mea culpa

Turns out that in my excitement, I made a mistake about who John McCain picked to be his VP. It's not Michael Palin at all, but rather the current governor of Alaska. And once again, I'm flabbergasted. Because I really did think you had to be a resident of the US to hold that office. And also, it appears that even I'm more qualified for the job than she is: I visited the UN building when I was 14, during a trip to New York with my family. And finally, she kinda sounds like a d-bag. But then, who else would McCain pick to appease the right wing?
No Monty Python, no deal. Kiss my ass, Johnny! I'm voting for Obama.

yeah baby

If you're like me, you were too busy watching the Olympics to blog about them at the time. Well, now it's time to catch up a little. And the first thing I want to discuss is women's beach volleyball. It was a thrilling finals match, and I eagerly awaited the post-game interview to hear what words of wisdom these luscious sand vixens might offer. And what was the first thing out of the mouth of the tall one? "I just wanted to say that we support our president."
WTF???
So, I did a little Google search to try to figure out where that particular utterance might have originated. And the answer, as I expected, was thoroughly sordid. (See above.)
But to be fair, I've tried to put myself in the "shoes" of May-Treanor and Walsh. (I say "shoes" because they play barefoot! Get it?) Now, most Americans hate Bush. It's a known fact; the polls prove it. And odds are, the vixens hated him too. But what would you do if Dubya came to your workplace to say hello? Would you still hate him? Well, what if he put his arm around your shoulder, and grabbed your ass a little bit? Admit it - it'd be hard to resist that. I mean, come on: the hand that controls the button, right there.
Damn! I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it!
Well, Dubya must have made quite an impression on the ladies, because a couple days later the short one showed up next to John McCain at a pro baseball game. It reminded me of Curt Schilling on national TV back in 2004, right after the Red Sox won the World Series: "Vote for Bush!" Remember that? Well, look at him now: broken down and out of the game. And interestingly, soon after the Olympic debacle, Walsh and May-Treanor lost in the "AVP Crocs Cup Shootout" in Ohio, ending their one-year, 112-match win streak.

Karma's a bitch, ladies! And that includes you, Curt ...

comedy-in-chief

After John McCain won the GOP nomination for president, I vowed that the only way I'd vote for him was if he chose someone from Monty Python as his vice president. Can you believe he's done just that??? He announced earlier today that Michael Palin has been added to the ticket. I have to admit, I was flabbergasted. For one, I thought there was no way he'd take me up on my challenge. For two, I figured that Terry Gilliam would be chosen before any of the other members, since he was born in the US. And for three ... actually, two's good enough. I'm still flabbergasted.

This is exciting! Do you think they'll make John Cleese the US Minister of Silly Walks ... or the Secretary of Defense? Will we be equipping our forces in the Middle East with holy hand grenades? (think about the cultural ramifications of that) Or maybe we'll try catapulting some cows at al Qaeda. Hot damn.

new slang

The other day I was reading The Onion and came across one of my favorite pejoratives of all time: "d-bag." I remember seeing it once some years ago, and admiring it at that time, but I guess it then fell out of my consciousness. Maybe I was just too callow to fully appreciate it then, I don't know. And the odd thing is, I've used the full version of "d-bag" several times within the past few weeks, to describe other drivers who irritated me out in Seattle. But even as I used that term, I found it just a little bit ... wanting. It left me ... unfulfilled? Yeah, unfulfilled.
But never again! Papa's got a brand new bag ...

rock 'n' roll part 1

I vowed to myself once that if I was ever coerced into writing a blog, at some point I would use it as a soapbox to announce the greatest rock 'n' roll song of all time. And that point is now, people. Because you never know what tomorrow holds, and the FCC may be scrutinizing Mad City even as we speak.
So, if you're like me, you're probably sick of these classic rock stations doing their periodic countdowns of the "500 greatest rock songs of all time." The 400's are crowded with groups like The Bangles and Madness, and then we get to Three Dog Night, and before too long there's a steady string of Stones and Beatles and The Who and Kinks songs with a little Van Halen thrown in. You know that "Purple Haze" will be in the Top 10. And Number One is almost always "Stairway to Heaven."
I'm sick of that shit! As far as I'm concerned, "Stairway to Heaven" isn't even the best song on Led Zeppelin IV. It's a great song, and it should definitely be in the top 500 - hell, it should be in the top 100! - but Number One it is not.
Here are my rules for choosing the Number One song:
1. It's not "Stairway to Heaven."
2. It should be guitar-dominated. Rock 'n' roll lives and dies with guitars.
3. It should be in English. Sorry, "La Bamba." You too, original version of "99 Luft Balloons" ...
4. It should protest something. At the heart of rock 'n' roll is protest.
5. It should be less than 5 minutes long, preferrably even less than 4 and a half minutes long.
6. It should be recognizable even when whistled by a bad whistler.
7. It should rock.
8. It should have the word "rock" in its title.
9. Ideally, it should be performed by a legend of rock.

