News you can use

Well, so far, no one's getting any Whatchamacallits. And Becky and I are no closer to naming the baby. Get cracking, people!

Believe it or not, I do have some intriguing news from the U2 front. The band, which spent all last year touring, have been off the road for most of this year. And lately they've been at their digs in the south of France, apparently recording new material. But that's not the real news. The real news is some very enterprising fans, standing outside the band's house, managed to get close enough to get some recordings of the rehearsals. Don't get me wrong, it's not high quality stuff. It sounds like it was recorded by someone standing outside a house holding a taperecorder. But, it's pretty clear, all things considered, and you get a pretty good sense of what the band's doing.

It's also another blow for what was once my favorite U2 fansite, u2log.com (now just a hollow shell of itself). Neither u2log nor the embarassingly earnest atu2.com posts the news of the recording on their sites. Sanctamonious jerks.

There's also rumors that, with the band's release of the Zoo TV concert DVD and their new band history "U2 By U2" in Septmeber, there'll also be a new single released. That would be pretty cool. Maybe. A little while ago I found a review online of the band's last album, "Atomic Bomb," that for me, summed up perfectly what was wrong with the disc:

"'How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb,' like 'All That You Can't Leave Behind' before it, is so classy and classic-sounding that it's utterly boring. Bono and his childhood pals still make competent, sturdy records, and they still sell in bundles. But these albums are also oddly neutered, so polished and vaguely rousing that they don't challenge you in the least. The idea of U2 as adventurous, searching, sometimes pretentious souls trying to take over the world? Well, they've done that already, I suppose. And now they want the peak to last as long as it can. Which means you won't ever ever hear another 'Pop' again -- or even a 'Zooropa.'"

The critic has a couple great points:

"Mortality has replaced lost love and spiritual hunger as U2's reason for being."

"Beyond "Vertigo," precious little else on HTDAAB rocks or rolls or breaks much of a sweat. Instead, we again find ourselves elbow-deep in stately mid-tempo songs, blithely pretty but missing the indelible moment that great U2 ballads always possess ... By comparison, U2's last two records are probably their most sonically conservative, recycling the same solid riffs and melodies we've come to expect from them. Maintain the brand, maintain the brand."

Then he closes with this, which I thought was great:

"Don't call the album awful or terrible or anything so harsh. Be objective and say that HTDAAB is a solid if unsurprising U2 record, another of their late-period attempts at consensus and craftsmanship. But if this is a throwback to 'classic' U2, which '80s record of theirs does this sound like? 'War' was more violent, 'The Joshua Tree' more bracing, 'Rattle and Hum' more weary, 'Boy' more yearning. No, HTDAAB longs for a past U2 has long since outgrown. It's all right: Their fans have too, and if the band won't say anything, they won't either. At a time when Radiohead are too 'weird' and the White Stripes too 'loud,' U2 are getting dangerously close to Sting territory -- comfort music at a high level of sophistication. And, hey, who doesn't love the idea of Sting?"

Whatchamacallit

We are -- or I should say, Becky is -- in the final trimester of the pregnancy. You may remember, it's a girl. And three months out from the day of delivery, we still haven't picked a name. And it's not that we just haven't picked a name, it's that we're having a hard time finding one that we both like and we both feel fits our family. It's like it gets harder every time you have a kid.

I've got a couple favorites that Becky hates and Becky has a couple favorites that I hate. I really dig the name Harper, unfortunately the name reminds Becky of Nell Harper, you know, the mom on "Gimme a Break" played by Nell Carter. I also like Harely Jane. However, I really doubt I could convince any woman to name their daughter Harely Jane.

On the other side, Becky really likes Grace and Esther. Ironically enough, U2 has ruined Grace for me, so I can't name a child that. Not to mention children named for virtues has always been a minor pet peeve of mine. You know the type: Charity, Chastity, Individual Worth, Personal Growth, etc., etc. And Esther just sounds ugly to me.

So I'm opening the playing field. You think you've got a good name for a girl, post it below in the comments. What's your reward, you ask? Besides the boasting rights that you got to name a child that wasn't yours, if we pick your name, I'll mail you a case of Whatchamacallit candy bars.

Ladies and gentlemen, Bob Loblaw

Some random musings today -- mostly of the entertainment variety.

On the music front, buckle in. Apparently some fans were hanging out around the beach houses that U2 keeps in the south of France and overheard the band working on new material. You better believe they recorded it. U2Exit.com has five surprisingly good clips on the stuff.

More web nuggets? Chew on this, (yes, I'm excited) all 53 episodes of "Arrested Development" will be streamed on MSN's Web site sometime in the near future. Really, if you've never bothered to check out the show, do yourself a favor, watch it. If you don't laugh you clearly have no sense of humor.

More on the TV front (and like anyone really cares about any of this) Becky and I have been watching the "Homicide: Life on the Street" DVDs. I never saw the show when it was on, but you know it's kind of held up as the gold standard of TV police dramas so I thought I'd check it out. Anyway, I was really kind of surprised at how good it really is. I mean, Becky even likes it. We've started with season one and we're six episodes into it. Don't worry, I'll keep you updated on what I think.

And as long as we're talking TV, watch "Veronica Mars." While you still can. Oh, it's not being cancelled or anything. It's moving to the CW, a new network that WON'T BE BROADCAST IN MY AREA. Unless I cough up 50 bucks a month for cable. I'm angry.

And finally, Becky and I saw "Superman Returns" on Monday and we both really liked it. I don't that it was good enough to make up for how badly Brett Ratner screwed up "X-Men 3" but it was entertaining enough. The action set pieces were solid, intense and looked really slick. I liked addressing the question of does the world need Superman. I think that was a smart way to jump start the franchise. Brandon Routh as the Man of Steel was great and Kevin Spacey as Lex Luther was brilliant. Kate Bosworth on the other hand was good, but she seems really really young to be Lois Lane. The theme of Superman as savior was laid on maybe a little thick for my liking but other than that, I think the film was really good.

Home movies

We're experimenting with video today. Enjoy.

We are fighting terror, right?

I've tried to avoid it, but I'm afraid there's no longer any way around it. I have to post some politics.

It's occured to me that the Bush Administration never was fighting a war on terror. If you look at what's happened since Sept. 11, I think it's fairly obvious. Rather than go after terrorists and terror regimes, the Bush White House's no.1 priority became expanding presidential powers.

Stay with me, because I promise this will make sense. Think back to those days immediately following the terror attacks in New York and Washington. We were a nation united like it hasn't been since World War II. I mean, Democrats and Republicans alike. All of sudden, Osama bin Laden and al Qaeda became national punching bags. I mean, bin Laden's face was put on toilet paper and sold at novelty stores. But in all seriousness, he's the man responsible for the deaths of 3,000 innocent American civilans. Civilans. People like you and me. And it seemed like everyone was united in bring this man and these poeple to justice and stopping terror once and for all.

So you'd think the thing to do, at the very least, is capture bin Laden and bring him to justice. But instead our president resolves to go to Iraq, pulls troops off the search for bin Laden and other terrorists in Afghanistan and devotes resources to a war that has no real, tenable connection to fighting terrorism. Earlier this year the CIA even dissolved it's bin Laden task force. We are officially no longer looking for bin Laden. And I'm not suggesting that capturing him ends terrorism -- I don't think anyone believes that. But he should at least be held responsible for the attacks on our country. We as Americans, and certainly those families, deserve it.

But somehow, Iraq became the national priority and we trumpet the capture of Saddam Hussien, a man who had nothing to do with 9/11 and nothing to do with terrorism. We give up the fight against terrorism and instead invaded Iraq, spending billions of dollars that could and, really, should be used to secure our ports, our railways, our border crossings and our national landmarks here at home. Those aren't the actions of an administration serious about fighting terror.

Probably the most glaring example of that is the fact that were in Iraq. Because you have to think about terror on a more basic level -- like why were we attacked in the first place and what needs to happen to improve our image with Muslims around the world. Going to Iraq has, in effect, played right into bin Laden's hands. Everything he ever preached about America to his followers is now essentially true. Look at the serious mistakes some of our soldiers have made (like Abu Ghraib), look at the unrest and flat-out security issues for the common people in Iraq. And all of sudden you have Muslims thinking maybe the crazy guys like bin Laden are right. Because before 9/11 bin Laden and al Qaeda were still extremists in the Middle East who enjoyed very little popular support. The Bush Administration's handling of the "War of Terror" since 9/11 has effectively reversed that. More and more Muslims sympathize with men like bin Laden, men who are preaching that America is dangerous and America wants to destroy Islam. And as a result, rather than "taking the fight to the terrorist" we're simply creating more terrorists every day. And Iraq has become the place where al Qaeda can very, very effectively train them. (Most of these conclusions were released a couple weeks ago in Foriegn Policy Magazine -- about as serious and reputable a publication on international afairs as there is). The point is, if the Bush Administration were set on fighting terror, they've done it in about as wrongheaded a way as you can do it.

