October 2005 Archives

Well, its Halloween and you will never guess what I got all glamm'd up for this year:

Michael Knight.

From Knight Rider.

Nice. You bet.

Check out the rug on my chest. You could literally lose stuff in there!

Jesus and Michael Knight say "Its Awesome Time".

The entire group. Guess where I am.

Pushing his buttons.

Riding the horse. You bet.

I'm pretty sure those are the most ridiculous glasses ever. Free from Best Buy, the idea is you wear them to watch VH1's "I Love the 80s 3D!" and all the smarmy C-list celebs will appear to be in your living room! And you know you want Loni Love and Mo Rocca in your living room. Lets leave aside the technological aspect of how they make TV pictures appear 3D, because I'm not a scientist, I'm a designer. Dammit. So lets instead talk about the experience, which is surprising. The 3D effects actually work.

Of course, because its VH1 and they're pimping it as "In 3D!", they overdo it. Anything that can jump out at you, does. In the 1985 episode, a 3D Ivan Drago appeared to be about 6 inches from me and nearly made me go running for a clean pair of boxers.

Outside of that moment, the series seems a little, well, overextended. This is the 3rd series of 80s shows, so the topics discussed are those not interesting enough to make the cut in "I Love the 80s" or "I Love the 80s Strikes Back!". So you have C-list celebs discussing C-list topics. Nice.

I was talking to my friend Nicole earlier, who claimed that Law School had sapped her creative energy away leaving her unable to come up with a costume idea for Halloween. Other than going as the "Invisible Woman" and staying at home to watch movies, which I won't let any of friends get away with. So I came up with these ideas during the time it took me to listen to Side B of Led Zeppelin II, or about 18 minutes.

-Take a standard cheap  skeleton costume, wear fancy or expensive looking clothes over top of it, and go as Lindsay Lohan

-Go dressed in black sweatshirt and sweatpants, wear black gloves and mask, run glow-in-the-dark tape along the sides so its like a police chalk outline, and tell people you’re Nicole Brown Simpson

-Wear a cheap dress from K-Mart, bring whiskey and Lucky Strikes, stumble around and say you're Courtney Love. This is great because as you drink and actually do stumble involuntarily, people will think you're just acting in character

-Get all glammed up, put on a bad moustache and a general's hat, and go as Sexy Saddam Hussein

-Wear a cheerleader outfit with LA Lakers on it, and go as 1985 Paula Abdul

-Print out a wallet size photo of Mr. Belvedere, Bob Uecker and the whole TV fam, Wear whatever is clean in your closet, and go as Beverly Belvedere, the daughter Mr. Belvedere squired on a one night stand years ago in London and has not mentioned since

-Get a red wig and a yellow one piece jumpsuit, go as April O’Neil, Channel 6 reporter and ally of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

All of these are great ideas, really. You can't go wrong with any of them. At least, not in my book!

You bet.

This morning, Continental, Dick and myself have been laughing about these notebooks. They're from Vintage Vantage, my favorite online shop for vintage t-shirts with goofy slogans.

The notebooks are one-of-a-kind, made from actual original LP album covers. The Kenny Rogers one was pretty hot -- and the description ("Kenny is a symbol of American Virility") almost made me want to buy it. And the Neil Diamond ones were sorta OK, although it would have been better if they had the cover from "The Jazz Singer". Because, you know, he starred in that movie as a jewish guy who goes to Hollywood to hit it big -- as a rock star. And the soundtrack has both "America" and "Love on the Rocks". Plus, its called the Jazz Singer when never once in the movie does he sing jazz. Merits mentioning.

Anyway, there was one in particular we all wanted. Continental said, "I'll take that Lionel Richie one for Christmas, if anyone's asking." I wanted it too...but the repercussions from having that thing in my possession would be severe. Severely awesome, that is!

Besides, I needed something ridiculous to spend $22 on today anyway. So I ordered it. I'll post pictures when it arrives in the mail...

Last week, I noticed a peculiar sight while shopping for music in the iTunes store. Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" was the #2 most downloaded song that day. Now, generally, the top 10 is always new songs, because the big rush to buy them is always when they're new, fresh, in your mind. Old songs still sell, but not in big enough numbers all at once to make it into the top 10.

Every day that week, there it was, still in the Top 5! What gives? I was stumped.

