I Totally Second The Lumberjack Thing

These dudes are funnier than I'll ever be. Buncha dicks.

Please Let This Cause Brain Damage

When I was a kid, they were still making candy cigarettes; the "smoke" was just powder that you blew out of the candy. It was a bit of harmless fun. Mimicking adult bad behavior is a cornerstone of childhood and kids know the admonition, "smoking doesn't make you look cool" is a crock. Of course, it makes you look cool. If it didn't, no one would ever buy their first pack. But if you're gonna follow the yellow-toothed road to lung disease as an adult, man up and do it.

There's nothing even remotely cool about this.

Son Of A Preacher Man

The one time I interviewed George Carlin, he mentioned that his comedy in the late 80's has gotten a bit stale and uninspired. He said, "Once I saw Sam Kinison, I knew I had to step up my game." Thus began the change in direction that ushered in the sociopolitic rants that became the last phase of Carlin's legendary career. It was 17 years ago today that Sam was killed by a drunk driver on a California desert highway. Assuming there's cocaine in heaven, I imagine he and George are having pretty intense conversations these days.

Roger & Me

Despite the intersection of increasing costs and decreasing quality, I'm an avid movie-goer. I rely on Netflix for my documentaries and Asian gorefests, but I'm still a sucker for the ritual of going to the movies. The communal aspect of it, the darkened theater, the popcorn- it's corny, but it still works for me. Sometimes, it even pays off. Roger Ebert was virtually alone in his glowing review of the new Nicolas Cage doomsday flick, Knowing. I don't put much stock in movie reviews, but his are generally spot-on. The thumb-up aside, I still expected the film to be a piece of crap. Nicolas Cage hasn't done a good film since 8MM and the end-of-the-world premise is as played out as his curiously-revived hairline. However, Knowing turned out to be a very intense and strangely compelling two hours. It all leads to a less-than-satisfying ending, but that may have been asking a bit too much for a movie like that. They can't all be Monsters vs. Aliens.

Y-M-C...I-O-W-A

How did Iowa make California look more conservative? California has San Francisco. Iowa has...Des Moines. And now, legal gay marriage. While the victory was the result of a reversed court decision (rather than a legislative one, as in Vermont), it still came as quite a shock to many red-staters who probably figured the gayest thing they'd ever have to see was a touring production of Rent. Any decision that moves us toward a more socially equitable platform is positive; increased liberty is always good. Now Iowa gives a sense of hope to non-coastal states that the rainbow tide might be turning.

Though, as a Chicagoan, I'm wary of anything that might give Wisconsin a sense of hope.

Theater Of The Mined

We attended the 100th birthday celebration of the late Chicago writer Nelson Algren at Steppenwolf last night. Authors and actors such as Willem Dafoe, Don DiLillo, the Trib's mighty Rick Kogan, and Russell Banks read scenes from his works and it was fantastic to see it adapted for the stage. It was also interesting to note that my girlfriend and I were among the youngest people in the audience (though admittedly, I was less so). It struck me that the next generation of theater fans may not be nipping at our heels. I'm no lifelong patron of the arts by any means, but watching a live theater adaptation of a classic writer's works seemed to be a double-whammy of things that fewer and fewer people care about. In the digital age, I think it's good for the soul to revisit analog forms of entertainment once in a while, especially for those of us living in a city as culturally revered as the City Of Wind. As last night's host said, "Coming from New York, trust me- you're lucky to have the Steppenwolf."

My Thoughts Exactly

(I-94 outside Michigan City, IN.)

Failure Is Not An Option

While revisiting my numerous, frequently maddening, philosophy texts from college, I wonder- how old do we have to be to realize that we can't really know anything? Spending nine hours a week arguing over whether or not we can actually know that a peach is a peach and not a chair might sound like a lot of mental masturbation, but it was heaven to me. Trouble is, it seems I've learned nothing from it. Fifteen years later, after holding fast to the notion that I was smarter than the average bear, it seems that I've confused wisdom with merely being clever. Sadly, clever is nothing more than narcissism dressed as entertainment- great onstage, but a nightmare in relationships. Wisdom requires always asking questions, rather than attempting a pale enlightenment with answers. The understanding that true knowledge of the human condition is an illusion makes the search for it far from futile. Instead, it is a call to action, not an excuse to cloak ourselves in relativism and conjecture.

How the wicked fuck can I be 37 years old and still trying to realize this?

There Is Nothing To Attack

Easter break next week for my son. I'm not sure how perturbed I should be that he's been inducted by my 20-year-old sister into World Of Warcraft and is constantly conferring with her over their respective strategies. If the kid wasn't so goddamn smart, I'd be more inclined to be a stick-in-the-mud about it because the allure of WOW is entirely lost on me. But I figure, in ten years (when spring break means tequila shooters and the clap in Cozumel) he'll have some cool memories of slaying the undead with his aunt.

I Pity The April Fool

I wonder how many people Google punked with this?