But what makes me mad is how this administration has dragged America's image through the mud. Think of what we did in WWII and how afterwards we truly were the world's shining beacon of freedom. I don't think anyone outside the Republican party thinks of the country that anymore. Inside or outside the United States. Our human rights abuses in Iraq and at Guantanamo on an international stage, the disolve of personal privacy and other civil liberties here at home, we're not the great country we used to be. Because the current admisnitration is more interested in expanding its powers than keeping its people safe and being an example of freedom and tolerance to the rest of the world. What was it Bruce Wayne told Ducard? It's important we hold onto our compassion because that's what makes us different from our enemies? Something like that.

Anyway, I could go on. And on and on, probably. So I'll stop now. And it'll be back to fun, frivolity and lists next week at the Rob Report. I swear.

Yes, he wants you to jump in his car

Yes, it's been over a week. And so I can only make up for my abscence by offering goodies. In fact, we'll call today, Goody Monday.

First, for those of you, who, like me, just can't get enough Spoon, try this link. It's the band's label and they let you listen to all sorts of Spoon tracks for free. And you even get to see the strange, yet somehow pleasing, video for "Sister Jack."

Another goody to pass along: I've been trying to convince Becky for a couple weeks now that a Transformers movie is a good idea. She's having none of it. But somehow Blogger is onto me. They sent me here one day and now I know where to go when I'm wondering how production for the movie is going. I learned Bumblebee will be the new Chevy Camaro and Optimus Prime as a semi will look different too. Producers wanted to give him more mass.

For those of you curious about what an amateur Shawn Colvin may have sounded like and/or what Kristy Tew is doing these days, you can go here. It's actually pretty good stuff. Certainly better than social guitar. And absolutely better than Colors. Why won't they go away?

See it's not all about U2 here. Click on the video and get taken to a wonderful, psuedo-Europop dreamland where David Hasselhoff is your guide and you can ride in his car. Yes, KITT. If you don't live too far away. 'Cause if you do, you'll have to get out and walk. Really, it's the Hoff's own descent into his heart of darkness. We're powerless to stop him. It's astonishing.

Want more? Of course you do. He's on iTunes Australia. And if you really can't get enough of a depressing aging C-list celebrating trying to milk every last ounce of fame from sub-par accomplishments acheived 15 or 20 yers ago, just let me know. There's plenty more where that came from. Oh, here's a plug for Apple. http://phobos.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewAlbum?id=155871591&s=143460

No soy pedoro

We'll start out today with an addendum to my family reunion write-up. We've learned through Claire that Laney -- her 6-year-old cousin -- can burp the alphabet but cannot fart the alphabet. I just thought you all should know.

Second note, Becky and I have finished watching the entire series of "Firefly." A little late to the game, maybe, but I'll tell you what -- the show is pretty dang good. Yeah, it suffers a bit from cheap production values and some of the characters never really got off the ground, but overall the show is surprisingly entertaining. The dialague -- as you'd expect from a Joss Whedon creation -- is witty, smart and believable. The idea of meshing western and sci-fi genres works really, really well, mostly because anytime you do sci-fi with less sci-fi, you're on pretty solid narrative ground. And for "Law and Order" fans, Richard "Paul Robinette" Brooks shows up in the last, and one of the best, episode. There are only 11 episodes in all, so it's not a huge time commitment. If you do Netflix, throw a few discs in your queue. You got nothing to loose.

And lastly, it's Friday. So here's an iPod update -- it's kind of the strange covers version (it's been a while). Some of the earlier entries are here, here, here, here and here.

Gigabytes used: 11 GB

Number of Songs: 2,759

Number of Podcasts: 3

Most random recording: "The Lonely Goatherd." A few year's ago, Harry Connick Jr. put out an album called "Songs I Heard" which was basically a disc of Harry and his band covering children's songs from famous musicals. Some of it's funny, some of it's bad and some of it's just strange. Like his cover of "Goatherd" from "The Sound of Music." The original, if I remember right, is a polka. Harry takes the song and makes it all New Orleans swanky. It's ... interesting. Other strange tracks include "Oompa Loompa," "Ding Dong! The Witch Is Dead" and "A Spoonful of Sugar."

Most eclectic recording: "Comfortably Numb." The Scissor Sisters made kind of splash when they released this cover of the mighty Pink Floyd standard a couple years ago. It's this kind of disco-fied, euro-club take on the song that almost feels like it was beamed from a different planet. It's a bizarre little track and has maybe only gotten weirder since its initial release.

Favorite recording currently (as always, this is subject to sudden change): Spoon's "Sister Jack." It seems like I've been on this six month Spoon binge. But the more I listen to these guys, the more I dig 'em. "Sister Jack" is probably the most accessible track off of the band's latest, "Gimme Fiction" but I've just recently really gotten into it. So much so that I almost can't get enough.

Most embarrassing recording: Abba's "Dancing Queen." Really, no man should have "Dancing Queen" on his iPod. And yet here it is. But I do have a disclaimer. One, I have a hard time listending to the song and 2, it's part of the playlist I keep for my 3- and 5-year-old daughters.

Number of U2 songs: 437

Number of Book of Mormon chapters: 248 -- that's right, I downloaded the Book of Mormon to my iPod. It's actually really cool to think I've got the whole thing right there. And I can listen to it on shuffle.

No, please, not more U2

I'm sorry. But I feel compelled to say something....

The Underground Online has been posting all sorts of Top 11 songs lists lately -- like the top 11 songs about God, the top 11 songs about Satan, the top 11 catchiest songs, the top 11 songs you've never heard and on and on. Well, I'm a sucker for lists and after reading the U2 lists, I thought, "Maybe I need to get in on the action."

Last week they had a list of the 11 greatest U2 songs and then this week a list of the 11 worst U2 songs. The author who compiles them and writes the commentary is a good writer; he's really funny, he obviously knows his U2 and he holds "Joshua Tree" in no special esteem. You have to like him for that.

But, then he screwed up. Big time. To whit, he left "One" off his greatest list and had "Bullet the Blue Sky" on his worst list. I think most folks -- even the most casual of U2 fans -- would agree this is just crazy talk (and I know Dave is somewhere saying to himself right now, "I can name a lot more than 11 lame U2 songs" and I've made peace with that).

Anyway, enough talk, on to a more definitive list.

Rob's 11 Greatest U2 Songs
11. "Pride (In the Name of Love)" -- undisputedly classic U2. The song moves, it sounds big and it effortlessly, and I mean effortlessly, moves between themes of politics, religion and love like nobody's business.

10. "The Sweetest Thing" the B-side not the single -- Plays opposite to the big anthems and political statement songs that are, of course, signature U2. It's a fun, bouncy pop song about painful love.

9. From a long time ago "Stories for Boys" -- Half of the "Boy" album should probably be on this list, but "Stories" rises to the top. Simply an amazingly catchy song on teenage angst, growing up and trying to figure out life.

8. "Beautiful Day" -- It's almost paint-by-the-numbers U2. But what ultimately saves it and makes it great is the huge guitar riff and killer melody.

7. "New Year's Day" -- Another song that is simply U2 at their finest. And you listen to the live version from the '83 Red Rocks show and you hear Edge's guitar just blister with sound. It's pretty intense.

6. "Bad" -- When I think U2 live, I think "Bad." A lot of people might argue "Streets" is U2's signature live song. And maybe it is. But for my money, "Bad" encapsulates everything that makes U2 great.

5. "If You Wear That Velvet Dress" -- You can't do a list like this and just regurgitate their great hits. "Velvet Dress" has long been a favorite of mine simply because it's one of the most subtle, beautiful and atmospheric songs the band has ever recorded. It's only surpassed by...

4. "With or Without You" -- As overplayed as it is, as worn out as it is by junior high school dance DJs, this song still hits all the right emotional cues. It's just an amazing piece of work.

3. "Sunday Bloody Sunday" -- This one doesn't even need commentary. "Wipe the tears from your blood shot eyes."

2. "One" -- An absolutely amazing song. It has a simple, wonderful melody, it hits all sorts of big themes and ideas and it's just beautiful to listen to. Easily one of the greatest songs anyone has ever written.

1. "Stay (Far Away, So Close) -- The greatest song U2 has ever written? That's what I'm saying and not just because Bono agrees. The song is like a well crafted puzzle. It takes the individual strengths from all four members of the band and becomes something that is truly greater than the sum of its parts. The lyrics are deceptively complex and wonderfully descriptive. The melody is emotional and bittersweet. The band came together and produced something they have yet to surpass.


Rob's Worst 11 U2 Songs
11. "The Refugee" -- H.L. really digs this song, and I would argue it could easily reside on both the best and worst lists. For the simple reason that the song is so bad, it's good. But in the interest of time and simplicity, we'll just call it a really bad song and throw it on this list. The song itself is the result of a collaboration between U2 and the Clash's producer Bill Whelan. And the result is clear: don't mix U2 with the Clash. It's like eating Doritos with chocolate milk.

10. "The Playboy Mansion" -- I know, another one H.L. likes, so again, I'm sorry. But I can't stand this song. A great example of Bono just trying way too hard. "If O.J. is more than a drink/And a Big Mac bigger than you think" and on to the gates of the Playboy Mansion.

9. "Original of Species" -- Cool title, great concept. I want to like this song. I really do. But I just can't, hard as I try. "I'll give you everything you want/Except that thing that you want." I'm sorry. I can't excuse that.

8. "Stranger in a Strange Land" -- "October" has a handful of sub-par tracks and this is probably the biggest offender. It's starts off really strong and then just as quickly goes absolutely no where. Kind of disappointing.