Over the weekend, Judge Eric brought it up over lunch, as he was similarly stumped. And he knew I was the Master of the Universe when it comes to this stuff. But I had to tell him, I don't know. We brainstormed: was it in a new movie? An ad on TV? Did Journey have a new Greatest Hits CD or something? We couldn't crack this one.

Well, guess what? I've figured it out. It turns out the song has also been prominantly featured on MTV's "Laguna Beach: The Real O.C.", and all the 15 year olds who watch that crap are now downloading the 1981 Journey hit to their iPods as if it were a new song. Works for me. Every Journey song they put on the iPod is one less spot free for a Nickelback song.

Also, there is this...

Seriously, the media buyers for the company making that "Name That Tune: 80s Edition" game needs to stop putting commercials for it on every show I watch. Why, you ask?

Three things. First, I could mop the floor with anyone in that game. Why even bother making such a game when I exist somewhere, waiting to kick someone's ass in it? Warrants mentioning.

Second. The song/music video they use in the commercial showing people playing the game, the one that none of the actor/players can name? Europe's "The Final Countdown". I wish I was making this up.

Third. While "The Final Countdown" is enjoying a renaissance, partly due to me talking about it all the time and making you all remember it, (especially with my article on Be A Design Group, which gets about 9 kazillion hits a month), putting a five second clip of the lead singer prancing around in pink spandex is not exactly helping my cause. Especially in a commercial that seems to be airing about 15 times a night.

Stop it.

(Incidentally, did you notice the "Also buy this" item on the Amazon page for the Name That Tune Game? Yep. "The Price Is Right: Home DVD Edition". I am kitshicked in the gut by that one. Who knew such a thing existed? So many questions. Does Bob Barker have silver hair, or early 90's dark hair? Are the Barker's Beauties on the game? Do you get to play Plinko using the remote? Is the Scandinavian Mountain climber game with the annoying yodeling song on there? Does it have virtual contestant characters that you can pick to play for, and if so, are your choices Old Granny in Lighted Shirt, Frat Guy from USC, et al? I need to know these things.)

Over the weekend, during the time I wasn't busy doing all the Awesome things I already told you about yesterday, I managed to get out to Verizon and buy a new phone. This would be exciting, ordinarily, but the thing about Verizon is while their network is, in my experience, far and away the best, hands down, and I won't even argue it (and I've had Sprint, AT&T/Cingular, and currently Verizon, so I've had 'em all); They have seemingly the blandest, MOR phones of anyone. The Motorola phone with iTunes? Cingular only. The RAZR ultra thin bad ass? Cingular as well. Even Sprint has decently hip phones. Their service never worked very good for me, unfortuCliffly.

To be fair, my old LG camera phone from Verizon was a beast, and I didn't really NEED a new one. But I really don't need any of the things I buy. When my buddy Kadavy used to live here, everytime I would buy something he would accuse me of having Affluenza...I just called it having cool stuff. Agree to disagree.

I take pretty good care of my stuff, usually, but cell phones do tend to get beat up when you party crazy like I do. And besides some loss of battery strength, natural after 2 years, the phone still worked great, and would probably continue to serve me well for another year. But dammit, the day my bi-annual $100 credit toward a new phone was credited, I was so buying a new one.

That day was October 21. And as luck would have it, I was too busy to get there on the 21st. But the 23rd -- yes, on the 23rd I would buy a new phone.

A me-to-me gift. Happy Sunday to me!

Since when does Michigan get to bring their own referees with them to road games in the Big Ten? Just asking.

For that matter, the only thing surprising about the latest awful blown call to tip the scales in their favor and help the White Sox win a close postseason game was that it was Jermaine Dye batting and not A.J. Pierzynski...

***

Great quote: after one particularly bad interference call, Iowa radio commentator Eddie Podolak responded to play-by-play man Gary Dolphin, "I'm sorry, you'll have to excuse me for a second, Gary, I have to reach down and pick up my headset from the floor."

***

If it wasn't already apparent that I am simply a different breed, a hardier type man than other people when it comes to good times, this weekend would be the perfect microcosm of evidence to prove it. Thursday night, I went out with several friends to the Old Dundee straight from the office, about 6 o'clock, where we remained until bar time. 1 o'clock in the AM. Nice.

Friday night, we had the reception for our annual AIGA Judges Reception. Customarily, our chapter shows guests a better time than most other chapters. As a matter of fact, one of the judges had spoken in Iowa the night before, and when they dropped him off at the hotel at 9:30 pm, they apologized and said "Don't worry, Nebraska will show you a good time tomorrow."

