John Williams and His Orchestra

Recently I obtained a couple of really great compilation CDs called John William's Greatest Hits 1969-1999 and Hollywood Hits: 70 Years of Memorable Movie Music. Both are composed of two discs that are loaded with the full orchestral versions of various well-known movie songs--everything from the themes from Dr. No to Midnight Cowboy to M*A*S*H*! It reminds me of this great CD my brother had when we were growing up of golden and silver age TV theme songs (Scooby-Doo, I Love Lucy, Laverne and Shirley, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, etc), so of course it has inspired a new thematic playlist over here at MM.

I've needed an ever-increasing supply of new playlists for my newest endeavor: distance running! I've already registered and plunked down my 50 bucks to run in this year's Kentucky Derby Mini-Marathon, which means I've got roughly 20 weeks to get in shape to run 13.1 miles--readers, there's no way I can do that unless I've got some inspirational melodies to power me through. And I tell you what: John Williams, the United Artists Orchestra, The Universal Orchestra, et al are supplying quite the mother load. I've mixed in a few of my own things from years past to round out a pretty great working list, which I'll post below for your consideration:

• The Trio (from The Good, The Bad & The Ugly) : Ennio Morricone
• Dr. No : Monty Norman
• Am I Sexy : Lords of Acid
• Bachelor Pad : Fantastic Plastic Machine
• Star Wars (Main Title) : John Williams
• Olympic Fanfare and Theme : John Williams
• The Imperial March (Darth Vader's Theme!) : John Williams
• Indiana Jones & the Temple of Doom : John Williams
• Jaws : The Universal Orchestra
• Carmina Burana : Atlanta Symphony Orchestra
• The Ecstasy of Gold : Ennio Morricone
• Rocky : United Artists Orchestra
• Superman (Main Title Theme) : John Williams
• Raiders of the Lost Ark (Main Title Theme) :John Williams
• Olympic Centennial : John Williams

Wow, readers--that's over an hour of quality, inspirational, LOUD, scary, orchestral cacophony pumping directly into my brain! Will it keep my feet moving? Maybe. Will it get me in shape? It couldn't hurt... Will it transfer a sense of foreshadow-y triumphant doom to my otherwise mundane runs? I should say so! How shockingly terrifying will it be to huff along in my superhero running tights and miscellaneous polyester athletic foofaraw to the machinations of The Imperial March, the Dante-invoking Carmina Burana and the f-ing theme song to Jaws?? Oh boy!

Like National Holidays? Be Thankful for Abraham Lincoln!

It seems weird, but before 1863 Thanksgiving was a rather eccentric, often ignored holiday only sometimes observed in America, and in only some states some of the time. The Pilgrims are usually credited with starting it (a holiday they themselves called "harvest home"), but most Americans didn't celebrate it regularly until Abraham Lincoln made a proclamation in 1863 that Thanksgiving be officially celebrated in all the states that year on November 19th.

The Battle of Gettysburg was fought in July of that year, and the Civil War had been raging for over two and a half years, so this was right in the middle of the bloodiest war ever fought on American soil. And lets not forget that when Lincoln said "all the states," he meant all of them--that is, including the secessionists who wouldn't have appreciated his insinuation. We don't always think of Lincoln as the dealer of a mean backhand, but in this case he got in a sweet burn on the Rebs while at the same time dropping a crowd pleasing mandate of a nice meal (even though Lincoln's original idea was for a national fast, not feast. Good try, Abe, now pass the stuffing).

Lincoln issued another proclamation the following year, and the tradition was upheld by every following president uninterrupted until Thanksgiving was officially declared a national holiday by an act of Congress in 1941. Before Lincoln came along, Thanksgiving was only sporadically proclaimed, and never on any particular day in all the sates--that's turkey anarchy, readers, and I'm glad Democracy (and Honest Abe) finally stepped in and kept us all from backsliding further into an unplanned holiday abyss.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Cincinnati's Sports Teams: One of Them is Good This Year!

(Hint: it's not the Reds.)

Well, readers, after another disappointing season of Reds baseball, we here at MM are licking our wounds after watching the reviled Yankees win yet another series by doing two things:

1. watching our treasured VHS copy of highlights from the 1976 world series in which the Reds hand New York a resounding defeat in an embarrassing 4 game series sweep (narrated by Joe Garagiola!) over and over
2. turning to a different sport altogether in order to get that "my team is a winner" type of feeling: NFL football, and the Cincinnati Bengals! Hey, they're actually pretty good this year!

