Cheeky's Hideaway

Spirit of '76

My clearest memories of Independence Day growing up--aside from lighting snakes on the driveway--was around the US Bicentennial in 1976.  All the teachers in school were a-twitter about the significance ("200 years old!") and regaled us with tales of Paul Revere, Thomas Jefferson, and Ben Franklin.  The fireworks were an extra-big deal that year, and celebrities like Sandy Duncan , Captain & Tennille, and Evel Knievel all seemed to have specials celebrating it.  As a six year-old, it was AWESOME.

So when a group of comrades on a music bulletin board I periodically waste time on decided to split up the 70's and make mixes for each year of the decade, I volunteered for 1976.  I was a little worried at first, since '76 was when Zeppelin and the Stones started phoning it in and just before punk really took off, but I was able to pull together a respectable retrospective of the year.

To celebrate your 4th, and perhaps transport yourself back to a time when there wasn't all the hand-wringing about flag-pins and patriotism, I'm sharing the mix with you.  While you're at it, you should check out some of the great other mixes from the decade, like 1975 and 1978.

Here's the tracklist, and you can download it here.  You go enjoy now.

1. Thin Lizzy - Jailbreak
2. AC/DC - Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap
3. Kiss - Shout it Out Loud
4. Aerosmith - Sick as a Dog
5. Boston - More Than a Feeling
6. Styx - Lorelei
7. Flamin' Groovies - Shake Some Action
8. Electric Light Orchestra - Do Ya
9. Rod Stewart - The Killing of Georgie (Part I and II)
10. Peter Frampton - Lines on my Face
11. The Modern Lovers - Pablo Picasso
12. Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band - Night Moves
13. Tom Waits - Tom Traubert's Blues
14. Gordon Lightfoot - Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald
15. Blue Oyster Cult - (Don't Fear) The Reaper
16. Bob Dylan - Mozambique
17. The Commodores  - Fancy Dancer
18. Hot Chocolate - You Sexy Thing
19. KC & The Sunshine Band - I'm Your Boogie Man
20. Boz Scaggs - Lido Shuffle
21. Stevie Wonder - Sir Duke

We're doing the 80's next so keep your eyes open for another mix once we kick that off.  I've already claimed 1982, and I've whittled the tracklist down to a cozy 41 songs. 

Croutonboy's 2007 Year-End Awards

New Year's Day is a weird holiday.  It has no religious or historical context.  There aren't any unique celebrations; it shares it's traditions with it's more pugilistic cousin, St. Patrick's Day.  If it weren't for the cringe-inducing appearance of Dick Clark at Time's Square we'd probably have no shared memory of the event.  It's a federal holiday by coincidence, based solely on it's lucky spot on the calendar.

But what a spot, eh?  Right at the cusp between one solar year and another (however subjective that demarcation is) and at the tail of a flurry of family celebrations which provide an excellent base to soak up the alcohol consumed.  It provides an excellent opportunity to look forward to the year ahead, and to reflect on the year that's coming to a close.

Which is a long and fancy way of saying it's time for the CroutonBoy's 2007 Year-End Awards!  The envelope please...

The Honoré de Balzac Award for Most Satisfying End to a Massive Read

J.K. Rowling, who somehow managed to make 8 years and 4,195 pages completely worth it

The Wes Welker Award for Best Supporting Addition to an Already Successful Team

J.B. Smoove (NSFW) on Curb Your Enthusiasm

The Phil Spector Award for Being Scarier than His Haircut

Javier Bardem in No Country for Old Men

The Lisa Fischer/Patti Labelle Award for Albums So Good They're Both "Album of the Year"

Spoon's Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and LCD Soundsystem's Sound of Silver

The Sir Chaloner Ogle Award for the Biggest Blow to my Music Collection

The death of Oink

The Hannibal Lecter Award for Most Disturbing Quote of the Year

"I have a very wide stance."

