.......And His Own Sweat Smells The Best

While in the back of a cab on a recent business trip, a co-worker was telling me a rather amusing story about a recent meeting where he had to borrow the suit coat of another co-worker because, well, he had forgotten to pack his deodorant and it was a warm day. I asked him about the obvious solution: why not race to the nearest store and pick some up? Apparantly, though, time was a factor and he risked being late for what was an important meeting. Or something.

After we finished the good-natured ribbing of our co-worker (always a good time), the conversation turned to deodorant and anti-perspirants. See, I've been an anti-perspirant guy for as long as I can remember. Deodorants may smell better, but anti-perspirants are the ones that block sweating. Anyway, one co-worker said he wore deodorant exclusively because anti-perspirants contain many borderline toxic poisons and cancer-causing agents. I was all like "hold the phone." I had never heard this - ever - and I read quite a bit and try to stay on top of stuff like that. Surely I would have heard about this somewhere?

Naturally, I freaked out just a little. Until I knew more, I changed up the armpit system and the last couple of sticks I bought have been deodorant and not anti-perspirant and they've been purchased a Whole Foods. Could it be that I totally missed the boat on this and I'm heading for the ditch? I mean, I couldn't really believe this was true, otherwise grocery stores and pharmacies wouldn't have such extensive choices of anti-perspirants on their shelves. Or would they? I mean, can retail be trusted?

So tonight I turned to the most trusted resource in the modern world - the internet (please note sarcasm here). A spin around the web indicates that this is largely an urban myth, although it seems there have been some odd statistics around incidents of breast cancer in women who use anti-perspirants and shave thier armpits. I would imagine the number of women who do that is pretty high. And ladies, don't freak - they're having trouble making the connection at all and logic is logic.

However, it does appear that anti-perspirants contain some ingredients that probably are not terribly good for you. I mean, anti-perspirants essentially create gels that muck up your pores and prevent sweat from exiting your body. Now, last time I checked, sweating is one of the human body's natural (and quite necessary) occurences, so think about it this way: just imagine you had something that prevented you from going to the bathroom. Hmmmmm. Admittedly, not a fair comparison, but I'm in the ballpark.

End result? I dunno. I haven't switched back to anti-perspirant yet, but man, the deodorants (at least the ones at Whole Foods) don't exactly give me a days worth of protection. I know, I know, just use it twice a day, you say. I guess that's the only option. But on meeting days, I'm hitting the anti-perspirant yo, 'cause you never know. And I ain't borrowing anyone's jacket.

So what do you do, anti-perspirants or deodorant? Has anyone ever heard this myth or read anything to the effect that anti-perspirants aren't good for you? Good god. If you're still reading this - really - I feel bad for you.

 

A Selfish Reason For Not Minding The High Gas Prices

stockupdate
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

It's time for the quarterly stock update. As you recall, last fall I bought stock through a brokerage for the first time and decided to put the money into renewable energy. At an 88% return-on-investment, it has proven to be quite a good decision. The visibility and stock of both Evergreen Solar and MEMC Electronic Materials continues to skyrocket, which is music to my ears. As stated before, I remain long on both and there's probably still some room there for even more growth. Somebody tell me the difference between the stock market and Las Vegas?

Question on the side: don't you hate it when you put on a jacket and it bunches up your long sleeves? Drives me crazy. Usually I remember to hold onto the sleeves when putting on the coat, but every now and then.....

 

I Was Born In A Little Bitty Tar Hut, Part IV

King Radio, Circa 2003
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

It was one of those extremely rare occasions when I was actually able to sleep in a moving vehicle. Under the circumstances, however, it wasn't all that surprising, seeing as though I'd spent the previous two-and-a-half weeks in what we warmly referred to as "The Crankyville Trolley."

The Crankyville Trolley belonged to Angry Johnny & The Killbillies, the first band we signed to Tar Hut back in 1995. It was old, it was orange and it didn't smell very good inside. I'm still not sure if the latter was because of the van or its inhabitants, but one could safely assume the blame could rest with both.

The beauty of the van, which finally died just last year, was that when he first got it, Johnny gave a complete overhaul and made it very band-friendly. If there was ever a "Pimp My Ride" for indie-rock bands, Johnny invented it. By the time we slugs at Tar Hut came along, it was outiftted quite nicely, complete with a bed-like area in the back which could fit two, built directly over the storage area for all the equipment. It was set pretty high so it was close to the ceiling of the van (think MRI with cigarette smoke, the smell of stale beer and four musicians constantly making you laugh), but it was actually quite comfortable.

