No Fun

No fun my babe
No fun
No fun my babe
No fun
No fun to hang around
Feelin’ that same old way
No fun to hang around
Freaked out for another day

No fun my babe
No fun
No fun my babe
No fun
No fun to be alone
Walking by myself
No fun to be alone
In love with nobody else

Well maybe go out
Maybe stay home
Maybe call Mom on the telephone

Well come on
Well come on
Well come on
Well come on

No fun to be alone
No fun to be alone
Hang on
Don’t you lemme go
No fun to be alone
I said to be alone
I said to be alone

Now Ron, I say Ron
C’mon an lemme hear you tell em
Lemme hear you tell em
How I feel
I say lemme hear you
Tell em how I feel
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah

Well come on
Well come on
Well come on
Well come on

The Road Warrior, The Musical – Just A Boy


It’s been a few weeks since I posited my idea for a new musical — The Road Warrior.

You didn’t think I was going to just let it drop off, did you?

Here’s the next song.

“Just A Boy”
Sung by: The Feral Kid
Description: It’s about how nobody really understands him.

I am just a boy
Playing with my toy
But I see the apprehensive faces
When I kill a man from fifty paces

People say that I’m a runt
Ratty hair and monkey grunts
Yet my heart is filled with poetry
Climb the wall and watch the moon with me

I’m alone again
No one wants to be my friend
Only Max seems to understand
But he eats his meals from dog food cans

I am just a boy
I only seem to annoy
I’m just a student looking for a teacher
Maybe someday I’ll grow to be a leader

But for now
I’m sad
Dreaming of the life
I wish I had

I am just a boy
Just a boy

Attack Of The Eight Facts

I know virtually every blogger has done this eight-factoid meme thing, but I have been tagged with it for the first time by J.D..

So here goes.

THE RULES
1. All right, here are the rules.
2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
4. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

And now, THE FACTS:

1. I embarrassed a respected independent filmmaker.

Back in the late 90’s, a friend of mine and I made a 16mm feature film (we cowrote, he directed).

Not too long after the film was completed, he had tickets to see the movie director Monte Hellman speak at a screening of a new print of Hellman’s little-seen 1978 movie, China 9, Liberty 37.

My friend wanted to see the film, but he also was toting along a VHS copy of our finished movie, which he hoped to pass off to Mr. Hellman. He called me up — one of the people who was supposed to go with him couldn’t make it, so he had an extra ticket.

I jumped at the chance to go. I had seen some of Hellman’s other movies — Two-Lane Blacktop, Cockfighter and The Shooting, and had really enjoyed them.

After the film (which was kind of disappointing, despite having one of my fave character actors Warren Oates), Hellman took questions from the audience.

At that point Hellman hadn’t directed a movie in about 10 years. The last movie he directed was Silent Night, Deadly Night 3: Better Watch Out!. I asked him what was the story behind him directing that movie. He sort of laughed the question off. But then I pressed him, “No, really. Why did you direct that movie?” All of the sudden I felt like I was part of a tense, awkward moment. I could feel people looking at me, and I could feel the embarrassment of Mr. Hellman. He then said that he been sick with a fever, and finally gave in to someone who had been pestering him to direct the movie.

I honestly wasn’t trying to embarrass the man, I just wanted an answer to my question. I actually have never seen “Silent Night, Deadly Night 3” — it might be a very good movie, for all I know.

After the screening and Q&A we were able to go up and talk to Mr. Hellman, and my friend gave him the videotape. My friend never heard back from the man, and I think deep down he still bears a certain amount of ill will towards me as a result of my embarrassing question.

2. I have recurring bouts of hypochondria preceded by amorphous life anxieties.

I have struggled with anxiety throughout my life. I think it’s gotten a lot better, but I still get into bouts of it. Often the anxiety manifests itself in worries about myself having some sort of physical ailment. Why just a few days ago, a recurring twitch of my nose made me certain I had some sort of neurological problem (maybe Tourette’s syndrome).

I realize hypochondria is probably a pretty offensive thing to people actually suffering through real ailments, but it’s still something I am working through from time to time.

3. I was stabbed by the singer of a Chicago underground no-wave band.
You may or may have not heard of them, but US Maple is a really fantastic Chicago underground band.

Their singer Al Johnson often puts on a deliberately weird stage persona — for example, he’ll start their show shirtless and covered in dirt.

Well, one time my wife and I were in the front of a crowd seeing US Maple at the Empty Bottle, and Al Johnson was waving around a large kitchen knife. Without warning he brought down the point of the knife on my shoulder and started pushing down. I said, “Owwww!” and lowered my body to get away from the knife, but he kept the knife there, putting more pressure on my shoulder.

He eventually lifted the knife off me (it wasn’t horribly sharp) and continued the show.

After the set I noticed there was a rip in my t-shirt and a small cut where the knife had been.

Wicked cool!

4. I take a bite out of a sandwich immediately after making it.
I have no idea why I do this. I don’t come from a family with a large number of siblings — just my one brother who is seven years older than me.

Still, *right* after I make a sandwich I’ll take a bite out of it before putting it down on a plate.

5. I focus obsessively on events or people through which I feel I have been wronged.
You know who you are, assholes! I remember you, Anne, who made it difficult for me to move into that apartment on Leland because it wasn’t convenient for you to move out of there. You said, “I guess we’ll have to compromise,” but how does that it make it a compromise when you get what you want and I don’t get what I want?

