The Perfect Song

I was having a conversation with an old editor and the idea of the perfect song came up. You know, the idea that for the listener there are a handful of songs that don't have a wasted lyric, a missed note, nothing. They are perfect. It got me thinking about (some of) my perfect songs. And now I will share a few. Oh yes, sit back and enjoy. And don't worry, I'll update this thread frequently. Because I know every last one of you is eager, eager, eager to know what songs out there I consider perfect.

Wilco's "Red-Eyed and Blue." First, the song is melencholy without being suicidal, (hello, Elliot Smith) and still manages to end with this happy whistling solo. Oh, Tweedy totally pulls it off. And the more you listen to the song, the more you find there. The lyrics are wonderfully, deceptively, simple: "We got solid state technology and tapes on the floor and some songs we can't afford to play." And Tweedy's voice, his emotive, half-mumble, resonant barritone is just so suited to the music. It moves you.

U2 "If You Wear That Velvet Dress." There are, obviously, better U2 songs out there ("Ultraviolet" and "Stay" for example) but "Velvet Dress" is one of the most rich, atmospheric and haunting songs I've ever heard. I love the lyrics. Bono just doesn't write like this any more: "Do you really want me to/Be blue as you/It's her daylight that gets me through" and "It's okay, we struggle for things not to say/I'm not listening to you anyway/I've got my own hands to pray." I mean, c'mon! And Edge's simple, quiet guitar riff that backs through most of the song blows my mind.

Anyway. Something to think about.

And I would be remiss if I didn't take this opportunity to remind youthat tomorrow is the last day of free minidisc give-away contest. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Get those submissions in.

Take the test

It's the day after Thanksgiving, so hopefully you're having a lazy day lounging around the house eating leftovers. I'm at work. And Becky, well, she's at home with two crazy girls.

Anyway. To spruce up your day I'm pimping for one of my least favorite U2 fan sites. Well it used to be one of my least favorite U2 fan sites. That was before U2log got all uppity, lost its sense of humor and started posting items like once every two weeks. So atu2.com became my default fan page. Anyway, they're conducting a survey of the online U2 fan community. So, if you're online and you like U2 -- or hate them and need a place to voice that -- hop on over here and take their little survey. It's actually pretty thorough and kind of fun. But you only have until Wednesday.

And while I'm at it, here's an iPod update for good measure (and here's where you can see the last one):

Gigabytes used: 8.2

Number of songs: 2087

Number of pocasts: still 3

Most random recording: "Holiday for Strings" by Walter Schumann and his orchestra

Most eclectic recording: "Taki Rari" from the original "ultra Lounge" compelation. I think you could argue anything from that album is eclectic.

Favorite recording currently (it could change at any moment): "The Two Sides on Monsieur Valentine" from Spoon's latest album, "Gimme Fiction"

Most embarrassing recording: Joe Satriani's "Always With You Always With Me" from "Surfing With the Alien." What? Cheesey as hell, sure. But I love it, o.k.? It's so 80s power ballad and without words. Without words! So sue me.

Number of U2 songs: 299

Number of Aaron Neville songs: 1

G vs. E

It's the great debate. Is there such a thing as good music and bad music? Of course there is, you say. And I would agree. However, one could argue that there's simply music people like and music people don't like; that good and bad are labels much too objective to use when describing music. Obvioulsy in a theoretical sense this is true. So the debate then becomes this: there's good music for me and there's bad music for me.

Good music for me: Wilco, U2, Led Zeppelin, Spoon and the like.
Bad music for me: Alan Jackson, Creed, Styx, the Carpenters and the like.

While so much of that is subjective -- to use the cliche one man's trash is another man's treasure -- one man's mind-blowing rock band is another man's stupifyingly rote pop group. I would argue there are groups or artists, a handful at the most, that rise, like cream, to the top of the pop music milk jug. Groups that defy subjection and, based on their work can truly be judged as good or bad, not just good for someone or bad for someone.

But to prove the point, you need a few objective measuring sticks, like time. It stands to reason that if a band is good -- or rather -- of a qualitative substance it will out last music that isn't good or of quality. For example, the Beatles are still highly regarded and widely praised while Herman's Hermits -- the Beatles contemporaries at the time -- have gone the way of the dodo.

