The Kids Are Alright

I've just heard what is, quite possibly, the greatest poop joke in the history of television. Now, I realize there are a handful of curmudgeons who don't find defecation to be funny. Most people over 12, for instance. I, on the other hand, can't even type the word 'defecation' without laughing. I've typed it twice now and I'm still grinning like Norm MacDonald three sentences before his own punchline. I'm watching a very old rerun of Saturday Night Live, and Gilda Radner has just finished delivering her commentary on the unimportance of saving endangered feces. If you were in the room right now, you'd see that typing 'feces' also makes me giggle.

Having outed my Philistine sense of humor, it's a good thing poop amuses me. I had a very long night at work, with a good number of the problems being bowel-related. Not a bad night, just unexpectedly long. It's quite difficult for me to calm my guys down, too, when I am visibly amused by their antics. For example, I was giving one of the girls her meds, and after she swallowed them there was still water left in her mouth. The obvious solution to this? Spit it down the front of her shirt. I don't mean to laugh at this sort of thing, I know it encourages bad behavior, or behavior at least perceived as bad, but it was funny. I laughed at her, she laughed back at me, stuck out her tongue, and reached for the glass to do it again. I got to the glass before her, I didn't want her to completely soak herself, but she did it meaning to be funny and it didn't hurt anyone, so I think, in retrospect, it could have been disrespectful not to laugh. Okay, that's a lie. But I will continue to be amused by the same things as elementary schoolers for the foreseeable future.

Brief thought: I switched the TV to Cartoon Network, who aired a commercial proudly proclaiming that the show was "brought to you by Coca-Cola Classic." I barely remember New Coke. I do remember not liking it, telling my parents "this tastes bad," and hearing them respond something to the effect of "yeah, we're sorry, we won't buy it anymore." The 'Classic' tag was sort of an apology, a way of telling people "hey, we screwed up. Here's what you really wanted." How big a screw-up was it if Coca Cola is still apologizing 20 years later? When will enough time have passed to reasonably presume that no potential customer will see Coke sans the 'classic' label and think it's the new formula? 1985 should not just be remembered for New Coke, though. It also blessed us with Wrestlemania, four-more-years of Ronald Reagan, and the intentional sinking of a Greenpeace ship. On the plus side, 1985 brought us Calvin and Hobbes, the Domain Name System, and in a three-way tie for the best thing to come out of the year, Tetris, the US release of the Nintendo, and the absolutely stellar film Brazil.

I think periodically about getting CDs of the Monterey Pop Festival, but it seems like slightly less of a good idea now. On the way to work today, the local NPR affiliate aired a show called Cypress Avenue, on which they played a good number of songs from the Monterey Pop 5-CD set. They were all amazing, but when they got to Jimi, they first played Foxy Lady. I'd only once before heard this particular version of the song, and it had the same effect as this time: the goosebumps started on my arms, then my scalp started to crawl and I had to pull over as I started feeling light headed. I sat on the shoulder of the highway for a minute or two waiting for the sensation to pass, but it lasted nearly the entire song, just a dizzy euphoria, a bit like hyperventilating, only giggly and ecstatic. For just a few seconds I teared up a little bit. I'm afraid if I do buy the set, the handful of songs that affect me in this way will stop doing so through familiarity, like when I see SLC Punk more than every 3 to 5 months or so and the ending stops affecting me so profoundly as it generally would, so I think I'll let them continue to be happy circumstance on the radio. Speaking of which, I should make sure to take the DVDs out of my Netflix queue. I'll surely leave the Isle of Wight discs in, though.

While looking for a good link for Monterey, I came across a year-old article, through which I learned that it is Black Music Month. The article states early on, "Despite the speculation behind who started the genre, African-Americans can count themselves amongst the originators of rock ‘n’ roll. Like jazz’s hybrid origin, rock music includes elements of several black American music styles." This is a valid point, but I would contend that rock and roll, despite its multiple influences, is the blues. A bastardized, anglicized blues, claimed by Elvis after stealing it from Carl Perkins who stole it from any number of black musicians in and around Memphis, most notably in my mind being Robert Johnson, but at its heart the blues. All other influences, though important, are sort of grace notes. If you disagree, feel free to say so, I'd love to discuss it with someone who feels passionately about it. If you agree, even better. I love having my beliefs reinforced by the opinions of others. If you have no opinion, go to Memphis and spend a few hours walking around downtown. Listen for a tune you like and walk toward it. You'll find a bar where someone is playing outdoors in a no-cover-charge, open-air garden where you can sit and listen. Then pay a visit to Memphis Music, and drop by the Gibson guitar factory (where, incidentally, I saw one of the greatest concerts ever at a semi-private party, and met Carl Perkins' son, Stan, and Sam Phillips, founder of Sun Records. Also the tour guide who invited us to the party gave me directions to the crossroads.) You'll leave Tennessee with an opinion.