Things People Assume I Like But I Really Don't Pt. 3

That's right. I don't like Kevin Smith. I'm not saying I virally hate Kevin Smith like I virally hate Dave Matthews Band...I just don't like him...and it isn't for lack of trying on my part. At one time I owned all the movies. I read some of the comics he wrote for. I even went and saw Kevin Smith live when he came to Springfield. And some of it I even liked. I laughed when Jay would make some grotesque sexual innuendo. I found his comic book writing style interesting. I even thought he spun a good yarn when I saw him live. But as much as I laughed I always came away from each Kevin Smith experience questioning myself. "Is this really that good?" I would wonder. "Is Dogma really as clever as I think it is?" I'd ask myself again. "Is Kevin Smith a genius?" I never gave these questions too much thought. I just went about my life thinking that Kevin Smith must be a genius or else everyone would hate him. Then two things would happen and all that would change.

One Sunday at Dungeons and Dragons, a conversation was hatched. We were discussing the recently released Clerks II (which I didn't care for). Two of my friends, who hated Kevin Smith anyway, were ragging about the film, saying it was the same Kevin Smith bullshit all his movies hang their hat on - dick jokes, fart jokes, and Jay and Silent Bob. Another friend, who was a Smith fanatic, loved the film and said the dick jokes, fart jokes, and Jay and Silent Bob were exactly the reasons why it and Smith were great. I listened to the argument unfold and at the end I had to side with my friends who hated Kevin Smith because I believe they were dead on with the Kevin Smith Movie Formula, that ultimately they rely on dick jokes, fart jokes, and Jay and Silent Bob.

Don't get me wrong. I like a good dick joke, and I love a good fart joke, but I don't necessarily think they make for strong comedy. Groucho Marx gave an interview on the Dick Cavett Show in 1971 and in it he talks about the use of vulgarity in Hollywood. Basically, Groucho says that anyone can go on stage and say something dirty and get a laugh, and that it takes a true comedian to get a laugh with a clean joke. Here's the interview:

I actually agree with this. I think there are a lot of great comedians who use vulgarity in their acts, but at the end of the day I don't think they're as strong from a comedic standpoint as Bill Cosby, or Steve Martin, or Red Skelton, or Justin Wilson, or Jack Benny (the list goes on). For me, Kevin Smith's use of vulgarity is good for a laugh, but it's a cheap laugh, and I can't call him a genius for that. As for Jay and Silent Bob...I see them as a crutch. Kevin Smith has said on many occasions that he would like to start making films without this duo, and in fact tried once with Jersey Girl which was a flop. So how did Smith follow-up his flop? Another movie with Jay and Silent Bob is how. I'm not against using gimmicks to make money. If you have a product that makes money and you want to exploit that product to make money then go for it! I would probably do the same if I had a gimmick that people were into. However, again, I can't call doing that genius because to me it goes back to that "too easy thing." It's too easy for Smith to throw Jay and Silent Bob into a film and give them a huge array of dick jokes and fart jokes. He knows their presence is going to bring people out to the theater and sell tickets. This is not genius...it's just savvy business sense.

So is Kevin Smith a genius? Is he one of the best directors in Hollywood? Well, I don't think so, but if you talk to any Kevin Smith fanatic, and ask them to name off the best directors in Hollywood, Kevin Smith's name will almost always come up next to names like Spielberg, Scorsese, Coppola, Kubrick, and others, and they get so mad if you disagree with their assessment. Ultimately, what I think wins the argument is Smith's own assessment of himself. He has admitted time and time again that he is just making movies about dick and fart jokes and that being compared with the best directors in Hollywood is probably a hasty judgment. Anyway, that about does it for my latest installment of Things People Assume I Like But I Really Don't. Now bring on the hate!

Songwriting Spank Material - "Love Is All"

On May 24 of this year a man named Robert Zimmerman will turn 70 years old. You might know him by another name - Bob Dylan. Ten years ago when Dylan turned 60 years old the music community realized something it hadn't considered - Bob Dylan is getting older and one day he will die, and there will be a void in the world of songwriting. I heard a debate shortly after his 60th birthday. The subject was simple - Who is Bob Dylan's heir apparent? And everyone had an opinion. Some went with more mainstream choices - Bruce Springsteen and Tom Petty. Others had less mainstream ideas - Sarah McLachlan and Connor Oberst. I heard people try to make a case for Billy Corgan and Elliot Smith. I, myself, thought I'd discovered the next Dylan in a little known songwriter named Dan Bern (who I still contend is the best songwriter you've never heard of). Then one day, my good friend Clint e-mailed me about a songwriter he'd come across that I needed to check out. Clint has never disappointed me with a musical suggestion. The songwriter's name is Kristian Matsson, and he performs under the name The Tallest Man On Earth, and I can tell you, without a doubt, he is the next Bob Dylan.

