"I'M A MAN!!!"

Lately like today, I feel like I'm not existing enough. After sifting through an hour and a half's worth of traffic, I get home and abandon my daily pledge of being more productive and more creative at night. The bed calls to me. The TV seduces me. Eventually, I get bored and go for Jamba.

But when I come back home to the Raiders beating the Chargers with two minutes left on MNF, only to predictably be watching the Raiders blow it a minute later, it's a funny little garnish. But a garnish to what?

Either way, who cares?

IT'S A FIRE!

Today, our complex was woken up with its fire alarm bells breaking into everyone's early Sunday morning. There was no fire though. Just a lot of neighbors in pajamas wondering how many more hours the ringing would last, and then a lot of firemen showing up for two minutes until they did something and turned off the bells and left. I'm sure a lot of my neighbors had their sleepytime interrupted today but I had been up since 6:37 a.m.. We went to a Hawaiian-themed party last night and I had a lot of Hawaiian food and beer and that's why I was awake at 6:37 a.m. on a Sunday morning.

Then later that day today, we were driving back from getting some ice cream, and something else happened, which I've forgotten now but which was important then...

So I wrote this.

Stalker

This is a record of nothing but me.

Vin Scully: Heart of Gold #1

One of the most endearing things about Vin has always been his caring nature. What I like, is that with each tale he tells us, a little more of the guy's soft side is revealed. Who really ever knows though? I wouldn't be that surprised if Scully was a secret psycho or some kind of closet-freak...but in all honesty, that would probably just make him cooler to me.



Example of Vin's caring nature:

Tonight, during the the first game of the Freeway Series, Vin tells a story of how players come to the Major Leagues from all these different social backgrounds. Then he transitions that into how as a kid, Torii Hunter grew up in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, in a crime-infested neighborhood, where he apparently, had to sometimes go door-to-door asking for food for his hungry family. And right there, you hear Vin's voice quiver with what are presumably his thoughts on that little boy Hunter.

THAT quiver in our broadcaster's voice, is one of the reasons why Vin Scully's heart of gold RULES!




P.S. That Angel bastard robbed us tonight!

Conjecture is all we have

...And so the hand of God reached out, to touch all the universe.

His divine fingers clutched onto the finest tool of ardent revelry...

For it is proclaimed!

It-What-Must-Not-Be-Named

THE DODGERS ARE CURRENTLY RANKED AS THE #1 TEAM IN ALL OF BASEBALL, ACCORDING TO SPORTS ILLUSTRATED, YAHOO.COM, AND VARIOUS OTHER LEGITIMATE SOURCES.

THIS FEELS WEIRD.

Paul McCartney is a PIMP!

Here are some of my highlights from this year's Coachella music festival.


Sir Paul McCartney doing Georgie Boy's "Something"

Paul singing "A Day in the Life/Give Peace A Chance"

M.I.A., inciting a bat-shit stage invasion during "Bird Flu"

TV on the Radio being brilliant as usual

And to think, I've always been a Lennon man...

Paul probably gave me the best concert of my life.

The desert calls for us all.

I Had Lost My Mind

I finally saw this over the weekend.

Then, I saw this yesterday.

And figured I could use this below to relate the feeling to you.

I really just wanted to play the clip though...

Harmony in waiting

Photo via: Guano on Flickr

Geez, even The Babe is singing the Dodger blues...

Five games in, and we're all still waiting for this vaunted 2009 offense to come alive. Or to at least score more than five runs in nine innings. Everyone is waiting for it to click. To run on all cylinders. To be as good as every cliche I can think of.

But when will it happen?

Today, Hiroki Kuroda, the Dodgers #1 starter, is on the disabled list and career minor-leaguer, Eric Stults, will go for his fifth MLB win.

Uh-oh?

Maybe the Dodgers can dream a little dream and get back on track by listening to the masters of harmony, The Mamas & the Papas. Here's a song for the nostalgic.

American Beauty

It really annoys me when people tell me that baseball is boring.

I watch my sports on TV mostly with my two buddies, Ponch and Justin. We loaf around, have some brews, and watch football and basketball like delirious maniacs for two-thirds of the year. But when that last third makes its way to springtime, the games are watched alone by me.

Mostly I feel bad for people like Ponch and Justin, so ignorant and resistant of the beauty of baseball.

Baseball is so comforting to true fans because the true fans are more than likely watching the majority of the games in solitude. Over those 162 games, you quickly realize that it will be only you and your team for most of the way.

People like Ponch and Justin don't know what that kind of comfort means though, so I discount them as nothing but talking heads who are recycling the same uninformed diatribes they learned while growing up with other people who didn't know anything about baseball.