Furthermore, Johnny was a bit of a MacGyver - he actually cut in some windows to the side of the van and on the top, but did it so that nobody could ever see that there was music equipment inside. Simply another notch in his belt of bizarre genius.

Anyway, I had snuck back there during a late afternoon in March during the last long ride of a three-week tour - a trek from Philadelphia to Boston. When I drifted off, it was sunny and clear and I was looking forward to getting home, but worried my 1965 Ford Galaxie might not start since it had been sitting in Johnny's parking lot in the cold for three weeks.

With drizzle starting to fall and the sun heading south, I awoke an hour or two later to hand-clapping and driving guitars on the radio. The guitar player, a 350-pound mountain of a kid whom Johnny called "PeeWee", was the first person I heard talking, describing to me that his good friend Frank Padellaro was the ringleader of this new band and that they had many, many other songs that I should probably hear. This was my introduction to King Radio and I knew right away I needed to speak to the band as soon as possible about working together. Frank had been a member of the Scud Mountain Boys and since they had recently disbanded, I knew we might have something to talk about.

The song on the radio, I would learn later, was called "I-95," a driving, catchy, insanely fun pop song about an irresponsible lad driving down the highway, sans any care in the world. As always, they had me at the hand claps.

It wasn't more than a week later when I met Frank at one of my favorite Northampton, Mass. haunts - The Bay State (RIP) and I knew we'd be decent friends when PeeWee (real name: Ray) introduced me to Frank as one of the Tar Hut owners and the first thing Frank said to me was "you have great taste!" I wasn't entirely sure if he was greasing me up, but he seemed very damn friendly and as time went by, that concern began fading.

Shortly thereafter, I had their debut album, "Mr. K is Dead, Go Home," in my hands and it didn't take long: this was just the direction we wanted to take the label - insanely catchy three-minute power-pop songs, backed with rich instrumentation and Frank's unbelievably terrific singing voice, a voice which I believe was classically trained (my memory gets the best of me on that one) and to this day Frank ranks far and away as the best pure singer and talent we had on the label.

Angry Johnny was out of left-field and a mind-blowing creative genius (and the most FUN), The Ex-Husbands were the band all the girls liked, The Lonesome Brothers were solid veterans who had everyone's respect and Martin's Folly were the hip Brooklyn guys. But Frank Padellaro and King Radio were the most talented group of musicians we had on the roster, hands down.

Long story short, we had some minor successes with "Mr. K..." at college radio and I found myself happy because I had found a really good friend in Frank. He never asked us for anything we considered unfair, he was as smart as a whip, an extremly hard worker and very accomodating and friendly. As a CPA, he even did my taxes for a couple of years there. I truly enjoyed just about everything we did with King Radio on both a professional and personal level.

It kind of broke my heart when Tar Hut shut down, because we were about to release their second album, titled "Curse of the Bambino." It is, in my eyes, a band at its very peak. The rich orchestration, the singing, the songwriting, just the whole package was even fuller, catchier and more beautiful than the first record by at least triple. "Curse..." was Frank really stepping on the gas, a creative mind zig-zagging deliciously around the recording studio.

We had a couple of other bands ready to go, also from Northampton and at that time, around mid-1999, I honestly and truly thought we had a firm grasp on "the next Seattle" moniker with Northampton. Not in the sense that we were going to be rich, but in the sense that there was so much great damn music coming out of that town during this period that it was overwhelming. We were ready to put it all out there, like a blackjack player on his last chips. All in. That's a post for another time.

Fast forward to 2006: Frank is still around, producing great records by other bands. I haven't heard from him in quite while now, but I really miss our conversations, talking and laughing about music, food, movies, whatever. King Radio released a third record that was a 180-degree turn from thier previous stuff - and still well-received, although "Curse of the Bambino" will never be topped. Actually, I hope he does top it someday. He probably will.

Two songs from "Curse of the Bambino," never released on Tar Hut, but they still both hold a dear place in my heart (right click and "save as" to save them to your hard drive).

Dumbrella (1:49 of pop genius!)
Untitled (Frank's voice at its very best)

Hard not to like those.

 

Wha....?