I should explain that I've always felt it imperative to root for teams geographically. That is, you should be regionally compelled to be a fan of whomever is closest to your hometown. Otherwise you tend to look like a fair weather schmuck (I'm looking at you, native Louisvillians walking around town in Red Sox jerseys and Green Bay cheesehats! Shameful!). In a country with a dizzying array of choice, I think it is sometimes refreshing to have to play a hand that fate has dealt you--I think that in the case of being a sports fan, that should be one of those non-choices. When I get fed up with watching them flounder yet again, I say to myself in a Darth Vader baritone: "You must support the Reds...it is your DESSS-TINYYY!"

I can remember growing up and driving to Cincy for Reds games and wondering who that dumb-ass in the Kansas City hat sitting in the next aisle thought he was; I'd think to myself "the Royals aren't even in the National League, moron!" And we all know that some teams more than others tend to attract these types. I generally divide them into two categories: the annoying egotists who love only winners, and the dopey masochists who only support (sometimes ironically) the hapless losers. There are many reasons for falling into either category, but I think it's shameful and more than a little disingenuous no matter what your excuse. For instance: I don't care if your daughter moved to Denver, or if your son is going to law school in Chicago: these things should not effect your sports allegiances! Steroids alone are not destroying professional sports, the loyal ambiguity of the hometown base is muddying the waters as well.

Anyway, so I was reading about the Bengals' most recent win against last year's Super Bowl winners, the Steelers, in the paper this morning, and Pittsburgh safety Ryan Clark was quoted saying that Cincy is "clearly the best team in the division." (!) After a disappointing baseball season, that is a pretty exciting thing to hear for me. And don't forget that the Bengal's have a player that legally changed his name to reflect (I assume) his love for his own jersey number--that's pretty fun! I'll always be a baseball fan first, but branching out a bit looks like it may help my sports-related inferiority complex--this year, at least.

(Go Ochocinco!)

Bush League Hijinks

Well, Readers, I know that the baseball season officially ended more than a week ago (grumble, grumble, Yankees, grumble, 27 times too many, grumble, grumble, *sob*), but I just watched the Will Ferrell one man Broadway show You're Welcome, America and it reminded me of the timeless dancing fake umpire shtick. In the play (in which Ferrell performs as former president G. W. Bush, from a too-long SNL skit into a too-long stage performance) there is this really great pudgy straight man (a comment on his stature and role in the performance, not necessarily his orientation, readers) who plays a secret service agent that stands center stage during intermissions (of which there are several). He basically does a variation on the classic "dancing umpire;" gradually--imperceptibly at first--dancing along with increasing fervor to the catchy technopop music that plays between acts.

This is an age old gimmick worthy of the name Charlie O. Finley, whereby we, the unsuspecting audience (lured into thinking this is a real umpire), are supposed to be entertained by the (hilarious) goofy mascot taunting the (lame) official. At least, that's what we think we're supposed to think--but there's another layer at work here. You see, this is not the official official--it turns out he is a payed dance professional (one assumes), and the joke is actually on us (and Birdzerk also, in the above case) because that dude can totally dance his regulation polyester pants off, and the cocky mascot instigator totally gets served by the underdog fake umpire's flashy moves set to the pop styling of C + C Music Factory! A rather elaborate scenario for a little between-innings palette cleanser, don't you think? Our farm teams try so hard to make us love them. (additionally, pay special attention to what the video takers are saying--I mean, this is old hat for me, a frequent minor league patron, but their comments make it seem like they are seeing this particular scenario for the first time. At one point a woman, incredulous, asks "Are you getting this??" and then later, as if she is worried others will not believe her stories: "We should put this on YouTube!!")

