I just wanted to pop in and tell you all about The Onion.com AV Club's list, Inventory: 19 Terrific Midnight Movies From The Last 10 Years. This is a fantastic list, with lots of great movies on it. I was surprised by how many of them I really like. You should go out and rent them all. Right now. GO!

Yeah. I found this while looking for something else in yesterday's rant. I felt it was just too funny not to share. You can see more like it here.

And today I'm sitting in Charlottesville, Va., waiting for a thunderstorm to pass. Unfortunately, the internet connection keeps going in and out, along with the TV, because they're both run through a SATELLITE! How dumb is that. But since the load in was cancelled due to it being outdoors and electrical storm and all, I'm left to sit here and hope the internet comes back soon so that I can actually post this. Well, ta ta all.

"Since we cannot know all that there is to be known about anything, we ought to know a little about everything."

Blaise Pascal (1623 - 1662)

So I saw two things yesterday that disturbed me greatly. One is quite silly, and the other is deadly serious. I'm really not sure which one to start with, but I guess silly will have to be it.

Yesterday I saw the trailer for Rocky Balboa. You might know this film as Rocky 6. That's right, V then I. S-I-X. For those of you who don't watch ESPN continuously, 24/7 (which is most of you), you might be saying "But, he's got to be 70 by now! How can Sly seriously expect us to believe that this guy is going to get in the ring and fight a man 1/2 his age, and not die? Especially after they made such a big deal about his dain bramage in the last film?" Well, view the trailer here. But don't say I didn't warn you: it's ridiculous.

The second thing that's disturbing me is all this press about this National Intelligence Estimate that's just been released by the Bushies. Basically, the document says that the Secretary of Defense commissioned a study 3 years ago to find out if we were winning the war on terror, then buried the results when they were not what he wanted to hear. And what did they say? America's war on terror is inspiring Islamic fundamentalism. Really. Wow. If any of you people out there reading this found that last bit of information to be a revelation, a surprise, or just plain incomprehensible, please, do us all a favor and have yourself STERILIZED! Then go lock yourself in a cabin somewhere in Montana or West Virginia or in whatever backward place you live and don't come out. EVER. And certainly not to vote.

I mean, come on. That was THE major argument of the Iraq war: fighting this war will not make us safer. And they knew it. And did it anyway. We now have paper evidence of this. If this was any other country in the world, the people would have taken to the streets and strung these leaders up by their naughty bits, but instead we sit and watch Monday night football and holler about our ex-President going on TV and berating reporters for not doing their jobs. Well someone has to do it, jerk. And good for him.

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

Edmund Burke (1729 - 1797)

According to scientists, this is your past. And your future!! Dun dun duhhhhh!

"We are born charming, fresh and spontaneous and must be civilized before we are fit to participate in society."

Judith Martin, (Miss Manners)

Ok, so I know this is two in one day, but I don't care. This morning's was just some filler to keep all you readers out there in cyberspace (both of you) interested. And, yes, I didn't use "blogosphere", because I think that term is stupid.

So when I got home tonight, I pulled the mail out of the box and noticed that there was one magazine and a whole lot of junk mail mixed in with my bills. The question that ran through my mind is this: Why hasn't Ed McMahon sent me a letter telling me that I've won $1 million? I mean, I get all these bills and applications for credit cards, and while it makes me feel warm and squishy to be pre-approved, it's not the same as having already won $1 million. C'mon Ed, I could use that money. You're slacking, and I don't like it. Get on the ball!

I think we should start a campaign. If we all take just a few minutes a day, starting right now, and write Ed a nice email about how I need that $1 million, and he should get off his fat duff and write me the check, then I'm sure he could only ignore us for a few years before he gets the message. And I'd even give you guys a share. Wouldn't that be swell? So click here to send Ed that email, and keep sending 'em, every day, until I get that check, 'k? 'K.

Photoshop is a terrible thing.

"If you want to know what God thinks of money, just look at the people he gave it to."

Dorothy Parker (1893 - 1967)

Almost forgot: The aforementioned magazine was PLSN, and there's an article about the Poison tour BML-Blackbird sent out this summer. Nice work, guys.

Just some randomness for today. Not feeling well, tho better than yesterday. Stupid cold.

"Nobody can be exactly like me. Sometimes even I have trouble doing it."