7. "Summer Rain" -- An out take from the "All That You Can't Leave Behind" sessions (man, this album really takes a hit) the song just infuriates me. Listening to it is the sonic equivalent of spinning around forever on one of those playground carousels.

6. "Unchained Melody" -- A cover from the "Achtung Baby" era. I've never really liked the song, well, I've always kind of hated it, and U2 certainly gives it nothing new. It's a bad cover of a bad song.

5. "Miami" -- I used to kind of dig this song. But the more I listen to it, the less I like it. It's awkward, tries to paint a picture of something, American culture? Floridian culture? A young boy's love of all things kitsch? It's just not very good.

4. "Wild Honey" -- Witness these lyrics, the opening stanza from the song: "In the days/When we were swinging from the trees/I was a monkey/Stealing honey from a swarm of bees." 'Nuff said.

3. "New York" -- They got the song to kind of work in the live show. But there's not really anything you can do to make it good. It's a mess of lyrics with no real melody.

2. "Angel of Harlem" -- I've hated this song for a long time. "Rattle and Hum" has some great tracks on it and U2 does some really cool stuff experimenting with old school rhythm and blues. But "Angel" is not one of them. Even if it was recorded at Sun Studios. It's obnoxious, it's grating and I just can't stand the horn section. That doesn't mean U2 can't have a horn section. "Red Light" off of "War" is a great song in large part because of the horn section. Anyway, I could go the rest of my life and never hear "Angel" again and be very happy.

1. "Grace" -- I've never been able to listen to this song all the way through. It's so stupid it makes me angry. Mainly, it's looking at the lyrics to the song and comparing them with anything else the band has written. It makes you want to bang your head on something hard. "Grace/It's a name for a girl/It's also a thought that changed the world." It's a nice sentiment. But man, talk about crappy execution.


So there it is. I know this is way too long and if you've read this far you deserve some kind of a special treat. The Rob Report will reward you for it. But first I have to get out the Perfect Pop Song Cds. That's right, I haven't forgotten. I'm just out of burnable CDs.

When the family gets together

That great summer event, Family Reunion Days, has ended. Back in Redding, the heat is oppresive. We returned from Aspen Grove -- just up the road from Sundance in Provo Canyon (that's Utah) -- where temperatures were in the balmy mid-70s to sun-baked Redding, where, rolling down the windows as we drove in to town, we were blasted with 114-dergee wind. The next day, temps climbed to 117. Who chooses to settle in places like these?

"Well Henry, we've made it all the way from St. Louis through wastes of grasslands, scorching deserts and unforgiving mountains. The Donners ate themselves on their way here, but we made it. So after all that we could settle over there in the forest, where the air is cool and the land is fertile and there's plenty of vegetation and animal life on which to subsist. Or we could set up shop here at the top of the valley where it's so hot I can hardly breath and there's no trees, shade or real signs of life."

"Sounds great, John. If this journey has taught me anything, it's that life just isn't fun unless it's miserable."

I imagine something similar happened in Phoenix about 150 years ago. Anyway, facing the Redding heat upon returning from the Utah mountains was the perfect metaphor for returning from the freedoms of vacation to the oppression of regular life. That's not to say regular life is bad. It's just not as carefree and frivolous as vacation life.

We did four days with Becky's family in this huge vacation rental in Heber, which you can read all about at The Scogg. It was a lot of fun -- plenty of room for everyone -- kids mostly -- to run and be free. We spent the mornings watching the World Cup and the afternoons and evenings eating and talking and singing karaoke.

The vacation home had a theater room with eight leather recliners, a projector and wall-size screen. It was something to behold -- and something, on retrospect, we probably should have used more. Like the good little boy scout I am, I came prepared. I had U2's latest concert video on hand and put it in maybe 30 minutes after arriving at the house. It was like actually watching the show. Everything was life-size and the 5.1 surround sound made it sound astounding. I got chills watching it. For that alone I need to thank Becky's parents for making the reunion happen and Becky for finding the place.

We left Heber Saturday morning and headed down to Provo for my family's reunion at Aspen Grove. The Grove, as I like to call it, is run by BYU's alumni association, and is kind of like your classic summer camp, except it has classes and activities for adults as well as the kids. All in all it was pretty great. The kids split up into groups everyday leaving the adults to do as they wish. You eat in a cafeteria (more on that later) so there's no cooking and cleaning up afterwards. It's not a bad way to do a family reunion.

In fact there's so much provided that Becky and I left feeling a little guilty. We didn't do any of the little classes and only participated in a handful of the activities -- not the best way to get your (parent's) money's worth. Or maybe we did. I discovered a handful of Ian Flemming novels in one of rooms at the main lodge and decided I borrow them for a while. I certainly plan on returning them, and in the meantime, well, I am a BYU alum and I pay my tithing, so either way I'm covered.

Anyway, for me, vacation is about doing stuff you don't normally get to do day to day. Lounging around doing next to nothing is something frankly I don't get to do enough of. So for that, the Grove was worth it to me.

And having the meals provided seemed worth it for the first few days. But after about Tuesday, everything started to taste the same. On Wednesday you noticed you had a slight stomach ache after finishing you meal. By Thursday, the pine cones and aspen leaves seemed more appetizing than anything off those buffet tables. Thank goodness for cereal every morning and all the milk and juice you could drink.

The best of course was just being able to see family. Living in California we don't see much of anyone too often. I have sisters in Arizona, Washington and Utah and brothers in Indiana and D.C. So the reunions are definitely a way to reconnect and just enjoy your siblings.

It's also a reminder of how old you're getting. Becky's family did a tribute to Dad Darrington who's turning 60 next month. And we did a little to-do for Dad Rogers who just retired after 40 years with CES. If our parents are getting that old, we must be getting old. Dan, my olderst brother casually reminded us that in 10 years he'd turn 50. And everyone gasped.

So reunions are good. You realize your nieces and nephews are a lot of fun and your siblings and their spouses are cooler than you remember and you own kids aren't so annoying when their gone eight hours a day. You leave feeling maybe family is alright.

Goodbye Linus

Well, it looks like little Linus will have to wait. Becky and the girls and I just got back from the doctor's and it appears we're having ...















A GIRL. But it's not a done deal yet. Apparently there was an umbilical cord and some legs and other things obstructing the view. The doc said, probably a girl but not 100 percent, and she'll tell us for sure next month. We're not sweating it. We're used to having girls -- it's like it's become our family identity. Claire on the other hand isn't so sure. last night she told us a boy would be great, but that she was okay with whatever Heavenly Father sent us. "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit," she said.

Well that went right out the window when the doctor told us it was probably a girl. "But I didn't want a girl," she said. It was great. Anyway, the problem now, of course, is coming up with a name. Maybe we'll let the girls choose. Claire would name her Diamond Sparkle and Leigh would probably name her Purple. Hmmmm. Purple. I kind of like that.

Of bees and zeds

Well, it's been a lonely walk through the wilderness, but I'm back. Washington, D.C. as always was a blast and the bee was pretty insane.

I'm a little disappointed as a matter of fact. I was kind of hoping to blog a little bit during Bee Week just because you see such insane stuff going on. But the days were busy and my Internet connection was about as reliable as a Ryan Jensen. Which is to say, not very.

So I'll give you the cliff notes version before I hit the sack. As it's been widely reported, ABC Sports broadcast the event for the first time in prime time. ESPN has carried the event for the past 12 years, but the 2006 bee was the first to be beamed on network TV.

In years past, the only time you'd see the TV cameras -- and even most of the reporters -- was during the actual days of competition, Wednesday and Thursday. But with ABC involved, cameras were every where, all the time. It was pretty crazy. And, believe it or not, the bee kids ate it up. I don't know if it's because they're starved for attention or feel a crushing desire to prove to the world they're normal just like everyone else. But the spellers played to the camera every chance they got, whether it was studying in the lobby of the Grand Hyatt or mugging for the cameras at the barbecue. They were all over it.

In fact, the cameras caught me a couple of times. At the barbecue, I was eating with Maheen's brother when the ABC camera man shows up and starts filming the two of us eating. We make a couple jokes to ourselves about it being bad enough to have people watch you eat, but to have a camera in your face, too? Anyway, I figured why not mock this guy in my own little way. You know, let him know I'm not dying for the attention. So I turned, looked into the camera and then picked my nose. And I mean I just started digging like I was going to find gold if I tried hard enough. I don't think Ahmad saw and I certainly didn't get a reaction from the camera man. Needless to say, it didn't make the barbecue montage ABC put together later that week. I probably screwed Ahamd's chances of getting on national TV.

And a word about the spellers themselves. They're a fun bunch. I would say a good two-thirds are your stereotypical spelling bee contestants. Just straight up, unabashed nerds. They revel in their geekiness and when they all get together, it's like they form some kind of hive. The core group of these kids are a collection of about 20 who keep in touch online during the off-season to help each other study and prepare for the next bee. The same groups spends the majority of bee week in the hotel lobby sitting on the couches and chairs, simulating the spelling bee. The alpha male of the group controls the computer and reads the words which the other kids then have to spell. They get knocked out when they misspell -- just like in the real thing -- and sometimes they even ridicule eachother. It's pretty funny. They're like 11, 12, 13 and 14 years old and they all act like they have the weight of the world on their shoulders.