Of course, time as a measuring stick isn't fool-proof. Given the nature of media in a technological age, if it was produced and released, it's gonna be around forever, somewhere. You'll always be able to find someone in some corner of the world who's still (seriously, not ironically) listening to the BeeGees. And while a Herman's Hermits song may pop up every so often on the golden oldies radio station, you don't hear as much about them as you do the Beatles.

But here's the point. Fifty years down the road, I think more people will be listening to Lyle Lovett than Toby Keith. Time simply favors quality because the passing years quickly erode the marketing flash that attracts people to poorly written and rapidly produced, throw-away songs. That leaves to the spotlight well written and well produced music. It's why Creed has already started to fade and groups like Pearl Jam (of which Creed is merely a rip-off) get better and more respected with age.

Critical praise could certainly be another measuring stick, but it's much more fallible than time. Even the best critics buy into the hype and marketing of certain bands and differing types of music sometimes. Who didn't talk up Jewel when she first hit the scene? And who remembers her now?

On the other hand, when the majority of mainstream or major market critics uniformly praise a band or a musician, it's a good bet there's something more going on there than with other middle of the road artists. Easy examples might be Johnny Cash or the Rolling Stones or James Brown.

Which segues into what the last measuring stick might be: influence. Great music influences while bad or even mediocre music does not. Creed exists on this principal alone. The group is almost a tribute band -- but probably more aptly discribed as a rip-off -- to the grunge rock acts that paved the genre before them; acts like Temple of the Dog, Alice in Chains or Soundgarden. These groups are generally conidered good -- especially in the case of Temple of the Dog -- because they influenced nearly every rock band that came after them for a decade.

The same can be said of The Band, The Velvet Underground, Bob Dylan, certainly the Beatles and then blues artists like Muddy Waters and John Lee Hooker which launched classic British rock, like Cream, Led Zeppelin and of course the Rolling Stones. Influence certainly isn't as objective as time, but it certainly shows how strong music and memorable bands rise above thier peers.

But I've gone on long enough. So as your Thanksgiving dinner talk turns to music, go ahead, bring up the good vs. bad debate and see what happens. If it doesn't end in a stuffing and potato sling fest, you haven't defended your position with enough gusto.

The Koppel

With Ted Koppel leaving the air tonight, I thought a word might be in order. And I can almost hear Cody shaking his head, thinking, "Koppel, the rat jackal of the liberal media pack."

But I would argue that Koppel is a journalist's journalist. He did what good journalists do and that's question the establishment, be it Republican, Democrat, corporate or public. And he did it always with professionalism -- emotional diatribes or off the handle accusations or way-out-from-the-left-field conspiracy theories never ever appeared. He merely asked the tough questions to whomever he was sitting across from. (He was famously prickly with Maureen Dowd, one of the funniest interviews from recent memory.) Anyway, the profession needs more Koppels and less Coopers, Williamses and O'Reillys.

And since I've opened this so-boring-it-makes-me-want-to-read-a-newspaper can of worms, I'll go on to say, once again, that a liberal bias in today's mainstream media is an illusion. Fox News is the highest rated cable news network, most stories (on any news network) deal with missing white twentysomething girls or "crazy" celebrities or crippled airplanes still in the air. And that's because these are the stories that draw the demographics that appeal to networks' advertisers. It is so much more about money than politics its just plain frightening and disturbing.

Sorry. Had to get it off my chest.

The month of living dangerously

Yeah, so it's been almost a month. I'm awesome. An awesome blogger. The best there ever was. Anyway. Let me bring you all up to speed (I keep pretending I have an audience outside of Becky).

Spent last week in Washington, D.C. visiting my folks. We did Thanksgiving Dinner on Friday with my older brother Dan and my little brother H.L. It was a blast. My folks' place is pretty small and it got a little crowded at times, but it was fun to chat it up with my brothers and see my girls play with their cousins. Best of all, though, was my mom taking the kids on Wendnesday so Becky and I could just have the day to ourselves. Aside from me botching lunch, the day went well. But just so you know, the next time the temple cafeteria is ever an option? Take it. It's always the solid bet.

