Category Archives: television

Everything New Wave Is Old

Here’s a  bunch of  New Wave videos from the late seventies through the eighties that caught my attention when I was putting together something else. Each one has something going on and I just had to point them out. I have also taken the time to sprinkle goodies throughout this thing so have fun unearthing the many gems.

Electronic –  A  so called “super group” that included  Bernard Sumner from Joy Division and  New Order, along with Neil Tennant from The Pet Shop Boys, and the legendary Johnny Marr doing a song by the original super group, Blind Faith. This one is only audio.

Generation X -Kiss Me Deadly with great shots of the band before fame them turned them into assholes.

Generation X -A grimy, glam version of  Valley of The Dolls.  At this point they thought they were too cool.

The Damned – I Just Can’t Be Happy Today performed with ferocity, confidence, and vigor before a Finnish crowd in 1981.

The Damned – Disco Man

The DamnedGrimly Fiendish

Simple Minds -Sanctify Yourself at Wembley Stadium ’88. Happy Birthday Nelson Mandela!!!

Thompson Twins – A bubbly In The Name Of Love closes this 1983 Liverpool show.

FGTH -Two Tribes full length video.  Listen to the voice saying follow me.

FGTHWar. Wicked.

Wire Train –  A Bay Area “almost was”  performing their big hit which stands the test of time better than the VHS tape it was recorded on.

Wire Train – Live in Zurich 1986 performing Bowie‘s Rebel Rebel. This is some really random footage.

This Year I’m Giving You Genital Warts.

Watching the holiday cooking segment this morning with Regis, Kelly, and her kids as they were flinging sugar onto each other and making a big mess of the set, I couldn’t help but think that the scene would definitely not have played out in my own childhood. Of course they were playing things up for the cameras, but I could easily imagine holiday baking at Kelly’s house with those precocious kids being such a cavalier affair, she is rich after all, and can afford to be playful, and no doubt has the domestic staff to clean up after such carefree dalliances.  

My Mom was probably playful once but parenthood and life had changed that, and she was the one who would have been cleaning up the mess as she had been all along, so she wasn’t so inclined to goof around. Mom was the girl in a patriarchal household and she was the one who had the “responsibility” to maintain the house that was home to me, my brother, and my Dad. I cannot begrudge the woman for not tossing sugar all around the kitchen willy nil, because there was not a snowballs chance in hell that we boys would be around later to help make sense of the fray. 

My Dad doesn’t understand the concept of playfulness to this day and he is 66, but back then he was so tight that the man undoubtedly had to unlace his asshole to take a shit in the morning. I used to sneak out of the house as a teenager by going out of my bedroom window and my Dad would be more angry that I used the window instead of the door than he would that I snuck out in the first place because teenagers sneaking out is to be expected, but using the window showed a lack of respect for what he had worked so hard to achieve.             

Sonya invited me to go and spend Xmas with her and her parents this year and I can’t help but compare the idea to the most overplayed of all Xmas fables, Dickens’ holiday classic. We dated for over four years and spoke of the possibility of a marriage, but it was the same old story, woman wants more than the man is willing or able to give. Having her invite me to come and be with her and her family at this most familial of times is like being visited by the ghost of Christmas that never was. Of course being much less masochistic than I was as a younger man, I readily declined her invite preferring, this holiday season, to remain as I came into the world and as I will go out of this world, alone.  

You could call me a Grinch but that would be a misnomer because the green fiend is merely indicative of a particular season, (despite what the 1977 Emmy nominated Halloween television special on CBS would try and have us believe), I on the other hand am cynical, angry, bitter, and pissed off all year round. There are no dead trees in my home decorated with ornaments or anything else, and no one is going to show up in the middle of the night to give me anything other than some drunken kisses and an STD.  

My boss went to pick her girlfriend up at work the other day and while she was waiting in the lobby noticed there was a crèche on display. Upon closer inspection she noticed that the only men in the scene were Joseph an unwed father, and the shepherds, all of whom were decidedly unwise guys. The three who reportedly followed a star from lands far off had not gotten there yet it would seem. Upon inquiry the business owner who had assembled the incomplete nativity revealed that he had left them out on purpose, because they were astrologers.  