Tallulah Bankhead (1903 - 1968)

Pastis must be reading my blog.

Seeing as yesterday's post was so depressing and kind of revolting in some ways; and since I feel guilty about that, here's something to make up for it:

Makana

Kaua'i

The Boys

Sunrise

Kolohe

A tree


Makana. Again.


Mmm... just how I like 'em.

Well, that's about all for now. Hope that makes up for yesterday, even a little. We know you have a choice in blogs, and thank you for choosing backwards K.

"You don't stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing."
Michael Pritchard

So I have a couple of talking points to make today, a few things that are on my mind and have my attention as I sit here with over an hour to go before today's fashion show (brought to you by Tab Energy. Tab Energy, because the only thing that gives you more energy with fewer calories is crystal meth!) Well, let's get started, shall we:

1. Brad Pitt. That sonofabitch. Stole my damn idea. Which I stole from Joe, but that's beside the point. I was all about not getting married until gays can, which is a fantastic political statement and a great excuse to not ever get married (because let's face it: necrophiles will be be able to get married before homos, as long as they want to marry a cadaver of the opposite sex). But no. That jerk had to go and steal my idea and hold a press conference to boot. I guess I'll have to go and get married now, just to be different. And screw you, Brad Pitt! I don't think you're all that gutsy to be taking my idea. Nyah!

2. I just finished watching The Royal Tenenbaums, and I have to say that it gets better every time I watch it. It's just such a well written movie, and the cinematography and editing really accentuate that. It occurred to me, as I was watching, that Ben Stiller really is a good actor. My next thought was "Why doesn't he make more good movies like this one?" I guess there's more money in the stupid comedy he keeps making over and over again; especially since every stoner high school and college student seems to forget that they've already seen it and pays to see it again. But it is a shame that such a talented actor keeps making crappy movies. I think we need an intervention. Ben, listen, you've got an agent. I'm sure he can find better scripts. Hold out for them. Please.

3. Last night, we went to this comedy club in the Village. Wow. I mean, WOW. It was BAD. Really, really, really BAD. I don't normally feel sorry for performers on stage, because they've volunteered for it, but I felt sorry for some of these cats. I mean, they were just not funny. At all. Except for the last guy, a dude named Chris Iacono. He was hilarious. He made it worth the cover charge and other comedians. So keep an ear out for this guy, and go check him out if you get the chance. Just don't get to the club before 10:30, or you have to listen to all the crappy comics.

4. Last and not least, today is the 5th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. For those of you who were living under a rock and missed that, welcome back. It's kind of weird to be in the city today, and I'm not sure why. I just feel like everything should shut down and stop; like business as usual today is wrong. I don't know. I mean, there were cermonies and memorials and photo ops for the politicians; but it all feels so hollow to me, so fake. I think if we want to create a fitting memorial to the dead, we need find the cause of the attacks and fix the root problem. Dropping bombs and killing more people may feel right in the short term, but it won't stop these attacks from happening. All it really does is make the point for people like Osama Bin Laden that the US is evil and uncaring and so flying a plane into a crowded office building is righteous. But whatever. Nobody's listening that hasn't heard this 1000 times. It won't change the status quo, it won't stop our political leaders from killing thousands of Americans and thousands more innocent civilians. The revolution is dead. Much like the baby of the teenage girl that gave birth at her prom and then requested "Unfogiven" from the DJ, it died in the garbage can; discarded, forgotten, ignored, and never given a chance to live.

Well, there you go. Sorry to end on such a depressing note, but that's just where I am now. I never promised you it would be good, I just said it would be.

"Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die."

Mel Brooks (1926 - )

Oh boy kids, here it comes, that favorite time of year for one and all: Spring Fashion Week in NYC! That's right! And here I am, with about 2 hrs sleep in the last 36 and going strong! We were here until 3 am yesterday because the LD's flight was delayed by security for 4 HOURS. T'anks fer nuttin', TSA. We're getting ready to start the third show today, Mara Hoffman, and I'm just chillin by the dimmers. Oh wow.

There's a couple of observations I want to make right off the bat, here: first, runway models are disgustingly skinny. I was watching a rehearsal before and thought to myself that I could just get a science class skeleton, rig it to a motor, put clothes and silly looking hair on it and send it down the runway. Nobody would notice. I'm not sure why these women are considered attractive. They don't look healthy. They look like they can barely walk while wearing clothes. Yet we keep taking their picture.

