Got a cherry pop-sicle...

...got a big stick, mama, that'll blow your mind!

Tom Waits is a, if not THE most, influential person to creativity. Period. He rocks the world, and I've forgotten just how awesome he really is, and has been. The man fishes with cheese, for God's sake! And he wraps the cheese in old underwear! Damn, that's sweet!

Take a moment to reflect upon how much the film "Down By Law" rocks (you got the Lee Baby Simms show!), how much I absolutely love "Jockey Full of Bourbon," "Ice Cream Man," "Pasties and a G-String, " or "Phone Call From Istanbul." Or how I can *never* listen to "Ruby's Arms," ever again. Or how I insist on "wash [ing] my mouth out by the door." Yes. Tom Waits is my chocolate Jesus.

Addendum: Dan Shaughnessy Beware!

(Pay no mind, this is a note to Shaughnessy's inner "gangsta")

Walking in Roxbury really late at night is a "no-no." I wouldn't.

Why does Dan Shaughnessy get paid?

It's not a mystery--I am not a huge fan of Dan Shaughnessy. And no, it's not his white-man afro. Honestly, I could care less about his hair (Supercuts, Dan) if his journalism was slightly inspiring. Let's look at today's article on bostonglobe.com.

Page two, paragraph four (save for the first line of the page). Shaughnessy references a quote from David Halberstam comparing the plight of the Red Sox (in the years leading up to their 2004 World Series victory) to the struggles of the black population during the civil rights movement. He questions if the state of Red Sox Nation will do what African-Americans did after the civil rights movement--disassemble the bonds that brought them together to win a "revolution" (exact quote) and become more involved in individual interests, therefore dissolving the once-unified stronghold that moved mountains.

Ok. Why don't we back up? Why is it that we're comparing a baseball team to an entire population of people who were mistreated for hundreds of years? I'm confused here.

I love baseball, don't get me wrong. Allow me to make my own case. I am *completely* enamored of the Boston Red Sox, right down to stumpy little Kevin "Belongs in the Outfield" Millar ("I am now gay!"). I understand the question that Shaughnessy is posing when he ponders the probability of Red Sox Nation easing up on their favorite World Series champs (a slump? What slump? What exactly defines a slump, anyway? Maybe they just didn't feel like hitting today...); is the Nation going easy on their favorite underdogs? I know that I'm not, and as a member of Red Sox Nation, I continue to keep the faith.

I do, however, enjoy that collective sigh of relief. Wow...we did it. 86 years and we did it. Well guys, why don't you relax... you don't need to impress, you've proved yourselves. I can see myself falling into that trap, which is something that I don't want to do. But I digress...

So, ok, Dan, you've got a point. Thanks for pointing it out. We got it. But, my goodness....to compare a baseball game to the civil rights movement?! A game...it's a game! A bunch of overpaid, though very talented, men in tight pants (yes!) running around on a patch of grass with people sucking around, drinking beers, waving "Rem Dawg say 'hi' to my Mom" signs, gawking at them. This isn't a bad comparison, it's completely unrelated. We're now reduced to comparing a game to an extremely horrible, inhumane period of world history? Bad journalism, Dan! Bad!

I could go on...but I won't. We all get the idea; food for thought on this topic; I'll save my Shaughnessy-scrutinizing for further diatribes.

Gosh, and I thought that the over usage of the word "props" by Mr. Shaughnessy ("props," not as in a badly-painted paper mache rendition of the sun on a string used for a third grade play, but he actually referred to the action of giving someone recognition by saying "props") during one episode of "Sports Plus" was a bad exhibition of a supposedly intelligent, aware person. What are you, a homeboy? If so, by all means, play up the afro...you old, ugly, homeboy.

And if at all possible, can we get someone else to do this man's job? I know many (myself included) who'd be more than willing to take one for the team and take on the job. Dan...shout out to your peeps...holla back!

...Even a caveman could do it.

A few months ago, I had to ask my boyfriend what a "blog" was. Let's put it this way; Peter Jennings knew what a blog was before I did. Fine.

Anyway, when he (my boyfriend, not Peter Jennings) explained that a blog was somewhere to post one's ideas, thoughts, etc., I found it completely amazing that someone would want to read a "web log" about someone else's thoughts or ideas. I also found it pretty funny that politicians and journalists (and "the media"....insert gratuitous "booing" here) well worth their salt--we're talking about distinguished, recognized veterans--actually read and paid attention to what the bloggers were saying. Ludicrous. Disgusting. Preposterous!

And then I forgot about blogs. However, I did not forget about my almost life-long desire to write about things that actually might matter if given some attention; Sudan, the state of affairs at Foxwoods Resort Casino, why Mark Bellhorn should stay at second base (hear that, Tito?), etc. Now...if I could only hurry up and get a degree in journalism, political science, an internship, a masters degree, and lots of experience (in print, in the field, fetching cups of coffee for egotistical, overrated bosses), perhaps I could voice my own opinion on things other than which cheesecake I most desire at the Cheesecake Factory (not that it matters, but it's the Toblerone one).

And then, somewhere in the recesses of my Neanderthal mind (Sorry, Johnny Damon) an eternal light shone outward: if I started my own blog, I could write all of these things down and publish (publish!) them on the Internet. Wow...it's so simple, even a caveman could do it. Why didn't I think of this before?

Well, I've thought of it....let's see if I can turn out a few pages of material satisfactory for consumption. If not, I can just continue talking to the computer screen when I need to vent. Yes, I do that, too.