the daily schadenfreude, part I

Today is the start of a new feature here at Mad City, where we celebrate some small bit of misfortune that has befallen one of our nemeses. Today's subject: Kevin Smith. I have to confess, I've long had it in for this guy. He's loud and arrogant, but worst of all, he's *untalented*. Somehow the American independent-movie-going public has been bamboozled into believing that he's the next coming of Orson Welles. "Clerks" is, I believe, one of the most overrated movies of all time. Who cares if it was made on a shoestring budget? Half of Lars von Trier's movies have been made for a pittance, and he's at least 10 times better than this schlub.

So anyhow, the big news recently about Kevin Smith is that he's let himself go such much, with his arrogance and ill-deserved fame and fortune, that he can't fit properly in a single airline seat anymore. So Southwest Airlines recently bounced him from a regional flight in California. (He had actually, and appropriately, bought two seats for a flight but tried to get on standby for an earlier flight, and thus got the heave-ho.) He then squawked about Southwest on Twitter ad nauseam, possibly to pre-empt the story coming out on Yahoo or People without his side of the story.

Well here's a news flash for Kevin Smith: sure you're fat, as you've proudly confessed over and over again. But your mouth isn't the only thing that bites: your movies do too! Body habitus is the only thing you share with Orson Welles, homey.

Boo yah! That's schadenfreude.

the snows of cajun-manjaro

Apparently, there was a period of time last week when all 50 states had some amount of snow present to varying degrees (Hawaii allegedly has some snow-capped volcanoes), after a storm system blew through the lower half of the country. Well, I can personally vouch that it did snow one morning in southern Louisiana. True, it was all gone by later in the day, but that didn't stop me, my friend Troy and his kids from making the most of it. That's us below with our snowman, Prudhomme.
To be honest, I think Troy and the boys enjoyed the snow a lot more than I did. I went down to Louisiana to escape the snow. Who else but me could leave Wisconsin and then get my ass snowed on in f*&#^ing southern Louisiana??? Damn ...

olympic fever

You know, I just wanna say that Lindsey Vonn is a sweetheart, and I admire her determination and fortitude (not to mention her skiing skills!). But if I hear one more word about her shin, I might send Tonya Harding's ex-husband to whack her in the other leg. Enough already! Suck it up, babe! And the same goes for you, Tiger.

fat tuesday

So I survived my first Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Or rather, I should say that I survived my first pre-Mardi Gras in New Orleans, because I flew out this past Monday. But if you've ever been to the Big Easy around that time, you know that there's plenty going on right before Mardi Gras, mainly a series of massive parades over about a week or so centered in the Uptown area.

There's a so-called Big Three of these parades, and I was lucky enough to hit two of them: Endymion and Bacchus. (And yes, I also made it to the Saints' Super Bowl victory parade, which rivaled the Big Three.) Bacchus, which was on Valentine's Day, was preceded by several smaller parades, so Sunday was like one big all-day parade for me. I was on Napoleon Ave. from about 6:30 am, when we arrived to secure our parade-viewing spot, until about 9 pm. I shit you not. That's how they roll down there.

And if you've been to one of these parades, you know that they're all about sheer, unbridled excess. My friend Troy's kids brought large bags, about the size of a decent-sized backpack, to hold the beads they'd catch, and someone told us that they'd probably fill their bags. I kind of smirked, but then the floats started rolling and the beads just rained from the sky. Not just beads: mini-footballs, drinking cups, toy spears, all sorts of other cheap plastic crap. I literally had the wind knocked out of me by beads. Not a string of beads - a 10-pound bag. Somebody chucked it at me from one of the floats. I saw it coming, just mis-timed the catch because it was getting a little dark and I thought it was a stuffed animal headed my way. Went through my hands and hit me right in the solar plexus. And it was not at all uncommon to see a big bag of beads come flying off a float, interspersed with dozens of individual strands.

I will readily admit that I had a hell of a time catching stuff from the floats, especially since my friend's kids were excited to get all the loot. But I couldn't help but think: what's gonna happen to all the beads? It's not like people in New Orleans walk around draped in them all the time. And we're talking a LOT of beads. Let's say that the total attendance for all the parades was 3 million people (a pretty conservative estimate), and each person got 5 lbs. of beads (even more conservative estimate). That's, like, 15 million lbs. of beads. Every year. I would also estimate that 70 percent of them end up in a landfill within a month of Mardi Gras. I hate to be a wet blanket about the whole thing, but sweet Jesus! But what are you gonna do? Anyone want to join me on a bead-recycling campaign? No? Maybe you just have to let the good times roll ...

now i get it

So I was at work today, and I was making fun of a nurse for being lame, and she said to me, "You know, people who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones." And it was like ... like one of those moments where your life kind of crystallizes, because suddenly you understand something that you'd thought you understood before but really didn't.