Bruins Email
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

Hmmmm....interesting. I received this email tonight from the Boston Bruins Executive Vice President. Interesting approach. Looks like he opted for the straightforward route. Click on the pic if you can't see it clearly enough.

 

I Was Born In A Little Bitty Tar Hut III

I was thinking the other day about how great it would be to amass all the pictures we took from the Tar Hut days. Those of you who know Dave, one of the three Tar Hut principals, knows that he doesn't go far without his camera. Actually, it wouldn't surprise me if Dave rolled out of his mother's womb with a camera and strap wrapped around his wrist. His hair: straight up in a pomp, of course. Anyway, the amount of pictures he took in that period from 1996-1999 was, in a word, obscene. We'll get them online eventually. As I look back, I'm so glad he took them, because I never really understood the importance of a camera until a few years ago. Oh, regrets. I have many.

Regardless, it got me thinking yet again about time. How, in time, the memories of things you've done or people you dated begin to play with your mind like those lottery machines on TV that have all those little balls shooting around them before those little ping-pong numbers come rolling out. We remember high school, college or a certain job with reflective fondness, yet we tend to forget how much we couldn't wait to escape them. We look back on some past loves (and for some of us, marriages) with fondness but then one day realize why you're not still with them - because you forgot about the few annoying little habits they had or how much they drove you nuts or just how plain wrong it was. I'm sure some thought the same of me.

In trying to think about a post for my latest Tar Hut installment here, I was going to write about one of our bands, King Radio. That will come soon. (Hi Frank. Send me an email!) Instead I'm writing about a period in the spring of 1999, when Tar Hut, unbeknownst to any of us at the time, was experiencing a strange combination of exciting growth and inevitable crashing. Don't ask. Some recent email exchanges between the three of us had me laughing pretty good and then an email came in from Dave - he had forwarded an email to us that I had written in May, 1999 regarding an impending record release. Yes, Dave even kept all the old emails saying that someday he's going to write a book, bless his heart. So here's what I had to say in that email, with names removed to protect the innocent:

I just got the CD in the mail with a mock-up of the artwork. I must say, the artwork is absoloutly horrendous. Just fucking terrible. XXXX was talking like it was the next Van Gogh painting or something, but the artwork is so awful that I broke out laughing in my car at the post office when I opened it. People were staring at me. That's not really anything new though, because I sit there and talk to myself all the time. I have conversations with myself in my head. Sometimes out loud. With gestures. And I find myself growing more and more anti-social by the minute. The only desire I have lately to see bands is if they're on Tar Hut. Anyway, the CD sounds really good. Like I said, it really grows on you. I told XXXX to send you both mock-ups, too, so you'll see it soon enough.

Well, there you go. I sat here this past weekend, just short of seven years later, my eyes scanning that paragraph over and over, wondering who the hell that guy was who wrote that. It's obviously me - the writing style certainly gives it away, but I found myself full of regret that I ever let it get to the point where I had no desire to see a band live unless they were on my own label. How completely, utterly obnoxious. I'd like to think I was having a bad day, but why bother lying? I wasn't. Our records were selling but not as fast as we wanted them to, I was heading towards an inevitable breakup with a girlfriend of two years (of course, the correct move in retrospect - it almost always is) and I found myself - all the time - seeing bands and thinking to myself "how the hell do they get away with playing on this stage when [insert Tar Hut band name] could blow thier doors off in their sleep?" Yes, bitterness 101.

Yet the end result seven years later? I ended up sitting here laughing. Hard. I mean, that's the only thing I can do. The three of us emerged from the smoldering wreckage with minor scars, but we all remain in constant contact with one another and back to how it used to be - three friends talking about music, saying or writing dumb shit and remembering the good times. To hell with the bad ones and if you come across one, put your boot in it like you're stamping out a cigarette and then have a laugh. Don't forget that pain, though - it has without doubt helped me learn a lot. Just keep it somewhere in the vault where it's dark and dusty.

The artwork? That wasn't the mark of a bitter kid. It really was terrible.

 

Are You "Suri"ous?

I've said it before, but I'm saying it again. Oh, how I love Defamer.com. If it weren't such a low-paying, factory style blogging job, in fact, it might be my dream job. I offer nothing tonight except this slice of near-perfection, in reference to Suri, the freshly minted female offspring of Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise.

