So Long...

We all knew it was coming. Every Tiger fan in Michigan and beyond knew that the day would inevitably arrive. Yet somehow, it seemed that as long as the sun was in the sky, the grass was green and the boys were on the field...somehow it seemed that we'd always have Ernie Harwell.
Even though he called his last game nearly eight years ago, to Tiger fans of a certain age Ernie will always be "the voice" of the Detroit Tigers. We all grew up knowing that a home run was "long gone!" and a double play was "two for the price of one". We loved it when an opposing player got caught looking at strike three because it meant that Ernie would kindly explain to us that "he stood there like the house by the side of the road". And most of all we'd marvel at how he knew the hometown of every fan who ever caught a foul ball.
For me it was Ernie, along with Paul Carey, bringing late night West Coast road trips right into my top bunk...and my dad conveniently "not noticing" that the radio was on even after bed time was "looong gone."
Many years later, Ernie's dulcet tones again provided a little late night company. My friend Jim and I were on the way to Baltimore for one of our baseball road trips. I'd been driving all day and we were somewhere outside of the city, but in a time before GPS we found ourselves unsure of the exact location of the hotel. Between fumbling with maps and searching for road signs I scanned the radio looking for that night's game. I was shocked when I heard a familiar voice...it was Ernie! He had retired the previous year, but there he was, doing play by play on a Baltimore radio station. It turns out he was in town for an event and had stopped by the Oriole's broadcast booth. While he was there the Baltimore announcers asked if he would do them the honor of calling an inning. I'll let John Nash figure out the odds of my tuning in at just that moment. All I know is that it was a welcome bit of summer serendipity for a weary traveler far from home.
At the conclusion of his final broadcast Ernie told us that instead of "goodbye" he wanted to say "thank you". Well Ernie, for those memories and for providing the soundtrack to countless other summer nights, Thank You.

Ernie Harwell reciting his Hall of Fame essay "Baseball, A Game for All America"

A Diamond in a Mountain of Rock

Finally got around to watching the 2010 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony. LAME. Peter Gabriel was too busy to be there for the Genesis induction, and then they didn't even perform. Phish played a couple of their songs.
Only two members of ABBA bothered to show, Frida and Bjorn. The dude played piano while Faith Hill sang "The Winner Takes it All". Nice version, but...
The Hollies were all there, and they sang, but it sounded AWFUL.
Iggy Pop was interesting. He ripped off his shirt and looked like a rocker. The rest of the Stooges looked like accountants...pudgy, bald and in suits. At least they played, w/ Iggy pleading people to come on stage and dance to "I Wanna Be Your Dog". Only a few (Eddie Vedder, a couple members of Green Day, and one or two others) actually did. He kept yelling, "c'mon, rich people can have fun!"...all evidence to the contrary.
The best part was when they inducted a bunch of songwriters and had different artists sing their songs. It was actually quite entertaining. The segment featured, among others, Ronnie Spector, Eric Burden and Chris Isaak.
This brings me to an amazing artist who I am ashamed to admit that, until recently, I knew nothing about.
A few months ago a songwriter named Ellie Greenwich died. Little Steven made a big deal about it on my beloved Underground Garage show. I hadn't previously heard of her. She was inducted last night and after hearing her resume my only question was "HOW THE HELL DID IT TAKE THIS LONG". This is just a sampling of the songbook she wrote and or co-wrote with her husband Jeff Barry:
Baby I Love You. Da Do Ron Ron. Christmas Baby Please Come Home. Leader of the Pack. Doo Wah Diddy. I Can Hear Music (which I assumed Brian Wilson wrote). Chapel of Love. And Then He Kissed Me. (My Baby Does)The Hanky Panky and two of the greatest pop songs ever...the Ronettes Be My Baby and Ike and Tina's River Deep Mountain High.
She also discovered Neil Diamond. Produced many of his early hits AND sang back up on them. PLUS she was a one woman girl group called the Raindrops (she used overdubbing to sing all the parts).
If there is any justice, somewhere Nickleback, T-Pain and all the other no talent hacks that sell millions of records, should be experiencing the stabbing pain of shame right about now.