And the lobby of the Grand Hyatt is about as wide open as lobbies get. It's open all the way to the glass-windowed ceiling with twelve floors of rooms on either side looking down. Everyone who walks in, checks out or heads to the ballrooms sees these kids sitting and studying. So, I was a little surprised, but equally entertained, by one speller -- a favorite who had already participated a couple years -- who sat studying most of Tuesday morning in his pajamas. But not pajamas like you'd think a teenager would wear -- this kids is 13, I believe. He had matching white pajamas decorated with little colored snowboarders. You know, like pajamas you see a 6- or 7-year-old wear. It kind of creeped me out after a while.

My favorite moment of speller geekdom, though, occurred when the Canadian speller -- the one who ended up taking second -- spelled a word that ended with the letter "z." Being from Canada, she of course said "zed" not "zee." All the little spellers sitting around me guffawed and snorted qas soon as they heard it, and said things like, "she did not just say 'zed'" or "I can't believe she said 'zed.'" It was classic.

So there's my week at a glance. I got to see H.L. and Randall, and H.L. and I even went out to lunch at this little dive across the street from the Department of Labor's building. It was pretty cool. Saw Mom and Dad off. They were actually going to stay with me Tuesday night (for some reason, each year the paper has booked me for the bee, they've stuck me in a room with two beds). But they ditched me at the last minute for the comforts of their almost empty apartment. It appears I'm not as cool as I used to be.

And on a final note, congrats to H.L., Steph (I'll get up to see you and Travis next year, I swear) and D, for winning a copy of The Rob Report's Perfect Songs Vol. 1. That's just exciting.

Did you ever

I was going back lookng at my Perfect Song series and realized my first post only listed two songs while the rest include three. So today is the Perfect Song Vol. 1 bonus edition. You can catch up with the past editions here, here, here and here.

The indomitable spirit of The Rob Report remains. That's the way we work around here. While the first response was overwhelming, I must soldier on. So once again, the first three folks to merely respond in the comments get a free copy of The Rob Report's Perfect Songs Vol.1, which will include today's bonus song. C'mon, free goods, it's what the internet exists for.

The Samples' "Did You Ever Look So Nice": The Samples spent their entire career on the cusp of making it big. For some reason, complete commercial success always eluded them and they've since kind of faded off into semi-obscurity. But back in the '90's, they were constantly turning out material that shimmered and rang and stuck in your head for weeks on end. In a good way. One of the finest examples, and probably one of the simplest, purest pop songs out there, is their fourth track from "No Room," "Did You Ever Look So Nice." The song is pure Samples. It's upbeat and catchy and wonderfully melodic, almost shiny. Like a lot of the band's songs it hides a sense of nostalgia and longing behind this happy, bouncy ode to a beautiful girl. "Growing up was on our faces/I remember yours so sweet." In true Samples fashion, the lyrics don't completely make sense, "And if we make through these changes/To find that nothing was in store/But the plans of our exchanges/Did they ever look so nice/Did you ever you ever look so nice." But that just adds another layer . If this song doesn't make you smile by the end, you have a heart of stone.


And so, here, the complete track listing of Perfect Pop Songs, Vol. 1 (the links at the top of the post will take you to my praise-tastic write-ups of each song):

1. The Sample's "Did You Ever Look So Nice"

2. Wilco's "Red Eyed and Blue"

3. U2's "If You Wear That Velvet Dress"

4. The Connell's "'74-'75"

5. The Push Stars' "Opening Time"

6. Los Fabulosos Cadillacs' "El Matador"

7. U2's "Big Girls Are Best"

8. Midnight Oil's "The Dead Heart"

9. Franz Ferdinand's "Take Me Out"

10. Spoon's "Everything Hits at Once"

11. U2's "Pride (In the Name of Love)"

12. Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah"

A word on that one band

I guess we need to put this to bed once and for all.

Dave very aptly pointed out that I've never really stated what it is about Creed that sucks, I've only said they suck. So let me see if I can quantify just what it is about this band I really don't like.

For me, I guess it comes down to two things: lack of any creativity and possessing no originality. To my untrained ears they sound like a bad Pearl Jam cover band. I listen to their songs and it's like they all hit this kind of emotional short-hand. The big power chords, the simple melodies, the generalized lyrics. They make an immediate sensory impact on the listener. It all adds up to Creed being the Smarties of the rock world -- music that's sweet and immediately palatable and then gone as quickly as it came. To me, as a listener, that's lazy and insulting. And I get bored of it really quick.

Had they not sounded like every other grunge rock band that came before them, had their big singles not been played into the ground, had the Evangelical Christians not latched onto the band, I might have given them more of a chance.

The thing is I like music that challenges me. It doesn't have to be indie, it doesn't have to be obscure. It just has to challenge me. That's everything from Queen to Elvis Costello to Wilco to U2. I don't get sick of it, I always hear something new when I listen to it and it entertains me. Creed simple didn't do those things for me. You've heard one Creed song, you've almost literally heard them all.

To be honest, Dave and I may have gotten off on the wrong foot. Creed and U2 are two different groups, appealing to two different people for a variety of different reasons. I will say that as I clumsily tried to make my point about U2 being a better band, in some respects I may have simply been comparing apples to oranges. The issue is moot at any rate. Creed is no longer together and U2 has been inducted into the Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame.

One more point, before I put away the pen. I often fall into the trap of pegging people by the music they listen to -- because I define myself by the music I listen to. That's a fallacy. Not everyone defines themselves by their music. So I'll just say, bear in mind U2's the best band on the planet and everything will be right as rain.

Edicion familiar

Here's the update; I've been meaning to do this since Saturday. The fathers/sons was a blast. Leigh, for the most part, did really well. The weather had us nervous. It was pouring in Redding and the further east we got the more constant the rain became. But Leigh and I decided we weren't made of surgar -- we could handle a little rain. The foritude paid off. About 20 miles from the campground the rain stopped and the skies cleared.

Anyway, we got there, set up our tent and Leigh immediately wanted to jump inside, get on her pajamas and crawl in her sleeping bag. It's about 7 at this point and we hadn't even eaten dinner. But, who am I to argue with a three-year-old? She got changed, got into her sleeping bag and after 5 minutes, decided that was good. We were up and out to dinner. She chowed on potato salad and then sat by the fire once it got dark and roasted a couple marshmallows. Fire and surgar. She was in heaven.

It wasn't nearly as cold at night as last year's campout and Leigh managed to sleep pretty much through the night. Except for one point at like 2 in the morning when she decided she wanted to crawl into my mummy bag. Yeah, it didn't work. We bundled her up and got her back to sleep without incident.

After breakfast we went and climbed this gigantic rubble pile of volcanic rock that's like 300 feet high. The whole way up it was, "Daddy? We climb mountain?" over and over. It was fun.

Comments about her being the only girl at an all-boys event were relatively few. One obnoxious 9-year-old, known in the ward for being the primary's most pious know-it-all (that maybe a little harsh, he's pretty funny most of the time and helped me put the rain fly on my tent) told me I probably shouldn't have taken Leigh and that we should charge girls to come to the fathers/son.

I asked him what are fathers who have no sons to do? He responded, "take a non-member." You can't argue with that. I told him once Leigh was too old to take, that's what I'd do -- if he promised to do it as well. I didn't get a definite reponse.

In other news, I've taken my brother-in-law Scott's advice and told the rest of the family about the Rob Report. So, welcome family. Sit back and enjoy my pointless, meandering writings.

And to you Luker, a special shout-out. Lucky bastard has a disease named after him.

It's all brand new

The time has come, as Peter Garrett once said. After two years and more than a thousand hits, I'm updating the look of The Rob Report. So I give you the generic blog template SnapShot Sable. If I were somekind of savy computer guy, I could maybe design my own page. As such, we'll make do riding on the coattails of Blogger.

It's late May. That means the annual Fathers/Sons Campout is coming. It's an interesting tradition, if you stop to think about it. To commerate the restoration of the Aaronic Priesthood, fathers take thier sons and head for the hills. Describing it like that almost makes it sound fundamentalist. It's not really like that. Mostly, it's an excuse to go camping and hang out with your familiars. And if your ward is doing it right, the event will include a short, concise, campfire devotional on the Aaronic Priesthood.

Anyway, the Fathers/Sons is tomorrow. We'll be heading up to Hat Creek, which is a pretty nice area to go camping. I bring it up because I have no male offspring, just two beautiful, crazy daughters. Two years ago, when we first got to Redding and Claire was just 3, the ward was making a push to get all the priesthood holders to go, sons or no sons. I thouht it would be alright but thouhgt it wouldn't really be fair to leave Becky alone with two crazies for a weekend while I went off camping, so I took along Claire. And we had a blast.

Anyway, she's closing in on 6 now and these days really kinda sticks out as a girl at an all-boys-and-men event. But Leigh (there on the right), well, she's 3 now. I can take her. So yeah, I'll keep the family tradition alive and take a daughter to the Fathers/Sons. And it should be a good time. Leigh is hilarious. She's a total goofball 3-year-old and if you can placate her mean streak (and it is a serious mean streak), she's a lot fun to hang out with.

