Okay true believers, it is time for a rest stop for your friend and humble narrator. From the beginning, I have told you that this was going to be an outlet for me. An outlet of emotions that if kept inside, would eat me alive. You have been privy to the rage, to the love of my wife, to the lack of tolerance of stupidity....but none of you have seen what is boiling inside of me as I write. I thought about not even writing this one because it is a side of me that I don't like to show. I know that a lot of you just began to pay more attention because of that last sentence. Not to be rude, but this blog is not for any of you...this one is for me.
I grew up in Upstate New York. Not Buffalo upstate, but upstate nonetheless. I moved to Hyde Park when I was 8 years old. I was in Mrs. Wager's third grade class. I moved in mid school year, so I was the new kid. I had one person that I knew from visiting my Aunt and Uncle over the years, but that was all. The day I walked in, I was befriended by a boy that would become close enough to me for me to call my brother. His name was Scott Oliver Coomes, and he was my best friend for the next 20 years. Scott and I did everything together, whether it were good or bad. We were on the same baseball teams growing up, the same football teams. Our parents considered each of us their "other child". As we grew older, Scott was the best man at my wedding, and I at his. My brother Bobo.
In 1991, I left Hyde Park to join the Navy. Scott wrote to me in Boot Camp, came to visit me in Connecticut, and then again when I was moved to Virginia. Scott had a daughter in 1992, her name was Jordan Marie Coomes. For those of you that can do the math, that means that she is 18 now. He brought her down with him the last time he visited me in January of 2000. She was 8 years old. My wife and I had just had our first son the month before, and Scott changed his diaper one time so that when he was older he could say, "hey, I remember when I changed your diaper"...a bit of an embarrassment point that any good Uncle wants to have in his arsenal.
Two months later, March 6th, 2000, I received an email from Scott's dad. I woke up early that morning to check my mail before work. The email just said "Call me as soon as you get this, no matter what time it is." Scott had been in trouble all the time...never anything serious, but in trouble. I figured that he had gotten arrested or something, but called Chris at 5 a.m. anyway. He answered the phone and I said, "what did he do now?" Chris told me to sit down. This is such a cliche statement, but I did it anyway. I said, "Okay, I am sitting, what did he do?" The next words to come out of his mouth buckled my knees. My brother, whom I had talked to not three days earlier, had killed himself. I couldn't speak, I couldn't walk, all I could do was cry. I tried to explain to my wife what had happened, but could barely get the words out. I do not believe that she had ever seen me in that state in all the time that I had known her. She had to call my bosses at work and explain to them why I was going to be late.
Over the next few days, I was in a daze. We drove to Hyde Park for the funeral. I don't know as I remember the drive there. The only thing I remember was being in the funeral home and seeing the closed casket with a picture of Bobo on an easel. We went to the cemetery behind Pete's Mobil on 9. As we stood there listening to the preacher, I looked across the cemetery and saw my father standing there. My father had left work that day to see the burial of his "other son".
I bring this topic up today because next week will mark 10 years that my brother has been gone. It seems like only yesterday that I received that email from Chris, hence the title A Decade Overnight. I have not forgotten him, nor will I ever. I see him everywhere. I see him in my dreams, I see him in his daughter (who through the grace of Facebook, I still have contact with), I see him every time that I watch a Yankee game. I do not believe in god, I do not believe that everyone dies for a reason, but I do believe that somehow Bobo is still with me in everything that I do. For all of my friends, I like you all very much. But my brother Scott...I loved him, and I miss him more and more every day. So here's to you Bobo...
- Salty Dog
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Monday, February 22, 2010
In The Navy....You Can Sail The Seven Seas!
Maybe YMCA was more your favorite Village People song? Sorry, maybe next time I'll make the effort to take a Village People poll. But I digress. What brings us all together today, children? My Navy, and our country.
So, during my 19+ years of Naval service I have seen it all. Been all over the world, met all kinds of people both military and civilian. I have served beside some of the most patriotic men that you have ever met in your life. They were there to defend their country, the paycheck was a bonus! I have met many strong guys, both mentally and physically...and I was proud to have served with them. Did I care what their sexual orientation was? "Whoa there Salty, this is sacred ground you are stepping on!" Hear me out....
As everyone knows, the President is trying to repeal the military's "Don't ask, don't tell" Policy. For those of you who have been living in a cave since the Clinton administration, let me fill you in. The "don't ask, don't tell" policy, enacted under President "Slick Willie" Clinton in 1993, bars openly gay, lesbian and bisexual individuals from serving in the U.S. military, but prevents the military from asking a service member's sexual orientation. It has been a political lightning rod since its implementation. My question about this has always been a political one. How is it that the left leaning Democrat who loves the poor, the gay, the minorities...the Democrat (and yes, I am a registered Democrat, so fuck off before you start claiming I am some lean to the right, bible thumping Republican) is the one that enacted this policy that basically told the gay, lesbian, and bisexual portion of the Armed Forces that they could not be themselves? They were forced to hide who they were if they wanted to continue to serve their country. Thousands who were found out, were discharged from service.
The current Commander in Chief feels that it is time to repeal this ridiculous act. I, for one, am with him. I have seen too many good sailors sent packing not because of their lack of qualifications, not because of gross misconduct, not because of inability to do their job. Nay, they were sent packing because of who and how they chose to love. I know people that got out of the Navy because they didn't want to have to hide who they were anymore. Good, highly qualified individuals turned their back on the Navy (which would not accept them as they were) because they had to act like someone that they were not. Let me tell you, true believers, if I am fighting a fire in a main engine room, or firing 25mm rounds at an incoming attack boat, or doing an emergency anchorage because the ship is going to run aground....I do not ask the guy next to me about his sexual orientation! Now, would I feel uncomfortable showering with a guy that I knew was gay? Honestly..no. I do not think for one minute that a gay sailor is going to come up to me and make a move on me in the shower. The homophobes that are going to use this as their reasoning have more issues than fear of homosexuals.
This is a "hot button issue" in the military right now, and I can't understand why. Things like this make me feel like the old salty dog that I am. "The Navy I am in now isn't the same one that I joined!" It is obviously time for me to retire NOT because of this current proposal..but because of how the people are reacting to it. The fact that someone's sexual preference is a determining factor in any situation is enough to make me sick. If you want to fight for your country, and are willing to put your life on the line right next to me...I don't care if you like guys, girls, or both. As long as you are qualified to do your job and you are watching my back, all are welcome. As a nation built on the principle of equality, we should recognize and welcome change that will build a stronger, more cohesive military. Until next time...Stay Salty.