Academy Must be Missing an Angel

The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has officially been added to my shit list. While I applaud the voters for choosing "The Hurt Locker" over "Avatar", even though I've seen neither, I have a real bone to pick with their "In Memoriam" segment.
Michael Jackson gets the nod, but Farrah Fawcett is left to be forgotten? And the best that Academy organizers can say is that, "Ms. Fawcett's acting contributions were made mainly to television" and "every year it is a very difficult job to decide who is mentioned in the tribute."
Alright, I'll concede those points. Clearly it's her role as "Charlie's Angels" Jill Monroe that we'll all remember her for (especially if you were a boy approaching pre-pubescence at the time). And I'm sure that it's very hard to sift through all the behind the scenes dudes who mix sound, grip keys and gaff (whatever the hell that is)...but c'mon, don't try to hand me some bullshit that M.J. was any more associated with motion pictures. He was a legendary pop singer and he played the Scarecrow in "The Wiz"...not exactly a Nicholsonesque resume.
Farrah entertained audiences from "Logan's Run" to "The Cannonball Run", not to mention starring opposite the night's Best Actor winner Jeff Bridges in 1978's "Somebody Killed Her Husband". She also had a leading role in "Saturn 3" which starred not one but TWO past and future Best Actor nominees...the legendary Kirk Douglas and Harvey Keitel.
Don't worry Farrah, the Academy may have deemed you not worthy, but as any red blooded American male who lived through the '70s can attest, you always held a place of honor on our walls and in our pants...I mean hearts.

Terror Takes On a New Shape

There are killers lurking in your kitchen. They wait patiently in the dark, biding their time until you open the door to illuminate their true devious form. These silent assassins are currently being called "the most dangerous threat to our nation's youth", but who are they? The tiny, tubular terrors have a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R. They also have a second name, it's M-A-Y-E-R. (Yeah, I know that's a bologna commercial, but they make hot dogs too so just go with it).
The meaty menace which is the most American of treats has apparently become public enemy number one. That is, at least, according to Dr. Gary Smith of the American Academy of Pediatrics Committee on Injury, Violence and Poison Prevention (that's not a joke, it's really the name of the organization). Dr. Smith has said that, "If you were to take the best engineers in the world and ask them to create a perfect plug for a child's airway, you couldn't do better than a hot dog." Huh, and I thought Catholic priests had already found the perfect plug for a child's airway.
Back to the quote. It was so specific it got me to thinking, "what kind of sick fuck ponders putting together a team of elite engineers whose sole purpose is to choke children?" Then it hit me...must be a teacher.
Dr. Smith also warns that any cylindrical or round shaped foods pose a serious choking hazard and should therefore carry warning labels. He even goes so far as to call out grapes, nature's snack for cripes sake, as being high risk. Do you think they'd have to put a label on each grape, or just some sort of yellow caution tape around the whole bunch?
Anyway, my intent for the rest of the column was just to make a few thinly veined, I mean veiled, dick jokes. Instead, I'll take the high road and just leave you with this. Enjoy.

The Most Powerful Trivia in the Free World

In honor of President's Day, some little known facts about our former Commanders in Chief.

*Grover Cleveland is the only president to be elected on two non-consecutive terms AND the only president with a Muppet named after him.

*In 1838 People Magazine named Martin Van Buren it's "Sexiest Man Alive". This led to his trademark "Van Buren Burns" becoming all the rage.

*The famous slogan "I Like Ike" was actually Eisenhower's third choice after advisers deemed "I Prefer Dwight" not catchy enough and "Mighty Dwighty" too suggestive.

*Due to his parents lack of imagination, the "A" in Chester A. Arthur stood for "Arthur".

*Abraham Lincoln began wearing the stove pipe hat only after losing a cockfight bet to Vice President Johnson.

*In a little known addendum to the Versailles Treaty, President Woodrow Wilson was supposed to get to shave Kaiser Whilhem's mustache.

*Calvin Coolidge twice vetoed legislation that would have made referring to your spouse as "my better half" a federal offense.

*During the Great Depression, in an attempt to bring in revenue, Herbert Hoover toyed with the idea of renting out the East Room of the White House for weddings and bar mitzvahs.

*Much like his namesake cartoon cat, James Garfield hated Mondays and loved lasagna.

*Millard Fillmore did not have a vice president because none of the potential candidates could say his name without giggling.

*At the time of his death, Warren G. Harding was in negotiations to lend his name to a line of male enhancement devices.

...and now you know.