Perhaps.

As you know (and as Bennett reminded the world earlier this week), I do not like Comic Sans. We are not friends, me and Mr. Sans. I cringe when I see it everywhere. And this week, I received a letter in the mail that was typeset in, you guessed it, Comic Sans. I can't post it, unfortuCliffly, because it was a pricing notice letter from a supplier at work and that would be proprietary information. Such a shame, because if you could see this thing, man. I mean, TYPESET IN COMIC SANS!

Someone explained to me once that people who don't share a designer's eye for letterforms and type would have no idea why Comic Sans is so bad. After all, when its used by mothers making signs in Publisher, accountants making flyers in Word, or HR Managers making brochures in Paint, they more than likely had three font choices: Arial, Times, and Comic Sans. And possibly Bookman. They want a fun font to give their otherwise poorly designed piece some personality. And there it is, smiling devilishly from the Font pallet. Comic Sans! And a 20-watt light bulb, goes off in their head, very dimly illuminating what they believe to be a brilliant choice.

That makes sense. But it doesn't make it right.

Its taken me a couple of days (and, admittedly, nights) to fully grasp the realization that Stallone is going to make another Rocky movie. There's so many things wrong with this movie, I don't even know where to start. Wait, no I do. The opponent is named Mason "The Line" Dixon. You're kidding me. What happened to inspired names like Apollo Creed, Thunderlips, Clubber Lang, or even Spider Rico? Mason the line Dixon? Wow. And the big rumor is Roy Jones is in the running for the part. Great. Even Carl Weathers in his "Chubbs" costume complete with wood arm couldn't rescue that part with such a ridiculous name. But its just a name, I suppose, so is there anything else I don't like about this movie? Hmm, come to think of it, there is...

Ah, the Vikings. Perilous times to root for the Purple, in case you hadn't heard. Here's a little Polyfro tribute to the idiots who, strangely, somehow deserve those horns on their helmets.

***

(To the theme song from Gilligan's Island)

Come sit right back and you'll hear a tale

A tale of a fateful trip

That started from a small lake town

Aboard two tiny ships

The mates were a bunch of pole dancers

But the wait staff was too pure

The Vikings team set sail that day

For a three hour tour, a three hour tour

The action started getting hot

The dancers strutted their stuff

If not for the prudes in the fearless crew

There wouldn't have been such a huff

The boats turned around and went back home

The authorities came aboard

But fear not friends, 'cause all's not lost

The Vikings finally scored!

Any doubts on whether I had kicked my habit of being a bad sport were dispelled when the White Sox won the American League Pennant last night, and I found myself booing their effort.

Because they're a great, compelling story. And yet I hate them.

This is a team that hasn't won the Series since 1917, or the pennant since 1959. A team that can't even steal headlines from their crosstown rival. A team whose starting pitchers threw four complete games in a row in the ALCS -- their bullpen pitched a total of 2/3 inning. A team from that isn't from the East Coast.

Yet, I can't root for them. These are still the White Sox. They're still the team that Hawk Harrelson announces for. They're still the team with an owner who's such an idiot he won six rings with the Bulls and then broke the team up because his GM was egotistical enough to think he could build another dynasty from scratch, and who singlehandedly spearheaded the 1994 lockout and eventual cancelation of the World Series. They're still the team that threw the 1919 World Series and deserves to never win a Series for it. They're still the team with Frank Thomas, the bitchiest superstar east of San Francisco. Yes, they're still the Bitch Sox.

And the thought of their already obnoxious followers being somehow multiplied by a World Championship? I scarcely dare give it utterance.

Seriously, just shoot me with a .22 right now.

I scoffed at the notion of watching videos on an iPod, mainly because I was under the impression it would be feature-length movies or even TV shows. Never in my mind did I consider the aspect of watching music videos on the iPod.

And the more I thought about this, the more excited I became. Sure, I've got tapes of classic videos stored away, and some of them I've even transferred to DVD, but when the mood strikes to watch Journey's "Separate Ways" video, it takes as long to find the DVD as it does to watch the actual video. And by that time, the mood has passed.

But last night I played around extensively with the video feature in iTunes, and its rather slick. Videos show up in the Library with a special icon next to them, and double-clicking them plays them in the Cover Art window. Clicking inside the playing video brings it up full-size; clicking a button in the lower right corner of the video box displays it full-screen.