I can recommend only one thing for Ponch and Justin, and that is to stay with what they know. Because people like them will never understand our nation's pastime.

BOO-YAH!

GAME ON!

The Dodgers feel different.

They're obviously more agile. Younger. Faster. More powerful. It was only the first game of the season, but today, as a gelled and confident team, they beat Jake Peavy.

Blah blah YES, it was against the Padres...but I haven't seen a Dodger squad pick itself up like that on defense in a long time. Last year is gone, shed completely by 2009's first victory.

2009 Snap Judgement #1

The Dodgers have WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY better chemistry this year and it seems like they're really trying to push each other forward now. Awesomeness.

And with Jonathon Broxton's last 100 m.p.h. fastball, the Dodgers are undefeated.

Tiny: Wayne. How you doin'?
Wayne Campbell: Hey, Tiny, who's playing today?
Tiny: Jolly Green Giants and the Shitty Beatles.
Wayne Campbell: Shitty Beatles? Are they any good?
Tiny: They suck.
Wayne Campbell: Then it's not just a clever name.

Tell me what I need to hear

This weekend, the Dodgers will be playing the Royals, the White Sox, and the Padres.

Yeah, that's what I said. BORESVILLE!


DO THIS INSTEAD

My band, The Shade, begins our first string of shows when we play at Pehrspace this Friday at 9 p.m. SHARP with great L.A. bands Seasons, Marvelous Toy, and Go West Young Man. The best part? You can BYOB.


Or you can watch the Kansas City Royals.

In The New Year

• In the new year, will the Dodgers meet the expectations that came with reaching the NLCS last season?

• In the new year, does Orlando Hudson's wrist remain strong, or does young Blake DeWitt make up for its weakness?

• In the new year, can Casey Blake's beard possibly be as magnificently hirsute as 2008's growth?

• In the new year, will the four-pack of Russell J. Martin, Matt Kemp, Andre Ethier and James Loney finally meet their potentials head on?

• In the new year, does our hero, Vin Scully, call his last game?

• In the new year, will the discs in Raffy Furcal's back bulge or will they be good?

• In the new year, will the pitching staff end up in shambles?

• In the new year, shall I don a Manny wig in a drunken stupor?

• In the new year, all of these questions will be answered.

The Walkmen, hailing from NYC since 2000, are a band with the kind of magic that will creep into your most wonderfully unexpected places.

Strange fascination, fascinating me

In a few hours, when Barack Obama visits The Tonight Show with Jay Leno, he will become the first sitting U.S. president to make a late-night appearance.

Security is tight for the event, even for the swarm of photographers that follow the commander-in-chief around on a daily basis.

What does this have to do with the Dodgers? Nothing, really. Except hope. There is more of that than anything this year. Can you say CH-CH-CHANGES?!!



HOPE

"I'm Ba-aack" To The Old House

Earlier this week, in my gloom, I was reading the lyrics to The Smiths' classic "Back To The Old House" and I couldn't help but relate it to the unrequited and unsolved affections between Manny Ramirez, the Dodgers, and most importantly, all of us fans.

Then on March 4, I was reminded of how quickly things can turn from darkness to light...



Earlier this week, The Smiths were playing and Morrissey was singing:

When you cycled by
Here began all my dreams
The saddest thing I've ever seen
And you never knew
How much I really liked you
Because I never even told you
Oh, and I meant to...

And I sadly imagined Manny on his bicycle, dreadlocks flowing behind him in the wind, riding out of Dodger Stadium and our hearts forever.

Now thankfully, I don't have to.

At least for another year.

The '50s were cooler

With all the negativity surrounding the McCourt/Manny/Boras monster right now, it’s as good a night as any to reflect on the PLEASANTNESS that baseball season usually brings.

Harpo can help remind us of this.

Namesake Reverence

My eight-year-old fingers always burned as I tried to flip the tortillas on the open fire. I can never remember much about those days, or that old stove except that its flame was not a faint one. It didn’t matter - somehow I knew that I was proving myself to my dad, and that’s what mattered. There was a comfortable chair next to our little kitchen that I think he liked to enjoy his Dodger games from; and from where his blue-blooded passion did indeed precipitate mine.

Through stolen glances and my crispy-digit pain, I always saw him watching me though, and not his team, as I pridefully made my snacks without asking for help once. Among the green grasses and bats cracking on the tv screens of that fleeting time, was a feeling of protection and nascent camaraderie with my father. That is the first season of baseball that I can truly remember, and that is also the last year I really had with my Dad.

Housed in the memories between my father and I, a precious few moments like this are still carried with me. Lingering within that background not too far, always the Dodgers, and always personified through the love, tender care, and incomparable talents of a Mr. Vincent Edward Scully. There aren’t enough words…