And, you! Assholes at former online DVD retail outfit Skinnyguy.com! You still have a hundred bucks of my money I sent to you before, without warning, you closed up shop! I rode my bike over to your empty offices after you wouldn’t return my emails or phone calls. I joined an alumni Yahoo group of the Wharton School Of Business on the off chance I could get in contact with your founder! I even was able to track down a couple of your people at classes at the ImprovOlympic, but I didn’t end up going down to the class to confront them. After all, what am I, an obsessed person who cannot endure the sting of being slighted?

6. I never forget events when I have hurt the feelings of those I care about.
Hi. There’s probably a good chance you have forgotten the time when I said or did something hurtful (excepting my filmmaker buddy from #1, perhaps).

But I haven’t forgotten. It still bothers me. I’m sorry and I know I have already apologized countless times, but it still doesn’t help me forget.

7. Despite being a computer programmer, I absolutely hate the following kind of question — “Hey, something is wrong with my computer. Could you take a look at it?”
No I can’t, asshole!

8. I like big butts.

I tag Tim and Manx, but only if they have the hankering to do it.

Thirty Percent of Americans Agree – He’s Doing A Swell Job


As the leftist pinko liberals that occasionally read my blog probably already know, George W. Bush’s approval ratings are regularly hovering around the 30% mark.

These statistics, when applied to the batting average of a Texas Rangers pitcher, aren’t bad at all, but Dubya isn’t currently a Texas Rangers pitcher.

My question is, who are the people that are still approving of his performance?

I have come up with three groups.

1) The Ultrawealthy
The Bush Administration has been wonderful to the superrich. I am lumping the wealthy CEOs of Enron, Halliburton, etc. in this group. This group would be a larger percentage of the total if corporations were considered pollable human beings in these surveys (this may yet happen — dare to dream!).

2) Parents of US soldiers
I had never heard of Cindy Sheehan until she started talking about her son Casey who was killed in Iraq. I wouldn’t be surprised if she held her tongue about George Bush’s policies while her son was still alive. I think that if a parent has a child fighting in a foreign war, they desperately want to believe that the people who sent them had the child’s best interests at heart. No matter how many horrible things the Bush Administration does regarding the soldiers — extending tours of duty, having atrocious hospital conditions, providing incompetent management of a war, etc. — if my son or daughter were still there in harm’s way I would have a really tough time openly criticizing the President.

3) ??????
This is the group that baffles me.

I See Your Go-Go’s, And Raise You Some Ex-Specials

Simian blogger Dr. Zaius recently posted of his love for the Go-Go’s.

A while back I posted a video of a song I love by The Specials.

After The Specials’ second album More Specials, singer Terry Hall, along with bandmates Neville Staples and Lynval Golding, left the group to form the Fun Boy Three.

Terry and Jane Wiedlin of The Go-Go’s cowrote the song “Our Lips Are Sealed”. Both The Go-Go’s and Fun Boy Three recorded their own version of this song, though perhaps you are only familiar with The Go-Go’s version.

The Fun Boy Three version definitely has a different vibe going on, something more reminiscent of Simple Minds’ “Don’t You Forget About Me” — it’s not nearly as cheery as the more popular version.

I do really like The Go-Go’s, but I genuinely like Fun Boy Three’s version better.

But, judge for yourself, why don’tcha?

No Chicago Suburb Is Safe From The Rapier Wit Of Splotchy

On the train ride home yesterday, I thought up some more slogans for an assortment of Chicago suburbs.

Here they be.

Hillside – Our Landfill Is Closing In ’08!
Brookfield – So Much More Than A Group Of Filthy, Smelly Animals
Oak Park – Ask Us About Our High Property Taxes
Schaumburg – Yes, We Have An Olive Garden
Palatine – Like Schaumburg On Steroids
DeKalb – Please Don’t Call Us “Duh Cab”
Evanston – Home of the Smugly Progressive
Hinsdale – No Fat Chicks
Kenilworth – We Theoretically Welcome Black People
Naperville – Come Join The Sprawl!
Rolling Meadows – Neither Rolling Nor Meadows

Ahhh! LaGrange

Well, I might as well trot out one more story related to Chicago suburbs and their somewhat lame attempts at self-promotion.

When we first moved to Brookfield and would occasionally pop into the nearby suburb of LaGrange for some errands, I noted some banners they had lining the streets of their lovely downtown — they simply said “Ahhh! LaGrange”, which struck me as kind of humorous. Okay — I can see “Ahhh! Chocolate” or “Ahhh! A crazy man wielding an ax!” but I have trouble taking “Ahhh! LaGrange” seriously.

I mentioned seeing these banners to a fellow west suburbs coworker, who, minutes later, looked for and found a promotional website for LaGrange — http://ahhhlagrange.com.

This also struck me as humorous — having an interjection like “Ahhh” in a website address. Are we expecting people to remember the degree of “ahness” that LaGrange is? God forbid they visit ahhlagrange.com, or even worse, ahlagrange.com.

So, flash-forward to about six months ago. My wife drops me off at our dentist in LaGrange on the way to pick up our eldest son from preschool. I get my teeth cleaned and then have the dentist’s office call me a cab (it’s the easiest thing for me to do with my wife busy with our one car, and no easy mass transportation options available).

I strike up a conversation with the twentysomething fella who is driving my cab. I ask where he is from. When he mentions he’s from LaGrange, I launch into the above story, and gently ridicule his town for their goofy slogan.

He mentions he is the son of an advertising man. But not just any ad man, but the man who came up with “Ahhh! LaGrange”.

“Ah man, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t offend you,” I said.

He said he wasn’t offended. He did say he would pass on my comments to his dad. I asked if he could tone down my sarcasm a bit, though.

jung vf fcybgpul?