The Anna Nicole Smith Lifetime Achievement Award for Most Rapid Descent of a Celebrity Family into "Train-Wreck" Status

Congratulations, Spears Family!

The Dane Cook "STFU and Go Away" Award

Rosie O'Donnell, again

The Hindenberg "Crash of the Year" Award

M-E-T-S, METS, METS, METS

The Steve Jobs Annual "Product of the Year" Award

BottomsUp!  The Fantastic Elastic for Stay-Put Pants!

The D.B. Cooper Award for Most Mysterious Disappearance

Our babysitter/cleaning lady/practically member of the family, Ilot, who we've only managed to confirm as "not dead"

The John Carpenter "Moment of Terror" Award

Oodgie, Cheeky, and the Pit of Despair

The "To Spend Time With My Kids" Award for Fakest Excuse

"Work's been very busy," used to avoid blogging in favor of Excalibur and Xbox 360, and to avoid my family in favor of "The Project"

The Charles Barkley Award for Best Player Not to Win the Big One

Me.  For the first time in a decade I didn't win or place in at least one of my fantasy football leagues.  I actually missed the playoffs in ALL of them, including the Blogpound.  (Congrats, Marginally Clever...next year, you bastard).  Inexplicable.

I hope you all have a safe and happy new year!  Here's hoping the next 12 months have fewer explosions, less Rihanna, and more ice cream for everyone!

For previous year-end awards, see 2006 and 2005

Sparing You My Grinchiness

You don't know how lucky you are.

This is normally the time of year when I turn into Scrooge and start dissecting everything that drives me crazy about the holidays.  I started a handful of blogs about the agony of Christmas shopping and the presents for Cheeky multiplying like tribbles under our tree.  I had a petulant rant about holiday parties worked up, and another one on ubiquitous "very special" episodes of TV shows designed to deliver "a message" or "the true meaning of Christmas," usually involving a special appearance by a homeless character or Santa (occasionally embodied in the same person). 

But the absurd schedule I've been keeping since Thanksgiving (also the topic of an unpublished blog fragment) has meant less talk, more rock.  But now the presents are bought, inane holiday specials have been missed, and I'm "working from home" for the next week.  The part of the holiday I LIKE is upon us.   And not a minute too soon.

So what are we doing?  We're hanging low.  A little nog, a little family, a lot of torn wrapping paper (I had to put an electric fence around the tree to keep Cheeky from diving in early) and enough cookies and fudge to choke Augustus Gloop, that's what we're expecting.  The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, with hopes that Rock Band soon will be there.  We've already caught a couple movies, and are hoping to catch more, although we may settle for the 24-hour Christmas Story marathon instead.

(It's probably a good thing we're hanging low.  Cheeky spewed so much half-digested cheeseburger and ice cream on Oodgie outside the Manhattan Children's Museum today she had to be run through the Wonka Wash.)

Anyway, we wish you and all your families the very happiest of holidays.   Best wishes from Cheeky, Oodgie, and CroutonBoy!

Yo Daddy So Old When I Asked For His ID He Gave Me a Rock

I creaked and snapped my way out of bed this morning to find myself yet another year older.  Not that I ever bounded out of bed or anything, but the significance of the day made me notice the strain in the joints a little more than normal.

I'm a prime number again.   I'm Cool Hand Luke's prisoner number.  I'm rubidium.   I'm the amount of weeks Thriller was #1 on the pop charts.  And then there's Dante's girlfriend (NSFW)....

You're as young as you feel, right?  By that standard I'm still in my late 20's, largely because I was just as out of shape and irresponsible then as I am now.  Hell, if Cheeky keeps demanding I launch her into the air like a rocket I may end up in better shape than I was then.