Salty Dog
So, during my 19+ years of Naval service I have seen it all. Been all over the world, met all kinds of people both military and civilian. I have served beside some of the most patriotic men that you have ever met in your life. They were there to defend their country, the paycheck was a bonus! I have met many strong guys, both mentally and physically...and I was proud to have served with them. Did I care what their sexual orientation was? "Whoa there Salty, this is sacred ground you are stepping on!" Hear me out....
As everyone knows, the President is trying to repeal the military's "Don't ask, don't tell" Policy. For those of you who have been living in a cave since the Clinton administration, let me fill you in. The "don't ask, don't tell" policy, enacted under President "Slick Willie" Clinton in 1993, bars openly gay, lesbian and bisexual individuals from serving in the U.S. military, but prevents the military from asking a service member's sexual orientation. It has been a political lightning rod since its implementation. My question about this has always been a political one. How is it that the left leaning Democrat who loves the poor, the gay, the minorities...the Democrat (and yes, I am a registered Democrat, so fuck off before you start claiming I am some lean to the right, bible thumping Republican) is the one that enacted this policy that basically told the gay, lesbian, and bisexual portion of the Armed Forces that they could not be themselves? They were forced to hide who they were if they wanted to continue to serve their country. Thousands who were found out, were discharged from service.
The current Commander in Chief feels that it is time to repeal this ridiculous act. I, for one, am with him. I have seen too many good sailors sent packing not because of their lack of qualifications, not because of gross misconduct, not because of inability to do their job. Nay, they were sent packing because of who and how they chose to love. I know people that got out of the Navy because they didn't want to have to hide who they were anymore. Good, highly qualified individuals turned their back on the Navy (which would not accept them as they were) because they had to act like someone that they were not. Let me tell you, true believers, if I am fighting a fire in a main engine room, or firing 25mm rounds at an incoming attack boat, or doing an emergency anchorage because the ship is going to run aground....I do not ask the guy next to me about his sexual orientation! Now, would I feel uncomfortable showering with a guy that I knew was gay? Honestly..no. I do not think for one minute that a gay sailor is going to come up to me and make a move on me in the shower. The homophobes that are going to use this as their reasoning have more issues than fear of homosexuals.
This is a "hot button issue" in the military right now, and I can't understand why. Things like this make me feel like the old salty dog that I am. "The Navy I am in now isn't the same one that I joined!" It is obviously time for me to retire NOT because of this current proposal..but because of how the people are reacting to it. The fact that someone's sexual preference is a determining factor in any situation is enough to make me sick. If you want to fight for your country, and are willing to put your life on the line right next to me...I don't care if you like guys, girls, or both. As long as you are qualified to do your job and you are watching my back, all are welcome. As a nation built on the principle of equality, we should recognize and welcome change that will build a stronger, more cohesive military. Until next time...Stay Salty.
Salty Dog
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
RAGE
Welcome back true believers! Today's topic is rage. Not your Bruce Banner transforming rage, not your Weapon X rage, not the early 90s video game Primal Rage, just plain old, run of the mill road rage. I don't usually care if someone cuts me off..hey, I have done it too. Usually when I do it, it means I wasn't paying attention to where I was and would have missed a turn if I didn't. Not claiming that I am in the right, but I understand such situations. What brings me to the point of posting today though, is the "I gotta get ahead because that lane looks like it is moving faster" guy.
In the greater Hampton Roads area (like many areas that you all inhabit) there are bridges and tunnels. The roads leading to these structures usually have multiple lanes. The left hand lane will usually lead to an off ramp away from the tunnel, the center may be a left or straight option, and the right lane is "Hey, I am going through the tunnel". If I know that I am going through said tunnel, I will position myself in the right hand lane as early as possible. I will sit in the traffic as long as it takes, because that is the lane that I am supposed to be in. The thing that pisses me off is the guy/girl that feels the need to ride the left or center lane as far as humanly possible before jutting their Hot Wheels car in front of me in the right lane. Add to the fact that they have an aluminum (for Terence,aluminium) spoiler tack welded to the rear of their firberglass rice burner which I can only assume is so that he can fly it like a kite.
I normally listen to ESPN radio, or the Mike and Bob show (local 96X DJs) while driving. This is the best for me because it keeps my rage down. When some jackass decides that he wants to disobey all traffic etiquette during my drive home, I switch to Five Finger Death Punch or music of the sort. Does this have a calming effect? Nay nay. This only fuels my rage further. Why do I do such things to myself? Who knows? Maybe it is to scare the punk in the rice burning kite that is trying to avoid looking at me in his rear view mirror. Maybe it is to help me vent some of that rage so I don't get out in traffic and club the driver like a baby seal.
These are the same assholes that feel the need to move from the center lane to the right lane in the middle of an intersection (directly in front of the sign proclaiming "Do Not Block Intersection $100 Fine"). You, being the intelligent driver, realize that there is not enough room for you to get through the light and still not block the intersection, so you wait. This jackass sees the opening and pushes his car at a 45 degree angle into that same "opening".
So what do we do with these people? I am accepting creative ideas on how to stop the stupidity and make the roads safe for the rest of us. I propose license revocation and only allowing them to travel by short bus. They should all be fitted with hockey helmets. Go above and beyond and get them all uniforms that say "ASSHOLE" with a serial number. I am for physical punishment for stupidity offenses as many of you may have read previously. Sound off true believers...let me here your ideas of how to punish these people! Tune in next time...same Salty time, same Salty channel!
-Salty Dog
In the greater Hampton Roads area (like many areas that you all inhabit) there are bridges and tunnels. The roads leading to these structures usually have multiple lanes. The left hand lane will usually lead to an off ramp away from the tunnel, the center may be a left or straight option, and the right lane is "Hey, I am going through the tunnel". If I know that I am going through said tunnel, I will position myself in the right hand lane as early as possible. I will sit in the traffic as long as it takes, because that is the lane that I am supposed to be in. The thing that pisses me off is the guy/girl that feels the need to ride the left or center lane as far as humanly possible before jutting their Hot Wheels car in front of me in the right lane. Add to the fact that they have an aluminum (for Terence,aluminium) spoiler tack welded to the rear of their firberglass rice burner which I can only assume is so that he can fly it like a kite.
I normally listen to ESPN radio, or the Mike and Bob show (local 96X DJs) while driving. This is the best for me because it keeps my rage down. When some jackass decides that he wants to disobey all traffic etiquette during my drive home, I switch to Five Finger Death Punch or music of the sort. Does this have a calming effect? Nay nay. This only fuels my rage further. Why do I do such things to myself? Who knows? Maybe it is to scare the punk in the rice burning kite that is trying to avoid looking at me in his rear view mirror. Maybe it is to help me vent some of that rage so I don't get out in traffic and club the driver like a baby seal.