As Cliff would say, this is The Hotness.

Now when you want to see that Journey video, you just go to iTunes, double click it, and have a good ol' time alternatively laughing/singing along. You bet.

***

<span style="font-size:85%;">BADASS: Steve Perry shaves off the pornstar moustache in the video for Journey's "Faithfully", now playing in my iTunes window

You can clearly see my video collection is nowhere near as expansive as my music collection. There's 10 videos there; almost 8000 songs. But I think anyone would agree that those 10 videos I have are some of the greatest videos ever.

Now, when you buy them from Apple for $1.99, you get a 320x280 video encoded in their proprietary coding (which has an .m4v extension -- just like AAC song files are .m4a). These videos are really pretty good at regular size, and the file size is nice too -- Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" clocks in at just over 25MB for a 4 minute video. They have 2000 videos to browse through, but as was the case when the music store started, there's a lot they don't have.

Of course, just as with music, there are "other" ways to get videos. LimeWire, for one, on the Gnutella network. BitTorrent has some, but you'll only find recent releases and even then my luck at actually getting them to download has been spotty at best. Just browsing through LimeWire last night I was able to find just about everything I was looking for, save one (U2's "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me" -- still my favorite U2 song, and the only video of theirs I would want, so of course iTunes doesn't have it).

I found Digital Underground's "Humpty Dance". Ditto for two Journey faves; "Faithfully" and "Separate Ways". Genesis' "Land Of Confusion" with the puppets, and Ronald Reagan in the Superman costume too. I even tried something off the wall, just to see if I could find it, and sure enough I did -- Huey Lewis & The News' "Power Of Love".

The one drawback to these videos is the file sizes tend to be much much bigger. They're generally encoded in MPEG format, and look to run about 10-15 MB more. Some are even bigger. This is of course a problem in terms of disk space. But luckily the update for Quick Time Pro released in conjunction with iTunes 6 gives you the ability to save files in the new .m4v file format. So you can just take your downloaded MPEGs and re-compress them into m4v's and cut down the file size.

It goes without saying that the quality of LimeWire videos can be spotty. But when its the only avenue of acquiring them, save ripping them from a DVD, they're OK.

***

This has, of course, expedited my need to replace "Bruce" (my current iPod, named for Bruce Dickinson because the back is engraved "I got a fever and the only Rx is more Cowbell. -Tom '03". It was a gift. Shut up.)

I had already decided my next iPod would be named "Chico", for Chico DeBarge. And the back engraving? You guessed it, "You can never have too much DeBarge."

For the record, my first iPod -- the 1st generation model, that I bought when they first came out and no one including myself knew quite what to make of it -- was named "Thunderlips", after Hulk Hogan's character in Rocky III. Really, it was!

Its only a matter of time before Chico is christened. I'd place even money on me buying one before the end of the month. Watching Steve Perry shave off that moustache is just the highest of high comedy, and the temptation to be able to watch it anywhere, anytime is probably just more than I can cope with...

Sometimes, I can be Not Awesome. Just to prove that this site is an equal opportunity ripper -- even myself is not immune -- I'm going to entertain you with something I'd previously decided never to let hear the light of day.

Ten-and-a-half minutes of your life you will never get back, I'm warning you. This is the worst thing you've ever heard. But I'm willing to make fun of myself, so take a listen.

The producer of my old radio shows made these series of highlight tapes, which are so completely terrible and embarrassingly bad. Its like a Nelson album without all the hair and bad music.

TOP: Max in the Polyfro Archives, happily looking at an original vinyl pressing of the 1970 classic "Chicago II"

LOWER TOP: Max in the Polyfro Archives, ANGRILY looking at an original vinyl pressing of the 1984 travesty "Chicago 17"

Chicago's sprawling, epic double-album debut "The Chicago Transit Authority" is one of the absolute classic rock albums of all time. Its jazz instrumentals fused with feedback-laden rock guitars, Latin percussion, extended jam sessions and experimental sounds were nothing short of revolutionary when it was released in 1969. Guitarist Terry Kath provided the badass bravado for the band; his instrumental piece "Free Form Guitar" from that album was widely considered Hendrix-esque. As a matter of fact, I've read interviews from '69 where Hendrix speaks quite fondly of the group -- well, of Kath, at least -- and even goes so far as to say Kath was the better guitarist.