We're keepin' it pretty low-key, I think, since I don't like making a big fuss about birthdays (he says, as he posts this information on the internet for public consumption).  There's nothing I want that isn't expensive, impractical, or an unnecessary exercise in personal vanity.  And until Congress gets off its ass and declares my birthday a national holiday (call your congressman!) I'd prefer to celebrate by kicking back and enjoying the day in peace rather than being serenaded by Benihana waiters with "Happy Birthday" in Japanese.  Yo, tanjoubi omedetou!

They say that growing old is like climbing a mountain; you get more tired and short of breath, but your view of the world improves.  Here's to another year of spectacular views.

Yeah, Well My God Can Kick Your God's Ass!

Religion is a weird, weird thing. 

I was raised Catholic.  Oodgie is Jewish.  Cheeky, via some ancient laws which also include "don't trim the sides of your beard" and "stone the witches" is apparently also Jewish (although I'm considering raising her in the Cult of Isis).  I respect a lot of what religion has to say, but I have a HUGE problem with all the people and institutions in the world invoking religion to support jihad, homophobia, and creationism.  Because of that I tend to keep the whole canonical mess at arms length and let the zealots wear themselves out fighting each other.

But here we are wedged between two major religious holidays.  On Monday we went to a Passover sader, where I ate such delicacies as parsley dipped in salt-water and grilled hard-boiled eggs.  This CroutonGentile has always found the traditions a little mystifying, so Oodgie shared this simplified agenda with me:

Thanks, God, for creating wine. (Drink wine.)

Thanks for creating produce. (Eat parsley.)

Overview: Once we were slaves in Egypt. Now we're free. That's why we're doing this.

Four questions:
1. What's up with the matzoh?
2. What's the deal with horseradish?
3. What's with the dipping of the herbs?
4. What's this whole slouching at the table business?

Answers:
1. When we left Egypt, we were in a hurry. There was no time for making decent bread.
2. Life was bitter, like horseradish.
3. It's called symbolism.
4. Free people get to slouch.

A funny story: Once, these five rabbis talked all night, then it was morning. (Heat soup now.)

The four kinds of children and how to deal with them:
Wise child-explain Passover.
Simple child-explain Passover slowly.
Silent child-explain Passover loudly.
Wicked child-browbeat in front of the relatives.

Speaking of children: We hid some matzoh. Whoever finds it gets five bucks.

The story of Passover: It's a long time ago. We're slaves in Egypt. Pharaoh is a nightmare. We cry out for help. God brings plagues upon the Egyptians. We escape, bake some matzoh. God parts the Red Sea. We make it through; the Egyptians aren't so lucky. We wander 40 years in the desert, eat manna, get the Torah, wind up in Israel, get a new temple, enjoy several years without being persecuted again. (Let brisket cool now.)

The 10 Plagues: Blood, Frogs, Lice-you name it.

The singing of "Dayenu":
If God had gotten us out of Egypt and not punished our enemies, it would've been enough. If he'd punished our enemies and not parted the Red Sea, it would've been enough.

He parted the Red Sea, it was enough.  (Remove gefilte fish from refrigerator now.)

Eat matzoh. Drink more wine. Slouch.

Thanks again, God, for everything.

SERVE MEAL.

What's missing from this version is the flourishes that Oodgie's family puts on the event.  Since I've attended these the above was conducted in the form of a) Star Trek, b) the Passion of Queen Lili'uokalani, and c) this year's entry, West Side Story.   It makes for an interesting evening when you're unsure if you'll play a role that requires a reggae wig or a Mexican accent.

On the other hand, Easter is this week.  As any good Catholic knows, this is the most important holiday of the year because it represents the day that Jesus rose from the dead in the form of a giant bunny, bringing chocolate and colored eggs to all the children of the world. 

(I've secretly suspected that some of the rituals of this holiday are actually intended to lull us into a false sense of security so we'll be unprepared when the invading armies of our alien overlords appear.)

Cheeky's not at the age where she'd appreciate the symbolic flavorlessness of matzoh bread, but she completely appreciates the symbolic numminess of candy.  This is one of the reasons Christianity has always has the upper-hand in recruiting; colored lights will always top candles, and sugar will always top bitter herbs. 