The Tallest Man on Earth has two albums - Shallow Graves and The Wild Hunt - and every single song on them is not just good, but brilliant. I could do a Song Writing Spank Material blog for all of them, and in particular: "The Blizzard's Never Seen The Desert Sands," "I Won't Be Found," "Pistol Dreams," "Shallow Grave," "The Wild Hunt," and "Burden of Tomorrow". However, I decided to be really disciplined about this and decided to narrow my choices down to one song. This was an incredibly hard thing for me to so because I think a lot of these songs are equally brilliant, but one I kept coming back to was "Love Is All."

Again, I don't know that "Love Is All" is necessarily the best song in The Tallest Man On Earth's arsenal, but it's a major player, and it has a lot of great songwriting elements. The first thing that strikes me about this song is the chord progression and the over all style of the guitar. It's very different from a lot of The Tallest Man On Earth's stuff. It's more subdued and plays around with more minor chord changes than in most of his other stuff. The second thing is his vocals. He plays around with a hook at the end of each verse "w-hoa-oh-oh," "si-i-i-in," and so forth. These phrases bounce with the acoustic guitar. Then as he says the word "rise" he lets us see his vocal range and the song builds from there, and it builds wonderfully. So the guitar is interesting, the vocal phrasing is diverse, and oh yes...the lyrics are amazing. That first line where he says, "I walk upon the river 'cause it's easier than land," is a line I can truly say I wish was mine. I could go on and on about how great this song is, but I'll let you listen for yourself. Here is The Tallest Man On Earth with "Love Is All."

Come Gather Round Thumby Wherever You Roam

I have been decidedly less ranty these days. I think the reason is I've had a lot on my mind. I'm getting ready to make a major move in a few months, my health isn't as good as it has been, and I just feel like there is a lot more to worry about with my own life. I just haven't had the drive or desire to just get mad at insignificant things. However, that doesn't mean that insignificant things don't still piss the hell out of me and bottle up over time. THE BOTTLE HAS TO BURST! THE SHIT NEEDS TO COME OUT! AND WHEN IT DOES IT'S TIME FOR (trumpets and horns and shit playing fanfare) A THUMBY!!! I happen to have 3 for today. Enjoy.

1. Fat Dude At The Post Office - Hey man, could you do me a solid favor? Could you please, FOR ALL THAT IS DECENT AND GOOD IN THE WORLD, take that five bucks that you were going to use to buy Baconnaise (actual product) and Oreos, and buy a belt? You really need one. Yes, I know you think Baconnaise is tasty, and when you spread it on the Oreos you can actually hear your arteries screaming from inside your body in much the same way a live lobster squeals when you put it in boiling water. However, here's the thing. Your ENTIRE ASS is hanging out of the back of your pants. The whole thing. A harvest moon. There is nothing left to the imagination, just the rolling red of your Fruit of Loom's barely clinging to your massive hamhocks and the crack of your ass poking out of the top like a smelly volcano. I couldn't help but overhear you talking to someone on the phone about someone's pregnant girlfriend, and that "just being how pregnant women are." How would you know? Who have you ever gotten pregnant? Is this how you get them, standing in a "spank me" position with your massive red ass hanging out of you shorts? Do the ladies drip when they see your crack poking out the top? Do you cock your eyebrow like James Bond and use pick up lines like, "Play your cards right and you might get to see the rest of my smell canyon."? FIX THAT SHIT, MAN! And until you do, please accept this Thumby.

2. Lightning Strikes Twice - Going from my apartment to the store, or to get gas, or to really anywhere, takes a great deal of patience due in large part to the people who dwell in the apartments in my complex. The Northpark apartments are really dominated by two social groups of people - black people and white trash - and any given day the activity of choice for both these demographics is to stand outside by their cars, drink, smoke weed, and play loud music, oh and also yell. If it weren't so fucking obnoxious to live next to, I would say it was good, from a racially standpoint, to see two diametrically opposed forces commingling together in drunken, stoned to the ba-jesus belt, harmony. But they just stand outside all day, everyday, and not just some of these people. A lot of them do. What the fuck are they doing all day? How boring does your life have to be that you would rather stand outside all day by your car drinking and smoking pot? Sure, the drinking and smoking pot might be fun, but all day? We're talking like 10-12 hours these people are outside. Anyway, I digress. So, any time I have to leave my apartment to go some place, it's like trying to navigate my car through the crowded streets of New Delhi. You never know when someone is just going to back out of their parking spot full speed with little regard to who or what might be behind them (probably because their back window is blocked by trash bags filled with dirty clothes...and really...why waste precious Twinkee calories moving those?). You never know when some drunk idiot is going to just walk out into the street from behind a car, or when a stupid child is going to run out in front of you. Getting out of the complex is a tangled adventure a lot of times.