In this case, it was Billy Joel's 1980 album "Glass Houses." You know, all these years I thought the album cover showed him about to throw a turd at a glass house. Like he was a punk or something. I mean, he's dressed up like one of The Ramones and all, and he looks angry, and he's definitely throwing *something.* I'd always thought he was pissed off at the residents of the glass house. You know, like "Hey people in the fancy glass house! I'm gonna splatter a turd all over your front window! How you like me now?"

30 years. For 30 years, I misunderstood Billy Joel. How many others like me are out there? Or, I guess the real question is, "Why did Billy Joel have to be so allegorical?" Maybe he was going through some Abbey Road phase or something. Too deep, man. Just too deep ...

that's outrageous!

Welcome to a new feature here at Mad City, where I gripe about some particular thing or other that bugs the heck out of me. Tonight's topic: bands who invite the opening band to come join them in a song during the encore.

So, I went to see Yo La Tengo tonight at the Barrymore Theater here in Mad City. Good show, good show. I like those Yo La Tengo guys a lot. So I applauded loudly when they played their last song, and happily Yo La Tengo came out to play an encore. But then, the lead singer was all like, "You know what? Let's bring Times New Viking out here to play a song with us."

Now, I disagreed with this on many levels. First, in principle, this is just not a good idea. The headline band and the opening band rarely if ever rehearse with each other, so their joint collaboration is usually a step down in quality compared to what the headline band would have played otherwise. Also, it usually takes them about 10 minutes to figure out which song to play. I'm a busy guy! I don't have time for that. And finally, it's typically a mess visually. You've got two drummers, and about 8 guitar players, and they're handing maracas to the extra singer etc etc. Way too many people on stage. If I wanted to see that many people on stage, I would've gone to see Polyphonic Spree.

And then, I just have a grievance with this particular opening band. I was eating dinner when they were playing, and got to the show right after YLT started, so I have *no idea* what their music's all about. And then the name. I don't really care for bands named after fonts. I wouldn't follow a band named Arial, or Helvetica, so I'm sure as hell not going to start with Times New Viking. Lastly, the lead singer was wearing a sweater and a button-down shirt. I shit you not. For a show.

That's outrageous!

so this is the new year, and i don't feel any different

These have been trying times for Mr. Mad City. Which times, you ask? Well, a good chunk of 2009, I would say. I transitioned from being an oncology fellow to a hematology fellow on July 1; and since then, as they say, "life ain't been the same." Busy busy busy! Busy!!! Which is the primary reason why my blogging tailed off so drastically over the past few months, and why you all had to wait on edge for me to complete my Plus 50 addendum.

But no more! I'm not a big believer in New Year's resolutions, since I tend to live my life at close to an optimal level year in and year out, but I vow that I'm gonna kick Mad City up a notch in 2010. And here's how: rage. I'm gonna put the mad in Mad City! I'm pretty opinionated on a lot of things, and I've come to realize that you all haven't been hearing enough of that. The things that concern me the most are when, like, everybody thinks something is good or cool, and it's really not. Like the Arcade Fire. Are they really "all that?" You know, I don't think so. I don't think they're "all that." Something about their music kind of annoys me, actually. I mean, I do really enjoy the first song on Funeral - you'd have to be a blithering idiot not to - but that's pretty close to it, really. At this point, I would almost have to put them in the One Hit Wonder category, except all these critics and other people keep on saying things like, "Ohhh, the Arcade Fire! What a great indie band!"

Not! Believe me when I say that Wolf Parade is a much better Montreal band.

All right, well, that's just a small taste of what lies ahead. And for those of you who like my laudatory comments about various things, like Wolf Parade, let me just say that I will still regularly praise the things I find praiseworthy. I'm actually thinking of doing a recurring feature where I praise one group of things and then diss another group of things. You've probably seen similar features on other blogs or in magazines, with titles like "Cheers and Jeers" or "Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down" etc. I may be working on something like that.

Finally, I'd just like to point out that I'm still keepin' this thing afloat, in spite of the crazy work demands on me. Which is more than I can say for some other so-called bloggers out there. And I know what you're going to say, and my reply is, "Small children are no excuse! You must blog! Despite the work involved in raising them, small children bring pleasure and delight to your life, and that should facilitate your blogging." And with that, I will close with another refrain from my theme song, "Where Have All the Bloggers Gone" (sung to the tune of "Where Have All the Flowers Gone"):

Where have all the bloggers gone?
Biscuit's a-jammin'
Where have all the bloggers gone?
Concords got stomped
Where have all the bloggers gone?
Can't find Manuka

When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?