We haven't completely figured out how we'll celebrate Easter this year.  I assume church, since that's usually the first thing my parents make me feel guilty about ask about every year, and possibly an Easter Egg hunt, to see how Cheeky deals with the social pressure of tripping and pushing dozens of candy-crazed kids in a soggy, cold park.

After all, nothing embodies Easter like violence and greed, right?

Maybe the Discordians or the Church of the Sub Genius are taking new members.  Anything to squeeze a couple extra holidays out of the work week...

 

Happy Buy Your Spouse an Obligatory Card Day (or Happy Feel Like Crap Day, if You're Single)

Here we go again...

Another year, another saccharin-soaked holiday fueled by the choco-industrial complex. 

Oodgie and I share a distaste for Valentine's Day.  There's always this sense of obligation that we're supposed to do something "special," even though we both know it's a manufactured sentiment.  It's like New Years Eve and St. Patrick's Day--people get crazy, and the rest of us suffer.

In my opinion, every day should be a day that celebrates your love for your spouse, partner, boy/girlfriend, mistress, or stuffed animals (if you're a plushy).  Why wait until the middle of February to make time for that?  I don't know about you, but I'm constantly thinking of new and fun ways to show Oodgie I love her...and some day, I'm actually going to do some of those things.

And then, if you do try to do something nice, you're probably trudging through sleet, getting ripped off by the local jeweler or florist, or faced with crowded restaurants only serving price-fixed menus featuring chicken (if you can even get a reservation).

Now normally we'd just swap cards, pour a drink, and settle in for the ongoing adventures of Jack, Kate and Sawyer, but tonight is the only night this week where one of us doesn't have some prior obligation.  We'd love to take advantage of the opportunity--score a babysitter, grab dinner and a movie, and maybe kill a hobo or two afterwards.  You know, the usual.  But where are we going to find a babysitter on Valentine's Day?  Or a table anywhere besides a sports bar (although if the nachos and wings are good enough...)

I'm just venting.  We're frustrated because it's a stupid holiday and it's getting in the way of our fun.  And I shouldn't let my own sourpuss attitude spoil the heart-pounding romance of you, my loyal readers.

So whether it's romantic love, erotic love, or Courtney Love you share, don't let the pressure of Valentine's Day turn your relationship into a competition over who bought the fanciest chocolates. If you're doing something nice with each other, enjoy it to the fullest. Give him/her a kiss, tell them you love them, and make sure you do it again tomorrow.  And the next day.  And the next day.

Just don't let those bastards at Hallmark see you, or they'll turn that into a holiday, too...

CroutonBoy's 2006 Year-End Awards

It's been a looooooong week here at Casa de Cheeky.  I've been home since before Christmas, periodically poking my nose into my work e-mail to see if anything blew up (it did) but otherwise splitting my time between a suddenly-into-Daddy Cheeky and gleefully reigniting my encyclopedic interest in super-heroes.  To be honest, it's freakin' exhausting being the kid's primary focus...I feel like a cross between Big Nutbrown Hare and Mr. Fremont.

But I've managed to steal a few minutes here and there to compile my annual year-end awards, honoring the best and worst of last year according to me.  It's been a rough 12 months...here are some of dark splotches bright spots.

The George "the Animal" Steele Award for Best Hairy Naked Man-Flesh (not that there's anything wrong with that)

Borat and Azamat wrestling over the right to have a "hand party" with a Baywatch magazine.

The Andre the Giant Award for Best Example of How the French Can Still Kick Ass

District B-13

The "Zebra, Zebra, Short and Stout" Award for Worst Officiating in the History of Sports Ever Ever EVER!!