"Somewhere deep within Tom Cruise's compound, one of the hundreds of bio-vessels gathered in the estate's silent birthing stadium has finally pushed forth into the world an offspring bearing enough of a physical resemblance to the actor (think the classic monkeys-and-typewriters scenario, but with stainless-steel turkey basters and female Scientologists in their prime reproduction years) not to arouse too much suspicion about the infant's true parentage.

In other words: The Miracle Baby has finally arrived, a 7 lb. 7 oz. girl named Suri, which we assume was the name of some futuristic seafaring vessel from an obscure L. Ron Hubbard novel.

According to a press release, "both mother and daughter are doing well." We assume they're referring to Katie Holmes, not the actual biological parent who's tending the child while Holmes tries to chew through her wrist restraints and escape during the bedlam following the birth announcement."

How can you not love that?

 

Is There An Award Called "Best Abolition of a Greek System?"

Ugh. I've historically sung the praises of Kent State, my alma mater. I spent four pretty glorious years there, actually learned a lot, grew up, had some unbelieveable experiences (I mean, pretty much standing in the Blue Jays dugout when Joe Carter hit his World Series-winning home run? Yeah, that was cool) and Kent is where I acquired my still-voracious appetite for discovering new music. There's plenty of other good stuff that happened there, too, but it's not necessary to speak of them here. How's that for mysterious?

The other night, though, I was flipping channels and watched the news for a few minutes and was quite sad to hear about this. It appears as if a all-white sorority at Kent created an award for it's "blackest member." Of course, the sorority has said everything you would expect it to. You know, things they didn't really mean, such as "oh, we were just kidding" and "it was a joke." Yeah, ha ha.

The sorority is currently on probation and university officials say that there's a chance the group could lose its charter at Kent, which, not knowing the Greek lingo, means it might be shut down? Who knows. The campus will certainly be a better place without them, but something tells me they'll get off with a slap on the wrist, which means it'll only be a few more months before the normal university kids have to bear witness again to pledges swimming across the campus pond naked with bananas stuck in their butts or whatever those silly people do. I never really could comprehend that life, myself.

 

Notice anything interesting in this picture?

Notice anything interesting in this picture?
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

I'm wondering if anyone can detect anything interesting or strange about this picture? Leave comments. Click on the picture to see it larger.

Final Update: It only took three days. Leo wins - the trees are bare on the right, and full of green on the left. You win.....nothing. Bryan, nice try, but I know you only got it after you read Leo's comment. Come on!

 

It's Better To Be Pissed Off......

I've never experienced this in any place I've lived before, but this appears to be about the time of year when there's a brief flurry of ladybugs at our house, not neccescarily a bad thing, as they're known to be quite a useful bug to have around. They mostly hang out on window sills and we'll occasionally see them near our kitchen or bathroom sinks. I rarely see them move, but apparantly they are rabid devourers of other, more destructive insects, so it's all good. Supposedly, when the males mate, they experience three 90-minute orgasms, too, so you gotta hand it to them - they sure know how to party. I'm thinking there'd be a lot less war and aggression if human males had such capabilities. Just sayin.'

Anyway, to totally change the subject, I still pee standing up. Don't worry, this will come full circle. As a 34 year-old male, it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone that I'm an upright pee-er. The only time I pee sitting down is right when I get up in the morning. Not sure why, probably just want to sit after I've just woken up, I suppose. This is feeling more and more like a Andy Rooney commentary, isn't it? Really, I apologize.

Anyway, today I took a break from work to make lunch and made a stop in the bathroom. Standing up, I went about my usual business and about halfway through I look down in the toilet bowl and - full circle as promised - there was a damn ladybug in the bowl. Now, I'd like to think the bug was dead already because it was not moving and one might imagine that a bug that's smart enough to have three 90-minute orgasms is smart enough to avoid toilet bowls. However, you never knowwith these things and I certainly wasn't going to investigate the "alive or dead" question any further.

So that's all. I don't believe there's any adages or bad luck curses for pissing on a ladybug, but I must admit I did feel a little bad and I didn't mean to. Would I have investigated the matter if I had seen the little critter pre-pee? Can't imagine I would.

It's quite possible I've reached a new low on the blog.

 

If EA or Take Two Won't Do It, WE Will

If Take Two or EA Won't Do It, We Will
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

This is a great little story of how much we take for granted what the internet has done for us, as a service, a form of entertainment, and perhaps most importantly, as a fuel for human collarboration. Even if you don't like baseball, please stick with me here.

