Where does the wise man build?

Recapping the day:

The country's vice president survived an assassination.
The stock market plummeted.

At least I have hope in the risen Christ.

What the ...

"Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."

Another return

Once again, it feels good to be back at Funegro.

I'd love to recommit to regular postings. If it weren't for the whole commitment thing, I would in a heartbeat.

Guess this post was inspired by a review of the Funegro archives. If you haven't recently, I'd encourage you to take a spin through the articles. Some classics. True points in time in our lives. What a wonderful snapshot it provides.

Was also inspired by an article in this month's WIRED. It's not so much an article as it is a series of soundbytes-in-print, testimony to our society's trend to consuming content and media in short, quick bursts.

To that end, they offer up Radio SASS, where rock/pop songs are trimmed down to about two minutes in length. (30 songs an hour!)

"Through time compression, you get the memorable heart of each song, with an average length of aproximately two minutes with NO self indulgent guitar solos, NO long intros, NO repetition of choruses again and again."

Stranglehold in 120 seconds? Sounds like a bad K-tel pitch. The guy behind all this? George Gimarc, from KZEW's Rock and Roll Alternative back in the day. The guy's got chutzpah.

Artistic integrity aside, it works. Especially on the crappy songs.

Sample it here.

Excellent Howard Johnson's 1970's Ad

hojomojo, originally uploaded by koliver.

Love the enormous turtleneck on that guy...

Give thanks for the bland

This return to Funegro is prompted by the realization Thanksgiving is but 10 days away.

And with that realization comes a true sense of thanksgiving for family -- and for sterile, soulless church multi-purpose rooms where we can gather with those whom we are barely linked through some sketchy bloodline and share in the tepid bounty of the season heaped upon overmatched flimsy paper plates while sitting in cold metal folding chairs making small talk and confirming, once again, there are a finite number of topics in this world.

Still, it is good to gather, even under such circumstances. The richness comes with human interaction. The experience makes us better and, according to Nietchze, it makes us stronger (as long as, you know, the flourescent lights and warmed over green bean casserole doesn’t kill us).

And so we shall gain strength next Thursday as we grudgingly swing open the cheap metal industrial doors and stride down the threadbare builder’s grade carpet and dank, dark halls to meet the vaguely familiar pear-shaped distant relatives waiting in garish novelty seasonal sweaters. Strength and honor, indeed.

Yet as I reflect on this tribute to family and tradition, I recognize how sad it'd be if we missed the gathering. I'd go to any length to make this occasion. Rearrange schedules, make special arrangements . . . why, to enjoy such glorious fellowship, I'd travel far beyond the mid-cities.

Maybe even as far as Tennessee.

Best X Band

To celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary, Mary and I enjoyed a quiet, romantic evening at the Gypsy Tea Room, with musical accompaniment provided by Henry Rollins and his band -- and the Best Band That Starts With The Letter X:

X.

Never have I been more sure of a Rockology selection than I was last nite as the original X foursome raced through an energetic set of LA punk classics like Los Angeles, The World's A Mess, and Johnny Hit and Run Paulene. And it was a particularly tender moment when I held my bride close during Nausea, to keep her from being impaled by the frenetic mohawked dancer in our midst.

The band and their blistering anthems have aged exceptionally well.

To all Funegrans, I highly recommend this X-ploration.

CRACKED Magazine Re-Launches

I used to read CRACKED as a kid. Always seemed like a less-sophisticated MAD.

Seeing Monkeys

Caught the much-hyped Arctic Monkeys Tuesday nite during their brief stop in Dallas.

A few observations.

First, these kids rock. And they are kids. Still in their teens. But the four of ‘em unleashed a sonic ferocity I haven’t seen in years. They raced through their modest catalog of songs at an astonishing velocity. The guitar assault was Ramones-esque; the volume was Spinal Tap-ish. Songs are well crafted with smart, funny lyrics. The live versions of them were, to a fault, faithful to the studio versions.

Which brings me to my second point: They don’t yet have the live personality that matches the hype. And the hype is considerable. This is a band whose debut album was called one of the five best in British rock history. Hype, indeed. Yes, their talent is quite evident. Yet they lack a presence -- that certain savoir faire, that fleur de lis, that E Pluribus Unum. (Insert pretentious foreign phrase here.)

OK. Now for the action away from the stage. I was taken aback by the number of my middle-aged peers at the show. Maybe we’re the type who are buying into the buzz. Eager to see The Next Big Thing. Some of my fellow patrons were, apparently, just wanting to drink and dance. The Granada must’ve been pouring stiff drinks, because few inhibitions were on display. They certainly weren't anywhere near the guy across the aisle who was snapping his balding head as he loosely managed his sweaty “dance” convulsions. I’m convinced that during these ill-advised gyrations, this guy’s teenaged children – wherever they might’ve been – got a really bad vibe from the universe.

Also on display was the predictable, yet somehow still surprising, machismo and posing and territorialism that comes with a standing audience. To wit: the 30-something guy in front of me preening, bowing up, and punching the air with extended forefinger and pinky with bravado while inching back towards me in search of more real estate for him to impress the nearby 20-something chick (who appeared to be with his buddy). It played out like a National Geographic documentary. (“The male genus, fueled with loud music and elixir, does all he can to exhibit his dominance to attract the female.”)

To summarize: Cool show. Great energy. Excellent band. Funny spectators.

let's see . . . grace, salvation, hopping

this came from chloe's sunday school class today. across the bottom is her response to the practical application of the passage.

I think it was an SEL500

An observation from the morning commute.

As I was inching along in I-635 traffic, a large black Mercedes clumsily eased in front of me. Its Texas license plate read SEL 500.

This license plate was located only inches below the emblem on the trunk, which read SEL 500.

"MY BENZ" and "THISISACAR" must've been taken.