Today's ridiculous news story comes to us from the great city of New York, a place where your devoted Robot will be most of next week, on business. It seems that this gentleman has some issues. I mean, really. Cell phones are a dime-a-dozen, just get another one, dude. Did he really think it would work when he retrieved it? Even if it did work, would you want your mouth and your head even near it anyway? Eeeeek.

I strongly appluad the Red Sox move to rid themselves of Manny Ramirez. It will, unquestionably, hurt their offense, but that contract is a ten-ton albatross for that team, especially for a guy who's really a two-tool player. That kind of money, as ridiculous as it is, should be going to a five-tool guy, or two guys who add up to five tools. All that said, this was their year and they blew it. I have reservations now as these players start to age. I have reservations about the offense, full of guys who had career years and most likely will not see similar outputs next season. I have reservations about the pitching staff. It's going to be a very interesting offseason.

Song now playing: REM - "Bad Day"

Yes, I am trying some new shit out here. Bear with me.......

I've been picking through the most recent offerings from Cracker and The Bottle Rockets. The new Cracker album, called Countrysides, gets the early nod, more for the story behind the album than anything else. Generally, I've liked everything that Cracker has ever done. In fact, I've rarely been able to find a bad song on any of their albums. The story behind Countrysides is this - on each of their previous albums, the band always had a country-tinged song or two on it, towards the end, so the beast was lurking in them for a while. During a tour stop in the East Village in NYC, band members noticed that a few hipsters were actually starting to sport mullets and they had a conversation which essentially ended with them agreeing that the mullets were being worn as a ironic statement and not necessarily being worn to show off or to be be fashionable. It was then that Cracker decided to do a small tour and call themselves "Ironic Mullet," a great band name in and of itself.

Touring as Ironic Mullet, though, they chose a different path, instead deciding to play out-of-the-way bars and roadhouses on the outskirts and fringes. It's quite likely that everyone who saw Ironic Mullet on this small tour had no idea whatsoever that they were seeing a very talented, respected, pretty successful rock band playing country tunes in a crappy bar. What a great story. So this new Cracker album is a result of that tour - some old country standards and a few great David Lowery-penned songs, as usual. To me, it's not a true Cracker album, but they remain one of my favorite bands of the past 10 years or so - inventive, professional, clever and not prone to the trappings of trying to create "radio hits." If you don't have any Cracker albums, particularly "Kerosene Hat," you're really missing out.

The new Bottle Rockets album, titled Blue Sky, on the other hand, is quite a curve ball for these guys. Known predominantly as a band whose three major influences appear to be something along the lines of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Hank Williams and Slayer, their new album, upon my first listen, sounds much more pensive, more reserved and more, uh, grown up, I guess. Normally there's 2-3 songs on each Bottle Rockets album that just grabs you by the back of the pants and wallops your ass all over the place. Those songs are not found on Blue Sky. What you get instead are 13 introspective, very tight, clean, crystal clear sounding tunes. You get a lot of acoustic strumming and the occasional rock romp, although they never, at any point, put the pedal to the metal like they have on previous albums. Having only listened once, my personal jury is still out and I suspect I'll come to appreciate it much like all of their other truly great albums. But I'm coming to grips already with the fact that I'll have to appreciate it in a much different way - a way that doesn't make me want to pound beers and sing out loud - and that's okay.

It appears that this pretty great piece of writing was Elliot Smith's last interview. I hadn't known that he didn't want to release his new album on Dreamworks, nor did I know that he was involved in some kind of altercation with the L.A. Police at the Flaming Lips/Beck show and jailed for the night. I do know that if you stab yourself in the heart with a knife, you are a gigantic mess.

Song now playing: Sloan - "Money City Maniacs"

Things I like lately:

- The new Kings Of Leon album.
- Vlasic Bread & Butter Chips.
- The new Angry Johnny & The Killbillies album. I'm a little biased.
- Mini soda cans. Half the size of the usual can of soda. Great idea.



Things I don't like lately:
- Websites that automatically play music or sound.
- The TV show "Coupling" - talk about hype. Horrendous.
- No baseball for five months.