So...Sunday. I leave to buy duct tape and because I wanted some food, so I decided I would have to go to Wal-Mart for these things. I'm slowly traversing the curve of the street inside my complex when I happen upon a group of white trash and black people (probably 7-10) all drinking Old English Malt Liquor (I wish I was kidding about that) and standing IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING ROAD! And here's the thing...they saw me driving up way before I happened upon their little Pow-Wow, and did they move out of the way like normal, rational thinking people? Fuck no! Instead, they waited until my car was about 3 feet from the perimeter of their little booze social, all stopped talking to me, and stared at me like I was some sort of moron. I'm the moron, for driving my car in the road where they were standing. Me. Clearly, I didn't pay attention in school when they taught us that roads are for standing in the middle of and for having booze and weed parties with your homies and Aryan brothers. Clearly I failed to heed my mother's advice when she taught me the three lessons of life - always take a jacket, chew with your mouth closed, and stare viciously at motorists when they want you to move out of the street. I'm the moron. It's a fact. So, you can see this situation irritated me somewhat, but I was alright when I finally got around them and was on my way to Wal-Mart.

So, I get into the Wal-Mart parking lot and I'm looking for a place to park. Now, my Wal-Mart has stop signs, and I heed them. I've heard conflicting reports about whether or not parking lot stop signs are actually something you need to obey, but I heed them because there are too many stupid drivers out there who don't know the precise ballet that is parking lot etiquette. So there I am, camped at a parking lot stop sign, a two way stop, and an SUV is oncoming. The SUV has the right of way, it can just go on through the intersection, or turn, or fly away, or combust. Whatever, it's up to the driver because they have the right of way. Well, this idiot didn't do any of those things because apparently they flunked Eyes and Eye School, and they decided that the two way stop should be a four way stop. To make matters worse, this genius starts waving me through, and is getting annoyed at me because I'm not moving. After about 30 seconds of frantic waving the driver finally gets fed up and blows through the intersection. WHY THE FUCK DO PEOPLE DO THIS? This happens to me all the time. I'm at a two way stop, the oncoming car pulls to a stop and waves me through. Why? If I were a cop I would pull that person over and ticket them for not knowing a simple road rule. It's so so so irritating, but again I digress.

So after the genius driver pulls through the intersection, I pull through the stop and turn left into an aisle, and what should I see when I get there? A group of teenage girls and some adults standing in the middle of the fucking road talking with each other like it's an ice cream social, and once again, the entire group turns around, glares at me like I'm a child molester, and walks away slowly. FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

So anyway, to these two separate groups of people and to the Einstein of stop signs, I have a bird on one hand and a Thumby on the other. Go fuck yourselves!

3. To Everyone In The World Right Now - Shut up. Seriously, just shut the hell up. I am tired of hearing your problems. You all think you're victims, that life is somehow slighting you, that everyone else should be feeding you grapes off a silver platter. I have news for you - shut the hell up. You're not mutually exclusive. You're not a target, a victim, and no one is slighting you. Everyone has problems. Today people lost jobs. Today people lost someone they love. Today someone found out they were sick. Today someone found out they were going to lose a house, or a car, or a limb. The world is a long chain of suck and we're bound by it. Stop throwing yourself a pity party, stop trying to get other people to solve your problems because I guarantee you those other people have problems too. Above all, just do what I do. Suck it up, get out of bed, and get the fuck on with it. Until then, suck on this Thumby, leave me alone, and shut the hell up.

Things People Assume I Like But I Really Don't Pt. 2

So, I have a B.A. in English. In college I primarily studied poetry with 20th Century American poetry probably being my main emphasis. When people find out about my educational background, this thing happens - suddenly they want to talk to me about books and writers. I don't know why this is. Maybe it's because they feel intimidated by someone who has read a lot and is generally awesome in every way (I had to make that last sentence as condescending as possible). Maybe they want to prove to me that they are readers too and want me to tell them what they read is good like I'm some kind of judge in Reading Court (Danielle Steel? I sentence you to thirty years of tickle rape in Reading Prison). After they tell me about what they read, a round of assumptions begins where they automatically assume I like certain writers, and it's always the same ones, a list of four people who are considered some of The Giants of Literature (that should echo when you read it).