But the most important news, of course, is U2 related. An old high school friend of mine just sent me almost 15 GB of U2 concerts in mp3. It's from a little Web site he discovered that has made its mission in cyber-life to compile recordings of every live U2 show ever staged. You basically wait in line to gain access to the site and then, once granted permission to enter, you have seven days to download everything you can get your hands on. My friend's computer crashed a month or so after he got in and as a result lost the url for the site. He's been searching for it ever since. I know, sounds like some wierd 80s TV drama. Anyway, he came away with, what he guesses, is a third of the content on the site. He sent me like 3,000 or 4,000 songs. I'm still trying to wrap my head around that.

In other music news, I have not listened to the Creed CD. It may take me some time.

And last but not least, you guessed it, I have not received one entery in my MiniDisc contest. Needless to say, I'm very disappointed. These MDs are not going to just give themselves away, people. I've got to get rid of them somehow. So I'm instituting a deadline. Entries must be in my inbox no later than Nov. 30. So get cracking.

Meaningless milestones

Wow, 500 hundred whole hits. I realize most blogs hit that mark about every 30 minutes. But, alas, my faithful three readers simply don't have that kind of time to spend. Three readers, you ask? Yes, that probably is being a little generous.

Anyway, it's still a benchmark and that means we need to celebrate. In honor of the big 5-0-0, I will give 15 heavily used (but recently erased) MiniDiscs to the person who writes me about their latest and most meaningless milestone. Since no one has a MiniDisc player anymore, I'm hoping the 15 MDs will be as useless and meaningless as the milstone they share. I, of course, will act as judge and chose the winner from what I'm sure will be countless entries.

Send your submissions to u2 disco at gmail dot com, subject line "Meaningless milestones."

Letterman is King. Long live the king.

I'm still seething over a post I lost yesterday bceause my crappy computer froze up on me. I don't know that I'll try to rewrite, maybe when I'm done here, I'll give you all the gist. But, I'll tell ya, nothing's more frustrating.

Anyway. Letterman. He's slowly becoming my generation's Carson. And he's not as vital to our culture as he once was. For starters, there are no longer three main networks. Then you have Jon Stewart. Genius. And of course Conan. Genius genius. Somewhere on this list there should be Craig Kilbourne. But Kilby lost something when he moved to CBS. And he never got it back. Which is kinda sad.

But I was talking about Letterman. I would have been a Conan guy had I had a semi-normal childhood. Conan is my generation's late night host. He came on when I was in high school and got huge when I was in college. That is his demographic, those are his people. And I love Conan, it just took me a while to come around.

Because I watched Letterman. Almost religiously when I was in junior high. And for some reason I was the only one of my friends who did. When I was a young'un, my older brother would come home from college or come home from his night job and turn on "Late Night With David Letterman." I would either sneak out of my room with my little brother and watch it from behind a corner (putting myself in excutiating pain as I tried to stiffle huge belly laughs) or, if I was feeling brave, plop down on the couch beside him.

The NBC shows were hilarious. Letterman was silly and still had this ascerbic sarcastic bent that made the comedy seem anything but light-hearted. I had no idea who Malomar Khadifi was as a 10-year-old kid, but man if he showed up in a Top Ten list, it was dang funny. And after watching for a couple years, you figured out who these people were. I made fun of New Jersey. I've never been to New Jersey in my entire life and as a junior higher I made fun of New Jersey. Because Letterman made fun of New Jersey. Sometimes my friends would just stare at me. I'd make a crack about John Ghotti in my social studies class and maybe, MAYBE my teacher got the joke. Because of "Late Night" I got Chris Elliot, I fell in love with Penn and Teller and adopted my healthy, cynical attitude about life I carry with me to this day.

It was Letterman. I keep the first book of Top Ten lists at my desk today. The one that came out in 1989. With the straight-faced Foreward relating the 1980 Olympic US hockey team's Miracle on Ice. As though the book in your hands were the book about the Miracle on Ice. That's funny. Anyway, we used to sit around during my eighth-grade GT class and read the lists out loud, hardly being able to talk because we were laughing so hard, tears running down our cheeks. I had no idea who Robert Bork was or what his beard looked like, but I knew "Chin Slinky" was hilarious.