Song now playing: Angry Johnny & The Killbillies - "Trains Don't Run"

Here's a few pictures of my trip last week. These pictures were taken in both New York and Philadelphia. There's one towards the end, picture #7 in the set, that is taken in the Philadelphia twilight, and you can see the city in the background, but in the foreground I hope you're able to notice that there's a very large statue of a clothespin. Yes, a clothespin. Does anyone know the significance of this clothespin and why the city erected a statue of one? I'd be very curious to know. Picture #9 is not me, but I feel like the emotion it shows completely personifies what business travel is like - in fact, I believe this picture is the perfect microcosm. It's the enjoyment you get out of being in a different place and seeing people you usually only talk on the phone with, but it inevitably ends up with a scene like this - alone, calling home on your cell and just wishing instead that that familiar warm body was next to you and you keep on wishing you could just press a button and - BLAM - instantly just wake up at home. That's the look.

The last picture you'll see in the set was taken in a rush - I woke up on Wednesday morning in my New York City hotel room to find the largest cockroach I have ever seen in my life, running around the room. Other than wondering what the hell must have been going on in the dark while I was asleep, I rushed to get my camera to document the roach, because when I turned on the light, that thing was going MACH1 trying to find cover or at least get the hell away from me. Because this picture was taken in such haste and I wanted to make sure I documented it, I just turned the camera on and pressed the button, so I wasn't entirely in focus with this picture, but I think you can still tell how big it was. Nasty shit, my friends.

Here's to the Florida Marlins for not only beating the Yankees for the World Series title, but doing it in dominating fashion, right in the heart of darkness at Yankee Stadium. It salvadges what should have been our season.

Song now playing: Manfred Mann - "Blinded By The Light"

I changed someone's life last Tuesday. Nothing dramatic, really. It was a Philadelphia cab driver during a five minute cab ride. I was down there for a work meeting and after that meeting, I met up with a friend for some dinner. Afterwards, I hopped into a cab and headed to the train station and as soon as I plopped myself down onto the back seat of the car, I could hear Three Dog Night singing "Easy To Be Hard" on the radio. I commented that you don't hear that song much on the radio and the cab driver commented that he wasn't sure why it was playing, that tonight was usually the night they had their Motown special. After hearing that statement, I then relayed my own newly found discovery about The Funk Brothers (see my post below on "Standing In The Shadows of Motown") and he was just amazed, saying, "are you fucking kidding me, man? I love Motown! I can't fucking believe I didn't know that!!" After I let him know that I was not, in fact, fucking kidding him, he then went on to surmise, with vigor, that there could only be one reason why The Funk Brothers were not the most famous band in the world and that reason was the color of their skin and how it wasn't fair they were not well known, etc. Now, knowing the train station was close, I didn't have time to debate him on an issue in which he was clearly wrong (race is not the reason), so I just pushed out a quick "hmmm" and let it be.

Seconds after that, though, he went on to tell me a specific story about his upbringing in a nearly 100% Irish section of Philly. He was about five years old and was out playing with some of the other kids in the neighborhood, when an old Irish lady told him that "Italian greaseballs" didn't belong in the neighborhood. He swore that since that day, he would never judge anyone based on their ethnicity or the color of their skin, a fine trait to possess, and one which I staunchly believe in myself. His next quote got me going, though: "I don't care if you come down in a fucking UFO and have antennas on your head., man. I don't care if you wear a god damn fucking burlap bag to a black tie party, buddy. I ain't gonna judge ya." Laughing, I told the guy that I actually would prefer if someone came down in a UFO to talk to me. He laughed as if he'd just discovered the sweet drug of laughter and the passion of getting a kick out of something. He continued laughing and as we pulled into the station, I gave him five bucks and told him to keep the change. He said "thanks buddy. Whenever I hear a Motown song now, I will think of you. Thanks for telling me that." I retorted with my own thanks, thought nothing of it and went into the station.