Of course, Hendrix was probably high when he said that. But Kath was pretty good.

Saturday, my dad, my brother and I were sitting in my basement watching Iowa-Purdue while my mom hung curtains at my bro's house with his wife. After the Hawks blew them out so bad ESPN cut away from the game, we got to talking about Halloween and costumes and stuff. He talked me out of going as Hasselhoff this year -- all but forcing me to return my Knight Rider costume to Target -- and then proceeded to invent his own superhero.

Him: "Where's the Superman costume you bought last year and wouldn't wear?"

Me: "In the back closet there. You should put it on and just be sitting there on the couch, wearing it when the girls get back."

Him: "You bet."

And he ducked into the imaginary phone booth, and slid the suit on. Lucky for us, my camera just happened to be nearby to capture all the Awesomeness...

One of the ladies in the office has been trying to get me to eat a rice cake from her stash for months now. I steadfastly refuse each and every time. I've never had a rice cake, but I can imagine the taste and I don't imagine its too fabulous.

Today I was tricked into it. She comes into my cubicle and announces, "Here, you have to try one of these! If you don't like it you can throw it away. They're chocolate rice cakes!"

Something in my brain says "Chocolate rice? Cocoa Krispies!" So I said just that. "A ha, like Cocoa Krispies! Gimme one."

I looked at it, and this thing weighed less than just about anything I have ever picked up in my life. In fact, I'm not even sure it was actually there. But it was, and it certainly looked good enough.

Took a bite. Not at all like Cocoa Krispies. It was like chocolate styrofoam. Only blander. The inside even looked like styrofoam -- bright white, foamy solidness. I mean, I bet you could use these things as packing material to protect stuff. Cos they're certainly not tasty. And if the person you were shipping to actually likes rice cakes? Then they get two gifts in one! Everyone's a winner.

I wasn't about to throw food away, of course. So I finished it, and I can't really say I was any different for having done so. Although I now understand how models who eat nothing but them things can be so thin. Good lord, there's nothing to it.

Do you know what the fine is for throwing your trash in someone else's Dumpster bin? Well, I don't either, but I almost found out earlier this week.

I had some big items that needed disposing of, namely a busted garden hose reel cart and an old broken computer monitor, sitting in my garage. So I threw them in the back of The Colorado, and drove over one block to the next row of houses being built, because the construction crews always have big Dumpster bins in the driveways to throw their refuse in. I knew where one was, because I'd scouted it out earlier in daylight. As I approached the block, I turned the headlights off...

And jumped out, quickly throwing the monitor into the dumpster. I tried to be meticulous about where I set it, because I didn't want the glass shattering. I set it in there nice and soft, and did the same with the hose cart. Got back in the truck and started driving off, slowly, quietly, turning the lights back on at the end of the block. No one knew about it.

Right. Guess what? A state trooper's deputy lives right across the street and saw everything.

I ran into him the next day when he was walking his dog. He said he should have reported it but he wouldn't. I think maybe he was lying. Its not a crime to throw garbage in with other garbage! Who cares where it comes from, its garbage! Would they rather have me set the crap out in the wooded area around the houses, so some boy scout troop has something to pick up on a "clean the woods day!"? Cos I totally could have just done that. But I was trying to be nice.

Whatever. Whether or not its actually criminal, I don't know. But I do know that the stuff is out of my garage finally, so I'm happy. And happy to have not been fined, if that's even possible. You bet.

Reason Number 6718 why I hate the Yankees:

I'm standing in the breakroom here at work on Wednesday watching the Astros/Braves game. And a couple of Yankee fans start complaining about how their game didn't start until 9pm because its out in Anaheim.

"That's just ridiculous. I can't stay up that late! Imagine what it is in New York, it'll be 1am before the game's even over!"

The other guy nodded and agreed. "I know, why can't they play at 7 like they did last night?"

I chimed in, not able to help myself. "Because that's only 5 out there. Just because its the Yankees, the Angels should change how they do things for you? And play at a time when no one can go?"

I got a quick rebuke. "So, why can't they take off work early to go the game at 5 so we can see it at a decent hour?"

Over Labor Day weekend, I painted my computer room -- the Official Home Office of Polyfro.com -- in the color palatte of the website. Namely, orange, brown and beige. The stripe pattern further ties it in with the 70s theme I have chosen to use here on the site.