I bring it all up because a colleague of mine was called in for jury duty this week. It happens a lot here. Becky was called in over the summer and we've only lived here a year and a half. Of course I hear jury duty and the first thing that pops into my head is Letterman's Top Ten list on how to get out of jury duty (3. Respond to every question, "Let me talk to the little man who lives in my pants.").

I couldn't find the list because it acutally showed up in Letterman's second collection of Top Tens, not the first. Anyway, looking online for the list, I learned that the classic NBC Late Nights rerun on Trio. My first reponse was instant nostalgia. How would it be to have the old shows on my TV nightly? It'd be like I'd died and gone to late night TV heaven.

Of course my second emotion was dread. You can't go back. And having the old shows that accessible seems so tasteless. No longer are they precious childhood memories, enshrined in the pink haze of youthful bliss, but just another creaky slot filler for some two-bit cable channel. By becoming so accessible they cease to be special.

That doesn't mean I wouldn't buy a DVD collection. So I say long live the Monkey Cam. Long live Larry "Bud" Melman. Long live stupid human tricks and Rice Crispy suits. Long live the door-to-door visits to Long Island and the impromtu gift baskets to GE's office building that don't get past building security. Long live Letterman working the drive-through window at McDonalds. Long live Letterman.

Cai- Cai- Cairo

Well, now that the new Bond has been officially named, I thought it would be a good time to make a list. 'Cause lists are fun.

The Bond films, of course, have been around for 40 some-odd years and there's 20 features -- not counting "Casino Roayle" (spoof and non-spoof) -- in the collection. Opinions vary on the best, the worst and the most laughable of the series depending on why you watch the Bond films. But here's what I think:

Best Bond film: 1964's "Goldfinger" -- I think it's one of Sean Connery's best performances and, as far as world-domination plot's go, the storyline for "Goldfinger" is pretty dang original, far-fetched though it may be. Not to mention the swinging theme sung by the incomparable Shirley Bassey and probably the best Bond girl name of the franchise, Pussy Galore. Talk about sqeem-factor watching that with your parents as a kid. Anyway, "Goldfinger" is Bond at the height of what is truly James Bond.

Worst Bond Film: 1979's "Moonraker" -- Make no mistake, there have been some stinkers. And I was never crazy about Roger Moore. He certainly should have stopped long before the '80s began. But of the series, "Moonraker" stands out simply because the premise was so weak, the special effects were so poor and Moore was at his worst. 'Though it would be hard to argue he was ever at his best. And it's not to say "The World Is Not Enough" and "Tomorrow Nevre Dies" aren't bad, because they are. But Brosnan was a far surperior Bond compared to Moore.

Sentimental Favorite: 1971's "Diamonds Are Forever" -- If memory serves, this was the first Bond film I ever saw. Shirley Bassey was back for the killer theme song and it had those freaks Mr. Kidd and Mr. Wint. The scorpian scene always creeped me out as a kid and I loved Connery's swagger. I used to imitate at school (this was like fourth or fifth grade) while standing in line the way he stood while waiting for Blofeld on the off-shore drilling platform thinking it made me as cool as Bond. Anyway, I still dig that movie.

Unexplicable Critic's Favorite: 1969's "On Her Majesty's Secret Service" -- It has Telly Savalas.

Most Undeservedly Maligned: 1987's "The Living Daylights" -- I had no problem with Timothy Dalton as James Bond. And I think "Living Daylights" is one of the best of the series. The story holds up really well, Dalton actually acts, which may be what turned some people off and the movie never feels half-baked, a chronic Bond film ailment. It's a great film. However, '89's "License to Kill" is another story.

Best Sean Connery Bond Film: Well, "Goldfinger." But we all know, with the execption of the terrible, terrible remake "Never Say Never Again," you can go with any Connery era Bond film and do well.

Best Roger Moore Bond Film: 1977's "The Spy Who Loved Me" -- Like I said, I'm no fan of Moore, but "Spy" was, all around, a pretty decent film. His first, "Live and Let Die" is another solid choice, but, with the VooDoo and the bayou, it gets a little hokey, even for a Bond film.

