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Monthly Archives: November 2008
RNF XIII
Random Neuron Firing’s
It is both wonderful and weird to have a weekend “off.” I am a tired-but-happy rat indeed. It always feels this way after a show closes.
Therefore, it’s a lazy Saturday (at least during my “quiet time” in the early morning), which means I indulge myself in the geeky, guilty pleasure of research just for the heck, and random neuron firing’s. Life is good.
Did you know…
Forty years ago, we sent people to walk on the moon. But it took scientist’s until yesterday to find out why bleach kill’s germs.
I just happened to watch Britney Spears’s new “Womanizer” video. Dear God. It’s been a long, long time since I watched a music video. Had to crank my jaw shut. (I just deleted a honking huge rant from this space. I’ll save it for another time.) Strangely, after it finished, a Flash ad for the new Punisher movie appeared. It read: The corrupt will be punished. Heh. Actually, I was more offended by Brit’s android voice (an annoyingly overused effect that needs to die), and a range way too low. She will *never* be able to pull that off in live performance without mega-help. But hey, that’s just me with an opinion; nothing to see here, folks. Move along.
The best part about the video was the comment’s beneath it. Apparently, a guy posted a negative opinion about the song, and he was lambasted by other readers. His response:
Ok people, let’s come to an agreement. I promise to plead guilty as charged to being a loser with a very bad taste in music. I’ll accept that! I only ask that, when describing me, you use “you’re” instead of “your”. Please…I’m begging you, if you want to make a plausible argument (for anything) I ask only that you make it intelligible. In short, let’s at least sound smart. Thanks.
I don’t care if he does have lousy taste in music. I like him, even though his punctuation was outside the quote.
This is my one and only attempt at original art. Now you know why I am a musician. But I want this blown up poster-size so I can sell it and pay off my school loans. Ok, I know. Don’t get your hope’s up, right?
If any of my intentional mistakes in this post bothered you — welcome to my world. You know my suffering. If they didn’t bother you, or if (God forbid) you didn’t even notice them, then it’s time for you to go to school.
Happy Saturday. Heh.
PS an hour later — I was cleaning off my desk and found a receipt from a package the Thriller mailed for me the other day. At the bottom, it reads, “Tell us about your recent postal experience.” Well now…
Thrashing the deceased equine
I think it bears repeating. Whatever the reasons (internet shorthand habits, fewer spelling and usage tests after elementary school resulting in less attention paid to grammar, general apathy, overwhelmed teachers trying to keep up with NCLB, standardized testing that’s anything but standard), Americans continue to butcher their language.
Sometimes I want to give up the fight. Yesterday, three of my middle school students used the word “brung.” Cripes.
I’ve been told I’m too picky about grammar, that nobody cares anyway, and that my grammar peeves are probably outdated. For instance, I insist on saying “thee end” instead of “thuh end.” I hate the question, “Where is it AT?”
[I will say that I have loosened up a bit in my advancing age. Thirty-five years ago, I would have never begun a sentence with “and” or “but,” or written in a style that incorporates the occasional sentence fragment. I do both all the time now. But I digress. And I am good at digression.]
I hate it that some of my students think their poor spelling skills are funny, and that they have no trouble at all saying with a smile, “I can’t write” — followed by a shoulder shrug.
Or they say, “Hey, we’re from (insert small Ohio community here),” as if to say (sing), “Folks’re dumb where I come from — they ain’t had any learnin’…”
It makes me sad. And the problem is not limited to the nation’s youth; it knows no age, social class, or (unfortunately) level of education. Years ago, I worked as a secretary to a university official. I would secretly correct his horrible grammar and countless spelling errors as I typed his correspondence. I had a high school education; he had two graduate degrees. Go figure.
Still, I am compelled to do my part — however inconsequential — to promote safe and healthy written and oral communication in my little corner of the world. I shall press on.
Fink out.
PS – Wahoo!!!
Bel Canto
I love beautiful singing, obviously, because I’m a choral director, but it doesn’t stop there. A song has to say something to me in order to be meaningful, or else it’s just so many wasted measures. I love it when a student or friend tells me that a certain song makes him or her cry or feel empowered or angry or whatever. That’s what music is supposed to do: make us feel love, sadness, joy and peace — four of the most extraordinary emotions in the human experience.
I have to find an ethereal combination of lyrics, melody and harmonic structure in order to love a song. [There are exceptions for dance music, however, which I often love simply for the groove.] In other words, music has to talk to me. I cannot have music playing “in the background,” because it’s always in the foreground for me. Strange to say because I’m a musician, but I rarely have music playing in my house when I’m trying to accomplish things (which is often, unfortunately). The music always takes precedence and I can’t get my work done as efficiently.
So what songs “speak” to me? The list is so long and varied that it’s hard to even start it, but I will gi’ it a go.
For this particular little exercise, I will focus on individual singers only, not bands in general.
Bien. Vamos.
A Few of Fink’s Faves, in No Particular Order
- James Taylor – “Only One”
- Annie Lennox – “Walking on Broken Glass”
- Stephen Bishop – “Same Old Tears on a New Background”
- John Lennon – “Girl”
- Frank Sinatra – “Only the Lonely”
- Diana Krall – “Charmed Life”
- Stevie Ray Vaughan – “Pride and Joy”
- Bonnie Raitt – “Nobody’s Girl”
- Bobby Darin – “Beyond the Sea”
- Ella Fitzgerald – “Miss Otis Regrets”
- Jimmy Witherspoon – “Time’s Gettin’ Tougher Than Tough”
- Sting – “Roxanne” (although every time I hear it, I can’t help but think of Eddie Murphy in 48 Hours)
- Luciano Pavarotti – “Nessun dorma” from Turandot – quite possibly the most perfect aria in the history of opera. Click the link and watch it.