I'm Resting

I'm resting on my laurels. Now that I've passed that magical threshold of a thousand hits, it's like I've got nothing left to do. I know, I know. My reader (singular) is clamoring for more. So I post on. Actually, I might be embelishing a little bit. No one's really clamoring for more. Except my pride. It's clamoring for more. It should be put in its place.


Anyway. There's a little bit new to write about. I finally picked up a copy of Passengers -- U2's 1995 experimental electonica album they recorded with Brian Eno. I've, of course, heard it before. Some of it was pretty freakin eclectic. And listening to it now, well, nothing's really changed. It's almost obtuse. But still kind of fun.

So my brother-in-law Scott has started his own blog, called the Scogg. I know, pretty awesome. Anyway, he's easily the funniest and more gregarious of all my marriage relations, so I'm looking forward to reading all his musings. Well, maybe not all of them. He's a city manager too. If he goes off on urban planning, I might fade off.

Which presents an interesting dilema for me. I purposely didn't tell the family I created my blog, because in those early days I used it to kind of rage against those family members that bugged me. I know, it's very passive aggressive of me. But everyone needs an outlet. Anyway, the Report's been pretty family friendly for a year now. So I'm left with the dilema, Do I tell the fam about the Rob Report, or do I continue on writing for my audience of two -- sometimes three -- readers? Or do I go back and expunge the offending material and then go public? Decisions, decisions, decisions.


It's at times like these I'm grateful for Show and Tell Music. And more specifically for the Mystery Singer. He makes life just a little more sweet. If only we knew who he was. Seriously. If I ever put out an album, this is how I'm doing it. Show and Tell is going through a redesign, so most of its album art archive is not available. But there's still a pretty good amount of stuff there, enough to keep you plenty entertained for hours. Go check it out. You'll thank me later.

And, as one final note, go support your local immigrant population. It's them with us that makes America truly what it is. Por este razon, yo digo, Viva Mexico. Y viva el obredor. Tienen derechos tal como tu y yo. Y deben poder llegar a ser ciudadanos de este pais si quieren. Hizimos lo mismo por tus abuelos.

Our Achtung Baby

I know. It's something only the people who have some kind of affectionate relationship with my children will find funny. But I'm still gonna post it, because I think it's pretty funny. Some quick background.

We listen to a lot of U2 in our house. We also watch a lot of the concert videos. The latest to make the rounds is the Vertigo show from Chicago. My daughters' favorite part is the encore when the band goes into "Zoo Station" and the drawing of the kid that appears on the cover of "Zooropa" pops up on the big screen and starts crying. It's officially known as the Achtung Baby, which I insist the girls call it. Anyway, life is predictably crazy with Becky still dealing with morning sickness, but the girls are excited that Becky's pregnant and they love talking about what we're going to name the new baby. Claire, my 5-year-old, who's oldest and thus thinks she's the third parent in our family, is always quick to offer the serious, authoritative opinion. So on to the story.

I picked up Claire from school today and so I was asking her the usual questions. How was class? How was show-and-tell? All that good stuff. Well, she starts telling me about her friend whose turn it was for sharing and how she interupted her. I asked Claire why she interupted and Claire told me she announced to the class the newest name for our little bun-in-the-oven. I asked her what name is that. And she said she told the class she thinks we should name it the Achtung Baby. She said we could just call it Achtung. For the record, I'm all for it.

Then tonight, before bed, she wants to tell us a joke. She does the usual chicken-crossing-the-road-bit and then tells us we have to tell a joke, too. So I do one of my favorites about a guy lost in the desert and dying of thirst who comes across a McDonald's and thinks he saved. So he goes inside and orders a peanut butter sandwich (it's really all in the telling). Anyway, Leigh tells a joke and then Claire tells us she's got another she wants to tell. So she starts up about a girl lost on the beach, dying of hunger and thirst who then sees a Chucky Cheese. At this point she stops to tell Becky and me that her joke is just like mine. Then she continues. The girl gets into the Chucky Cheese and, in a parched voice that Claire imitates, orders a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats. For some reason that was just hilarious. Becky about died laughing. And that's that. Child rearing can be fun.

I'm nearly great but there's something missing

Alright, I give. It's clear a daily post from me is never going to happen. You win, world. It's back to being a quitter for me.


Speaking of sloth (that's the periodic table of sloth to the right), I got on the scale Sunday night and I've finally hit the magic number. I weighed in at 200 lbs. It's like breaking the 4-minute mile of weight, expect in reverse. By my reckoning, that offically makes me a middle-aged American male. I couldn't be prouder of myself. And I know my country is proud of me too.

In other news, I've been on a raging U2 kick lately. The shuffle function on my iPod is a glorious feature. I've been listening to the 440 some-odd U2 songs I've got on my little machine through shuffle and it's like I've gone sonic exploring. I can't get enough. You hear the songs in strange juxtipositions and listen to tracks you'd almost forgotten about. It's like regular shuffle but magnified.

It's been compounded by this (you'll have to scroll down to the third graf), as I'm still discovering material. Anyway, with H.L.'s birthday coming up, I thought I'd send him a copy of everything. Who wouldn't love that? No one, my friends. No one.

And that's Friday for you. Stay close and watch as the counter rolls over to 1,000. It could happen any second! I'm gonna go get a life. Later.

Becky's curious condition

It's been just over three months now and while we're still not out of the woods yet, it's probably safe to comment more specifically on Becky's curious condition. Which continues. She's pregnant with our third child. It was planned. But I'll tell you what, she gets morning sickness something fierce. We're not sure why she's so lucky, but I'd like to think it has something to do with her super sense of smell. I'm serious. If she were one of the X-Men, her mutant ability would be sense of smell. In times of normal, non-pregnancy health, she can smell trace amounts of anything from a hundred miles away. It's pretty impressive. Anyway, pregnancy comes with its nausea and food aversions and her sense of smell is suddenly heightened to cosmic levels. She can smell things no other human smell. It's kind of like a dog whistle for smells.

But in another week or so she'll be through the worst of it. Then it's just being great with child during the long summer months of Redding. The long, 110-degree summer months of Redding. She may find puking every other day in the cool April rain maybe isn't so bad. But probably not. This nausea is pretty awful. And, as pregnant as she'll be, she'll at least be able to swim to beat the unforgivable summer heat. Although, not until she waits an hour after she eats. Or she'll puke.

Did I say every day?

Okay. So the whole posts-everyday-plan didn't quite work out. I'm lazy. Tell me something I don't know. So we'll say, starting today, it's posts everyday until we hit 1,000. I'm so on it. Grab the signs and hit the streets, the revolution starts now.

First off, the last installment of my Perfect Songs Vol. 1 list. You can catch up here, here and here. A friend of mine had the brilliant idea of burning the perfect songs onto a disc and giving them out to whoever replied in the comments sections. That's right, all you have to do is reply. The first three people get a copy of Rob's Perfect Songs Vol. 1. Free swag! The Web is such a wonderful resource.


Spoon's "Everything Hits at Once": It's the first cut from their 2002 kind-of-come-back album "Girls Can Tell" and, while nearly every song off this album could be considered perfect in some way or another, "Everything Hits at Once" grabs you first. It's a sonically dense, bright but dark around the edges little pop song, complete with a piano break and lots of "oooos." It shimmers with minimalist lines like, "Don't say a word/The last one still stinging" and "I go to sleep/But think you're next to me." In the end the song's about tragedy and lost love, but it's brilliantly rendered with an upbeat rock swing and a catchy melody.

U2's "Pride (In the Name of Love)": Sure, it's probably one of the band's top three overplayed, way-too-well-known songs, but it has that status for a reason. The song simply doesn't miss. The guitar riff that backs it is easily one of the best the Edge has ever turned out and the lyrics beg to be shouted out at the top of your lungs. It comes together on every single level. You find yourself unconscienciously tapping your foot when the song starts and by the end you're ready to take the front lines in the fight for civil rights. It's simply U2 at their best, doing what they do best. It's a perfect song, a perfect anthem.

Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah": Most of Buckley's songs are brilliant. But his cover of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" is flawless, absolutely the definitive version of the song -- and it's been covered by the likes of Bono and Rufus Wainwright. It's moody, sweeping, sorrowful and joyous all at the same time. Because of Buckley's unsurpassable vocals. It's like the song was written specifically for his voice. He hits these beautiful Irish tenor highs and breathes intimacy into some of Cohen's bolder phrases. Like most of Cohen's songs, it's dripping with Biblical imagery and Buckley is makes it work on various levels. From the opening line, "Well I heard there was a secret chord/That David played and it pleased the Lord/But you don't really care for music do you" to the line "And I've seen your flag on the marble arch/And love is not a victory march/It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah," Not a single note is wasted, not a single line is thrown away. Buckley makes it his own and it's a prefect song because of it. At some point in your life you will listen to this song and it will make you cry.

Back from the Gulag Archipelago

It's been a long March, but I'm back. And here's the goal: a post everyday until I reach 1,000 hits. We're on the home stretch, baby. It's only taken like two years to hit the big K. But together, we can do it.

Work has been insane. We've had the spelling bee, a deposed college president, a handful of school districts wanting to go after bonds and, as always, weekly education pages to fill. Not to mention house guests last weekend and Becky's continuing curious condition. Sorry about the alliteration. Anyway, it's conference weekend, Claire's school has a daddy-daughter dance tomorrow and I'm out of here in 30 minutes. Things are looking up.

