Monday, August 01, 2005

I'd feel tragic
Like I was Marlon Brando
When I'd look at my China Girl

Our cable t.v. service provides 20+ channels of digital, commercial-free music. There is an amazing array of music available, which we have been enjoying, now that the speakers are mounted. We have heard some great tunes tonight, including Kings of Leon, the Strokes, White Stripes, Johnny Cash, Radiohead, and Clapton.

And we also heard Coldplay. Three times.

While I was down in the Tetons,

I had my dad drop me off at a trailhead so I could do a more strenuous hike, and he left with the car to do some exploring.

When I came down, I had to hitch a series of three rides to get back to our rendezvous point. (By the by, four cars with Wisconsin plates blew past without picking me up... What's up with that?)

My rides were: (1) a female park ranger from Jackson who picked up not only me, but three other hitchers; (2) a young couple, both ER docs, from LA; and, (3) a couple from Kentucky.

In a Twilight Zone-like coincidence, all three of my rides were playing a Coldplay CD. The last two were even playing the same song. I had to ask if it was the radio, disbelieving that the couple from LA and the couple from Kentucky would be playing the same song on the same disc. It wasn't even a radio hit.

Which brings me to my typically long-winded point:

Coldplay is a bland bucket of lukewarm milk.

It is so unremarkably bland that I cannot even muster enough give-a-shit to say I hate it. It is the C+ of music. Fettucine alfredo. From the Olive Garden. Starchy, kind of sticky, and you wonder just why you ate it. Two hours later, you cannot even remember what you had. That's Coldplay- the Fettucine Alfredo of Popular Music.

And if you really love Coldplay, well, I'm sorry. I know, I know. You don't only listen to Coldplay. It's not like they are your favorite band. I understand. Your wife likes it. She left it in the minivan. When you're alone, perhaps getting takeout from Applebee's, you crank up the Three Doors Down, and rawk out.

On a separate note, today is The Doodlebug's 8th birthday.

Happy Birthday, Doodlebug.

Mom and dad went to a show. Dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's. I kicked and screamed, said, "Please, don't go."

Grandma, take me home.

Read your comments, you pervy bastards.

I was sitting there today, adrift in a sea of random thought.

Just dropping a line in a non-linear stream of consciousness and hooking whatever nibbled.

I hit on an idea that had been percolating for a while...

Several of you who read this blog have written me lengthy emails, telling me about what's going on in your life, or occasionally you will relate a good story that happened. I don't know if you send them because you read this, feel like you are getting an account of what is going on with me, and feel compelled to respond in kind; or maybe you just feel weirdly voyeuristic reading this, and want to purge that feeling.

In any case, I love receiving them. It's nice to know who is out there, checking in on the Duder, and knowing that you, too, are abiding. It is especially nice because we haven't met all that many people out here in Bozeman yet. (So far, the number of hawks, owl, deer, marmot, elk, moose and bears I have met far exceeds the the number of homo sapiens I have met. Of course, this could be because I choose to spend every spare moment in the wilderness, but I digress...)

It's good to know what old friends are up to these days. In some cases, I have heard from people I have not heard from since the 1980's, but, somehow, through the magic of the interweb, word of this little site got passed around to people with whom I went to high school, people with whom I attended college, people with whom I went to law school, people I do not know, and people I have known all my life.

Anyway, it's great to hear from you all, and by all means, keep the email flowing.

So, back to that idea. (For those of you in the Northeast, "idear.")

"The Guest Blog."

This idear was born shortly after the inception of this blog, when Jimmyboy started emailing me hilarious stories of his weekend adventures.

So, I invite you, dear readers, to email me your adventures, stories, or something funny that you observed or experienced, and I will post it here. It doesn't have to be long, or have perfect grammar. It does not have to involve pictures... It just has to be entertaining, interesting, humorous, embarassing or weird. No need to worry; I will not divulge your identity. You can choose your Guest Blog Name, or I will bestow one upon you. If I get enough response, I will put up one a week.

The first intrepid soul to submit one will receive a valuable prize...

(Drumroll, please.)

This pair of sweet-ass Elvis shades:

And a pretty damn good mix CD or CD from my collection of your choosing. (I must say, I recently made a Best of Foo Fighters that they should consider releasing, and a Best of Zeppelin with a focus on the more obscure that I know many of you will enjoy...)

Any entries following the first pioneer get a CD.

Click it; write it; you won't regret it. You know you always wanted a pair of Elvis shades but never had the balls to buy them...


That said, I received an email of some rather fine original artwork from the BDC's own David "Hay-soose" Thor Grit, now spreading the gospel in the Bay area. I thought it was great...

If any of you are interested in Thor Grit's artwork, drop me a line, and I will hook you up.