Here's hoping that your Thanksgiving is free of sibling fist-fights, over-cooked poultry, and hacking, coughing houseguests. 

We'll be staying home, so you've got one of those three covered.

Reason #472 Why I Love YouTube

Upon Further Review

The writer's strike has left me in a bit of a lurch, as all of my original material has been outsourced to underpaid unionized labor for months now.  The networks may be able to throw together reality programming like "The Amazing Race: Dancing with the Singing Biggest Loser Survivor Edition...hosted by Howie Mandel" but I've got nothing on my mind grapes and only to the end of this Dora episode to think of something.

How about music?

I could talk about all the great music I've stolen acquired this year, but after my primary source was shut down last month (by freakin' Interpol, no less...totally James Bond!) I'm staying under the radar.  I could post my favorite music videos, but Chag had that idea a year ago, and I respect the man too much to steal that idea.

Time for some revisionist history.  Time to revisit the Top 100.

Ever since compiling the list last year, I've listened and relistened to nearly everything on it dozens of times.  Maybe I've changed, or maybe I've just had seconds thoughts, but some things just aren't sitting right with it.  If this is my one historical document that survives into posterity, I want to leave some record of my concerns so some day my children's children can assemble the director's cut.

Item #1 - The Top 10

I was so sure Some Girls was my second favorite Stones album, but now I'm not so sure.  I still love it, and it's on the list somewhere, but top 10?  No, that's too high.  Same with Irresistable Bliss; I love me my Soul Coughing/Mike Doughty, but it's too eccentric to hang with the big boys like Dylan, the Clash, and Bowie.  Both these albums must drop a few notches, leaving room for two worthy competitors, Making Movies and Rumours, to move up.

Item #2 - The Problem with Nostalgia

I surprised myself when I put Thriller at #78.  I never listen to that album!  I admire it and all, but a few random plays on iPod shuffle gave it a temporary boost which it hasn't maintained since.  I think the problem is with familiarity...just because you know every song doesn't mean it's really as important to you--or as great--as you remember.  So I need to pull that off the list completely.  In retrospect, the same can be said for Hysteria (#51), Is This It? (#41) and Hotel California (#73).  All these must drop...a lot.  I'll go out on a limb and say that Def Leppard and the Strokes stay on the list (barely) but the Eagles and Michael need to retire.

Two new open spots on the list...will there be more?

Item #3 - Alt-Country just ain't what it used to be

I used to comfortably rate alt-country music--particularly anything done by the progeny of Uncle Tupelo or Whiskeytown--as among the best music on the planet.  Whiskeytown's Stranger's Almanac and Ryan Adams' Heartbreaker very nearly made the list the first time.  But lately I've found it sorta....boring.  Maybe I'm just tired of it.  I can't summarily drop all the alt-country on the list; Tomorrow the Green Grass and Being There are ranked high for a reason.  But a re-examination is necessary, and I think #92 Summerteeth (which on further consideration really isn't better than Yankee Hotel Foxtrot after all) and #81 Trace probably need to drop. 

And so two more spots open up...

Item #4 - What was once "fresh" now kinda bugs me

Three of the newer albums that made the list by New Pornographers (#68), Franz Ferdinand (#87) & the Donnas (#80) were all pretty solid choices at the time.  But like so many things that are new and shiny when you first buy them, they become dull and scratched over time.  I was worried about putting new stuff on the list for that very reason, but assumed these would stand the test of time for me.  Not so much.  I still like 'em...they just aren't top 100 material.  The most likely to stick to the list was Franz Ferdinand, but as I think about it I still consider them Strokes 2.0, and if the Strokes are falling...well let's just make it a clean sweep.  Three more down!

Item # 5 - I'm fucking sick of Bono

Enough already.  Go away, you smug bastard!  As punishment, War (#56) takes a dive.  Maybe someday I'll reconsider it, but until I get the endless repetition of "Vertigo" out of my head I don't think I can stomach it.

That leaves eight open spots!  Now, in a unique application of participatory democracy, I'm going to give everyone a chance to vote on what should be added to the list.  I've created a list of candidates and included links to download the albums ('cause I'm just that generous).  Some are familiar...some maybe not so much.  Most nearly missed the cut last time, but all are great for different reasons.  So have a listen and let the voting begin!

Ziggy

David Bowie - The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust & the Spiders from Mars

A companion piece to Hunky Dory (comfortably nestled in my top 10) and considered by many Bowie's best album.

Lcdsoundsystem

LCD Soundsystem - LCD Soundsystem

The new LCD Soundsystem is a strong contender for album of the year.  Much dance club goodness, and perhaps the best opening three notes of any album ever.

Sparks_kimonof

Sparks - Kimono My House

A bizarre masterpiece, part theatrical eccentricities and part pre-disco pop.  And what a great album cover!

Kleptones_24h_cover

Kleptones - 24 Hours

A delightful mishmash of beats, song excerpts, and pop-culture references, all set around a "day in the life" theme.  See if you can guess where the samples come from.

Eloout_of_the_blue_lp

Electric Light Orchestra - Out of the Blue

ELO.  The soundtrack of my childhood.  It probably had something to do with the logo, which looked like a cross between a flying saucer and Simon.  Still, such great tunes...

Iron_maiden

Iron Maiden - The Number of the Beast

Tight, menacing rock and roll, with the greatest, most-frightening mascot in the history of music.  The title song is on permanent rotation on my iPod during workouts.