Super Bowl XL

The Arcade Fire Most Over-Rated Band of the Year Award

The Arctic Monkeys

The P. Diddy Person(s) Whom I Care Nothing About Yet Can't Avoid Award

Celebrity spawn

The Bonnie Bleskachek Award for Most Tragic Demotion

Pluto, the Dwarf Planet

The Milli Vanilli Award for Truth in Entertainment

James Frey

The John 8:7 Award for Hyperbole and Over-Reaction

Everyone who went ape-shit about James Frey

The Eva Longoria "STFU and Go Away" Award

Dane Cooke

The Official "Your Fifteen Minutes Are Up" Award

K-Fed

The "Show Me the Money" Award for Phrase I Hope I Never Hear Again

"Git-r-Done!"

The "Heck of a Job, Brownie" Award for Phrase I Know I'll Have to Suffer Through for Two More Years

"The Decider"

The Glitch in the Matrix Award for the Day I Actually Got Enough Hits That it Looked Like People Read this Blog

The Week of May 29-June 2, when Austin's finest music editor linked to my entry for the shittiest mix-tape ever.  It was like I was Sweet Juniper for a week.  No worries, though...I've returned to obscurity since then.

The Fortinbras Award for the Most Depressing Cavalcade of Death to Close a Year

James Brown, Gerald Ford, Saddam Hussein, the 3000th American soldier in Iraq, and any good feelings I had going into January.

The Glass Half Full Award to Counteract the Fortinbras Award

Hey, no tsunami!

The Johnny Paycheck Best Career Move Award

Fleeing the mother-ship of corporate America for a gig in consulting

The Atticus Finch Award for Fictional Character I Most Want to Be When I Grow Up

Coach Taylor on Friday Night Lights

The Max Headroom Award for the Show Which Should Be Better Than It Is

Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip

The Stephen Colbert Truthiness Award

Stephen Colbert (ironically) at the White House Correspondents Dinner

The Lance Johnson Award for Most Out-of-Place Character in the Theater of War

My brother Michael, snowboard instructor, somewhere in Northern Iraq

The "Irie, Irie!" Award for Best Evidence of Friendliness in Other Cultures

We score beers for the bus in Jamaica

The Bungee-Jumping Award for Something I Hope I Never Do Again

Flying from New York to Seattle with a restless toddler on my lap.  Never again.

And finally, the Ian Dury & the Blockheads Reason to be Cheerful Award

Another year of this.  What can I say?...I'm a sucker.

Happy New Year, everybody...I hope it's joyous, rewarding, and safe.

Things I Learned Over Christmas Weekend

On Packaging

The people who design toy-packaging must have double-majored in enigmatology and anger-response mechanisms.  You'd think the wire, glue and cryptex were enough to foil the average parent, but to layer it all beneath cardboard as thick as the earth's crust just isn't fair.  They must hate us.  I've got better things to do on Christmas morning than this.

On Hygiene

Chopping and mincing jalapeno peppers by hand

+ casual and incomplete hand-washing

+ removing contact lenses from eyes

= OH MY FREAKIN' GOD IT HURTS!!!!!

On Music: Holiday

Vince Guaraldi vs. George Fridirick Handel vs. Perry Como: let the smackdown begin!  Who shall become the Ultimate Christmas Champion!  (Text 666 plus the number of the artist on your Cingular phones to vote!  Or just leave a comment)  Sorry Sufjan fans...this contest is for contenders only.

On Music: Funky

He may not have been the most lucid man in the world, but James Brown knew how to bring the funk.  I saw him at Summerfest a few years ago, and despite being older than dirt he was still doing all the moves.  And his band was as tight as his pants...awesome.  RIP, Godfather.

On Charity

There's a guy who basically lives inside the entrance to our subway station.  We see him every single day smoking a cigarette, muttering to himself, and wearing a Gilligan hat.  We've lived in New York long enough to tune out pretty much anything, but he's such a fixture in the neighborhood--like the Promenade and the Jehovah's Witnesses--that he's become a symbol of the loneliness of being homeless and crazy in the biggest, most prosperous city in America. 