What's a Giant of Literature? Well, I'll start off by saying the study of literature is kind of silly. It takes something that is totally subjective and tries to make it objective. Literary critics love to divine things from writings that they can't possibly know with any degree of certainty, and above all, they love to put writers on pedestals. With a few exceptions (Bob Dylan...The Beatles...Robert Johnson) pedestals make me nervous, but literary critics love them. This writer is considered the greatest or the epitome of this style. When I say Harlem Renaissance then people think Langston Hughes. Italian literature = Dante. Literature is riddled with pedestals and writers who are on them. These are the Giants of Literature, and people assume I like them because I've studied literature. Indeed, some I do like, but some I don't. The following four are ones I don't like all that much or at all.

Is this the end of Zombie Shakespeare?

Shakespeare is THE GREAT BARD to many. His name transcends the field of literary study and is known in circles outside academia. Everyone has read Shakespeare at one point in their life. This makes Shakespeare one of the most revered writers in all of literature. The funny thing is, Shakespeare wasn't critically acclaimed during his lifetime. Sure, he received some praise as a playwright during his lifetime, but the critical reverence came much later. During the end of the 1700's some scholars praised Shakespeare's works and educators in England scrambled to add Shakespeare to required required reading. With the 1800's came Romanticism, and Shakespeare's stock soared because so many of the great Romantic poets were versed in his works. As time went on, Shakespeare's name and legend grew and now you would be hard pressed to find anyone in the world who doesn't know the name William Shakespeare. Of all the literary pedestals that exist, Shakespeare's is by far the tallest.

For me, Shakespeare is not THE GREAT BARD. He is Wilie the Shake or Bill. For an English major to say they don't like Shakespeare is a trespass that threatens excommunication in some circles. The fact is that I used to HATE Willie the Shake. You could say the name Shakespeare and I would spit. Someone once told me they thought there were no original stories to tell because Shakespeare had written them already. The cited Hamlet as their evidence and said, "That play has every element of storytelling in it." Fuck that, I say! If Joseph Campbell taught us anything it's that the kinds of characters and stories Shakespeare told were already established and dominate in the storytelling of cultures long before Shakespeare even took up the quill. We can reduce most stories into basic archetypal elements and trace those elements back to folklore, to epics, and to myths that existed long before Shakespeare did. Just because Shakespeare wrote Hamlet doesn't mean he invented literature. It just means he wrote a great play. I agree with the idea that know original stories exist anymore, but I don't think we can attribute that to any one writer. For the most part when people hear a story or see a movie they expect certain things to happen. When we see a damsel in distress tied to railroad tracks we expect to see the hero swoop to save her. It's a cliche', but when it comes down to it I believe all stories are just a variation of cliche's. And in addition, my views on Shakespeare have changed somewhat. I like him more than I used to. He was a great writer who did a lot of deliberate things in his work, but I still want to knock him off his pedestal.

I'm the guy that wrote that one poem from Dead Poet's Society

Walt Whitman occupies the pedestal "Epitome of American Poetry," and any time I bring up my love for American poetry, this is the guy people ask me about. I'm just not a fan at all. I have petty problems with Whitman - his poems are too long for my taste, it feels like he's just making a grocery list with the heading "America Is Cool Because," and a lot of other stupid reasons - but I have one main problem with his work. I don't think it was distinctly American. For one thing, America wasn't very old when Whitman started writing his stuff. Much of the way we approached a lot of different things including literature were imitations of what was going on elsewhere. Henry James and Herman Melville wrote fiction in the style that was dominate in England at the time. Whitman was no exception to this kind of emulation. His style is a massive echo of the Romantics. For me, American Literature didn't really become distinctly American until after The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and the beginning of Modernism. The language became less heightened and the subject matter become more introspective and interest...just my opinion though. At any rate...I think Whitman needs knocked off his pedestal too.

I was a poet and nobody knowed it...tehehehehe.

My god I hate Emily Dickinson! And what's sad is I have no good reason for disliking her so much beyond a couple of really basic and superficial reasons. First, I think her stuff his fucking boring. I would rather find something interesting about wallpaper paste than have to read Dickinson's stuff. The other reason is (and I hope I don't ruin Dickinson for those of you who might like her stuff) that you can take the melody to "The Yellow Rose of Texas" and sing the lines of her poetry to it, and it syncs perfectly. Try it. Here's the first stanza from "I heard a fly buzz" -

I heard a fly buzz when I died;

The stillness round my form

Was like the stillness in the air

Between the heaves and storm.