Best Timothy Dalton Bond Film: See above.

Best Pierce Brosnan Bond Film: For me, it's a straight up tie between his first and his last, 1995's "Goldeneye" and 2002's "Die Another Day." "Goldeneye" literally ressurected the franchise. It was explosive, exciting, well-acted, well-plotted and just flat-out entertaining. But it hasn't aged well, surprisingly. "Die Another Day" had the exact same effect to the franchise after film quality had become really stagnant with Brosnan's two middle films. "Die" was fresh, doing things a lot of other Bond films had never done, like using real geo-politics, successfully finding a darker tone without drowning the Bond swagger and encorporating serious character development.


So, "Casino Royale," the new film with the new Bond. I think producers are doing it right. I'm excited. I think it'll be good.

Verti-no-go

The artwork is out (unofficially) and this is what the "U2: Veritgo '05 Live From Chicago" concert DVD will look like. I'm excited, even if it does kind of look like the Elevation Tour DVD. But, I guess, on retrospect the ZOO TV and Zooropa tours were similarly linked in theme and look.

But before I completely start to sound like a nit-wit, no-life fanboy, I'll change the subject. Except to say this. The tour, the U2 machine will be making its Oakland stop next month. For those of you not Northern California geography inclined, Oakland is the closest stop to Redding the tour will be making. It's three hours southwest of here. Needless to say, on a reporter's salary and no one to leave the girls with overnight, Becky and I will not be going. A first for me since joining the U2 bandwagon in earnest in 1993. And to be honest, it was something I had pretty much resigned myself to. Until last weekend.

On Thursday, me, Becky and the girls traveled to Oakland (for the first time since living in Redding) to meet up with Becky's parents for a wedding on Saturday. The weekend was awesome. We spent all of Friday in San Francisco seeing the sites and having the time. All thanks to Becky's very generous and gracious parents. But the hotel we stayed at in Oakland is pretty much right across the street from the arena in which U2 will be playing. The place, of course, had the lighted, flashing electric screen marque proudly announcing the Vertigo Tour stop in November. The realization that I was so close (it was a surprisingly quick three-hours), yet still so far away (I'm a poor man) came crashing down like a load of stage prop Trabbies.

Anyway. Such is life. And as much as this may age me to say, family, interestingly enough, is more important. So, on the evening of Nov. 8, Becky and I will sit down and watch "Rattle and Hum" which she has yet to see all the way through. Something about hi-res DVD and Bono looking very hairy and very, very sweating through-out.

The Band Bites Back

I suppose it was inevitable. Some of you may remember my brother-in-law Dave and the little face-off we had about the virtues of U2 vs. his band Creed (I've said it before and I'll say it again, who seriously still listens to Creed? Who ever listened to them in the first place? How is it possible for a band to suck so bad and yet be so popular?).

Well, cue the Strings of Impending Doom, the Creed CD came in the mail over the weekend. I haven't even come close to putting it in the stereo. But I know I'll have to. That was the deal. And he did, reportedly, give my U2 CD a good three listens. Kimmy, his wife and U2 fan, told me there were tracks on the CD even she wasn't crazy about. If you recall the story, Dave's last U2 taunt was something along the lines of U2 not knowing how to rock. So I included some of their rockier tunes. But I guess I should have followed the logic: if he likes Creed, that means he probably likes radio-friendly or at least pap-pop garbage and should have included some of U2's more well-known, radio-friendly stuff. But I'm a geek, if you haven't figured that out yet, so I didn't figure it out.

I'm trying to remember now, but I think I threw on stuff like the new mix of "Gone" and classic "Bullet the Blue Sky." Nothing crazy. I did throw on a live version of "Last Night on Earth" and "Love is Blindness." I don't know. But as soon as I'm done listening to his CD we'll compare notes and see what happened. It's all very junior high and all. But in a way it's fun, because who makes mix tapes anymore? It seems the age of creating personalized song compilations is over.

iPod: Week two

I know no one cares, but I figured since no one really reads the blog, I could go ahead and give an update on my second week as an iPod owner. So take heart brave reader and soldier on. It'll be fun, I promise.