These are the same assholes that feel the need to move from the center lane to the right lane in the middle of an intersection (directly in front of the sign proclaiming "Do Not Block Intersection $100 Fine"). You, being the intelligent driver, realize that there is not enough room for you to get through the light and still not block the intersection, so you wait. This jackass sees the opening and pushes his car at a 45 degree angle into that same "opening".
So what do we do with these people? I am accepting creative ideas on how to stop the stupidity and make the roads safe for the rest of us. I propose license revocation and only allowing them to travel by short bus. They should all be fitted with hockey helmets. Go above and beyond and get them all uniforms that say "ASSHOLE" with a serial number. I am for physical punishment for stupidity offenses as many of you may have read previously. Sound off true believers...let me here your ideas of how to punish these people! Tune in next time...same Salty time, same Salty channel!
-Salty Dog
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Olympics
Okay true believers, we took a brief time out at a mental rest stop, now it is time to get back on the road. Many of us are watching the 2010 Winter Olympic Games from Vancouver, BC. Is it because the games are exciting or is it because that is all that is on? Let us investigate some of these "sports" they are shoving down our throats.
Biathlon. Ski for 4 miles and then lay down (with skis on!) and shoot. Every target you miss, you are forced to ski a penalty lap. This is possibly the dumbest event I have ever watched. Luge. Cruising down a bobsled track at 90 mph with an ice skate in your ass. This is the second most insane event in the Olympics (skeleton is the same event except you are laying on your stomach). Curling. This is kind of like shuffleboard for younger people...and on ice. I will not bad mouth this event because for some strange reason, I find it entertaining.
The purpose of today's blog isn't to talk trash about the Winter Olympics, but to come up with some ideas for events that would be more fun to watch. It is all about television ratings in the end, isn't it? Let's come up with events that you would just HAVE to watch. First event? Snowball Fighting. All snowballs would be pre-made so that nations that don't normally see snow would not be at a disadvantage. The snowballs would be placed at the center of the field and teams would start at their own endline (comparable to dodgeball). When the whistle blows, teams would run to the center and retrieve their snowballs and fire away. Again, dodgeball rules would apply here; if you catch a snowball, the opponent is out. Last man standing's country moves on to the next round.
Next event? Extreme Snowblowing. Split a football field full of snow at the 50 yard line. This would be a relay event, each member responsible for 10 yards of snow. The key here is the rocks and assorted children's toys that would be placed under the snow. This would make the event authentic. Launch a Hot Wheels car at your opponent to slow them down. Jamming and restarting of your snowblower costs you time and causes more excitement.
Where do we go from there? Snowsuit Donning. Flashback to when you were a kid (especially those of us who grew up in the snow). We are talking full snowsuit here, from the moon boots with the Wonder bread bags inside (gotta waterproof your feet), to the snow pants with suspenders, t-shirt, sweatshirt, big ass coat, gloves, scarf, and ski mask. In order to be fully dressed in this event, you must have all the holes in the ski mask lined up properly. No noses in the mouth hole! Once fully dressed and inspected, you have to disrobe. Kicking your Moon Boots off and dislodging the Wonderbread bags is a 10 second penalty.
I am open to suggestions on other events, but some of the ones we are being forced to watch have to go. Once we establish an updated list of stuff that we want to see, we will start a petition and forward results to the President of the Olympic Committee. I propose we start now to have a shot at the next Winter Games. To quote Jim Bruer in Half Baked..."Who's comin with me, man?" Until next time, my faithful minions....
-Salty Dog
Biathlon. Ski for 4 miles and then lay down (with skis on!) and shoot. Every target you miss, you are forced to ski a penalty lap. This is possibly the dumbest event I have ever watched. Luge. Cruising down a bobsled track at 90 mph with an ice skate in your ass. This is the second most insane event in the Olympics (skeleton is the same event except you are laying on your stomach). Curling. This is kind of like shuffleboard for younger people...and on ice. I will not bad mouth this event because for some strange reason, I find it entertaining.
The purpose of today's blog isn't to talk trash about the Winter Olympics, but to come up with some ideas for events that would be more fun to watch. It is all about television ratings in the end, isn't it? Let's come up with events that you would just HAVE to watch. First event? Snowball Fighting. All snowballs would be pre-made so that nations that don't normally see snow would not be at a disadvantage. The snowballs would be placed at the center of the field and teams would start at their own endline (comparable to dodgeball). When the whistle blows, teams would run to the center and retrieve their snowballs and fire away. Again, dodgeball rules would apply here; if you catch a snowball, the opponent is out. Last man standing's country moves on to the next round.
Next event? Extreme Snowblowing. Split a football field full of snow at the 50 yard line. This would be a relay event, each member responsible for 10 yards of snow. The key here is the rocks and assorted children's toys that would be placed under the snow. This would make the event authentic. Launch a Hot Wheels car at your opponent to slow them down. Jamming and restarting of your snowblower costs you time and causes more excitement.
Where do we go from there? Snowsuit Donning. Flashback to when you were a kid (especially those of us who grew up in the snow). We are talking full snowsuit here, from the moon boots with the Wonder bread bags inside (gotta waterproof your feet), to the snow pants with suspenders, t-shirt, sweatshirt, big ass coat, gloves, scarf, and ski mask. In order to be fully dressed in this event, you must have all the holes in the ski mask lined up properly. No noses in the mouth hole! Once fully dressed and inspected, you have to disrobe. Kicking your Moon Boots off and dislodging the Wonderbread bags is a 10 second penalty.
I am open to suggestions on other events, but some of the ones we are being forced to watch have to go. Once we establish an updated list of stuff that we want to see, we will start a petition and forward results to the President of the Olympic Committee. I propose we start now to have a shot at the next Winter Games. To quote Jim Bruer in Half Baked..."Who's comin with me, man?" Until next time, my faithful minions....
-Salty Dog
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Life Worth Living
Greetings true believers! We have pulled the ride over for a bathroom break. For those of you who come here for your weekly dose of anger and entertainment, prepare to be disappointed. Today I would like to discuss something that, in the past I have been warned not to. My wife.
With Valentine's Day upon us, I am surrounded by love. I am not only surrounded because of what is on the television and radio, but also in my life. For many who have known me forever, they will attest that my life (the first 20 years of it or so) was lived for me. This may sound like a normal thing, but let me explain further.
I was a very uncaring individual. This is part of where my emotional crippling stems. I had friends...I would like to think more than a fair share. I had girlfriends. I had acquaintances. The one person I cared about most though, was myself. I did many things in my early days that hurt a good many people. Whether it was physically or emotionally, it was still my actions that caused the pain. The major problem with this was, unlike your average individual, I didn't care. I got people in trouble for things that I did and my only reaction was relief that I was not punished for it. I was what can only be referred to as a petty thief. If I saw things that I wanted, I would take them. Did I care what the owner's of these possessions felt when they found their items missing? Nay. Did I care how hard they had to work to attain them? Again, I say nay. I was out for number one, and that is all that mattered. People in my life passed away during those first 20 years and I didn't shed a tear. Was it because I did not care that they had died? No, it was because I thought that showing emotion was a sign of weakness and number one was not weak. Yes, true believers, your humble narrator was an asshole.