Nip it in the Bud

Feb. 1, 2004...a date that this nation will never forget, a date that forever changed the way we would think about ourselves and our halftime entertainment. That was the day that Janet, Miss Jackson if you're nasty, had the audacity to show her bejeweled nipple (with a little help from Justin Timberlake) to the world. That one simple nipple threw the FCC into a rage, religious groups into a fervor and launched Super Bowl organizers on a determined quest to rid halftime of ANY possible controversy.
Since that fateful afternoon we have been treated to an entertaining, if aged, group of Rock and Roll Hall of Famers like Paul McCartney, The Rolling Stones, Tom Petty and The Boss. This past Sunday was no exception. British rock legends The Who, or half of the Who at least, with Ringo's kid on drums, rocked through a collage of all time classics. But during the show America was forced to endure something that personally I found FAR more offensive than Janet's nipple...Pete Townshend's belly. Again and again the guitar god windmilled his way through iconic guitar riffs, each time exposing his pasty, wrinkled, old man flab. No one wants to see that. No one. So I got to thinking, what were halftimes like before Janet?
A quick trip to the wide world of web left me surprised and amused. Eight of the first nine Super halftimes featured college marching bands, including UofM's in 1973. The one that didn't had Miss Carol Channing! I'm sure gentlemen all across this great land held their collective breath, hoping for a glimpse of Ms. Channing's hooter. Two years later Channing would appear again, this time with fellow hottie Ella Fitzgerald.
Over the next 14 years "Up With People" subject football fans to a special brand of nausea inducing happiness FOUR times, including right here at our very own Pontiac Silverdome. Also sprinkled in during that decade and a half were more marching bands, drill teams, Carribean bands and the dynamic duo of George Burns and Mickey Rooney.
It wasn't until 1991 that a current pop act would hit the halftime stage in the form of that envelope pushing power house New Kids on the Block. NKOTB performed with Disney characters and a childrens' choir singing "It's a Small World"...guess where that game took place.
The ensuing years were a smattering of who was hot and who used to be hot, including Diana Ross, Stevie Wonder, Gloria Estefan (3 times), U2, Sting, Aerosmith w/ Britney Spears and even the King of Pop himself.
So I guess we shouldn't complain too much about the fossil rockers that have become as much a tradition as nachos, football squares and Super Monday hangovers. It could be much worse...I think Carol Channing is still alive.

Tastes Like Chicken?

Dateline Punxsutawney, PA.
The watchdogs at PETA are trying to convince the good folks of the tiny village in Western Pennsylvania that they are evil. Apparently it has been suggested to the Groundhog Day planners that they replace old Punxsutawney Phil with an animatronic version. That's right...A ROBOT GROUNDHOG!
PETA people say groundhogs are anti-social creatures that are stressed out by bright lights and contact with humans (kinda like me in the morning). This, they attest makes the practice of pulling Phil out of his artificial stump at 5a.m., in front of 100's of onlookers, an inhumane act.
In response William Deeley, president of the Inner Circle of Punxsutawney Groundhog Club, says that PETA has it all wrong and that Phil is actually treated "better than the average child in Pennsylvania." No word on when Child Protective Services will be visiting the Deeley home.
Just in case that chubby little bastard sees his shadow though, the folks at Gobbler's Knob may want to consider sending PETA a free lunch:

Country-Style Groundhog
Courtesy of Oregon's Hevanet.com
1. 1 groundhog
2. 1/2 c. flour
3. 1/4 tsp. salt
4. 1/4 tsp. pepper
5. 1/4 tsp. soda
6. 1/4 c. cooking oil
7. 1/2 tsp. sugar

NOTE:Clean and skin as soon as possible. Remove all sent glands. Cut off head, feet and tail. Cure in cool place by suspending from hook approximately 4 days. When ready to cook, lard according to recipe.

Dress groundhog as for rabbit, removing the small sacs in the back and under the forearm. Soak groundhog overnight in salted water to remove wild flavor. Combine flour, salt, pepper and soda; rub into groundhog pieces. Brown groundhog in hot oil in skillet; sprinkle with sugar. Reduce heat; add 1/2 cup water. Cover; simmer for about 30 minutes or until tender. Remove cover; cook for 10 minutes longer.
Bon Appetit