Gigabytes used: 7.84

Number of Songs: 1967

Number of podcasts: 3

Most random recording: "A Fifth of Beethoven" by Walter Murphy -- it's the infamous disco-fied version of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. It speaks to me.

Most eclectic recording: "Guadalajara" by the Mariachi Mexico -- it sounds like it was recorded in the early 40s and is just awesome.

Favorite recording currently (it could change at any moment): "Bring on the Night" by The Police

Most embarrassing recording: "Are You Lonesome" an Elvis cover by Bryan Ferry. It's pretty bad.

Most embarrassing artist: Linda Ronstadt

Number of U2 songs: 283

Number of Neneh Cherry songs: 1

So there it is. A snapshot of Rob's iPod. Good times, good times. Enjoy your weekend, I know I will. I'm coming home, Becky! I'm coming home!

They're magical

It's all about the album art. Well, it used to be. You see CD jewel cases are considerably smaller than LP album covers. I don't think people pay attention to album covers as much anymore. Well, for some, that's a good thing. I was recently direceted to a little Web site called Show And Tell Music -- it's mind-blowing in its thoroughness. Some guy with an album collection to match the Library of Congress has scanned in thousands of LP covers from his collection that he deems to be some of the most abominable album covers known to man. They're absolutely hilarious. I've provided a couple of examples. I'd like to think Laverne is what happened to Nick Andopolis 10 years after high school. Anyway, check out the site when you've got some time. You can thank me later.

On another note, "Veronica Mars" premiered last night and it was brilliant. Exceeded all expectations. Becky and I got hooked on the show during the summer when UPN was playing the reruns. Hands down, it's the best drama on TV right now, UPN be damned. Do yourself a favor and check it out. Trust me.

And as long as we're talking television, "don't talk nonsense to Bob Loblaw." If haven't watched "Arrested Development" then you don't know what it means to laugh. Another great show that really shouldn't be missed.

Old friends

Now that I've got my iPod, I'm trying to decide what to do with my minidisc player. I got it back in the late '90s when every showboater with some cash and a shallow yet loudly professed love of music was buying CD burners. I would smuggly tell them minidiscs were infinitely re-recordable, that they could be edited and programmed and that they were so much cooler than burnable CDs. They still are, by the way.

Anyway, that ship has sailed. Now, we all now, if your music isn't an electronic file, you're the new dope. I love my minidisc player. I've got dozens and dozens of candy-colored minidiscs with sonic treasures all over the place. They used to get us through the long road trips from Roseburg to Salt Lake, from Salt Lake to Richland and even from Portland to Sharm el Sheik.

In fact, because my MD player was also a recorder, I used to plug into my computer's headphone jack and record all sorts of soundfiles from various Web sites -- bootlegged U2, Wilco radio interviews and even NPR stuff. Before we took long road trips I used to go to the This American Life homepage and record three or four shows to listen to while we traveled. For a while my MD was a part of the family.

But, I'm afraid, the little guy is obsolete. The mix MDs I spent hours making are now playlists on my iPod. Most of the jewels, the really rare stuff I found back in the Napster hay-day, I've either found elsewhere or is now available on iTunes. My Md player and MDs are literally obsolete. So do I sell it? I can't imagine there's a market for them and mine is very used. do I bury it in the backyard, with a ceremonial bagpipes and canon fire? That doesn't seem right. Maybe I'll just pack it away, hold on to it for a rainy day, when the iPod breaks down or itself becomes outdated and I need a little something something. Maybe I'll have it bronzed and hang it on a plaque on my wall. At any rate, the time has come to bid it a fond farewell.

30 is the new 18

Three weeks just seems like a good time in between posts. Not really. I'm lazy. Have I mentioned this before? Anyway. Yesterday was the big day. I turned 30. No longer in my 20s, I feel my youth is officially over. But, even so, it was an amazing day. And, lucky for you, I'm going to tell you all about it.

The day started early. The girls, it seemed could feel the electricity in the air signaling that the 21st of Septemeber is a special day and just couldn't stay in bed. Not unlike Christmas. Anyway, they came bounding into the bedroom and Claire, who had been aware that my birthday was coming, asked me if I was now old. She then told me I didn't look old. It was kind of funny.