It wasn't until an hour later when I started thinking about what he said. If what he said was true, that he would think of me every time a Motown song came on, that would really be something. I can picture the guy telling his family, his friends and his customers all about his new-found knowledge, him being proud to know it and spread it and then thinking of me. A positive memory of a foggy night in Philadelphia. In some small way, during a five-minute blip on the huge, vast, lightening fast radar of life, I made a difference with someone.

This might be a melodramatic statement to make, I grant you that. Changing people's lives, though, doesn't have to be some kind of huge impact gesture or something - you don't need to leap into a bustling street to push someone away from an oncoming bus to change their life. Everyone on Earth, simply by being born, changes two people lives. Those are your freebies, like collecting $200 for passing Go in Monopoly. The rest is up to you. I used to think that having a cool car or an interesting job would make others interested in me. While I suspect it worked with a select few, the smart ones know better. They know that those things make no difference whatsoever, unless you're the one who invented the seat belt for the car or your job was to teach under-privledged adults how to read. Those things make a difference. The car you drive and (most of) the work you're paid for are stories. So yeah, I hope that guy thinks of me when he hears Motown or tells his friends about his new discovery. The knowledge imparted during what should have been an otherwise mundane cab ride can make a difference. Knowledge and how you share it, and who you share it with is a powerful weapon. Looking back, I'd much rather have shared that info with this man than to drive any cool car I've ever owned. My words may leave a legacy, cars only leave me with debt and pollution.

A few months ago while on a business trip to Montreal, I discovered that co-worker of mine spoke French somewhat fluently. I was so jealous. I felt so smugly "American." Yeah, I took Spanish in high school but at that time, I didn't care. Suddenly in the heart of Montreal, I cared. I wanted to be able to converse in a different langauge, too. To have more knowledge. I vowed to myself on the plane back to try and learn a new language. Last weekend I finally picked up a book on how to speak Greek. Yes, probably one of the toughest languages for an adult to learn. Why Greek? Well, part of my family is Greek and I always wanted to know what they were saying in Greek around us when I was younger. I'll never know what they were saying, but if I know Greek, maybe my kids will wonder what I'm saying and maybe they'll seek the knowledge, or at least be curious and jealous enough to pursue their own knowledge. This won't be easy. I'm only on page five and I'm already fairly lost, but I'll keep trying. I'm in no hurry. I'm sure I'll get impatient (generally, I want it all NOW NOW NOW), but I'm gonna try.......we'll see what happens.

Today's hilarious news bit of the day. My favorite quote of the month comes from this story - "By the time the afternoon lessons began, there was no hiding what they had done."

Song now playing: Mudhoney - "Suck You Dry"

A tremendous article about Bill Buckner, found in today's Boston Globe. Those who singularly blame him for his error costing the Red Sox a World Series are smoking crack.

Still reeling over the news about Elliot Smith. Two fantastic quotes I found from friends and professional acquaintences:

"Like most great artists, he saw the world as both a beautiful and
a brutal place," said [Luke] Wood, a DreamWorks executive. "He
found a way to explore the space in between those. Obviously,
it's all the more tragic in that his songs were a dialogue between love and loss. And in the end, he didn't get the upper end of the conversation."

""He was perhaps his generation's most gifted singer/songwriter. His enormous talent could change your life with a whisper." - Official DreamWorks statement.

Finally, a verbatim, cut-and-pasted quote from the webmaster who ran the site the Elliot Smith website, which has been bookmarked on my page (to the left, there) since I started this weblog: "i wish i knew every word he said to me word for word to share with you. im sorry i wish i could say more. im sad. so how can you say goodbye to someone who was and is so wonderful? you don't because elliott will be forever in my heart and hopefully yours. i will always have his love, kindness, intelligence, humbleness, creativeness, greatness and so much more in me forever because that's what he was and i'll always love him for being who he was. i love you so much elliott. thank you so much from the bottom of my heart and soul for making me happy when i need it or i just wanted to rock out. thank you for bringing such much joy to your love ones, family, your friends and all of us. i really pray you heard all the great things you gave us. love and friends. i'll miss you so much. we will all miss you. see you in heaven elliott."