The DJ is playing a song right now by Wolfman Jack. I thought he was just a disc jockey, but apparently he recorded some stuff too. It's pretty good.

So Tracy, the woman I'm working with this week, had this hat on yesterday. I think it really says it all.

It should be a very interesting week to be in NYC, what with the 5th anniversary and all... I still can't believe Oliver Stone hasn't been strung up from a branch for making that movie so soon. Some people might argue that it's all part of the healing process, but it feels more like they're moving in quick to make a buck, and that's not cool. Maybe if he had something new to contribute, it might be worthwhile, but there doesn't seem to be anything inflammatory, really; except for the timing, of course. It's weird: the last time I worked a fashion week, I mean really worked the whole week and not just a load out here and there, someone flew a couple of airplanes into the WTC. Hopefully, that was just a freak occurance and we won't have to worry about a repeat performance.

I don't know. I guess that's about all... I just can't wait to get home and hit my pillow.
Show #3 just ended, time to change over to the 4th and last of the day (thank goodness). Too bad it won't get started until 10:00...

"I have suffered a great deal from writers who have quoted this or that sentence of mine either out of its context or in juxtaposition to some incongruous matter which quite distorted my meaning , or destroyed it altogether."

Alfred North Whitehead (1861 - 1947)

So I'm having a little bit of trouble sleeping tonight, and I'll tell you why. A person that I thought was my friend, a person to whom I looked up as a mentor and respected as a colleague has decided that he wants to flame me in his little forum on Roadie.net. That's fine. It's his space, and he's allowed to say what he wants.

It's bothering me, however, because much of what he says is not only untrue, but outright libel. That's right, it's vicious, hurtful, and serves only to make me seem incompetent and petulant. While I admit that I did post in his space, and I'm sorry if it hurt his feelings; I would like to remind him that it is a public forum designed so that anyone may post. I would hope he would keep this in mind before threatening to have me kicked off of the website.

So, you might ask yourself, what is Mikey going to do about this?

I'm going to take the high ground. While I have barrels of gasoline that I can throw on this fire, I won't. It's not worth it. I've known this person for long enough to know that when he says stuff like this, you can't listen. You can't take it personally. Except that this time, he has made it personal. I may be able to forgive him, but I can never forget it. There are some things that just can't be taken back once they're said, and I only hope that I have enough self restraint to not say the myriad of things that have gone through my head in the last few hours the next time I see him.

"The way to procure insults is to submit to them: a man meets with no more respect than he exacts."

William Hazlitt (1778 - 1830)

"In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities. In the expert's mind there are few."

Shunryu Suzuki

Please note: this rant originally written 9/3/06 in Microsoft Word. Why? Because I refuse to sign up for a yearly contract just to use the WiFi at the Denver Airport. But that's another rant entirely.

Now, on to the rant du jour: poseurs. You know who I mean. That jerk that insists on standing on your feeder through the whole show. The skank ho that stands in front of the monitor desk so she can see the lead singer. The 500 or so people who cram into the 30 sq ft of FOH so they can “get the real feel of the show.” You’ve seen them. You hate them. But you have to deal with them. They’re FOB (friend of the band) or related to the record company or the local rock DJ’s second cousin’s neighbors ex-girlfriend. They’re not trying to make our life harder, yet they can’t help it: it’s their destiny. But I’m not talking about them.

No, this is about the 1% of those poseurs who think they’re “special.” They don’t understand that this is our job. It’s what we do. Every day. All year. For some reason, these people think that because a band is famous; because they are public figures, it’s ok to take a “souvenir”, a little something to remember the show. Because the laminate or sticky that the tour manager gave them isn’t enough. They need to have a pick, or set list, or a drum stick, or head, or snare drum, or maybe even a guitar. Whatever they can fit under their jacket and sneak past security. These are the kind of poseurs I’m talking about today.

What precipitated this rant, you might ask? Well, I’ll tell you.