What does any of this have to do with my lovely wife you may be asking? Well, she is the one that saved my life and made it worth living. My parents have told me in the past that Ryanne was the best thing that ever happened to me. I completely agree with them. Since being married (going on 16 years now) my life has changed drastically. She has shown me that there are things more important in this world than me. I have learned that showing emotion, in whatever form, is a show of strength vice weakness. It is a strong man that can cry at the birth of his child. To be able to look into his wife's eyes and smile just knowing that she is there for him. I am now 38 years old, married to the greatest woman alive, and the father of two wonderful boys. My wife is the anchor of my family. I wonder at times, where would I be if she hadn't come into my life. These are not happy places to go in my mind. Let me take you on a journey of my thoughts....
I am sure that I would not be married. I am sure that I would not have children. I am almost positive that I would be in jail somewhere. I would not have the friends that I do today because I would have alienated them in one shape or form. I would probably not be speaking to my father (who I have a great relationship with now). Those of you who grew up with me know that is no small thing, for he and I did not EVER see eye to eye. None of these situations are ones that I would want to be in, but am sure that I would have been had it not been for my loving wife.
As the days of my life turn into nights, I can think of no other person that I would like to spend them with. Those of you who have known me in the past and are still talking with me today should thank my wife for whatever I have become. I am what I am because of her, and do not know what I would ever do without her. So, on this day before St. Valentine's Day, I want to thank her for making my life worth living.
-Salty Dog
With Valentine's Day upon us, I am surrounded by love. I am not only surrounded because of what is on the television and radio, but also in my life. For many who have known me forever, they will attest that my life (the first 20 years of it or so) was lived for me. This may sound like a normal thing, but let me explain further.
I was a very uncaring individual. This is part of where my emotional crippling stems. I had friends...I would like to think more than a fair share. I had girlfriends. I had acquaintances. The one person I cared about most though, was myself. I did many things in my early days that hurt a good many people. Whether it was physically or emotionally, it was still my actions that caused the pain. The major problem with this was, unlike your average individual, I didn't care. I got people in trouble for things that I did and my only reaction was relief that I was not punished for it. I was what can only be referred to as a petty thief. If I saw things that I wanted, I would take them. Did I care what the owner's of these possessions felt when they found their items missing? Nay. Did I care how hard they had to work to attain them? Again, I say nay. I was out for number one, and that is all that mattered. People in my life passed away during those first 20 years and I didn't shed a tear. Was it because I did not care that they had died? No, it was because I thought that showing emotion was a sign of weakness and number one was not weak. Yes, true believers, your humble narrator was an asshole.
What does any of this have to do with my lovely wife you may be asking? Well, she is the one that saved my life and made it worth living. My parents have told me in the past that Ryanne was the best thing that ever happened to me. I completely agree with them. Since being married (going on 16 years now) my life has changed drastically. She has shown me that there are things more important in this world than me. I have learned that showing emotion, in whatever form, is a show of strength vice weakness. It is a strong man that can cry at the birth of his child. To be able to look into his wife's eyes and smile just knowing that she is there for him. I am now 38 years old, married to the greatest woman alive, and the father of two wonderful boys. My wife is the anchor of my family. I wonder at times, where would I be if she hadn't come into my life. These are not happy places to go in my mind. Let me take you on a journey of my thoughts....
I am sure that I would not be married. I am sure that I would not have children. I am almost positive that I would be in jail somewhere. I would not have the friends that I do today because I would have alienated them in one shape or form. I would probably not be speaking to my father (who I have a great relationship with now). Those of you who grew up with me know that is no small thing, for he and I did not EVER see eye to eye. None of these situations are ones that I would want to be in, but am sure that I would have been had it not been for my loving wife.
As the days of my life turn into nights, I can think of no other person that I would like to spend them with. Those of you who have known me in the past and are still talking with me today should thank my wife for whatever I have become. I am what I am because of her, and do not know what I would ever do without her. So, on this day before St. Valentine's Day, I want to thank her for making my life worth living.
-Salty Dog
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Pride of Poughkeepsie
Okay, so there I was....which is how most good stories start out....there I was, minding my own business, watching the Idiot Box. Well, more like listening to the idiot box and messing around on the computer. "What did you hear?", you may be asking. Well let me tell you....
It was about 2 months ago, and I heard a word that you don't normally hear in the fine Hampton Roads area, let alone on television....Poughkeepsie (Puh-kip-see). For those of you who don't know about Poughkeepsie, let me give you a quick run down. If you are making a trip from New York City to Albany (for whatever reason you had to go there), and you cruise along the Hudson River....right about in the middle, you will find Poughkeepsie, NY. Poughkeepsie is an Indian (feather indian, not forehead dot indian) word meaning "the reed covered lodge by the little-water place". Who have you ever heard of that was from there? Well, I lived next door for 19 years...but let me give you some "famous" people from Poughkeepsie. Brian Regan...funny comedian, mildly famous, Samuel Morse (lived in Poughkeepsie for 25 years), Kendall Francois (serial killer), G. Gordon Liddy (of Watergate fame) and Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi. (if I were one for bad 80s references, I would call her Nicole Scritti Polizzi...but I am not that kind of guy..lol)
The reason I heard Poughkeepsie on the television is because it was the opening scene to "The Jersey Shore". Unless you have been living under a rock (and if you were, you were lucky enough not to watch this train wreck) you have heard of the show Jersey Shore. Don't get me wrong, I watched every episode! The pain that I felt from watching every episode could only be described as comparable to shoving a ladle up your own ass. But dammit if I didn't suffer the pain just to watch these self proclaimed Guidos make complete asses of themselves on national television. When you have a guy calling himself "The Situation" based on the nickname he has given to his own abdominal muscles...you know you are in for a good time. But I digress...
Snooki...this is what started me off. Snooki has proclaimed herself the Princess of Poughkeepsie. She was the most irritating individual on this show. Snooki is an orange, obnoxious, dim-witted celebrity creature of the sort that our pop culture churns out endlessly. And she is from Poughkeepsie!! Now, on my birth certificate, it says place of birth St Francis Hospital, Poughkeepsie, NY. I now have to claim this troll!!! So you would think that since the show was over I would live this down around work, right? Nay Nay...
I hear on the local radio station that old Snooki is coming to Hampton Roads! WHAT? Snooki is coming to town tomorrow to host a Valentine's Party at a local club. 2,000 dollars to bring her to this fine city. Rent a Snook will be here to take pictures with guests and presumably fist pump her way into the hearts of the lonely. New York royalty rolling down the strip at the Beach.