Those of you who've been reading this blog for a few years know that with each baseball season comes a new PC baseball game, one that allows me to really strut my stuff when it comes to totally dorking out. I'll take a team and play an entire season, mirroring exactly all of the trades and moves made in actual MLB (for all teams). I originally played the terrific High Heat games, then when 3DO went belly-up two years ago, I switched to EA, which managed to put out a really decent game with minimal shortcomings.

This year, us PC users were dealt a tough hand of cards. EA-Sports lost the licensing rights to MLB and some company called Take Two Interactive won exclusive rights. The idea of adjusting to yet another new PC game wasn't ideal, but as is sum-and-substance for consumers, we really had no choice.

It wasn't until about February when the news hit - Take Two wasn't even going to produce a baseball title for the PC, only for the consoles (XBox, PS3, etc). I considered actually getting a console, then realized I'd essentially be spending a lot of money to largely play one game. Plus I don't think I need another media distraction in my house. That said, I reserve the right to get a console anytime I want.

Stay with me here, non-baseball fans. So what does the PC gamer do here? Sure, we could play the 2005 EA version, but then you're dealing with performance based on 2004 stats, no rookies from the 2005 season, no stadium updates and a year old schedule. Manageable maybe, but unacceptable for the true dorks (my hand is up).

So what happened? Well, a group of what we can only presume are kids did something pretty that I consider to be pretty amazing. In what can only be thought of as a stunning amount of work and collaboration from kids all across the country, the PC players banded together and re-made the face of the entire game - all through the internet! The centerpiece of which is MVP Mods, a site to hit to get subsequent updates all season long.

Exhibits:

- A few of these kids updated all the stadiums, including the addition of real advertising and scoreboards to match that of the actual stadiums. The Green Monster scoreboard at Fenway is manual and keeps accurate stats!

- Another person changed all the intro screens and the design of in-game text/stats (such as the graphics to show stats for batters or pitchers). Now all the players head shots from the 2005 season are high-resoloution, crystal clear and make the game feel brand new.

- One guy actually went through and created all four levels of real baseball players. Whereas before all we had were the names of actual MLB players, we now have the MLB players, the rookies and get this - all three levels of minor leaguers: their names, their updated individual team pictures, their 2005 stats - everything.

- I don't know how they did this, but the schedules were changed to match 2006 games instead of 2005.

- Somebody (pictured above) even took the time to build - from scratch - the new St. Louis Cardinals stadium. I can't imagine the work this must have taken (larger size here)

- Every uniform worn by each team, stretching back nearly 100 years, is now available to use for any given game. So if I want to play a game between the Padres in their hideous early 80's uniforms and the Pirates in their 1970s yellows, I can do that.

- Brand name shoes, bats, wristbands, elbow pads and batting gloves were created - and actually matched up with the correct players. If Mark Texiera wears Nike cleats in the real game, then he wears them here. If Francisco Rodriguez wears goggles on the mound, he wears them in the game. Incredible.

The work that has been done here has made the game 10 times better than EA's original product! I didn't participate in any of the massive upgrade other than to make a small monetary contribution to the Herculean effort. It's very rare I make contributions to something other than a charity, but whoever these guys are, they deserved it and then some.

Effectively, you can still buy the 2005 EA version in the store, go home, download the upgrade for free, install it right over the original game and the game immeadiately improves by leaps and bounds.

Time and time again we're told that machines, computers and media in general are turning us into walking zombies who are utterly devoid of true social interaction. While there are, unquestionably, valid concerns about how media and the internet are shaping us and our children, is online collaboration like this such a bad thing? Sure, it's just a damn game in a sea of games available and I'm sure there are plenty of other examples like this to go around, but maybe what we're seeing is no different than when Elvis disgusted our grandparents with his gyrations. We see a generation that goes home, logs on and zones out. They may see a world that's completely opening up for them, allowing them to reach out to people of similar taste, style and substance. People they just may not find roaming the halls of their own schools. Like-minded people that will collaborate with them, for instance, to improve a silly PC baseball game.

Look, I'm not wearing rose-colored glasses. I know the pitfalls and problems with what can happen online. Seems like "Dateline" has devoted the last 40 episodes to sexual predators. But I get the feeling that for every instance when the newspaper reports that kind of stuff, there's 10 kids out there somewhere who are connecting with other kids hundreds or thousands of miles away - and feeling like maybe there is life outside of the miserable high school they go to. I'm not sure that's an overwhelmingly bad thing.