Last night, I was at Red Rocks in Colorado. As the show was winding down, I noticed a random poseur walking through my dimmer pit toward the guitar tech’s workbox. I witnessed him reach into the guitar case, and pull out a rubber chicken, which usually lives on the side fill, but had just been struck by the guitar tech. I watched this poseur as he looked around and took off his bookbag. It was about this time he noticed me watching him. So he placed his bag and the chicken on the case behind him and turned to watch the show. After I snuck over and secured the chicken, I turned to the production assistant and said “Go get the security guard. We need to search this dude’s bag.” Shortly thereafter, the poseur turned around. Surprised that the chicken was gone, he began looking all over for it, until the PA returned with a security guard. “We need to look in your bag” he said. The poseur just gave him a blank look, and the guitar tech returned at about that moment, yelling “Where’s my rubber chicken?” I think the poseur must have peed himself, because he started to stammer something about just wanting to play with the chicken. At this point, I held up the chicken, and the guard escorted the poseur out.

The chicken in question.

Now, why this particular jerk thought he could walk up to the guitar box and take something out without anyone noticing, I’m not sure. Whether or not he was going to steal the chicken, I don’t know. Should I have let him put the chicken in his bag and then snagged him? Maybe. But why let it go that far? He was someplace he didn’t belong, doing something he shouldn’t, and that’s good enough for me.

I would just like to know what he thought he was doing. He was a guest, of either the band or the producer, I don’t know (probably the producer, because the production assistant didn’t know who he was). I’ll repeat that, just in case it didn’t sink in: he was a GUEST. Whomever gave him a pass was responsible for him and his actions. If you can’t keep an eye on your guests backstage, don’t invite them. Don’t get them backstage passes. Period. Why? Because this is my place of business. This is where I work. I have expensive gear, and I have plenty of things to do during the show; babysitting your girlfriend’s sister’s cousin’s former roommate and her boyfriend are not one of them. If you can’t be responsible for them, don’t invite them. And if you can’t at least take 30 seconds and tell them to stay out of the f’n way and don’t touch anything; then get them a nice pair of lawn seats. They can’t f anything up from out there.

Sometimes, I really want to just walk into an office building and go around, sitting on people’s desks and walking in to the middle of their meetings and leaving half drunken cups of beer on their filing cabinet; taking their mouse or the picture of their wife and kids off their desk. Maybe then they’ll understand.

Anywho, that’s about all I got on that one. I’m sure there’s a hundred thousand stories just like this one, and most a lot worse, but this ones’ my most recent, and I know it won’t be the last. Until they let us start shooting poseurs on sight (write to your Senator and Congressman today!) we’ll just have to keep putting up with it. Take a deep breath, let it out slow, and stay vigilant.

“Man is the only animal that laughs and weeps, for he is the only animal that is struck with the difference between what things are and what they ought to be.”

William Hazlitt (1778 - 1830)

"He's the kind of a guy who lights up a room just by flicking a switch."

Unknown

Well, kids, today's rant is going to be a little odd, kind of random. It's been a really weird day, my lights have decided they don't want to play by the rules today, so I'm in a very strange mindset. The air up here at Red Rocks probably isn't helping, either. I think it's the lack of pollution, but I could be wrong.

Anyway, there's two things on my mind today: Tropical Storm Ernesto and foaming hand soap. We'll start with the first.

So Ernesto is heading up the coast and straight at Maryland (it's acutally there right now). While I wouldn't say I'm worried about my friends there, I am thinking about them and hoping they don't wind up under water. Again. Ernesto is no Isabel, but it's still alot of water to get dumped on them at one time. Keep your heads dry, MD.

I'm also concerned because I have to get on a plane on Sunday, and I really hope that storm is gone. If it slows down even a little bit, it will be sitting right over Newark Airport and then I'm in some trouble. I really don't want to spend any more time in Denver Int'l than I have to. Refer to yesterday's post if you're wondering why.

Part 2: Foaming hand soap. Can someone please explain this crap to me? I keep running into this stuff all over the country and I can't figure out why. It doesn't clean my hands, it feels weird, and it's just confusing. I squeeze it from the dispenser and start to put it on my face before I realize I'm not shaving. So why does it exist? I'm calling for a general boycott of this completely useless product until someone can explain to me why it's better than regular liquid soap. And don't tell me that you can fit more in a container, because I have to use twice as much to get my hands something resembling clean, so what's the point of that? And this broad has WAY too much time on her hands (among other things). Either that, or Wegman's is paying far too much for fake reviews.

Ok, that's enough randomness for now. Here's your quote:

"The aim of life is self-development. To realize one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for."
Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)