Oodgie had cooked up a delicious pork loin and butternut squash with latin spices on Christmas Eve (the source of the aforementioned jalapenos), and we had ECG over for dinner, drinks and general merriment.  At the end of the night there were left-overs and we decided that Crazy Subway Guy deserved them more than we did.  So we made up a little plate of food, wrapped in tinfoil, tossed in a knife and fork and asked ECG to give it to him on her way home.  Sure enough he was there, sitting in the subway entrance, and was so surprised and delighted to have a full Christmas dinner that night he immediately spread everything out on his lap and dug in.

We don't often do nice things for other people, despite decades of lip-service and judgemental comments about those more fortunate than us.  There's always that little feeling nibbling on the left ventricle of your heart reminding you that you can and should do more for those less fortunate, and ignoring it or making excuses are lazy and cowardly ways to avoid thinking about it.  Our Christmas gesture in no way absolves us of our duty to the suffering around us, but it sure did feel nice to know we made their life a little less lonely and hungry, if only for a few minutes.

Happy Holidays from All of Us to All of You!

A Peek at Christmas Through the Lights of the Menorah

After much pleading and nagging, I've convinced the infinitely-more-talented-than-me Oodgie to once again grace us with a post. Moved by the holiday spirit, she's agreed to share her Jewspective on this time of year.  Enjoy...

Like any good Jew, I grew up coveting everything about Christmas. Way back then, of course, Hanukah wasn't even remotely what it's become today  as we sorely lacked the shameless paganism which seems to have overtaken Christmas. Not, of course, to belittle the religious meaning behind the holiday, but since when did the mania start right after Halloween?

I wanted to celebrate Christmas so badly when I was kid that I actually went out and bought ornaments and hung them on the family ficus. My father, horrified by this gesture, quickly denuded the tree and delivered a terse explanation of why we don't do that sort of thing. With a heavy sigh, another lame holiday season went by.

Sure, sure, Hanukah (which no one really knows how to spell...Channuka? Chanukah? Hanukka?) IS a holiday and we DO get presents but come on, a dreidel? Really? And latkes with applesauce? And imitation chocolate that looks like money (and I'm sure that doesn't fuel any sterotypes)? It just isn't the same.

In college, my Christmas Envy took a turn towards bitter disdain when faced with a Jewish roommate whose family - both Jewish parents, mind you - fully celebrated Christmas. I'm not saying they put out a nativity scene or baked cookies and fought about who ate the baby Jesus, but they got a tree and exchanged a ton of gifts and that was enough to send me into a tirade on how wrong it was for them to do that. I even pretended I was motivated my an inflated sense of religious loyalty.

As I sailed into adulthood (or gave up the fight and stopped clinging to my youth) I continued to lust after pine and hams and lights and fat men dressed in red and basically All Things Christmas. While I believe I was open to the idea of marrying a fellow Member of the Tribe, well, I just never even dated one. Enter CroutonSpouse.

I like to think my choice in a mate wasn't clouded by my sordid, envious, Christmas-coveting past, but hey, who knows? These days, I'm the one who picks out ornaments when we travel somewhere (and we've got some doozies, we claim, for comedic relief). I'm the one who wakes up every weekend after Thanksgiving saying, "today? tree?" and who scrambles to prepare a holiday meal for a gathering that features 4 out of 5 Jews (apparently, since I'm Jewish, Israel says so is Cheeky and that's that). I keep telling myself (and my guilt-inducing relatives) that we'll celebrate Hanukah (Channuka? Chanukkah?) once Cheeky is old enough to understand the meaning of the holidays and also grasp the fact that what's inside, not the box itself, is the present. But I guess we'll have to wait and see.

Until then, a have a holly jolly Christamakakwanza!

PS - ...and a big HA HA HA to my college roommate, who, since marrying a more religious spouse, is no longer permitted to observe Christmas. Look who's caroling now....