Grammy-phoning it in

Last night's Grammy telecast garnered the highest ratings for that show in the past six years. My only explanation for that is because people tuned in to see what Lady Gaga would do, and then fell asleep with the remote in their hands. The show lacked a signature performance, one that people talk about and remember for years to come. Instead it was a collection of mostly uninspired collaborations. As a matter of fact the best "performance" of the night may have been Stephen Colbert, who took home the prize for top comedy album. During his speech he told us that "since this was a Christmas album I want to thank Jesus Christ for having such a great birthday."
Alright, since I'm the teacher, here's a report card of the highlights:
Lady Gaga- B
Crazy costumes? Check. Big, theatrical stage production? Check. Strut out Sir Elton John? Check. Not as wild or over the top as one might have expected, but still a good way to kick off the show.
Green Day- C-
I loved "Dookie" as much as the next guy. "American Idiot" had some terrific songs. But I think once you've turned you songbook into a Broadway musical, you have to turn in your rebellious punk credentials. Sorry. It was like watching the cast of Glee cover "21 Guns", which actually may have been more entertaining.
Pink- song C-, hanging mostly naked from a bed sheet whilst dripping wet- B+
This would have been so much cooler if she hadn't already done the "daring young chick on the flying trapeze" schtick at the 2009 VMA's. The song was such a downer that it was difficult to truly enjoy the fact that she was 20 feet in the air, spinning and spraying all the celebrities below her like some sort of naked, bejeweled lawn sprinkler.
Beyonce' B
Not bad actually. She was led to the stage by dozens of "guards" in riot gear, who then stood watch over the performance. Kinda cool when she ripped into a few verses of the ultimate "fuck you" song "You Oughta Know", even if she did leave out the word "fuck". That's ok, she's a "good girl". Not like that nasty Alanis.
Bon Jovi- C
A lame song from the new album that no one bought, then an appearance by the chick from Sugarland to sing another BonTucky number. Cap that off with the song the fans requested, which was..."Livin' on a Prayer". Shocker! How did a band that didn't have any nominations end up singing three songs?
Jamie Foxx- C
Dear Jamie. Stick to acting. And even then, maybe you could tone down the whole, "I'm the coolest guy in the room thing". Because guess what? You're not.
Jeff Beck w/ Imelda MayBeck-B May-D
Beck paid tribute to the late, great Les Paul. No arguments with that. May had me wondering, "Did Mary Ford lip synch 'How High the Moon"?
The MJ Tribute (Usher, Celine, Smokey, Carrie Underwear and Jennifer Hudson)- C+
The guy had about 1,000 songs that everyone can sing in their sleep, but they bust out a "new" song about how we need to take care of the planet. Plus, it was in 3D! Couldn't help but wonder why Beyonce' had on the red and blue specs in the front row. I suppose Jennifer Hudson must really be only one dimensional in real life.
Taylor Swift w/ Stevie Nicks - D
I saved the worst for last. This was unbearable. Swift's voice might be fine for the down home, teen heartbreak songs she writes, but when she tried to trade verses on "Rhiannon" with Nicks I actually felt bad for her. It's like finding out in front of 30 million people that you aren't as good as you thought you were. Makes me wonder if there was a rehearsal. Stevie did her best to save the disaster but even with her witchy magic it didn't have a chance.

Banks of Chaos...Now with moving pictures!

Do you ever find yourself thinking, "I wonder what Dave is watching?" Have you ever thought, "I'd like to hear the music Dave is listening to." Does the thought of having to actually read about those things bore you to tears? Well then the newest addition to Banks of Chaos will be right up your alley. Yes, that's right, my blog now features video. Finally, a way to watch what I'm watching and hear what I'm hearing. Go ahead, you know you want to.
Scroll all the way to the bottom of the page (I know it's a long way, but stick with it) and you'll be treated to a veritable feast for both the eyes and ears. So kick back, have a laugh, sing along and if you're not careful...you might just learn something.

Only in America!

In the past I have always prepared my own taxes. It's a relatively painless procedure, especially when your gross income is just slightly larger than that of the paperboy. But this year, oh this year I'm making the big teacher bucks. So now I'm thinking it may be time to have a professional take a look at the year end reporting of my finances to the IRS. I was afraid it would be difficult to find a place where I would feel comfortable taking my business. It's an important job and I wanted to be sure I found someone that I could trust.
Lucky for me, I drive home through what must be the most highly concentrated collection of tax services in the tri-county area. Yep, 8 Mile Road between Livernois and Gratiot. How do I know I can trust these establishments? How can you not trust a tax service featuring an "urban" Uncle Sam on the corner? But the competition is stiff. Along that storied stretch of broken concrete and shattered dreams I pass not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR such Sams. They proudly stumble along the boulevard, like intoxicated human forms of Old Glory herself. Each one urging me to entrust them with my W-2 and bank receipts.
The choices don't end there though, if I decide that the starred and striped gentlemen are not to my liking I can choose from a pair of fine nubian Statues of Liberty (actually they're dudes too). These two collosus stand guard over 8 Mile with their torches of freedom held high. From their seperate posts they welcome the poor, the weak, the huddled masses, yearning to file early. (come to think of it, it may not be the torches that are high)
My search appears near it's conclusion. Next week I will throw my financial records in a shoebox and stash them under the seat, because if I spot an ebony bald eagle in the median I think I've found my taxman.

Did I Miss Something?