Your humble narrator will be locked safely in his home with a book in one hand (Snookis are known to fear such things) and a bottle of white out in the other (her fake tan can't stand up to that!). Wish me luck true believers, with the Pride of Poughkeepsie coming to town, no one is safe! Until next time...stay salty!
-Salty Dog
It was about 2 months ago, and I heard a word that you don't normally hear in the fine Hampton Roads area, let alone on television....Poughkeepsie (Puh-kip-see). For those of you who don't know about Poughkeepsie, let me give you a quick run down. If you are making a trip from New York City to Albany (for whatever reason you had to go there), and you cruise along the Hudson River....right about in the middle, you will find Poughkeepsie, NY. Poughkeepsie is an Indian (feather indian, not forehead dot indian) word meaning "the reed covered lodge by the little-water place". Who have you ever heard of that was from there? Well, I lived next door for 19 years...but let me give you some "famous" people from Poughkeepsie. Brian Regan...funny comedian, mildly famous, Samuel Morse (lived in Poughkeepsie for 25 years), Kendall Francois (serial killer), G. Gordon Liddy (of Watergate fame) and Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi. (if I were one for bad 80s references, I would call her Nicole Scritti Polizzi...but I am not that kind of guy..lol)
The reason I heard Poughkeepsie on the television is because it was the opening scene to "The Jersey Shore". Unless you have been living under a rock (and if you were, you were lucky enough not to watch this train wreck) you have heard of the show Jersey Shore. Don't get me wrong, I watched every episode! The pain that I felt from watching every episode could only be described as comparable to shoving a ladle up your own ass. But dammit if I didn't suffer the pain just to watch these self proclaimed Guidos make complete asses of themselves on national television. When you have a guy calling himself "The Situation" based on the nickname he has given to his own abdominal muscles...you know you are in for a good time. But I digress...
Snooki...this is what started me off. Snooki has proclaimed herself the Princess of Poughkeepsie. She was the most irritating individual on this show. Snooki is an orange, obnoxious, dim-witted celebrity creature of the sort that our pop culture churns out endlessly. And she is from Poughkeepsie!! Now, on my birth certificate, it says place of birth St Francis Hospital, Poughkeepsie, NY. I now have to claim this troll!!! So you would think that since the show was over I would live this down around work, right? Nay Nay...
I hear on the local radio station that old Snooki is coming to Hampton Roads! WHAT? Snooki is coming to town tomorrow to host a Valentine's Party at a local club. 2,000 dollars to bring her to this fine city. Rent a Snook will be here to take pictures with guests and presumably fist pump her way into the hearts of the lonely. New York royalty rolling down the strip at the Beach.
Your humble narrator will be locked safely in his home with a book in one hand (Snookis are known to fear such things) and a bottle of white out in the other (her fake tan can't stand up to that!). Wish me luck true believers, with the Pride of Poughkeepsie coming to town, no one is safe! Until next time...stay salty!
-Salty Dog
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
English!
So, the title....English. Is this going to be a blog complaining about outsourced tech support by guys named "Chad" that are in Pakistan? No. Is this going to be about illegal aliens running around WalMart on Sundays? No. This is going to be about your average, everyday American citizen who feels the need to butcher the English language (not the Queen's English, for we have all butchered that one).
Let me begin with the ever popular AKS. This is the most common incorrectly used "word" today. As in..Let me AKS you something. This used to drive me insane. I have become accustomed to it and it only bothers me as much as a mosquito trapped in your car with you.
Since the use of the word AKS has become less irritating, there have been many other spring from the maws of the degenerates in my life. Let me share with you a few of these nuggets. BREFISS. For those of you unfamiliar with this one, it is the first meal of the day. "I'm gonna go to McDonald's and get some BREFISS". This word makes me cringe like you cannot imagine. WARSH...this is a regional butchering, so I don't feel the need to explain this one. I will, however, mention the one that makes me want to slap people. There is no need for this "word" to be mistaken as English. SUPPOSEBLY!
There is no B in supposedly! People may be dyslexic and not be able to read the word, but this does not prohibit you from SPEAKING the word correctly. I hear the word supposeBly more than 5 times a day. I become violent every time this word enters my ear canal. These are the things that bring me to the blog on a regular basis.
This is a short blog, but something that needed to be said. If you are one of these people, STOP IT! If you are having a conversation with me and I slap you in the back of the head hard enough to rattle your teeth...you messed up. I do not claim to be an overly educated individual, and my language is colorful at best, but you will never...EVER hear me say any of the "words" mentioned in the previous paragraphs. Until next time true believers..
-Salty Dog
Let me begin with the ever popular AKS. This is the most common incorrectly used "word" today. As in..Let me AKS you something. This used to drive me insane. I have become accustomed to it and it only bothers me as much as a mosquito trapped in your car with you.
Since the use of the word AKS has become less irritating, there have been many other spring from the maws of the degenerates in my life. Let me share with you a few of these nuggets. BREFISS. For those of you unfamiliar with this one, it is the first meal of the day. "I'm gonna go to McDonald's and get some BREFISS". This word makes me cringe like you cannot imagine. WARSH...this is a regional butchering, so I don't feel the need to explain this one. I will, however, mention the one that makes me want to slap people. There is no need for this "word" to be mistaken as English. SUPPOSEBLY!
There is no B in supposedly! People may be dyslexic and not be able to read the word, but this does not prohibit you from SPEAKING the word correctly. I hear the word supposeBly more than 5 times a day. I become violent every time this word enters my ear canal. These are the things that bring me to the blog on a regular basis.
This is a short blog, but something that needed to be said. If you are one of these people, STOP IT! If you are having a conversation with me and I slap you in the back of the head hard enough to rattle your teeth...you messed up. I do not claim to be an overly educated individual, and my language is colorful at best, but you will never...EVER hear me say any of the "words" mentioned in the previous paragraphs. Until next time true believers..
-Salty Dog
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Fast Food?
Braved the blistering winds, snow blowing sideways, and freezing temperatures to run down to the local Wendy's. All I was trying to do was to get a Chicken BLT salad and a large chili. Does this sound like a difficult task? Does this sound like an unreasonable request? I say nay.
I walk into Wendy's (drive thru was full) and there were two people ahead of me. Sweet, short line, I am doing well so far. The fact that there are two registers open makes me feel even better...in and out, nice. But again, I say nay...both cashiers appear to be waiting on people that they have known forever, but haven't seen in 10 years. They are (loudly, I may add) discussing their lives as if they were being interviewed by Barbara Walters. Notice me, do they? Third time's a charm, so I say nay.
