This just in. . .

Memo
Attention: All people who have their web logs set to private

This just in: you are not nearly as important/cool as you think you are. Please, please, get over yourselves. You are not The Fonz, neither are you James Dean. You should be thrilled that someone wants to understand your theories and philosophies on life--I mean, you are not exactly this generation's Plato. Furthermore, you should be thrilled that someone wants to know what you have been up to and learn about the minutia of your days--after all, you are not a Beatle.

And as for fear of stalkers--don't flatter yourself.

Surprised,

Conrad

The Tale of the Coke Bottle

The following is an epic poem/tale comparable to the likes of Homer's The Odyssey, Virgil's The Aenid, or the Anglo-Saxon hero-tale Beowolf:

So, last Friday I got a hankering for a Coca-Cola Classic. I craved this superior beverage straight from a glass bottle because i recently heard that it is oh-so much sweeter this way. (Bottled in Mexico= crazy delicious; it is the extra sugar).

I mounted my white motorized steed, my '97 Honda Civic and cruised towards Wal-Mart. (Author's note: Said steed failed me on Monday. Fixed her on Tuesday to the tune of $502 dollars. Ouch). Upon exiting The Mart I thrilled at the thought of pounding the sweet nectar of the Gods.

When I got back inside my motorcar I realized I was ill equipped to open the libation--I thought it was a twist cap but, alas, 'twas not. I tried to open the fizzy delight with a coin to no avail. Not only that but, in so doing, I raised the cap just enough to let all the carbonation out of the bottle. Now I had to get this baby open--there was no turning back, it needed to be drunk and soon.

Next i tried my car key. This worked if by work you mean that it resulted in my losing chunks of flesh from three of my fingers on my right hand. Blood flowed. Again i tried using my unbattered hand only to maim two fingers on my left hand. Again the blood did flow.

After 7 minutes of this our frustrated hero decided to ponder upon the matter and drive back to his place of employ. In the process of backing out of the parking stall I watched my sweet Coke bottle tip out of the cup holder and turn into a Coke bomb. The sweet cola sprayed everywhere. I pulled over and placed the bottle outside. The damage was serious--i had lost over 1/4th of my sweet liquid refreshment.

Again i saddled up and drove back to work. During the last leg of my journey i was getting desperate? How, oh how was i to open said bottle? Time was of the essence--i mean, the stuff was not getting any colder (or fizzier for that matter). Like a thunderbolt from Zeus' Mount Olympus came the inspiration that i needed. You see, i had just driven by a fence post, that's right, a fence post. I spun the car around and zipped over to the post. As I carried the bottle over to the post i hoped with all my heart that no one i worked with would drive by and wonder what on earth i was doing (by this time i was quite close to the place of employ). With a mighty thrust i forced the cap off of the bottle using the top of the fencepost. Excelsior! The dark cola overflowed like a beautiful, miniature, sugar volcano. My hands were covered in blood and the sticky, magic juice. With all the glory, pomp, and melodrama that can be imagined, i downed the remaining beverage. How sweet was my conquest. How great was my joy.

Hopefully you sense the power of this account. Do I consider myself a role model or a hero? Sure. Both of those. But, you see, this story is not about me. Nor is it about Coke or bottle caps or fenceposts--it is about the power of the human spirit to triumph over adversity and despair. It is the same spirit that helped us put a man on the moon and tear down the Berlin Wall. It is my hope that when you are faced with difficult challenges in your life that you might look to this experience as an example. You too can accomplish extraordinary things.

A-ha Moments

Have you ever heard people refer to "ah-ha moments"? You know, the moment when something finally makes sense to you? Well, everytime I hear people use this phrase I immediately think of A-ha, the 80's band from Norway responsible for the international smash hit "Take On Me."

That song rules. May it play in your head for the rest of the day.

Paige Davis Must Go

On my 20 mile trip down I-15 every day to work I pass about 8 Paige Davis/RC Willey billboards. She is EVERYwhere. She bugs me quite a bit. The commercials are worse. Her personality makes me cringe. My gag reflex starts going haywire when I hear/see how overly cheesy she is. I have composed a haiku summarizing my feelings about Paige Davis:

Annoying me tons,

She doth make me so sad,

Paige Davis must go.

Dig Out Your Soul

Two weeks ago I took it upon myself to clean Dani's car. Dani's automobile usually smells like a wet equine and that day was no exception. But, I found something extraordinary in the boot that day. (2 asides: 1. We called the trunk the "boot" in Johannesburg days. 2. The word extraordinary seems odd to me. More ordinary than usual? )
I found "Dig Out Your Soul," Oasis' new record that I've been pining for ever since we were rocked by them in Seattle. Dani had, clearly, been trying to hide the disc from me as a Christmas gift. I could either pretend I hadn't found it or unleash the rock. I chose the latter.
There are a couple of average tunes but, for the most part, Oasis is on top of their game. Noel has written one of the coolest Oasis songs ever in "Waiting for the Rapture"(that guitar is just mean) and "I'm Outta Time" is the best ballad Liam's done (yes, better than "Don't Go Away"). Reportedly it took 9 years to write--well worth the wait I'd say. "The Nature of Reality" sounds like Oasis impersonating the White Stripes and is splendid.
Anyway, Dani was pretty mad that I found the gift but soon got over that.
"Dig Out Your Soul" is the best album of the year, people. Thanks Dani.

The new Killers album

Anyone who knows me well knows that The Killers are my boys. I declare that they are in my top 4 modern bands (post 1990) among some pretty elite company: Oasis, The Smashing Pumpkins, and Weezer (I know the last album was a fumble, but that's a whole other blog post).

Anyway, Brandon and the boys just released "Day and Age" and, I must say, it is a mixed bag. On the one hand, I think that "The World We Live In" is a superb piece of pop music, just as good as anything off the first record (excluding the limited edition). But, what on earth were they thinking with "I Can't Stay"? On a 10-song record, there is no room for this odd experiment--it belongs as a b-side somewhere else. "Goodnight, Travel Well" is overly long and basically uninteresting--i kept waiting for the soaring payoff at the end but it never came. And, "Joy Ride" sounds like something that Paul McCartney did back in the 80's akin to "Silly Love Songs" which ain't the best stuff that Sir Paul has produced. I simply need more rock from my Killers.

This album is still better than pretty much anything that came out this year (excluding Cardinology and Dig Out Your Soul by Ryan Adams and Oasis respectively) but I need to feel the charm of Hot Fuss and the power of Sam's Town on the next record. 3 out of 5 stars.

Made for TV

Last night was the third and final presidential debate. This was a classic replay of Nixon-Kennedy, the first televised debates. Nixon was, arguably, the more knowledgable candidate, the more experienced politician. But Jack didn't sweat on TV. He smiled more. He looked at the camera more often. He came off as more collected, more "presidential." And the rest is history.

McCain was Nixon: more agitated, less personable, less photogenic than is opponent. Obama was Kennedy: more calm, less irritable, more measured in his voice patterns.

I think it strange that McCain often complains about Obama's unwillingness to do more debates and town hall meetings. John is an old man in an age of tv marketing that focuses on being polished and delivering lines with a smile. Even when McCain had the upper hand in terms explaining his arguments (like on the Supreme Court, and vouchers) it was the way in which he spoke and gestured that people will likely remember.

McCain came off as the old curmudgeon when he needed to appear as the passionate, elder statesman. He needed to chide Obama's policies without seeming condescending. He broke the first rule of debates which is to "do no harm." By (sometimes boringly) keeping his cool and sticking to his message, Barack did no harm and, thus, won the debate.

I am very surprised at how far behind McCain is right now.