I flipped by the Fox News Channel today and all they could talk about was some guy I'd never heard of before I went to bed. They made it sound like he had just been elected to the highest office in the land. The commentators couldn't stop talking about the power he would wield. Sean Hannity seemed positively giddy about the "change" that had come to D.C.
I figured I had better get myself up to speed on this guy because he must have been elected president while I slept. All I could ascertain to this point was that his name is Scott Brown, he's from Massachusetts and he drives a pick-up truck (a point he seems VERY proud of). Imagine my surprise when a Google search yielded the above photo.
Holy Hell! I needed to know more. I flipped over to CNN to see what else I could learn about this man. I was heartened to see that he exhibited good old traditional family values...including pimping out his daughters during his victory speech. Mr. Brown was especially eager to let everyone know that the tall one was "available". I quickly found out she was a star basketball player at Boston College AND a contestant on American Idol.
Maybe the Mayans were right about 2012 after all...

Do Technology Teachers Dream of Electronic Women?

Years ago Dennis Miller opined that when virtual reality advanced to the point that "an unemployed iron worker can lie in his barcolounger and fuck Claudia Schiffer for $19.95, it will make crack look like Sanka."
Well, a New Jersey based company has moved us one step closer to that fateful day. Douglas Hines and TrueCompanion have created Roxxy, which they are calling "the world's first sex robot". She's a life sized latex doll with sensors in all the right places and a laptop plugged into her back. Roxxy talks, in one of five distinct personalities, and can "learn" things by having them loaded into the computer in her back. Kinda makes me think it would be like having sex with Teddy Ruxpin.
The creators say, "Sex only goes so far, and then you want to talk..." Yes, that is exactly what dudes who are using this contraption are thinking. "Hey, I just banged an 80 pound piece of inanimate rubber which cost me seven thousand dollars...I'd really like to chat with it now." My best guess is that feelings of shame and remorse will overpower any urge to talk. But let's say you do manage to strike up a conversation, then what? Now you've made a connection with your new "girlfriend", which is going to make it that much harder to shove her back under the bed.
Another strange but true aspect of the sexbot is that the makers of Roxxy had originally set out with much more noble intentions. They saw this new technology as a surrogate caregiver for the elderly. When faced with myriad codes, laws and restrictions that blocked their path they of course moved to the next logical step. "Well, since it can't stay with grandma while you're out...maybe guys will want to stick their junk in it." Such is the history of innovation.

above left: Roxxy the Sexbot circa 2010
above right: Pris the Sexbot circa 2019 (via 1982's Blade Runner)

Enough Already

I think anyone who knows me knows that there are several things I am absurdly passionate about. Coaching, KISS, loathing mornings and thinking that Jay Leno is the least funny man in America.
It is because of the latter that these last few days have been so bittersweet. There was the initial thrill over the fact that NBC had to admit defeat and cancel Jay's sorry ass "comedy" experiment. But then the news came that, as reward for his miserable failure, Leno would be given yet another new show. The plan being to move Leno back to 11:30 and push The Tonight Show to midnight.
This new configuration all hinged on the interested parties (Leno, Conan, and to a MUCH lesser extent, Jimmy Fallon) agreeing to the changes. This is were Conan O'Brien earned a whole lotta r-e-s-p-e-c-t from m-e. His press release was classy, humble and yet very to the point. In it he declined to accept the move. Not based on ego but based on his desire NOT to diminish the reputation of The Tonight Show, a program he calls "the greatest franchise in the history of broadcasting"(check out Conan's full statement)
The ironic thing about Conan's desire to save the reputation of the show is that it has already become damaged goods. First NBC bungled the transition after Johnny retired (check out HBO's movie "The Late Shift") and then Jay turned it into a festival of hack jokes and comedic schtick.
So kids, please, do yourself and television a favor...tune in to laugh with Letterman instead. If everyone would do this one simple thing we could finally have the answer to the age old question, "If an unfunny comedian tells a joke, and there's no one there to hear it, will he finally just go away?"

Fly Me to the Moon?

In light of the recent events that took place high above Detroit, I am hereby submitting my plan for making the skies friendly once again. The solution is elegant in it's simplicity and won't cost the airlines or the government a dime. Furthermore, I can guarantee that airplane terrorism will CEASE to exist when my plan is fully implemented.
Here's the basic outline...everyone flies naked. BOOM! Problem solved. You wanna sneak a box cutter on the flight? Better be prepared to stick it up your ass. Got a recipe for explosives that involves a batch of volatile chemicals? Better make room for 'em in your ass. I think you get the idea. Pretty much, all airport security has to look for now is the dude that's walking very gingerly.
You're welcome Homeland Security. Don't mention it FAA. Just trying to do my part.