Onto other pop culture-y type stuff. We'll start out with updates to my two long-running features, one today, one tomorrow: Perfect Songs (you can check out the last installments here, here and here) and iPod Updates (past editions here, here, here and here). We'll take care of the iPod first.

Gigabytes used: 10.3

Number of Songs: 2267

Number of Podcasts: 3

Most random recording: "Little Whale" by the Samples. It's a 56-second song from their second studio album "No Room." It's just strange. It's half spoken/song by someone trying not to laugh. It repeats "Oh little whale" various times, imploring the marine mammal to come out and play. And then ends abruptly with "Keep swimming, mister."

Most eclectic recording: "Hotel California" by the Gypsy Kings. The crazy Spanish guitarists give their interpretation of the Eagles classic -- in Spanish -- in their famous driving, thrumming acoustic sound. It's awesome. The Spanish translation is literal, but not quite word for word. And the chorus is in heavily accented English. You'd be hard pressed to find a cooler -- while still being sincere -- cover of the song. It originally showed up Elektra's 40th anniversary double disc "Rubaiyat," which unfortunately is out of print.

Favorite recording currently (as always, this is subject to sudden change): It's a toss up between Spoon's "Everything Hits at Once" and "Me and the Bean." The songs are from their 2002 album "Girls Can Tell" and they're both brilliant. One of them might show up tomorrow in the perfect song index.

Most embarrassing recording: "Come Undone" from Duran Duran's self-titled 1994 album. It really needs no explanation. It's a chick song, there's no hiding it. But for some reason I dig it.

Number of U2 songs: 440

Number of Wade & Wanda Lindstrom songs: 12 and frankly that's 12 too many and yet they're still there in the ol' iPod.

I mock because I care

Every year I find I care less and less about the Oscars. I don't know if it's the general decline in the (perceived) quality of mainstream American movies, the fact that I'm just getting older and now care about more pertinent things in my life, or if it's because I just don't give two craps about Hollywood's oh-so-unhealthy obsession with itself and the way that it's magnified by the Oscar spectacle.

Anyway. I don't care. That's not to say I have stopped loving movies. Just ask Becky, that certainly isn't the case. We watched "Metropolitan" over the weekend and I was reminded once again why I loved Whit Stillman. And not just Whit Stillman, but the intensely high-quality sometimes independent films that just appeared as if from nowhere in the 1990s. Maybe I'm just being nostalgic. I'm probably just being nostalgic. That said, I miss the sense of discovery I had when I stumbled across "Kafka" when I was in high school. That doesn't happen anymore. And maybe that's the Information Age speaking. You don't discover anything anymore because everything's out there and instantly accessible. I mean INSTANTLY accessible. That's not to say the Internet is bad. It just kind of spoils you. And sometimes it's no fun being spoiled.

A friend, Ryan Jensen, pointed that out last year. He spent most of high school trying to get his hands on a rare U2 "Unforgettable Fire"-era B-side called "Sixty Seconds in Kingdom Come." He talked about that inimitable feeling of finally finding it in some dive, taking it home and listening to it. Last year, when U2 released their virtual box set on iTunes, it was immediately available to anyone with 99 cents. Which isn't a bad thing, it's a pretty cool tune. But man, it sure takes away the fun.

On the other hand, while reading Wonkette today, I stumbled a cross a photo of Cody Stewart, my dyed-in-the-wool, true-blue, red-state Republican at a Meet the Press event waiting in line to get his book "An Army of Davids" signed. Finding Cody on the Internet is fun. Finding a picture of him on the oh-so-liberal Web site Wonkette is nothing short of wonderfully delicious. Thank you for that, Internet.

I'm totally rambling now. There's more news to report, but I think we'll wait. This pointless drivel is good for today.

Blossoming of Orlando cannot act

It's fun with Babelfish day. If you haven't tried this wonderful Internet feature, you've missed out sorely.

Here's last Friday's post, my half-review of "Elizabethtown," translated through Babelfish into Greek and then back again -- once again through Babelfish -- into English. Let the hilarity ensue!


Thus, Becky and I reached finally around in the attention "Elizabethtown." It should you occupy, I am one from those types that consider that the Cameron Crowe cannot make no erroneous. Usually. And perhaps for ekej'no.ton the reason "Elizabethtown" it was almost impossible to be careful. It is a big history, with the classic situations Crowe, the dilemmas, the dilemmas and the dialogue. But I cannot think that a other cinema I have seen in the recent history that is this miscast apaj'sja. Simaj'nw horrifically miscast.

Me you allow I explain. I love "the Lord of rings." I am gentleman of all of three special extensive publication DVDs. I think that Legolas is big. But the blossoming of Orlando cannot act. I now stand for and I certify in the world that the blossoming of Orlando cannot act. And if there a thing that a cinema of Cameron Crowe needs so that it survives and it is even developed he is really good perpetrator of character -- La John Cusack and Jason Lee and Campbell Scott, etc (yes, the Tom Cruise is the obvious exception.) In the blossoming "Elizabethtown" that tripped on his lines, in costars, and did not present no one sygkjnitjki' expression for two hours. That of good feat in and. The films of Crowe so much completely character-lead that they are only so much successful as the perpetrators of films are believable. And the blossoming of Orlando is nothing but believable. A fast example? The scene where it presents his disappointment in the loss of exit 60B. It should I turn my head in the embarrassment.

C*Kirsten Dunst. Now, me you do not take erroneous. In in her her world I think a enough good actor. Thus I do not know ea'n fault of her Crowe or hers, but was also horrible in the cinema. Or perhaps it acted the part too much well. Perhaps the problem was this tried plays the peculiar, trello' girl that you see in each single romantic comedy that comes always out from the dawn of time. And that a problem because the films of Cameron Crowe are not romantic comedies. They are more as romantic dramadies. En pa'si perjptw'sej, with the output of Kirsten sate via most from the cinema that it waits for big I reveal that the character of Kirsten was really bipolar or psychologically disturbed and that the blossoming in order to it shows that him it loved genuinely him would help via her senility and him would take the help that needed and the spillikin with via thinks and slims -- a La "Benny and Joon." It is naturally reasonable. At least, according to handwritten. Her behavior in all the film that was stuck precisely outside as a shine type because the rest of cinema, him considers or no, was supported in something that resembles with the realism.

Thus there it is. It should him I go down my breast. The rest of litter was little very bitumen perfect. Two thinly Baldwin Alec was marvellously. The cinema deserves almost for drew scene of monuments of/birds "Free of dads". This was enough classic. But globally, the film concerns precisely villages the shoulders of blossoming and Dunst. It plays as a casuistic study in the poor cast. It was astonishingly bad.

Why, Cameron Crowe? Why?

So, Becky and I finally got around to watching "Elizabethtown." You must understand, I'm one of those types who believe Cameron Crowe can do no wrong. Mostly. And maybe for that reason "Elizabethtown" was nearly impossible to watch. It's a great story, with classic Crowe situations, quandaries, dilemmas and dialogue. But I can't think of another movie I've seen in recent history that has been this horribly miscast. I mean horrifically miscast.

Let me explain. I love "Lord of the Rings." I own all three special extended edition DVDs. I think Legolas is great. But Orlando Bloom cannot act. I stand here and now and proclaim to the world that Orlando Bloom cannot act. And if there's one thing a Cameron Crowe movie needs in order to survive and even thrive is a really good character actor -- a la John Cusack and Jason Lee and Campbell Scott, etc. (Yes, Tom Cruise is the obvious exception.) In "Elizabethtown" Bloom tripped over lines, bumbled into his costars, and showed no emotive expression for two hours. That's kind of a feat in and of itself. Crowe's films are so completely character-driven that they're only as successful as the films' actors are believable. And Orlando Bloom is anything but believable. A quick example? The scene where he shows his frustration at missing Exit 60B. I had to turn my head in embarrassment.

Kirsten Dunst. Now, don't get me wrong. Within her world I think she's a pretty good actress. So I don't know if its Crowe's fault or hers, but she was also terrible in the movie. Or maybe she acted her part too well. Maybe the problem was she tried to play the quirky, crazy girl you see in every single romantic comedy that's ever come out since the dawn of time. And that's a problem because Cameron Crowe films aren't romantic comedies. They're more like romantic dramadies. Anyway, with Kirsten's performance I sat through most of the movie waiting for the big reveal that Kirsten's character was actually bipolar or psychologically disturbed and that Bloom to show that he truly loved her would help her through her dementia and get her the help she needed and stick with her through think and thin -- a la "Benny and Joon." She of course is sane. At least, according to the script. Her behavior throughout the film just stuck out like a glaring typo because the rest of the movie, believe it or not, was grounded in a something resembling realism.

So there it is. I had to get it off my chest. The rest of the cast was pretty much pitch perfect. Alec Baldwin's two minutes were wonderful. The movie is almost worth seeing for the Drew's dad memorial/"Free Bird" scene. That was pretty classic. But overall, the film just falls apart on the shoulders of Bloom and Dunst. It plays like a case study in poor casting. It was surprisingly bad.