Did I just blow your mind? It works with pretty much all her poems. I've tried it with dozens of them. Before I came to this realization I could read her stuff. I didn't like it, but I could read it. Now, I can't even read them because of "The Yellow Rose of Texas" thing. It forever ruined them for me.

Emo before it was cool...

I'm not going to discredit Poe for his writing. He was good at it. I just could never get into the mood or subject matter of his stories. I'm also not going to discredit Poe's contribution to literature by saying, "Well, he was more like the Stephen King of his time." I actually think Poe did some good things for literature. For instance, he really pioneered the short story. Before him fiction was relegated to novels. Poe came along and thought there needed to be something for someone who didn't have the attention span for novels. He conceptualized the short story and even wrote an essay defining what short story should be and how it should function. Poe is another writer I just don't like for no good reason. I just find his work uninteresting.

Things People Assume I Like But I Really Don't Pt. 1

Yep. I don't like Dave Matthew's Band, and most jam bands in general (this would include Phish, The Greatful Dead, and any incarnation of Bela Fleck), but really most of the dislike is pointed at Dave Matthew's Band (Many people are quick to point out that I was in a jam band - The Yooszh. They're right. I still don't like jam bands).

For me, my dislike of DMB boils down to two things:

1. Their sound. I'm a structuralist. I like songs to have a foundation. I don't mind some amount of variation so long as the foundation still remains. I like the music to adhere to some sort of structure, and the same goes for the lyrics and vocals. Every time anyone has ever played DMB for me to show me why they're so awesome it's always sounded like a mismatch of musical sounds. The drummer is doing his thing...the guitarists are doing their stuff...you got a guy honking some notes on his saxophone...and you got Dave sing some bibbity bobbity lyrics, and the entire sound just sounds like jazz fusion (which I also do not like).

2. The fans. There are a lot of things (as you will soon find out) that I don't like because of the other people who like them. DMB is definitely one. When you encounter a DMB fan DMB IS ALL THEY WANT TO TALK ABOUT AND LISTEN TO! Here's a typical conversation with a DMB fan:

DMB FAN: I see you're listening to All Along the Watch Tower.

ME: Yeah, I really like Bob Dylan.

DMB FAN: Ever heard Dave Matthews version of that song?

ME: Yes I have.

DMB FAN: Pretty awesome, huh?

ME: Uh, I actually prefer the Hendrix cover more.

DMB FAN: Wow really?

ME: Yeah.

DMB FAN: How about after we get done listening to this song we pop in some Dave Matthews and I'll show you some songs...might change your opinion.

ME: I'm kind of enjoying Dylan right now.

DMB FAN: Dylan's quite a lyricist.

ME: I think so.

DMB FAN: So is Dave. He had this one line "Everybody wake up, if you're living with your eyes closed." He's a real poet. Let me play you some stuff off Busted Stuff. That album really turned me onto Dave. You'll probably like it.

ME: I've actually heard it. Like I said, I'm kind of digging Dylan right now.

DMB FAN: How about when you're done you come over to my house. We can light up a J and throw in some DMB.

ME: No, I've got plans after this, but thanks for the offer.

DMB FAN: Wait, do you even like DMB?

ME: No, not really. I don't like the sound. I don't see what's great about them.

DMB FAN: (awkward silence...staring at me...rage filling in their eyes) How can you not like DMB when they're so good?

ME: I just don't.

DMB FAN: I'm sorry I bothered you. Have a good day.

That's a lot longer than I intended to write, but the I think I got the point across. The conversation ends with them either being insulted by the very notion that someone doesn't like this Jesus-like band they love or with them defending DMB thinking they're going to sway my opinion when in fact they never ever do...or will.

Open Letter - poetry

Dear Poem:

Today I saw a tree on the sidewalk

with black bark

and branches that became less specific

the higher up it went.

It reminded me of a painting I saw once.

I didn’t say anything, but I thought about you.

Remember the time we heard the singing woman?

We thought her lofty voice was God

and tired to hold her song in our pockets

like the petals we used to pull from flowers.

We should’ve just smelled them and moved on.

That was a long time ago, I guess.

I see these days you fancy cigarettes

and sex in back alleys,

the grand suckling of no strings

music without movement,

while I tie myself to a to this bland stick

and learn to write my words without fire.

The world still remains.

I guess the only thing we changed was us.

I hope this finds you well.

Love Ross.