My thinking is that if this isn't a shining example of how the internet has changed everything, then I don't know what is.

 

Oh, You See The Good in Everyone

maynard
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

This is an aerial shot of Maynard, Massachusetts, where I currently reside. This post is not meant to point out how much better the aerial photography is on Ask.com than the other search engines, nor am I trying to get you to try it for yourself. I mean, why would I so obviously shill for the company I work for? Geez. I'm not that obnoxious.

Anyway, Maynard is a very small town geographically, but lately it seems like we're making the news more than we should and not for the best of reasons. Let's take a look at the exhibits:

a) I'm having a hard time believing this one, but apparantly a five year old girl was scolded at the elementary school in Maynard this week. Did she throw something at a teacher? Try to beat up another student? Incite a food fight? Steal something? Swear at her teacher? Nope. She hugged another student. That's right. Hugged. I guess the adminstration somehow considers hugging the equivilent of roughhousing. The admins even made the young girl write a letter to her parents "explaining her behavior." What could a five-year old possibly write? "Sorry mom, I hugged somebody?" Christ.

b) This story hit the newswire last fall, but is still reverberating around town. A longtime teacher in the Maynard school system was arrested for child molestation, at which point several more students from over the last 30 years stepped forward and also made similar claims against the man. It's always the ones who "give the most" to the kids, isn't it? In this case, this apparent waste of a human ran the school radio station (quite popular around here, which is cool), gave money and gifts to children in need, and seemed to be universally adored by both kids and parents in town. Incredibly sad. There's always the chance that if one child makes the claim, you almost hope it's a made-up story sprouting from a dust-up in class or something. No guilty verdict has come down yet, but plenty of victims are providing information and details about the man that no schoolkids should know. It doesn't look good.

c) The entire school system itself is in danger of losing accreditation because of the physical condition of the high school. Ouch. I've never been there myself, but even back in the late '80s when I was in high school, I always drove by it and felt like it was in rough shape.

Many of you are probably wondering why we even live here after all this. Well, I suppose I have faith. I've seen the recent influx of young couples with children who've moved here recently. Many are the same as us - they came from the city, seek realistic value in housing prices and will provide the foundation for change here.

I see a brand new library going up. I see the town struggling, but trying to do something about the physical state of the high school. I see my neighbors, both of whom spent their working lives in the Maynard school system and are approaching retirement. They are very good people whom I believe wholeheartedly when they tell me that a child molester is the raging exception to the norm at that school. The school is in no danger of cracking the top 10 list in terms of quality education (yet?) but it's also not even close to being near the bottom, either, and the trends are heading up - a good sign. Not sure I'm sold on those rating lists, anyway. My gut keeps telling me that the education your child gets is influenced as much by the school system as it is your own parenting choices. You can't just ship them off to school each morning and expect others to form them correctly. Doesn't seem to work that way. I've seen it first hand.

I see a diverse community. A great downtown. Rising real estate values. Easy access to the city. A farmer's market! Oh yeah, Erikson's opens this weekend, too. Ice cream is always good for the community.

 

Random & Final Thoughts On Europe.......

Other various notables from the Europe trip:

• It is amazing how quickly I've taken the indoor smoking ban for granted here. Those laws have not been enacted in London, Brighton or Paris as of yet. What a difference. Some of the establishments are better than others in making non-smokers as comfortable as possible, but some pubs and restaurants were absolutely untenable. I am not even being melodramatic when I say that it took me 30 seconds after I walked into one pub in particular before I literally felt ill. I'm also glad that I don't have to deal with my clothes reeking of smoke anymore, too. The good news is that London's smoking ban goes into law next spring.
  

• Another obvious difference: the complete lack of SUV's and battleship-style automobiles in both cities. It took mere hours for both Steph and I to notice this. I am pretty sure the horrific gas prices in both London and France (equivilent to about $5-6 U.S. per gallon) play a big role in this, but narrow streets must also factor in somehow. I mean, some of the streets in London and the English countryside - no way you can pilot an SUV through those! In fact, what amused us to no end was just how small some of the cars were! I mean, looking at some of them, I honestly felt like I could pick them up and throw them. Which isn't to say we saw no SUV's, though - there were some and a Boston Globe article I read last Sunday indicates that SUV sales are on the rise in England.