The dread pirate Thomas

I caught a little Q&A with Rob Thomas, the creator of "Veronica Mars," and he was talking about the music he uses in the show. At that point he was asked what his five favorite bands were:

"Hmmm. Wilco, the Clash, U2, the Replacements and Elvis Costello. Am I a 40-year-old white guy, or what?"

All of a sudden I know why I'm so pulled in by this show. Thomas is obviously operating on a bandwidth close to my own brain waves. It's like I've been validated.

In other news, if you'll look at the counter over on the righthand side of the page you'll notice that we're dangerously close to hitting the 1,000-page visit mark. You better believe we're planning something huge for that milestone. Maybe it'll be double the used minidiscs, maybe it'll be a swag bag full of all the stuff I can't sell on half.com. Either way, get your contest shoes ready. We're going dancing.

We're at a place called Vertigo

Not bad. Not bad at all. Five Grammys last night plus three a year ago for "Bomb" to make 20 total over their 25-year career. You can't deny U2. You can try, but you can't deny 'em. They are so on their game they make everyone else look like raging amatuers.

It's all about the ketchup

There is a potato chip of the month club. Where have I been that I missed that little kernal of glorious truth? In fact there are a handful of them. I can't tell you what this does to me, lover that I am of all things junk food. And like the U2 iPod before it, chip of the month clubs aren't cheap. In fact, the best of the bunch, Anchor's Chip of the Month Club, is $300 for a full year. But you get 6 different 4 oz. to 10 oz. bags of various local, speciality and gormet chips per box each month. It's almost worth it. I still can't believe no one in the country makes a ketchup-flavored chip. They're awesome. And Tim's Cascade, a big seller around here, makes a great dill pickle flavor. But for some reason if you're south of Oregon you can't find it. I could go on, but I won't. I know you're quietly thanking me.

No time like the present

There's not a lot going on. Mix that with the fact that sometimes I'm lazy and you get long stetches of no posts. But I'm going out on a limb here and saying my two readers don't care.

But let's not have that stop us. First and foremost, U2 are up for Album of the Year (among other awards) at the Grammys Wednesday. I've posted my thoughts long ago on their current album, "How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb" and so you probably know I'm hoping they'll win because I love U2 and not because I was especially blown away by "Atomic Bomb."

Here's a brief recap: Overall, I liked it and it sounds good, but there's something unfinished or unpolished about it -- like a B-side. Sometimes the arrangements sound improvised, sometimes the lyrics are kind of akward. Maybe I'm just not squaring with the change in tone. With their songs, what was once shrouded in mystery and metaphor is now just blatant and out there. For me, the stand-out songs are "Love and Peace or Else," "A Man and a Woman" and "Original of Species."


Anyway, to the fun stuff. Today it's the pogo pop edition of "The Perfect Song," seeing as how the Grammys are coming. You can check out the last installments here and here.

Franz Ferdinand's "Take Me Out" -- The group is relatively new on the scene and "Take Me Out" illustrates what they do so well. The song is a short, bouncy ode to nightlife. It's got a killer, but killer, guitar hook that leaves you feeling happy. The song doesn't waste a note, a beat or a word. "I say you don't know/You say you don't go/I say take me out." It's good times from start to finish.

Midnight Oil's "The Dead Heart" -- Maybe not the first song that pops into your head when someone says pogo pop, but if this song doesn't have you moving by the time it wraps, you might need a defribulator. It's got an incredible beat, it takes heavy, socio-political themes and makes them something you can dance to and its chorus floats a perfect melody that's impossible not to hum to. "We carry in our hearts the true country/and that cannot be stolen/We follow in the steps of our ancestry/and that cannot be broken" It's a low key, killer song.

U2's "Big Girls Are Best" -- I know, I know. Yet another U2 song. But this one truly kicks arse. It's got this heavy, Adam-and-Larry-driven groove. It's chorus is "big girls are best" and the refrain repeats "sexy momma" over and over. The song just thumps and moves. It's a blast. And it's easy to listen to. You can't go wrong with a tune that proclaims "little girls are a pest/big girls are the best."

Housekeeping

We got to get the drudgery out of the way so we can get on to the fun stuff. First, the @U2.com poll I plugged last month. The results are in (as of, like, two weeks ago) and they're kind of surprising. You can check them out here, if you're curious. Turns out a lot more people than I thought really dig "Where the Streets Have No Name" live. I was always under the impression that if one song could go from the concert line up, that would be it. I guess not. Anyway, the survey results offer a glut of info. When you check it out, make sure you leave yourself plenty of time.

Second, we've been talking music here in the newsroom and the conversation has found its way to the old what-CDs-would-you-take-if-you-were-stranded-on-a-desert-island topic. So, in the spirit of keeping up with conversations we've all had since junior high, the following is my list of Desert Island Discs or DIDs, as we call them. Feel free to add your own list in the comments section. You know you want to:

Achtung Baby! and POP - U2
Being There and Yankee Hotel Foxtrot - Wilco
March 16-20, 1994 and Anodyne - Uncle Tupelo
Dark Side of the Moon and Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
Who's Next - The Who
Time Out of Mind - Bob Dylan
Cuando Los Angeles Lloran and Donde Jugaran Los Ninos - Mana
50 Anos Vol. II - Trio Los Panchos
BBC Sessions - Led Zeppelin (cheating? maybe)
Coltrane and John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman - John Coltrane


Not a super definitive list, but something to chew on. And the last thing that needs taken care of is an iPod update. I know, I know, you've all been clamoring for it. So you can settle down now and have yet another look into my very unsurprising mp3 collection. Past editions here, here and here.

Gigabytes used: 8.6

Number of Songs: 2165

Number of Podcasts: 6

Most random recording: "Bernie's Tune" by Curley Hamner. It's this jazzy, swingy number with freaky piano accopaniment very remeniscent of Squirrel Nut Zipper, this bridge that sounds like someone's sitting on a tuba and an organ solo. It's from, where else, my Ultra Lounge collection.

Most eclectic recording: "Farewell to Arms" by Emerson Lake & Palmer. The song is from "Black Moon" the band's earnest and misguided attempt to break into the early 90s rock scene. The song itself, as you can imagine (it's named for Hemingway's WWI love story!?), is deadly serious with lines like "we're all sharing the earth at the end of the day" and "may the reign of freedom be released." Great stuff.

Favorite recording currently (as always, this is subject to sudden change): The Old Crow Medicine Show's "Wagon Wheel." I'm not a huge fan of bluegrass, but when its done right it just hits all the right emotional marks. And "Wagon Wheel" is done right. Tight harmonies, lonesome, winsome lyrics and a great groove with a great melody.

Most embarrassing recording: The Tavares' "More Than a Women." The song itself is bad enough when the BeeGees, but for some reason the Tavares cover is worse. It doesn't really add anything to the BeeGees' version and it's got this crazy flute going off through half the song. Anyway, the "Saturday Night Fever" soundtrack. My secret shame.

Number of U2 songs: 420

Number of Stevie Nicks songs: 1 ("Well I went today, maybe I'll go again tomorrow" Deep.)

The lazy man's post

I've been back from vacation for more than a week. It was so exhausting it's taken me until now to update. So here's the update: we all got really sick in Washington. But there's a silver lining, oh yes, there is a silver lining. Becky's father sent us home with his car. As a gift. Making us a two-car family. Needless to say, life has changed -- for the better. We feel like maybe we're adults instead of recent college graduates. That's an important accomplishment for us as we graduated from college like five years ago.

Anyway, I'd go on but I'm lazy. So I'm passing on this Meme that's been making the blog rounds these days. You know the drill, if you see it and read it, you're next.


Four jobs you've had in your life: paperboy for the Rocky Mountain News, gardener at Lagoon amusement park, procter at the Ricks College testing center and reporter extraordanaire

Four movies you could watch over and over: Casablanca, Fletch, L.A. Confidential and Blues Brothers

Four places you've lived: Colorado, Oregon, California and Mexico

Four TV shows you love to watch: Veronica Mars, Arrested Development, Nova and Prison Break/24

Four places you've been on vacation: Washington, D.C.; Victoria, Canada; L.A. and Nauvou, Ill.

Four websites you visit daily: N.Y. Times, Skutch, MyFamily and Television Without Pity

Four of your favorite foods: Blue Ridge Smokies baby back ribs from Tony Roma's, Becky's lasagna, any kind of Chinese food that's fried with lots of whatever starch-based sauce they throw on top and In-n-Out

Four places you'd rather be: at home, in Mazatlan, on Copper Mountain or down the Gore Range Trail

Let's get small

First a Christmas gift to the readers. I offer another selection from everyone's favorite Show and Tell Music. Let's hope gems like these are never forgotten.

Says SaTM about this record: "Great working class pride LP dedicated to 'all men who operate heavy machinery.' Tracks include 'Mechanic's Theme,' 'Caterpillar Man,' 'When a Fellow Is out of a Job,' 'I'm an Operating Engineer,' and 8 (delicious) others."


On a more personal note, I'm actually kind of excited for Christmas. I know, stating it like that implies a sense of surprise on my part. But you have to remember, I'm in California, which means no snow, no cold and when compared to the Rockies, no real mountains. And I know what you're saying, "Rob, you're feelings for Christmas shouldn't be so wrapped up in your sense of weather and place. That's not what the season's about."