Finally, I get to the register! The cashier..painted on red pants...still pulled down to show 6 inches of underwear...visor cocked to the side, shirt tucked in..wait for it... to his underwear!!! He takes my order. Chicken BLT Salad and a large chili. He takes my money, hands me my receipt and walks away. Fine by me, I couldn't look at him anymore without becoming violent anyway. So there I stand, reading the menu (no one to talk to, nothing else to read) when I realize..it has been about 10 minutes and still no salad or chili. One of the two guys in the back (let's call them Chefs, for lack of a better term) notices me standing there. Hard to do, I know, me being the only one in the Wendy's waiting area and all. He calls Red Pants, whose real name is apparently Yo. Why "Yo", you may ask? Because when the Chef called him he said, "Hey Yo, there is a guy up here".
Here comes Yo, and he says, "What were you waiting on again?" (Again, the ONLY guy in Wendy's that doesn't work there). I said, "Chicken BLT Salad and a Large Chili". Yo then informs me that they are not serving the Chicken BLT Salad today. Do I care why? You guessed it...Nay. I substitute a Chicken Caesar Salad for the BLT. They happen to be serving THAT one today...maybe my luck is turning. But when Yo comes back to the register and hands me the bag with my substitute salad in it, there is still no chili. I remind Yo that I also ordered (and payed for) a Large Chili. He then informs me that there is no chili today. I lost it! I said...and you can quote me on this one..."What the fuck DO you have today?" Yo then began to apologize. He said that all he does is punch in the order and take my money, it is the Chefs that are responsible for the rest, and they did not notify him that they were out of chili today. I told Yo to just give me my Substitute Salad and my money back for the Large Chili that they are not serving today.
My total time in Wendy's tonight? 22 minutes. Now, how does 22 minutes qualify as "Fast Food"? When I am receiving phone calls from my wife wondering where I am, that is no longer Fast anything. I understand that the majority of personnel working in these types of establishments are not the most motivated group of individuals. I know that if I go into Wendy's during a normal meal hour, I expect to wait in line. Once I make it to the register though....FAST FOOD dammit, FAST-FOOD.
Alright true believers, I believe that is enough on this topic. It is time to pull this ride into a rest area so that everyone can at least stretch their legs. Tune in next time...same Salty Time, same Salty Channel!
-Salty Dog
I walk into Wendy's (drive thru was full) and there were two people ahead of me. Sweet, short line, I am doing well so far. The fact that there are two registers open makes me feel even better...in and out, nice. But again, I say nay...both cashiers appear to be waiting on people that they have known forever, but haven't seen in 10 years. They are (loudly, I may add) discussing their lives as if they were being interviewed by Barbara Walters. Notice me, do they? Third time's a charm, so I say nay.
Finally, I get to the register! The cashier..painted on red pants...still pulled down to show 6 inches of underwear...visor cocked to the side, shirt tucked in..wait for it... to his underwear!!! He takes my order. Chicken BLT Salad and a large chili. He takes my money, hands me my receipt and walks away. Fine by me, I couldn't look at him anymore without becoming violent anyway. So there I stand, reading the menu (no one to talk to, nothing else to read) when I realize..it has been about 10 minutes and still no salad or chili. One of the two guys in the back (let's call them Chefs, for lack of a better term) notices me standing there. Hard to do, I know, me being the only one in the Wendy's waiting area and all. He calls Red Pants, whose real name is apparently Yo. Why "Yo", you may ask? Because when the Chef called him he said, "Hey Yo, there is a guy up here".
Here comes Yo, and he says, "What were you waiting on again?" (Again, the ONLY guy in Wendy's that doesn't work there). I said, "Chicken BLT Salad and a Large Chili". Yo then informs me that they are not serving the Chicken BLT Salad today. Do I care why? You guessed it...Nay. I substitute a Chicken Caesar Salad for the BLT. They happen to be serving THAT one today...maybe my luck is turning. But when Yo comes back to the register and hands me the bag with my substitute salad in it, there is still no chili. I remind Yo that I also ordered (and payed for) a Large Chili. He then informs me that there is no chili today. I lost it! I said...and you can quote me on this one..."What the fuck DO you have today?" Yo then began to apologize. He said that all he does is punch in the order and take my money, it is the Chefs that are responsible for the rest, and they did not notify him that they were out of chili today. I told Yo to just give me my Substitute Salad and my money back for the Large Chili that they are not serving today.
My total time in Wendy's tonight? 22 minutes. Now, how does 22 minutes qualify as "Fast Food"? When I am receiving phone calls from my wife wondering where I am, that is no longer Fast anything. I understand that the majority of personnel working in these types of establishments are not the most motivated group of individuals. I know that if I go into Wendy's during a normal meal hour, I expect to wait in line. Once I make it to the register though....FAST FOOD dammit, FAST-FOOD.
Alright true believers, I believe that is enough on this topic. It is time to pull this ride into a rest area so that everyone can at least stretch their legs. Tune in next time...same Salty Time, same Salty Channel!
-Salty Dog
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Face of Evil
I have seen the face of evil, and its name is FARMVILLE! Virtual farming was established in 1996 on the SNES, but it was not called Farmville, it was called Harvest Moon. This game ran the gamut of home gaming consoles from SNES, N64, PS1,PS2PSP, and Wii. In the world of ever changing technology, "retro" is not a term that is used.
For those of you not familiar with Farmville (or its predecessor Harvest Moon), let me educate you as best I can. Your character is a stumpy little, mildly customizable man or woman. You point and click to plow your plots. Then you point and click to plant your crops. Then you wait anywhere between 2 hours and 4 days to point and click to harvest your crops. But wait...there's more! You get animals for your farm! What farm would be complete without a penguin or two. You heard me right...PENGUIN! You also get horses, chickens, cows, geese, ducks, cats, goats...the list goes on and on. Does this make the game more interesting?? NO!
What else can you do on Farmville? Bombard your friend's live feed on facebook with announcements of your point and click accomplishments. Doesn't that sound like fun people??? No. You also have to invite your friends to become "neighbors" in Farmville. If you have no neighbors, you will not expand your farm. If you don't expand your farm, you won't make any more money. And as Puff Daddy told us, it's all about the Benjamins baby. How do your friends feel about Farmville, being harrassed into being your neighbor, or your accomplishments? They hate it..they hate it all. They will join up to be your neighbor because they like you, but they do not want to have anything to do with this "game".
Does your friend and humble narrator have a farm? Yes he does. Does he enjoy pointing and clicking? No, he does not. Is he addicted to this stupid, time wasting wasteland that is called Farmville? He is indeed. As is the case with any addiction, no one WANTS to be addicted, and the substance is usually not healthy. Does that take away from the fact that they are addicted? No. I am considering starting a group on facebook entitled "Farmville Addicts : 12 Steps Away From the Farm". This will give me an idea of how many people are locked in the grips of point, click, wait, repeat. And how many of us are looking for a way out.