In trying to decide what book to bring along for the trip, it was a decision between the 700+ page Neil Young biography which has been looming over me for a year now, or the shorter Nickel and Dimed. Overwhelmed yet again by the prospect of a 700+ page book, I opted for Nickel and Dimed, where the author investigates the life of minimum wage workers in America by "going undercover" and taking various jobs (waitress, maid and Wal-Mart employee) in three different U.S. locales. The book ended up being the correct choice.

There is nothing better to humble the privledge of being able to travel the world than to get a better understanding of how the minimum wage worker lives their life - and it is not a pretty scenario at all. In fact, check out this story from the New York Times that ran on Monday - incredibly sad. I try my very best to never take for granted what I have and I've been so lucky (seemingly to the point of ridiculousness at times) during the last 5 years working for Ask.com. This book provided the perfect companion as we ate and traveled our way through two very expensive cities.

The book was a quick and terribly interesting read, with the most thought-provoking piece coming at the end, with the author's overall summary. The summary looks at how welfare reform may be one of the causes in the growing class of minimum wage earners, otherwise known as the working poor. Minimum wage is clearly not enough to sustain a single parent who have children living with them and it's even arguable that it's enough to sustain just one person, as the author found out in her experiments. Those points can be debated for eons, really, and it's a subject I don't want to touch here.

Where the book really hit home for me, however, is the last two paragraphs, where the author briefly ponders how we, the upper and middle class, feel about these human beings. How are we supposed to feel and/or interact with the people who clean our hotel rooms and serve us food? Why is it that many people can't even look maids in the eye or even speak to them as they're cleaning our homes? I've seen first hand on my endless string of business trips how some other business travelers treat them and it is dispicable. While I certainly cannot make the claim that I walk up to waitresses or hotel maids and hug them and thank them for their service, I certainly do make it a point to say hello and ask how they're doing and I thank them properly.

The author provides a different and somewhat eye-opening way to look at it:

Guilt, you may be thinking warily. Isn't that what we're supposed to feel? But guilt doesn't go anywhere near far enough; the appropriate emotion is shame - shame at our own dependancy, in this case, on the underpaid labor of others. When someone works for less pay than she can live on - when for example, she goes hungry so that you can eat more cheaply and conveniently - than she has made a great sacrifice for you, she has made you a gift of some part of her abilities, her health and her life. The "working poor" as they are approvingly termed, are in fact the major philanthropists of our society. They neglect their own children so that the children of others will be cared for; they live in substandard housing so that other homes will be shiny and perfect....to be a member of the working poor is to be an anonymous donor, a nameless benefactor to everyone else.

Biting and thought-provoking words indeed, although I cannot bring myself to entirely get behind the whole "major philanthropists" thing. While the statement is undoubtedly true for a great number of humans who work these jobs, I'd hesitate myself to blanket all of them with such unbridled sympathy and praise for giving up everything to please the classes above them. Some, hopefully most, are certainly working hard and doing their best, some simply have no other choice and others, and this is a sad truth, are probably capable of much more, but lack the drive or ethic to make something of themselves.

An interesting and recommended read.

 

Dirty Old River, Must You Keep Rolling...

Parliament and Big Ben
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

There exist very few cities in our world within a two-hour train ride of each other that are so distinctly and blantanly different. London and Paris are both obviously rich in history, but the similarities more or less cease there.

I've been trying to figure out how it is that so many Parisians appear not to be working. The cafes we stopped into each day for lunch while in Paris were almost always quite full, and not with just tourists. It's true that France's unemployment rate is roughly double that of the United States, but the amount of residents walking the streets in the middle of the day was still an oddity that I haven't quite figured out yet. London, on the other hand, appeared to me to be more of a bustling, workforce-laden group, much like New York City or Chicago.

One thing that has always attracted me to large cities is the architecture. Here, Paris simply smokes London, although it's not London's fault that portions of its old-world charm were rendered to dust by the Germans during the bombing of Britain in the Second World War. Incidentally, Paris may have also suffered a similar fate had Dietrich von Choltitz obeyed Hitler's order to destroy as much of Paris as he could upon exiting the country. He disobeyed the order - perhaps he felt the same way I did when I saw how beautiful that city was. Either way, I'm glad for the defiance on von Choltitz's part, as I'm sure many others are.