At that point, we hear the strains of "Las Mananitas" floating up the stairs and I realize: the day is here. Becky had gone downstairs and started the music. The girls and I came down and we decided, after a little deliberation, to open my big gift there and then. Yes, it was a brand-new 20gb iPod and it is glorious. But, believe it or not, the good stuff was still to come.

Becky slipped into the kitchen and started breakfast. She made pecan-stuffed waffles -- a new recipe we've discovered -- and they were awesome. Don't worry, for the waffle part of the recipe -- which actually calls for frozen waffles -- we use mom's classic waffle recipe. So after dawdling for an hour or so with my iPod, I decide to actually go to work.

As I walk in -- the employee entrance brings you in near the back of the newsroom -- I see people kind of up around rather than sitting at their desks and then I notice that it's over some commotion near my desk. Three balloons floated above my computer and stuck to every free surface are 30 red, construction-paper hearts that open to reveal heart-shaped snap shots and little messages detailing the 30 reasons why Becky and the girls love me. It was better than the iPod. Really.

The reaction from my co-workers was classic. A few are married, but even today, I'm still getting comments about how amazingly sweet and considerate the gesture was and how lucky I am to have someone who would do that for me. I, of course, remind them that they're just as lucky to have me. But they just laugh at me. Seriously though, it was something else. Being a newsroom, our photo editor was there so he gabbed his camera and got shots of the whole scene as it unfolded. That was pretty cool, too.

Later that night we had dinner, opened cards and my last gift, sang the three verses of the birthday song and had chocolate suicide tort with gaunache. It was stellar. I thought 30 was going to be a hard birthday, but this was really, really good. I certainly have no doubt about how much Becky loves me.

iPod, youPod

Yes, I took the plunge and bought an iPod yesterday. I've been aching for one for a couple of years, but as we all know, they're really dang expensive. It's been a long, difficult journey for me. When the U2 iPod was released last year, I thought I would die. For $350 I could be the ultimate U2 fan and have an iPod. But the price tag killed me. Last winter, with my combined Christmas money -- mostly because of generous in-laws -- I probably had enough to get one. But when it actually came down to buying it, I couldn't spend $300 for what is essentially a very hip, very pretty Walkman. But the desire was insatiable. By February, I had signed up at FreeiPods.com in a pathetic attempt to get one, hence the link on the right side of the page. By June, I had sold my XBox as a means of generating funds to buy one. I sold books and DVDs on half.com to bring in more cash.

Then last month, the next generation of iPods was released. The photo models with the color screen. They look great. A co-worker got one just last week and it's been the envy of all the newsroom. Yesterday, I got back on to Amazon.com to drool a little more over the virtual iPod I had sitting in my wish list. Yeah, that's wish with a capital "W." Anyway, the older generation iPod, the one with the b&w screen had dropped about $60 in price. If I ordered it through Amazon, and signed up for the Amazon Visa, I could get the iPod for $209. It was a big dilema. I mean, who doesn't want the new one, the fancy color screen one, the latest on the market? And I still had that hope in the back of my mind I could somehow get the U2 version. But Amazon, in it's description of the b&w screen iPod, used the ultimate selling tool, "while supplies last." And I knew it was true. At the most these things were selling for an unbelievable $239. With the Amazon Visa discount, $209. I knew they would go fast.

So I conferred with Becky, decided I could always upgrade if I ever had the money, and bought the iPod. I'll use some birthday money to buy it, so, even though it comes Sept. 6, Becky's making me wait until the 21st to open it. But hey, I've waited this long, what's another few weeks? I'm hip already, right?

Back to School

I've been neglecting my blog. Because I'm lazy. "Tell me something I don't know," many of you are thinking. And correctly so. If I weren't lazy, I would be my brother H.L., clerking for a hot-shot judge in the DC circuit court. The only way to best a clerkship like that is to actually clerk for the Supreme Court. Actually, I probably wouldn't be a lawyer if I wasn't lazy. I've be ... a better reporter? I dunno. Sometimes I think this isn't the profession for me, but I always come back to how perfect the job fits my likes and passions. Maybe if I weren't lazy, I'd just be freelancing on the side for big-time magazines or writing a book.