If you are a Farmville addict, you probably aren't reading this because you have accomplishments to post or collect. But, if you are an addict, and you are looking for a way out...please sound off. Let us find a cure for this disease, and let's find it soon! For those of you that don't play Farmville..avert your eyes! Don't go into the light! RUN AWAY!! For I have seen the face of evil...and its name is Farmville!
-Salty Dog
For those of you not familiar with Farmville (or its predecessor Harvest Moon), let me educate you as best I can. Your character is a stumpy little, mildly customizable man or woman. You point and click to plow your plots. Then you point and click to plant your crops. Then you wait anywhere between 2 hours and 4 days to point and click to harvest your crops. But wait...there's more! You get animals for your farm! What farm would be complete without a penguin or two. You heard me right...PENGUIN! You also get horses, chickens, cows, geese, ducks, cats, goats...the list goes on and on. Does this make the game more interesting?? NO!
What else can you do on Farmville? Bombard your friend's live feed on facebook with announcements of your point and click accomplishments. Doesn't that sound like fun people??? No. You also have to invite your friends to become "neighbors" in Farmville. If you have no neighbors, you will not expand your farm. If you don't expand your farm, you won't make any more money. And as Puff Daddy told us, it's all about the Benjamins baby. How do your friends feel about Farmville, being harrassed into being your neighbor, or your accomplishments? They hate it..they hate it all. They will join up to be your neighbor because they like you, but they do not want to have anything to do with this "game".
Does your friend and humble narrator have a farm? Yes he does. Does he enjoy pointing and clicking? No, he does not. Is he addicted to this stupid, time wasting wasteland that is called Farmville? He is indeed. As is the case with any addiction, no one WANTS to be addicted, and the substance is usually not healthy. Does that take away from the fact that they are addicted? No. I am considering starting a group on facebook entitled "Farmville Addicts : 12 Steps Away From the Farm". This will give me an idea of how many people are locked in the grips of point, click, wait, repeat. And how many of us are looking for a way out.
If you are a Farmville addict, you probably aren't reading this because you have accomplishments to post or collect. But, if you are an addict, and you are looking for a way out...please sound off. Let us find a cure for this disease, and let's find it soon! For those of you that don't play Farmville..avert your eyes! Don't go into the light! RUN AWAY!! For I have seen the face of evil...and its name is Farmville!
-Salty Dog
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
"Your Nationality Here" Month
Okay, so the question around the office has become, "What are you angry about today?". I guess that means people have been reading the stuff that I have been spewing. For this, I thank you all. But to answer the question...History Months.
This month, as we all know, is Black History Month. We also have Women's History Month, Latin American History Month, Pacific Islander Month, American Indian Heritage Month...and the list goes on and on. Do I have issue with other nationalities? No. But when I turn on ESPN radio and hear Mike Greenberg and Mike Golic speaking about African American Heritage...I throw up in my mouth just a little bit.
Would I listen to the Rev. Al Sharpton speak about Black History? Yes. Rev. Jesse Jackson? Yes. Betty Shabazz (Malcolm Little's wife)? YES. But a 300lb irishman (Golic) and a 160lb jewish guy that isn't Sammy Davis Jr. (Greenberg)? Not just no, but HELL NO! I pick on Greeny and Golic because they were easy targets in this scenario. I would not listen to Celine Dion, I would not listen to Vince Vaughn, not Susan Sarandon, not the late Michael Landon. Is it because these people are white? No. It is the same with many of the "heritage celebrations" that we are subject to as part of political correctness. The "subject matter expert" that is trying to educate us is usually less informed than the members of the audience. I tend to compare "heritage months" to religion. If I want to learn about it, I will educate myself.
When I was in High School, I took it upon myself to go to the library (for you younger readers...this is where they used to store books and other reference materials). I researched the life of Malcolm Little, from his humble beginnings through his tragic end. This was well before Spike Lee and Denzel Washington got together to make the movie of his life. Why did I do this? Because I had heard that Malcolm X was a powerful speaker with strong beliefs, but was murdered because he changed his views on inter-race relations. In the process, I came across the Black Panther Party for Self Defense. I read about Huey Newton and Bobby Seale, Stokely Carmichael, Eldridge Cleaver...Danny Glover (yes Sgt Murtaugh). These were strong members of black history. I was tired of hearing about George Washington Carver and Frederick Douglas. Not to take anything away from these great men's achievements, but they are all in the standard history books. With the invention of the google machines and the interweb, there is no excuse for people who want to know...not to know.
I do not need a month dedicated to the radio, television, newspapers, Google logos, and whatever else force feeding me history. If I want to know, I will find out. One of my closest friends is from South Africa. Where is his month? There isn't one. If I want to now about South African American History, I will ask him! There are 12 months in each year. There are much more than 12 nationalities that have come to this great nation of ours and melted together. How do we determine who gets a month and who doesn't? Do we make a time share schedule? Do Asians get the odd years and Europeans get the even ones? Ridiculous people! We are all Americans, we are all one people, One Nation Under a Groove if you will. Stop the heritage months! If you are curious about your own nationality's history, do your research. If you are curious about another, do your research. If you want to be some ignorant, barefoot hillbilly, do that too! We are who we are, and we are all Americans!
Stay tuned true believers, and keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times!
-Salty Dog
This month, as we all know, is Black History Month. We also have Women's History Month, Latin American History Month, Pacific Islander Month, American Indian Heritage Month...and the list goes on and on. Do I have issue with other nationalities? No. But when I turn on ESPN radio and hear Mike Greenberg and Mike Golic speaking about African American Heritage...I throw up in my mouth just a little bit.
Would I listen to the Rev. Al Sharpton speak about Black History? Yes. Rev. Jesse Jackson? Yes. Betty Shabazz (Malcolm Little's wife)? YES. But a 300lb irishman (Golic) and a 160lb jewish guy that isn't Sammy Davis Jr. (Greenberg)? Not just no, but HELL NO! I pick on Greeny and Golic because they were easy targets in this scenario. I would not listen to Celine Dion, I would not listen to Vince Vaughn, not Susan Sarandon, not the late Michael Landon. Is it because these people are white? No. It is the same with many of the "heritage celebrations" that we are subject to as part of political correctness. The "subject matter expert" that is trying to educate us is usually less informed than the members of the audience. I tend to compare "heritage months" to religion. If I want to learn about it, I will educate myself.