Holiday once meant Holy Day, nowadays it means spend and buy and then spend some more, and because I have no money the relevance of the whole occasion is lost to me. There is no “war on Christmas”, except for the actual war that is being waged somewhere far away on Christmas day and the other 364 non Christmas days of the year as well. The presumed holiness of the day is long gone much like the three missing men in the crèche, and we have instead allowed consumerism to become the reason for the season. Give til hurts this year people, and then take until it doesn’t hurt so much anymore.  

I Love Tacos, and I Love Burritos

T W T W 11/10/07 to 11/16/07 

                        Taking Saturday off of at work is usually a pretty sweet deal for me, but this time I had to attend the funeral of an Uncle that I really have a lot of love for. Upon arrival after a short ferry ride across The Sound, my mother announced that she was disappointed in me, that she just “wanted more for me”. I reminded her that the feeling was mutual, and that I had not sat around when I was 15 years old dreaming that my life would turn out the way that it has. Uncle Rich surely didn’t expect that the ships he served on with pride as a U.S. Naval officer, would eventually cause his body to contract Mesothelioma, and that his dreamtime would end leaving his wife with only memories, a dog, and a home full of things. What we have is now and with it the opportunity to continue to grow and change and evolve and love. There is no time like the present to put aside our expectations of what could have been. While we can we must, continue to dream of what still might be.

            Work was still pretty busy for so late in the season, and when you work with stone, there is plenty of opportunity to become physically ravaged over time. Of course the payoff is sweet when the lights go down and the clothes fly off, but moving pieces of rock around all day can take a toll and make you sleepy at night. It seemed like every customer this week wanted the piece of stone at the bottom of the pallet, which meant that after removing a literal ton of stone, I had to put it all back later after the person I was helping had left the yard. My coworker James saw a show about the Spartans on the T.V., and found that our job was remarkably similar to the training that they endured. Wheelbarrows take on new significance when they are piled with several hundred pounds of stone and pushed across the yard repeatedly.

            When I heard the Barry Bonds indictment announced on the radio this week I lost my shit, because I have been saying to everyone for the last six months that the Feds were going to come with it. Of course I grew up in the same area that he did and even went to the same high school as him in the years after he had been there. His reputation as being a major dick was well acknowledged. I also read the book Game of Shadows, which details the whole affair that has caused him to, with consuming devotion toward his record of personal achievement, be indicted for lying under an oath that granted him immunity unless he lied. My bias is clear and I am inclined to enjoy watching his martyr like pleas in the press that nothing was amiss with his body chemistry during his golden, glory years, and that he is merely victim of the white man’s media.  All of this insignificant drama is the result of one man’s narcissistic and over inflated ego and the culture that knowingly inflamed it. In America, that is what we are all about, we hold them up high just so that they make a bigger crash when we knock the pilings out from under them. Of course when the icon that we seek to upend is more than willing to contribute to their own undoing, a la Britney or O.J., it becomes an engrossing public spectacle that we can all enjoy together from our vantage point high above.

            Midweek, my Dad told me that he has prostate cancer, and that they are weighing the options to decide how best to go about treating it, of course this means going under the knife or chemo, but they caught it early so that is good. Really I have been thinking about a life without my father since my teens. It was because of a strange turn in my own life that I became familiar with death’s stern and sudden way, at such a tender age.  Since then I have of considered death as an omnipresent force that, ironically, overshadows all of life, and that cancer is its biggest producer. I smoke and have for twenty five years, so I am pretty sure that I cannot be very far down on cancer’s “to kill” list, but really it is a non discriminatory disease that will lead to the death of many people just because. As far as diseases go it is the big, mean, biting dog that freely roams and it will go for your nuts every time you encounter it.

            Finally this week I discovered that a guy I did a couple of plays with back in high school has hit the big time down in Hollywood as an actor. He is cast in a major role in a big hit T.V. show that I never watched before but will check out now that I know he is in it. We touched base through the email and he reminded me of a crazy thing that I used to do back in high school when I would jump, with all four wheel off the ground, the tiny Honda Civic that used to drive, on this hill near the school we attended, to the immense pleasure of my fearless, (maybe some fearful), teenage passengers. Of course I was congratulatory of his success and honestly so, but I also felt really bad about myself, that I had made so many stupid decisions along the way and had squandered so many opportunities that could have enabled my life to have heft and/or relevance. Self reflection is a key for growth and I certainly want to continue doing so, but it sucks to be when the one staring back from the mirror is a warped version of the person you hoped and dreamed that you would be when you were young.