Regardless, what has resulted in London is a very odd mix of beautifully constructed buildings from hundreds or even thousands of years ago, flanked here and there by some rather horrific and questionable post-war era buildings, which may have appeared modern and flashy when first built, but are now quite inexplicable (that picture is their City Hall).

We weren't able to spend as much time in London as we did in Paris, but we did manage to see just about all of the important tourist attractions that London has to offer, complete with a ride around the city on a double decker bus, which would have been made all the sweeter had I not been rendered mildly motion-sick from sitting on the top. I didn't get physically ill from it, but couldn't spend much time up there.

In reading what I've written so far, one might think I wasn't crazy about London - that couldn't be further from the truth. In some ways, I find London to be a far more inviting city to return to. For a person who's tuned into the entertainment world (music, film, theatre, etc), London is as good as they come, if not the best.

Strangely enough, in looking back at our travels, I found the food in London to be first rate - and then some. Where Paris excels significantly in quick-bite items like crepes, pastries and various bakery items, London's restaurants provided us with what I consider to be first-rate full dinners. In all fairness, you wouldn't have ANY problems whatsoever eating in either city, but I guess I was more surprised by London because of its reputation for bad food, a tag which is clearly undeserving.

While portions of London were irreparably and unfortunately harmed by the war (whenever I was on the subway, I kept imagining London's residents sleeping down there during the Blitz), it has maintained some visually stunning buildings. The Tower of London, an old castle (turrets and all! check out that pic!) which has served many purposes for hundreds and hundreds of years, was incredibly interesting and Parliament/Big Ben (pictured above), as many times as you've seen pictures, can only be truly taken in by seeing it firsthand. Same goes for Westminster Abbey, an absolutely breathtaking piece of architecture, rife with amazing, ornate, beautiful carvings.

The trickiest thing about London is getting used to looking in the correct direction when crossing the street. In my mind, I told myself this wouldn't be a problem - it was. You become aware very quickly of the instincts drilled into your brain about what direction to look in when crossing a one way street, of which there are many in London. I found myself in a couple of close situations, nothing crazy, but as time went on, I found myself looking in any and all directions multiple times before the crossing the street. We didn't drive anywhere during our trip, so I can't comment on what it's like to drive there. More on the traffic, cars, etc in Europe late this week - it bears it's own post.

I wanted to be able to stuff some music tourism into our trip (Abbey Road, Muswell Hill, etc), but time prevented us from doing so. Next time. As we wandered around, though, I couldn't help humming tunes from some of my favorite London-based bands - you can't help it, really, when you see things like Waterloo Station and Hammersmith .

With that, I figure I'll leave you with one of my favorite songs from my favorite English band, The Kinks. "Two Sisters" was a song I found myself humming over and over again. It's the story of a woman looking at her own life and being envious of her more stylish sister's existence. In the end, the grass isn't actually greener, though. I do honestly believe that this is one of Ray Davies best songs.

Davies voice is also deceptively brilliant in this song. When Davies sings about the drudgery of being a housewife serving bacon and eggs each morning, you almost forget that the song has been written by a man. Then that same voice turns uplifting and exciting in the very next line when describing the housewife's sister and her "luxury flat." You actually get a true sense of that bitter jealousy in those three lines alone. It is one of Davies's shining moments, both as a lyricist and as a singer.

I've said time-and-time again that I believe Davies to be of equal, and in some cases better, songwriting talent than Lennon & McCartney. Ray Davies, without argument, has a leg or two up on the Beatles duo when it comes to writing about the struggles of London's post-war middle class. It's really a shame (and one of music's great mysteries) why The Kinks aren't held up to the same pedestals that The Beatles or The Rolling Stones maintain to this day.

Listen here. To download, right-click and choose "save as." Enjoy.

Two Sisters
Sylvilla looked into her mirror
Percilla looked into the washing machine
And the drudgery of being wed
She was so jealous of her sister
And her liberty, and her smart young friends
She was so jealous of her sister

Sylvilla looked into the wardrobe
Percilla looked into the frying pan
And the bacon and eggs
And the breakfast is served
She was so jealous of her sister
And her way of life, and her luxury flat
She was so jealous of her sister

She threw away her dirty dishes...just to be free again
Her women's weekly magazines...just to be free again
And put the children in the nursery... just to be free again
Percilla saw her little children
And then decided she was better off
Than the wayward lass that her sister had been
No longer jealous of her sister
So she ran 'round the house with her curlers on
No longer jealous of her sister