I still can't believe the words I am about to put down here, but they are true: Elliot Smith killed himself yesterday. I am not even sure how to describe how I feel about this, except that it hurts. I didn't even feel this sad when Kurt Cobain committed suicide. Elliot Smith, to me, was in a class by himself - an unbelieveably great guitar player and his lyrics, oh, the lyrics. I don't know where to start or end right now. The guy killed himself. I just keep saying it over and over again, hoping that it's a cruel joke. I know it's not. Smith's website has some writing from the webmaster who ran it. You can also check out more from Pitchfork Media by clicking here. If you've never heard Smith's music I would highly recommend you start now by getting Either/Or, which is one of my favorite albums of all time ("Alameda," "Rose Parade" and "Between The Bars" are just so great.....). You also cannot go wrong with the fuller-sounding, almost symphonic XO. I'm just rambling. Smith's most notable appearance came during the Grammy awards, when he performed a nominated song from "Good Will Hunting" - Smith's music was very much a part of that movie - haunting, powerful. Damn, I just cannot get my thoughts together right now. Maybe I'll try to write something a little more cohesive later on. What a tragedy.

I was going to write this large diatribe, a full analysis of how incredibly painful it was last Thursday night to have the Red Sox come so close, only to blow it on a managerial decision. I was going to call for the head of the manager. I was going to write about how I turned on the World Series Saturday night, but could only watch an inning-and-a-half because it really was too painful. I was going to mention how I couldn't even write about it until four days after. Then I read Bill Simmons column about the loss and now I don't need to write anything. There's no way I can explain it any better than his article. I will add one thing, though - I would be completely acceping of the loss had it come from a great throw, a great fielding play or a big hit. What hurts the most is that we're not in World Series because of something that didn't happen on the field. A manager's decision determined the outcome of the game, of the series and of the season. The Yankees were not the better team - they are there because of a gift, neatly wrapped by the Red Sox with a beautiful bow on top. Crushing. You know what, though - I'll be right back there in 2004.

Have a look at some "before and after" pictures of the house I just bought. The odd numbered pictures (1,3,5) are "before" and the even numbers (2,4,6) are "after."

Song now playing: Earlimart - "We Drink On The Job"

You can file this one under "you've gotta be kidding me."

Anyone watch the Cubs last night? Holy crow. All this hulla-balloo about a fan interfering and causing the meltdown has got to stop. Even Stephanie, a baseball novice at best, said that the action of one fan during one play doesn't lead to an 8-run meltdown. If you want to blame anyone, blame Alex Gonzalez, who flubbed a relatively routine groundball to load the bases. Blame Dusty Baker, for a) leaving Prior in the game too long and b) bringing in Kyle Farnsworth to intentionally walk 2 of the next 3 batters. Blame the Cubs pitchers for making bad throws. Did "the fan" contribute to the collapse? Yes. But the Cubs themsleves lost the game. Tonight will be one for the ages.

The first movie we saw in the Maynard Fine Arts theatre since moving here was Under The Tuscan Sun and it was, at best, underwhelming. Spiced up only by some stock shots of Tuscany and surrounding areas of Italy, the story itself was weak, the plot nearly non-existent, and the highlight was a crew of construction workers who barely spoke a line. Certainly not the worst movie I've seen (can you say "The Family Man," Nicholas Cage?) but not worth a full-price ticket. Thankfully, the Maynard theatre doesn't charge full price.

Song now playing: Guided By Voices - "Hot Freaks"

Quick question - do you know who actually played the music on the song "My Girl?" Or Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On?" Or the song "Heat Wave?" Or "Ain't Too Proud To Beg?" Or "What Becomes of the Brokenhearted?" Or "I Heard It Through the Grapevine?" Or "Ain't No Mountain High Enough?" Or "(Reach Out) I'll Be There?" Get the point?