Anyway, I'm making no sense. The real news is this: Claire started kindergarten yesterday. That's it. I'm old enough to have a child in the public education system. It will only be a matter of time before she's graduated high school and left for college. It's so surreal. Part of it, I'm sure, is my inability to accept my station in life. In my mind's eye, I'm still a 21- or 22-year-old.

But what surprised me about taking Claire to her first day of school was realizing that I was relenquishing control of her life. She is now in someone else's hands, for better or for worse. That's hard. But I know this is the best thing. It would be infinitely worse to home-school her, stunting her emotional and social growth by never giving her the chance to get out on her own. Parenting blows my mind. I think that's the only conclusion I can come up with.

Age is a weird, slippery thing. I turn 30 next month. I used to be dreading it, actually, for the same resons I can't believe I have a child in school. I've been dreading it for the past three years, actually. And because of that, as my birthday approaches I've become more comfortable with it. But it's still weird. Weird because there are memories fresh in my mind from elementary school that make my childhood only seem like momemts ago, not decades ago. I always thought that when I got old I'd feel old. But that's not the case so I'm not sure how to deal with it. I'm guessing the key is to not deal with it, but to just go with the flow -- just keep trucking down that road of life and don't look back too often. And I guess that's my problem. I like to look back. I'm unhealthily nostalgic.

It's all so strange. And I have a canker that won't go away.

This is classic. I was clearing off my desk today and came across a stack of hand-written thank-you notes from a class of junior high school kids. I was at their school in May for career day and spoke to sixth-, seventh- and eighth-graders about journalism as a career. Most of the notes were short, some were insincere and a few made no sense. But one was classic:

To: the Journalist,

Thanks for coming to our school. Most of the kids probably thought your presentation was boring but I thought it was o.k. Even though I don't want to be a journalist I still wanted to find out what it was like to be one. Maybe it isn't as bad as it sounds.
Anyway, thanks for coming.

From: Leine

p.s. I have a newspaper class I have to take and it's really boring. But your job sounds neat.


So there it is. What's funny is I left that day totally convinced I rocked their little junior high world. Guess not. Anyway, I'll throw one more in for good measure. Should give you some confidence in our public school system:

Dear record serchlight resechor

I whold like to say than kyow.

This may be a little self-serving, but it's so entertaining it's hard to deny. This is basically Skutch defined. Follow the links, one by one, to watch the story unfold:

Skutch, a group ... of students. The Skutch reference appears about two-thirds of the way down, next to the pictures of the rafters.

Skutch in the news. The debate starts at Message 20. You'll have to scroll down a bit.

Skutch defined. Cody clears things up.

And here, of course, is Cody's creation.

It's been a long week. My Dad and Mom came to visit last Tuesday and just left yesterday. It was a lot of fun giving them a peak of Rogers life in Redding. But it's still kind of wierd to have your parents visit you rather than the other way around. It took a good two days before everyone was relaxed and acting pretty normal. I'm not sure why. We loved having my folks there but it seemed like it took them a while not to feel like they were invading our space or shaking up the routine. Anyway. It's easier going to visit them. Which we'll be doing in November when we fly out to Washington, D.C.

It's funny, I never realized how little there is to do in Redding until I had to entertain guests for a week. Maybe that was the problem -- I thought of my parents as guests I had to entertain rather than, well, my parents. Anyway. We took them on a tour of the Shasta Dam. We had to kill time. And admittedly it was pretty interesting. We took them to Whiskeytown Lake, which was pretty fun. Though neither wore swimsuits or got wet. Anyway. They're off to Seattle to visit my sister and her family and we'll see if they have a better time there. I'm guessing they will. It's Seattle.

In honor of John Bolton's new job, I wanted to offer my hearty congratulations:

"Senator George Voinovich, the Ohio Republican who became one of Mr. Bolton's strongest critics, said yesterday that he planned to send the new ambassador a book on how to be an effective manager. It couldn't hurt, but this may be the first time a world superpower has used its top United Nations post as a spot for the remedial training of a troublesome government employee."


Like the New York Times' editorial page, we here at the Rob Report send our best to John Bolton in his new job. Keep those staplers on the desk, John!