When I was in High School, I took it upon myself to go to the library (for you younger readers...this is where they used to store books and other reference materials). I researched the life of Malcolm Little, from his humble beginnings through his tragic end. This was well before Spike Lee and Denzel Washington got together to make the movie of his life. Why did I do this? Because I had heard that Malcolm X was a powerful speaker with strong beliefs, but was murdered because he changed his views on inter-race relations. In the process, I came across the Black Panther Party for Self Defense. I read about Huey Newton and Bobby Seale, Stokely Carmichael, Eldridge Cleaver...Danny Glover (yes Sgt Murtaugh). These were strong members of black history. I was tired of hearing about George Washington Carver and Frederick Douglas. Not to take anything away from these great men's achievements, but they are all in the standard history books. With the invention of the google machines and the interweb, there is no excuse for people who want to know...not to know.
I do not need a month dedicated to the radio, television, newspapers, Google logos, and whatever else force feeding me history. If I want to know, I will find out. One of my closest friends is from South Africa. Where is his month? There isn't one. If I want to now about South African American History, I will ask him! There are 12 months in each year. There are much more than 12 nationalities that have come to this great nation of ours and melted together. How do we determine who gets a month and who doesn't? Do we make a time share schedule? Do Asians get the odd years and Europeans get the even ones? Ridiculous people! We are all Americans, we are all one people, One Nation Under a Groove if you will. Stop the heritage months! If you are curious about your own nationality's history, do your research. If you are curious about another, do your research. If you want to be some ignorant, barefoot hillbilly, do that too! We are who we are, and we are all Americans!
Stay tuned true believers, and keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times!
-Salty Dog
Monday, February 1, 2010
It Takes Two To Make A Thing Go Right.....
Now how many of you immediately finished the next line to that song? Those of you who did will understand where I am coming from. I am only 38 years old, so I was not part of the 60s and 70s musical culture.I do, however, have the appreciation for that time period. The 80s and early to mid 90s is much more my wheelhouse when it comes to music.
I was watching a bit of the Grammy's last night. I say I watched a bit because no sane person with any musical taste could possibly have watched the entire thing. My first issue with the Grammy's was the host. How does Stephen Colbert host a music award show? Next, why did anyone show up aside from Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Black Eyed Peas and Taylor Swift? I think Lady Gaga even won Best Male Pop Vocal Performance! And what the hell is Stevie Nicks doing singing with Taylor Swift? Does she just want to ensure that the world doesn't forget about her?? Best Hard Rock Performance...this category has been a joke since day one. I am a HUGE Jethro Tull fan, but when they beat Metallica in 1986, I knew the category shouldn't exist. This year Linkin Park (not hard rock), ACDC...okay, Rock..not Hard Rock, Nickelback.. NICKELBACK???? This is the biggest flaw in this year's system. They are more along the lines of pussy rock, or pop. The closest Nickelback comes to rock is the first part of their name. I am sure there is a large chunk of nickel in your average rock.
Enough of the Grammy's....that is what I said when I turned the channel, and that is what I am saying now. On to my distaste with music in general. Rap music...yes I said rap music. 1983, RUN DMC stomped on the scene and the world was never the same. Rap was fun, rap told stories that the neighborhood could get behind. Rap was the music of the people, by the people, for the people. House parties thrived on Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock, Slick Rick, Doug E Fresh, Dana Dane, Jungle Brothers, BDP... these were talented artists with entertaining lyrics. Today's rap artists can't even come up with an original name! "Young" this guy, or "Lil" that guy. If you aren't creative enough to think of a street name, how can I begin to think that your lyrics will be entertaining? There are select artists out there that have maintained tradition, but for every one of them there are 50 guys whose lyrics are "nigga nigga nigga, shoot shoot shoot". And those are the platinum selling artists of today. Kanye...I won't even get into Kanye. I will take KRS One, Rakim, LL Cool J, and Chuck D over any of today's so-called rap artists.
Artists who are more pretentious than this blog? Beyonce, Fergie, Jason Mraz, Kanye, Puff Diddy Daddy Farty Licky,Jay-Z, Usher, Chris Brown and fucking BONO! I am not saying that there are no quality artists left in the world today, but come on people! Music is an ever growing industry, but the goal is to make music BETTER, to evolve. This current de-evolution has driven me mad for way too long. Sound off true believers, Fight for Your Right.....
-Salty Dog
For those of you wishing for more ranting from a like minded individual, please follow this blog as well http://babblingbill.blogspot.com
I was watching a bit of the Grammy's last night. I say I watched a bit because no sane person with any musical taste could possibly have watched the entire thing. My first issue with the Grammy's was the host. How does Stephen Colbert host a music award show? Next, why did anyone show up aside from Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Black Eyed Peas and Taylor Swift? I think Lady Gaga even won Best Male Pop Vocal Performance! And what the hell is Stevie Nicks doing singing with Taylor Swift? Does she just want to ensure that the world doesn't forget about her?? Best Hard Rock Performance...this category has been a joke since day one. I am a HUGE Jethro Tull fan, but when they beat Metallica in 1986, I knew the category shouldn't exist. This year Linkin Park (not hard rock), ACDC...okay, Rock..not Hard Rock, Nickelback.. NICKELBACK???? This is the biggest flaw in this year's system. They are more along the lines of pussy rock, or pop. The closest Nickelback comes to rock is the first part of their name. I am sure there is a large chunk of nickel in your average rock.
Enough of the Grammy's....that is what I said when I turned the channel, and that is what I am saying now. On to my distaste with music in general. Rap music...yes I said rap music. 1983, RUN DMC stomped on the scene and the world was never the same. Rap was fun, rap told stories that the neighborhood could get behind. Rap was the music of the people, by the people, for the people. House parties thrived on Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock, Slick Rick, Doug E Fresh, Dana Dane, Jungle Brothers, BDP... these were talented artists with entertaining lyrics. Today's rap artists can't even come up with an original name! "Young" this guy, or "Lil" that guy. If you aren't creative enough to think of a street name, how can I begin to think that your lyrics will be entertaining? There are select artists out there that have maintained tradition, but for every one of them there are 50 guys whose lyrics are "nigga nigga nigga, shoot shoot shoot". And those are the platinum selling artists of today. Kanye...I won't even get into Kanye. I will take KRS One, Rakim, LL Cool J, and Chuck D over any of today's so-called rap artists.
Artists who are more pretentious than this blog? Beyonce, Fergie, Jason Mraz, Kanye, Puff Diddy Daddy Farty Licky,Jay-Z, Usher, Chris Brown and fucking BONO! I am not saying that there are no quality artists left in the world today, but come on people! Music is an ever growing industry, but the goal is to make music BETTER, to evolve. This current de-evolution has driven me mad for way too long. Sound off true believers, Fight for Your Right.....
-Salty Dog
For those of you wishing for more ranting from a like minded individual, please follow this blog as well http://babblingbill.blogspot.com
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