- Anita Baker – “Giving You the Best That I Got”
- B. B. King – “Payin’ the Cost to Be the Boss”
- Paul McCartney – “Maybe I’m Amazed”
- Dean Martin – “Ain’t That a Kick in the Head”
- Bryan Adams – “Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman”
- Billy Joel – “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant”
- Tony Bennett – “Isn’t it Romantic”
- Sade – “Smooth Operator”
- Don Henley – “Desperado”
- Michael Jackson – “Remember the Time”
- Glenn Frey – “Heartache Tonight”
- Timothy B. Schmit – “Love Will Keep Us Alive”
- Harry Connick, Jr. – “Come By Me”
- Tom Petty – “Won’t Back Down”
- George Harrison – “Something”
- Paul Simon – “Still Crazy After All These Years”
- Elvis Presley – “Such a Night”
- Jamie Cullum – “These Are the Days”
- Alanis Morissette – “Uninvited”
- Etta James – “A Sunday Kind of Love”
- Michael McDonald – “Minute By Minute”
- Mel Tormé – “My Foolish Heart”
- Johnny Depp – “Epiphany” from Sweeney Todd
Yikes. This was a bad idea. I’m out of time and only about a third of the way done. What does this say about me? I’d rather not know. I might be mental, after all.
If you have a chance, list some of your fave songs and the people who sing them.
Now go and recognize you some beauty today.
Fink out.
Don’t mess with Dallas fans
And I don’t mean the city (although it is a beautiful place), or the Cowboys or Mavericks teams.
No, I’m talking about the 1978-1991 TV series, Dallas. Fellow crusties, did you ever watch it? I did. I read yesterday that a recent Dallas reunion at the famous Southfork Ranch in Texas got a little out of hand, and of course it made me think about the show, and the effect it had both on the public and on the future of serial television. It was huge, really.
There were three main events in the Dallas series that I remember as if they happened yesterday. (Not sure I need to say this, but I will anyway: spoilers to follow.)
1. “Who Shot J.R.?” Evil, philandering, selfish, filthy-rich oil tycoon J.R. Ewing (played by Larry Hagman) was working late in his office, when a shadowy figure stepped forward and fired a pistol. J.R. hit the floor and the credits rolled.
This was my first-ever experience with what is now considered standard fare in TV: the season-ending cliffhanger. I had to wait all summer long for the answer to be revealed. The mystery turned into a pop culture phenomenon, with “Who Shot J.R.?” and “I Shot J.R.” merchandise flying about, and all flavors of predictions circling the planet. I don’t know how they kept it secret for so long. (It is said, though I don’t have a credible reference at hand, that they filmed several characters firing the weapon in order to keep everyone guessing.) The following fall, my suspicions were confirmed: that nasty Kristin did it. I jumped up off the sofa and shouted, “I knew it! I knew it!”
2. The “Dream Season.” Patrick Duffy, who played J.R.’s fair-minded and good-hearted brother, Bobby, wanted to come back to the show after quitting to pursue other avenues that apparently turned into dead ends. Of course, that was a problem for Dallas writers. How could they bring Bobby back after making a huge issue of his being killed in a car accident two seasons ago? The funeral, the emotional J.R. standing at his coffin, telling Bobby all the wonderful things he never told him in life…it was all very dramatic. So, what to do?
Ah, yes. Deus ex machina. The miracle event that solves everything.
Bobby’s wife, Pam (played by Victoria Principal, who swears she’s never had plastic surgery) wakes up to the sound of running water…
… and opens the bathroom door to find Bobby in the shower. He simply says, “Good morning!” I totally remember going, “WHAAAAAAAAAT?!??!!”
Pam “dreamed” the whole previous season. Yeah, that was fabulous. About twenty plot developments suddenly fizzled, characters who were important to the storylines (including Pam’s new husband) were spontaneously erased, and Dallas fans worldwide were pretty much insulted. It was the beginning of the end.
3. The final episode. It was eerie, and not just because of creepy Joel Grey. The producers decided to go out with a bang and do a rather off-center It’s a Wonderful Life twist. Grey, as an angel named Adam, appears to a drunken, despondent J.R. and asks him to evaluate his life. With his oil company now controlled by his former business rival, and his family at war with one another, J.R. is considering suicide. The spirit then shows him what would have been had he never been born.
But this is Dallas, and things don’t end with butterflies and unicorns and birthday parties, do they?
J.R. wakes up in a cold sweat, grateful that the whole thing was a dream. However, he looks in the mirror and finds Adam staring back at him. Turns out the “angel” wasn’t an angel at all, but a minion of the devil. His eyes flash red, and he shouts at J.R., “Do it,” telling him to pull the trigger of the gun J.R. is now holding to his own head. Cut away to the entrance of the house, where brother Bobby hears a shot, and runs up to J.R.’s bedroom. He opens the door and screams, “Oh my God!” Series ends.
You just don’t mess with Dallas. Somebody always gets a beat-down.
Have a wacky Wednesday.
Fink out.