And you may be right. On the other hand, that's just how I feel. I want Christmas to be cold and snowy. Not wet and warm. Anyway, despite it all, I'm excited for Christmas. The girls are to the age where they understand what's going on and they're exctied for the big morning and Becky and I, maybe picking up on that, maybe just happy with all the festivities we have planned, are excited too. It's interesting how you can dread the season because it feels so far removed from childhood (which is really what's going on with me) and yet once it's here you still feel -- excuse the cliche -- the Spirit of the season. That's pretty cool.

And so I'm excited about our big dinner Christmas Eve. Excited to have company, read the Christmas Story out of Luke and act out the Nativity, put presents together after the girls go to bed and wake up a few, short hourse later and watch as they tear them open. I'm excited to do it as our own little family, excited that I'm doing this with Becky, who gets excited too and brings this wonderful energy to everything. There's something peaceful and reassuring about spending those quiet hours between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with the love of your life.

Anyway, I'm getting dangerously syrupy. This is starting to sound like a Hallmark special, so I'll stop and change tacks. Following Christmas we'll be headed up to Washington to see Becky's parents, spending a good week with family. What I've discovered this week is you don't necessarily have to be together to have a classic family battle royale. So, knowing I'm probably not the only one who'll be with extended family this weekend, I'll offer a word of advice. Don't get in the middle of spat between two sisters, especially if you're a man and especially, especially if you're an emotionally stunted, immature manchild in-law.

Up with people

It's a Christmas Miracle -- you're getting another post this week. And this one will be the most entertaining of the year. Well, probably not, but we're going to make it fun.

First, an iPod update (past editions here and here.)

Gigabytes used: 8.2
Number of Songs: 2094
Number of Podcasts: 2 (I dropped Nightline now that Koppel is gone.)
Most random recording: "Muskrat Love" by Captain & Tennille. Oh yeah, it has studio sound effect muskrat chirping. It's one of the strangest things I've heard.
Most eclectic recording: "Story of Isaac" by Suzanne Vega. It's Vega doing Leonard Cohen, so right there that should be enough to qualify it, but the song itself, Cohen's version of the Bible story about Abraham taking Isaac up the mountain to sacrifice is just kind of strange in its own special way.
Favorite recording currently (as always, this is subject to sudden change): Jools Holland's jazz interpretation of "If You Wear That Velvet Dress" with Bono doing the vocals. It's stunning. His imagining of the song is a revelation, not least of which because of Bono's relaxed, playful and completely unrestrained take on his own lyrics. It's the coolest. The cooly coolest. I mean it really swings.
Most embarrassing recording: Earth, Wind & Fire's "Let's Groove." It's disco by way of "Buck Rogers in the 23rd Century." It was on the "Waterboy" soundtrack and that's how it ended up on the ol' iPod. It's especially embarrassing because I hate the song and yet, there it is.
Number of U2 songs: an even 300
Number of Elton John songs: 1


Although it's pretty much common knowledge now, I feel I should at least mention Bono's recent listing as one of Time magazine's people of the year. Here's an excerp from the article. Go ahead, roll your eyes. I'd probably do the same. And then I'd read the following, maybe grudgingly at first and then with perhaps a little growing interest. By the time I'd finish up, I'd be dabbing at my misting eyes with a hanky:

"Although it's tempting for some to cast his global road show as the vanity project of a pampered celebrity, the fact is that Bono gets results. At Gleneagles--where Bono and his policy-and-advocacy body, DATA, met with five of the eight heads of state at the summit--the G-8 approved an unprecedented $50 billion aid package--including $25 billion for Africa--and pledged near universal access to antiretroviral drugs for almost 10 million impoverished people with HIV."

You have to admit, it's kind of impressive. And to close, a quote from the crazy little leprechaun himself:

"The only thing that balances how preposterous it is to have to listen to an Irish rock star talk about these subjects," says Bono, "is the weight of the subjects themselves."

You want one more, I'll give you one more. On religion:

"I try to live it rather than talk about it because there are enough secondhand-car salesmen for God," he says. "But I cannot escape my conviction that God is interested in the progress of mankind, individually and collectively."

We'll leave it here for today. But with schools out, my beat has effectively shut down for the next two weeks. Which means, of course, more posts from me. Given the holidays and what that all entails, expect a rant on relatives before the end of the week. Merry Christmas.

The minidisc miniseries

Well, it's been, what? Two weeks since my last post? Believe it or not, I have very little to write about tonight.

We can start, though, with the results of my meaningless milestones contest. Yes the deadline was nearly a month ago and given the number of submissions this seems wholly pointless. But I'll plug on valiently regardless. Yes, you guessed it, I recieved nary a one. Which I just can't understand. Not only do ones and twos of people read this site EVERY MONTH, but I was giving away USED minidiscs! I don't know how else I could have sweetened the pot. It's your loss, World Wide Web. Your loss.

OK, on to the short cuts for not having a thing to write. It's time for another installment of The Perfect Song.

The Connell's "'74-'75" -- It's the perfect pop song, really. A sweet little confection with enough hints of melencholy to keep it from becoming treacly, the song about longing, better times and friendship has a gorgeous melody and a catchy chorus: "I was the one who let you know/I was your sorry ever after/'74, '75". It evokes something lost, something gone while at the same time leaving you feeling optimistic about life. It's a bit of a highwire act, but it's pulled off beautifully making the song transcendent.

Los Fabulosos Cadillacs' "El Matador" -- First the band. They're cool because they're Argentinian, they effortlessly mix ska, rock, reggae and Latin grooves into most of their songs and they've got a killer horn section. And "El Matador" showcases them at their best. The song just moves and it makes you want to move. And even if you don't speak Spanish you still find yourself singing along: "Santa Maria de los Buenos Aires si todo estuviera mejor/Matador, matador/Si todo estuviera mejor/Matador, matador." It's impossible not to like this song.

The Push Stars' "Opening Time" -- Chris Trapper's penchent for catchy melodies and narrative lyrics is showcased brilliantly with "Opening Time." It's a catchy, jaunty little number about being a band on the road and playing the little local clubs. But Trapper turns it, ever so subtlely into a quasi-love song to the girl who just doesn't seem to love you as much as you love her. "I'm just a thought in the back of your mind/I watch you as you drive away/You don't look back as I'm waving goodbye/Seems like I'm always asking why/And hey it's okay it's opening time/Butterflies and beer cans and blues on my mind."

If I don't post before the weekend, a Merry Christmas to all. If I do post again this week, well, think of it as a little early Christmas gift for you all.

Chit Lit

We've been talking children's books lately. Oh, don't worry, you'll do it too once you have kids. And if you don't, you're not good parents. As any writer will tell you. The chitlins right now like the books with pictures. And I don't disagree, I like books with pictures.

Anyway, for the past five years, we've had the tradition at Christmas of getting the girls a children's book Becky and I loved as kids or one that we felt was of high enough quality to warrant a gift-giving gesture. For example, last year we got them "The Little Red Light House and the Great Gray Bridge" of which, Becky's favorite line is still, "Those boys, those boys. This will never happen again." The year Leigh was born we got them the only two children's book Umberto Eco has ever written, "The Bomb and the General" and "The Three Astronauts." I'm pretty proud of that one.

Well, Claire is now in kindergarten and in a couple years will graduate to semi-picture books or even non-picture books. It got Becky and I talking about those books we remember reading or remember being read to us as elementary school students. For Christmas this year, we decided we would start with the granddaddy of the them all and buy them "The Chronicles of Narnia." But not the new Harper-Collins edition. Which, we all know is a crime against humainty. Yes, I'm one of those old-school types who believes H-C's decision to republish the series IN A DIFFERENT ORDER is akin to treachery. Oh yes, they betrayed children everywhere. And, to add insult to...another insult, the new books don't look that good. So Beck and I went online and found the old MacMillan paperback editions and bought the whole set for the girls. The artworks pretty cheesey in that neo-late 70's cartoony way, but if it was good enough me, well, it's good enough for anyone else.

Of course, the girls will open them Christmas morning and quickly discover the books have no pictures, which will be funny to us, but I'm sure will not excite Claire and Leigh. But that's the thing, we started with "The Chronicles of Narnia" because, at least "The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," was the first novel I ever read. Or rather, had read to me. We used to sit around as a family on -- Saturday nights? Sunday nights? I don't recall -- and listen while my dad read the books and we munched on popcorn and drank little bottles of soda my mom had bought from the local dairy. I can't remember the name of the company, but the pop came in these little 8-oz. glass bottles. It was pretty cool. Anyway, I wasn't much older then than Claire is now. So we figure, within the next year, we could probably start reading them to her and she might actually enjoy it.

It also got me thinking about the books from elementary school. Some of the greatest children and young adult fiction around. Books like "The People in Pineapple Place," "The Eggchild," "Sign of the Beaver," "My Brother Sam Is Dead," "Black and Blue Magic," and even "Hitler Stole Pink Rabit," even though the protaginist is a girl, were just good books that totally captured my imagination.

Anyway, the girls certainly won't be short on things to read as they grow up, and that, of course, is a good thing. What you won't find on their shelves? "Tennis Shoes Among the Nephites." Or "Charly" since I have girls. Poo-poo on you Mr. Jack Weyland.