Yeah, well, I didn't know either. I suspect there's only a very few of us out there who know. I'm ashamed, actually, that I never thought to ask myself that very question and find out. Today I watched the movie Standing In The Shadows Of Motown, and now I know how powerful a juggernaut The Funk Brothers were - they were the band behind virtually every single Motown song recorded during the 1960s when Motown was a cultural force and at its creative apex. This was simply an essential movie for anyone who likes or appreciates great music. Educational, heartwarming and sometimes sad, the movie is interspersed with some great performances from a Funk Brothers show recorded in Detroit a few years back, with some modern day artists taking the microphone for vocals. Joan Osborne, in particular, really shines on a few of these songs.

It's all so strange, really. I always just assocaited Motown with the 3 or 4 people who were always up front, singing. The Temptations. The Miracles. The Four Tops. Martha & The Vandellas. Gladys Knight. Stevie Wonder. The Supremes.......they were the music behind it all. To put this into more perspective, this almost completley behind-the-scenes group has played on more number one hit songs than the Beach Boys, the Rolling Stones, Elvis and the Beatles combined - which makes them, according to the website, "the greatest hit machine in the history of popular music." Anyone want to argue that? I didn't think so. See the movie.

Now playing: Fox25 Sports Sunday

Well, we all know that Roy (of Siegfried & Roy) is laid up for a while. Because of that, there will be no shows in Las Vegas for the foreseeable future, which is a shame. Not only has there been an awful attack on one of our country's most beloved pop culture figures, but 300 some-odd people are now out of a job - those were the people who made the show run. Feeling quite bad about this, I had to volunteer my services so these people could put food on the table, right? Someone's gotta do it. So starting at The Mirage in Las Vegas next Monday night, I will temporarily be replacing Roy. That's right - Copetas & Siegfried. Notice whose name is first now, yo. Thasss right......anyway, come on out to the show! See me shit my pants as I attempt to tame 42 drooling, miserable white tigers at the same time. It will be so fun........

Normally when Howard Stern has strippers on his show, I turn it off - generally, it's the same old thing - she takes her clothes off, the guys all ogle her, blah blah blah. Always the same. This morning at the gym, though, I'm presented with two options: listen to Stern show or switch over to the TV there and listen to the CBS Morning Show. Opting for the former, I tune into Stern and they're playing a game called "Who's the smartest stripper in the country?" I'll spare you the details, but during the game, one of the strippers uttered one of the most baffling answers to a question that I've ever heard:

Question: Where is the AstroDome?
Answer: "In my head?"

So, the Red Sox have won game 1. I wasn't freaking out, pumping my fists, hiding under a blanket or anything else. It was such an efficient dismantling of the Yankees and I was so oddly calm during the game that I wasn't sure what to do with myself. I realized that the Red Sox can now go 7-6 and still win the World Series. That blows my mind a little.

Song now playing: The Volebeats - "Annabel"

The band Earlimart has been driving me crazy lately. I mean that in the most complimentary way. They'll crank out a tremendously catchy indie-rocker such as "I Drink On The Job," then next they'll drop a hauntingly beautiful ballad on you, like "The Movies." Please check them out. Go to whatever download site you use and download those two songs and then tell me they're not the next great indie rock band. Just tremendous.....

Song now playing: Pavement - "Summer Babe (Winter Version)"

I'm not even sure where to begin today. Is it the fact that the Red Sox defied almost all of their past history and logic with their death-defying comeback to eliminate the Oakland A's? Let me ask you - have you seen a better five game series than this one was? Even if the Red Sox had lost, the drama, the pressure, the intensity, the flying head-butt collisions, the walk-off homeruns, the two nasty sinkerball strikeouts to end it......it made for some of the best baseball theatre I've ever seen in a five-game baseball series. Wow. Next question: how do you get yourselves fired up for Wednesday, after such dramatics? Who knows? I'll just keep on riding it out and enjoying the hell out of it.

What in the hell is this all about? I wish I could get inside the head of someone when they think to themself "Man, it would be some kind of awesome to have an alligator as a pet. No wait -- it would be even better if I also had a Bengal Tiger! Yeah!"