I think it looks fantastic. On the other side of the room that you can't see in the photo, there's a vintage Philco 18" Colour Television, authentic from the period. I'm on the lookout for an old busted phonograph player from the same period. (That's a record player, if you're not steeped in 70s culture). And I've got an eBay bid in on a vintage Atari 2600 with games and paddle controllers to hook up to that old Philco. This room is going to be freaking awesome.

"They probably have their books between plungers and rakes. To me they're a bunch of Nazis, and I don't keep track of them...Anyone who takes offense at that kind of book title is not a very bright person. But (Wal-Mart) deals with that kind of demographic."

-George Carlin on Wal-Mart banning his book "When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops?"

***

I saw that quote in an article in the Houston Chronicle this morning, and I laughed because I had just been at the new West Omaha Wal-Mart out on 168th and Maple the other night. Its a few blocks from my house and since it just opened a couple weeks ago, I decided to go check it out.

Not to be mean, but apparently you can build a Wal-Mart in the midst of $250,000 homes in a suburban neighborhood, and still manage to attract "Wal-Mart" shoppers. You know what I mean.

You've always got the 600 pound guy in a Big Dawg shirt, sweating profusely and pushing around a shopping cart full of Ol' Roy dog food and Sam's Choice Cola. You've always got the trashy woman screaming obscenities at her misbehaving children who are running the aisles oblivious to anyone else, frequently running face-first into carts and each other because they aren't bright enough to have figured out that running into things leading with your face is painful. You've always got the greasy guy with a combover held in place with LA Looks hair gel wearing a pair of Danskin's who's buying a faux fur coat for his wife for $39.98. And you've always got the old retired guy in overalls complaining about the price of Generic Aspirin to an employee who could care less because they don't even get paid enough by this great company to afford that same generic aspirin for the headaches caused by said old man. Oh, but there's at least the bizarrely friendly person at the door to greet you "Welcome to Wal-Mart!"

Welcome indeed. You bet.

Can I say it? Fall Out Boy is my favorite new band (at least until I say that about my next, new, favorite um, band). Laugh at me if you want to, for saying such a thing about a band whose latest video which is all over MTV features a Boy-slash-deer with giant horns growing out of his head. It works; the song was #3 on iTunes yesterday. But take a look at the track list of their new album, and you'll clearly see this punk/pop/rock band is right up my alley. These are the actual titles -- they're really this long and really this clever. Damn.

You know what, I was so mad about the Twins missing the playoffs for the first time in four years that I had a big ol' feast last night. Fried Chicken, Cheesy Mashed Potatoes, Bud Lights and a DVD of Game Five of the 2002 ALDS, the clinching game of the last series the Twins won. (Watching any of the DVDs of those Yankee losses would just piss me off too much. They're there on my shelf, but I won't be able to watch 'em for maybe ever. Just too much seething anger. I hate the Yankees.)

But during that game, when David Ortiz gets the run-scoring double in the ninth inning that ultimately was the difference in the game, it just made me upset. The Twins, good as they've been, have been one bat short two years straight against the Yankees, and this year, were several bats short of sucking. And they had the guy who has become, unquestionably, the Single Biggest Clutch Hitter of the past quarter-century in their lineup.

For the Twins he DH'ed and occasionally played first base. He wore #27. He was always hurt. When healthy, he hit homers and drove in runs like no body's business. This year, he hit 48 homers with 160 RBI. For Boston. Last year he had game winning hits in two ALCS games. For Boston.

Nice.

Now, I thought it was probably a good idea when the Twins let him go in the winter of '03. He was always hurt, and figured he was just one of those guys who had a ton of talent but was too injury-prone to do anything with it. And if it was just the Metrodome turf causing those injuries, and playing on grass alleviated it and allowed him a healthy career? Good for him. I'd be happy for the guy. I didn't expect he would become Big Papi, American League MVP. Good lord no.

Friday as I'm leaving the office for home, I was checking my messages on my cell. I had this most hilarious message from my buddy Dick Herculanum:

Nice. The Final Countdown has kind of become my de facto theme song. I guess it all started rather innocuously last fall when I wrote an article on Europe on another site. I'd found a cassette tape of Europe's 1985 album in our warehouse at work, and the cover artwork was so completely cheesy I had to write a post on it for a design blog I author for. At the time, I found the album repulsive beyond the title track.

But then a funny thing happened. The damn thing grew on me like a fungus on moldy coney buns. In time it became my favorite album.