Paul_mccartney_ram

Paul McCartney - Ram

With apologies to Imagine and All Things Must Pass, this is the best album by any former Beatle.  Most of his other solo stuff is trash (including everything Wings-related) but this is a shockingly good disk.  Check it out.

Outlandos

The Police - Outlandos d'Amour

I'm sure this will get some votes from the Boston crowd, with whom I shared a night in July at Fenway.
   

Spoon_girls_can_tell

Spoon - Girls Can Tell

Another band with an album out that's contending for album of the year.  In the span of a year I've gone from having barely heard of them to owning all their albums and listening to them all the time (currently tied for #6 on my Last.FM profile).  The hard part was picking one album to nominate for this, but I give this one a slight edge over Gimme Fiction.  Very, very slight.

Jamiroquai

Jamiroquai - Traveling Without Moving

A more lightweight selection than any of the other candidates, but I keep coming back to this albums effortless grooves.

Exile_guyville 

Liz Phair - Exile in Guyville

Another album that very nearly made last year's list.  Still a raw, excellent listen, especially "The Divorce Song," which is the most heartbreaking song about the end of a relationship outside of Blood on the Tracks.

Wilco_yankee_hotel_foxtrot

Wilco - Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

As I mentioned earlier, a worthier nominee than Summerteeth in retrospect.  Having recently watched I Am Trying to Break Your Heart I have a new appreciation for it.  Less twangy than some of their other music, but powerfully atmospheric and thoughtful.

Dennis_wilson_2

Dennis Wilson - Pacific Ocean Blue

A lost masterpiece by the late Beach Boy.  A de facto choice on lazy summer afternoons, with beautiful harmonies which make you question whether his brother Brian was really the most talented member of the group.

Automatic

R.E.M. - Automatic for the People

The (almost) final nominee, and the finest recording of R.E.M. made after they crossed over from college radio to MTV.  I think this is some of the most beautiful music ever put to vinyl (or in this case converted to 1's and 0's and stored in my hard drive)

Tonic_troops

The Boomtown Rats - Tonic for the Troops

A late addition!  I almost left this gem off!  What was I thinking?  For those of you who only know Bob Geldof as the dude who shaved his eyebrows off in Pink Floyd's The Wall you're missing out on some of the best new wave punk ever recorded.

OK, those are the options.  I'll tally your votes and let you know the winners soon.  In the meantime, I'll go back and see if there's any other ideas I can recycle.  Top TV characters, anyone?

Cute kid! He's really got your...your...your last name!

Getting ready for a fancy party involves a pretty short checklist for me. 

  1. locate dark socks
  2. make sure the giant prison tattoos across my back aren't visible
  3. apply Axe body spray (or Crisco if I've run out of Axe) and pose in front of the mirror
  4. hail taxi

Add one more to the list:  bring Cheeky pictures

I spent a good hour selecting pictures, printing them, and storing them on every available electronic gadget (just in case).  I knew I'd see a bunch of people who'd be asking, and I wanted to be prepared. 

After all, Cheeky's ridiculously cute, and it would be obvious to anyone who saw the pictures.

I'm strutting around, spilling martini as I drunkenly reach for my pictures for the umpteenth time, and swelling with pride at the enthusiastic comments.

And it occurs to me:  I've made those same enthusiastic comments when someone shoves their kids' photos in my face.  And I was almost always either disinterested or lying.

Surely that's not the case with Cheeky!  All must love her and bow down before her awesomeness!

Photobabylizard Good god...what if we'd had an ugly kid?

I can think of a dozen times when I've been talking to a parent proudly displaying pictures of their kids, only to recoil when I got close enough to see the simian facial features or unearthly skin tone.  I hated myself for thinking it, but in that same instant my mind was shouting, "does he know his child fell off the Ugly Tree and hit every branch on the way down?"

It's not like you can say anything.  It's obvious that their child is the most beautiful being in the world...to them.  So you cover up your startled, involuntary "WOW!" with something safe like "You must be very proud."  Then you change the subject.  Fast.

It's horrible, I know, but we all do it.  We can't help it!  Most people have perfectly adorable, lovely children, and you can kindly nod and smile as they are shown off at dance recitals and baseball games.  But sometimes a beautiful swan starts out as an ugly duckling (just like ugly ducks do) and our kindness and friendship are what stop us shouting, "Dear god, what is that thing!"  As parents our love for our kids is infinite; as shallow, competitive people, our love for other people's kids is not. 

I don't think that people say that about Cheeky, nor am I fishing for any compliments.   But there's always that possibility nagging somewhere in the back of my mind that I'm fooling myself, blinded like so many parents, and that my friends and colleagues are just humoring me.  How would I know?  How do any of us?

Ah hell with it...if anyone doesn't think this is adorable they're high.  Screw 'em.  If I'm wrong, I don't want to be right...I can live with it.


 

Overheard at Casa de Cheeky

I needed no further evidence that Cheeky is indeed my flesh and blood.  But the following quotes from this evening have further reinforced it:

"No say 'foux da fa fa!'"

"I yuv loud music!  I dance to loud music, daddy!"

"Bwaaarp!   Bwaaaaaarp!   Bwaaaaaaaarp!  Heh-heh."

"Oh sit!  Oh sit!"

Mimicry is the highest form of flattery.  It's also likely to generate a couple calls from concerned teachers in the future.

Next up:  "Everything's better with cheese on it!"  and "I'm picking out a Thermos for you! "  I love being a parent (he says devilishly)

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