So here it is: "Rockin' in the Free World" by Neil Young. You can argue with me, but in vain.

And here's a surprise at Number 6: "I Melt With You" by Modern English. What an upset! They were one-hit wonders! It didn't even make the top 40 when it was released! But damn it's catchy. And that humming part: if that doesn't bring a lump to your throat, then you're not human ...

back in the mjc

I rolled into Mad Jack City around 10:30 last night, after an awesome week in Seattle. Awesome, I tell you! I was present for the wedding of my good friends Brian and Cindy. In fact, I was more than present: I was the best man! It was awesome. If you've never done it before, I highly recommend it. The view could not be beat - I was right there, man. I was so close, I could even see the fingerprint whorls on Cindy's dainty ring finger, during the ring part of the ceremony. Hot damn.
I'm gonna keep it short tonite, because it's already late and Wednesday's a busy work day for me. (But don't worry, people: even when I keep it short, I keep it real.) I'll definitely lay out some more details on my vacation and whatnot at some point here. But first, a little anecdote about my flight back:
So, I took Midwest Airlines for the first time. All in all, a good experience, especially the cost-savings part of the experience, even if I had to fly out of Milwaukee. But on the way back yesterday, I noticed early on that us passengers were being assaulted with the aroma of chocolate chip cookies. Now ordinarily, you and I will agree, that's a very good smell. But this aroma was strong: it was like Betty Crocker was in the co-pilot seat, if you know what I mean. And within about 10 minutes, I learned the source of the smell, as a flight attendant said "Excuse me, sir" and stuck two warm cookies in my hand before moving on, and before I could even think twice. I really didn't have much choice but to eat them, as they were oozing gooey chocolate everywhere and enticing me with their luscious aroma. But I can tell you one thing: I've been living in the Midwest for over a year now, and the last thing most of the people around here need is two extra chocolate chip cookies. Hell, even a bratwurst would be healthier! (Note to Midwest Air: how about firing up the grill on my next flight? If you do, I'll be your customer forever ...) And let me tell you one other thing: most of the other passengers were not having second thoughts about those cookies. If I'd been thinking more clearly, I probably could have traded mine for someone's pillow.
All right, my work for the night is done. Stay strong, people! I will be back ...

beginnings

Hello, and welcome to yet another blog by an associate of Brian and Cindy, the Judd Apatows of the blogosphere. Actually, I am starting this crazy venture as a wedding gift to them, believe it or not. If you were invited to the wedding, you're probably thinking, "I didn't see 'blog' on the registry." But in fact, they've been putting pressure on me for months now to share my private thoughts in this public venue; and considering all the other kinds of private stuff I occasionally share with an unwilling public, I thought it'd be a nice change-of-pace to do it in a legal manner. And if you're thinking I'm some sort of a cheapskate for not actually buying a wedding gift, relax: I also got them a juice strainer.
As for the title of the blog, it has multiple meanings. First of all, I currently live in Madison WI, which is affectionately known as Mad City by many of its residents. Also, I'm the kind of person who tends to get completely outraged by things that most other people find mildly irritating. And finally ... well, that's two meanings right there. That qualifies as multiple.
This is weird! I know nobody's going to see this blog for at least another week. It's all empty and echo-y in here. I guess this is what they mean by a "phantom blog." It kind of feels ... a little spooky. So, I look forward to a vast influx of new readers in the near future.
All right, gonna keep myself company for a while.
Dooby dooby doo, exchanging glances, wondering in the night, what are my chances ...