I guess it was a weekend of tigers in the news - poor Roy! The guy got trounced by a white tiger during one of their tacky shows in Las Vegas over the weekend. People finally will realize that Sigfried & Roy were actually performing these very dangerous shows for the last 20 years. They'll be more popular than ever! Unfortunately, there's no more shows, though. Just their luck! To finally get the respect, but only after a tiger goes berserk and kicks your ass and drags you off stage by your throat. Poor Sigfried. Poor Roy. How will they ever get by in their retirement on just $60 million?

Finally - looking for a house? Why not let Gaye Males show you around? Hah.

Song now playing: REM - "Monty Got A Raw Deal"

Three items today:

1) This is the first I've heard of the Rock Ninja, and of course, I absolutely love it. The last paragraph is amazing.

2) So it IS true, after all, isn't it? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. What blows my mind is that the kid is already 17! I remember when the dad was 19 and exploding on the scene.

3. One has to wonder what the wife is saying while she does this. One also has to wonder what the dude was saying. One doesn't have to wonder how painful this must have been.

Song now playing: Nirvana - "Negative Creep"

It's generally not like me to be singing Rod Stewart songs in my head, but this morning I woke up after just four-and-a-half hours of sleep and a horrendous Red Sox hangover with this song running through my head:

"I would have given you all of my heart
But there's someone who's torn it apart
And she's taken just all that I had
But if you want I'll try to love again
Baby I'll try to love again but I know

The first cut is the deepest
Baby I know - the first cut is the deepest
But when it comes to being lucky she's cursed.......

No kidding, I'm not even making this up, I woke up with that song in my head. For those of us who are such fanatic Red Sox fans, the first cut probably happened a long time ago, but we'll consider this the first cut of 2003. And man, this one is definitely the deepest.

The Red Sox lasted 12 innings last night and if it wasn't for their horrendous Korean reliever Byung Hyun Kim, they would be sitting pretty today with a 1-0 series lead. Now they have to come back this afternoon and win or it's pretty much lights out. The Oakland A's suicide sqeeze from their catcher won the game. Inexcusable! If I'm managing the Red Sox, Kim doesn't see the light of the day for the rest of the playoffs. There's no way you can leave the game in this guy's hands, knowing his history of unraveling in pressure situations (hello, 2001 World Series). Certainly one of the more frustrating nights for us Sox fans. From a baseball perspective, though, this was a riveting, intense, pressure-packed game. It's what makes baseball so damn great - I'm sitting there, wide awake at 2:30am, covering my eyes at some points because I'm so nervous and quietly pumping my fist for each out. Chewing my fingernails over and over again like the rat-a-tat-tat (ding!) of a typewriter. The baseball playoffs always do that to me, no matter what team is playing. Throw the Red Sox into the mix and lookout, my friends, look out......!

Song now playing: Beulah - "Hello Resolven"

I'm basking in the afterglow of a great show here in Boston last night from one of indie-rock's finest group of soldiers. Built To Spill are, arguably, one of the ultimate live bands on the circuit today. Not because they jump around, say witty things or act like obnoxious, drunk boors. Because they are good. Damn good. They're an unassuming little group of musicians who speak with their talent. Lead singer Doug Martsch is the king of the unassumed, looking like that hesitant, skinny bearded dude in your IT department who always carries books with SQL or something in big letters across the top. But their all-business approach with geniune "thank-you's" after each song make their minimalist banter almost endearing. It is, after all, about the music. With no new album to promote, they cruised through a nice little trip of their past, opening with "Revoloution" and proving themselves sonically excellent on some of my favorites like "Carry The Zero," and "Stop The Show," among countless others. They really finished up in style, though, blistering for about 15 minutes through the old Neil Young nugget "Cortez The Killer" and then, to put the final stamp on their gold medal evening, nailed it shut with a kick-ass rendition of the old Clash tune "White Man In Hammersmith Palais." A sweet evening, indeed. Notably absent from the setlist was my favorite BTS tune, "I Would Hurt A Fly," but how can I complain? They're as good or better than anyone out there. As aside: I've noticed lately that all the hip kids are growing beards.

Song now playing: Built To Spill - "Velvet Waltz"