Anyway, I was wondering where they recruit these fake dancing umpires: off-season dance companies? Dinner theater troupes in-between performances? Chorus line drop-outs? The random local misty-eyed dreamers? Or maybe this has become a professionalized niche demanding its own kind of training, certification and accreditation. So you could call up the Dancing Umpires Express, LLC in Chattanooga and they'd send you some headshots--you could choose from some average looking skinny guys (the lowest price range) and some huskier types (the priciest, as these would make for the best on-field deceptions). They show up, the picture of professionalism in their own standard-issue minor league regulation uniform, and the crowd totally goes for it--they are, for just a few seconds maybe, fooled into thinking that they are witnessing a pivotal moment in the life of an individual who, up until this very moment, only ever did things strictly according to the rules. For a brief moment our man would create a beautiful illusion of free spirit spontaneity breaking the surface of clench-jawed authoritarianism--like watching The Man light up a doob. Maybe Birdzirk is just the catalyst we all need to propel us into uncharacteristic fits of rule-breaking madness, throwing off the shackles of our preconceived identity roles and allowing the rhythm to take control.

Louisville's Wanna-be Mayor is King of Scandals

There's been a lot of shady behavior coming to light lately concerning metro councilman and mayoral candidate Jim King. He's always been an outspoken opponent of pretty much anything current mayor Jerry Abramson says or does, but of course he's been upping the ante ever since Jerr announced this summer that he would be running for Lieutenant Governor in 2010. All of a sudden King is in the paper almost every day, hustling some smack talk of one kind or another; but there's also been a comically steady stream of King-related scandals and ethical over-stepping.

Most if it has to do with his daughter, 29-year-old Katie King, who was elected as a judge in last years election. Wow, where to even begin with this one? Katie is what I would describe as "one of those treacherously bitchy rich blonde chicks who spent high school in a tanning booth plotting her rise to prom queen, and college in a giggly haze of Jagermeister and Rohypnol." Basically, she's 2nd generation new money, riding high after pimping out daddy's influence to (literally) buy herself a prestigious job appointment she is in no way qualified for. The Kings own a bank (King Southern Bank), and daddy got sort-of busted recently when it was made public that he gave Katie an illegal campaign contribution of $135,000 (it's currently unclear if this is going to have any consequences for anyone) that he claims was an "early inheritance." Riiiiight--after all, Princess shouldn't have to wait for daddy to croak before she gets to play dress-up on the public dime.

Earlier last month Daddy sent out an email to local lawyers asking them to grade Princess favorably on the Louisville Bar Association's current judicial evaluation. Experts are split on whether that was actually an ethical violation, but seriously: of course it is! Daddy is on the metro council, he owns a bank and he's a favorite in the mayoral pool: gee, do you think that he may have a bit of influence in this town? Do you think he might be able to collect favors from those in power? Do you think those being asked for said favor would feel pressure to oblige? Hmmm. Congratulations on your performance review, Princess. Oh, and of course Daddy has pleaded ignorance in any wrong doing in both cases--:"Gosh, I didn't know those things were wrong! I just love my little angel--no harm done, right guys?

And for her part Princess hasn't said so much as a word about not wanting or needing Daddy's help, or even acknowledging that any of this was wrong. Great judge, that one. Maybe she was too busy stealing other people's fiances on reality television shows to bother herself with issues of ethics.

And now there's yet another King family drama playing out: Daddy and the Ex-Mrs. King were recently rebuffed for trying to seal their 1988 divorce records from the public record. Other, more responsible and law-serving judges refused to cave and released the documents anyway. Apparently, according to the Louisville Courier-Journal, there was a good reason for the Kings' nervousness: the divorce records contained reports of domestic abuse. Now Daddy's attorney says King would like to "negotiate a settlement with the newspaper to keep certain documents private." For a bank president, that roughly translates into "how much should I make the check out for?"

Latest Innovation in Products for Creeps Who Look at Porn in Public Libraries

Readers, I work in a public library so I'm used to dealing with issues of privacy when it comes to what our patrons want to look at. The American Library Association instructs us to protect the privacy and first amendment rights of our users at all costs--so we don't disclose the reading history of our members unless the FBI goes and gets a subpoena (and even then, librarians tend to cause angry scenes worthy of the evening news when this happens), nor do we try to censor what information or content our patrons have access to. Intellectual freedom is the core value of librarianship, and it gets my heart all filled with anti-authoritarian don't-tread-on-me pride to think about librarians busting through a Harry Potter picket line.

That's why I was really, um, excited to hear about a product developed by designer Joe Malia: the Techno Privacy Scarf! (pictured above) Now our especially wacked-out, pervy horn-dog, or otherwise generally creepy patrons can surf those illicit sites in public without worrying about disturbing others. I mean, check out the Unabomber up there on the far right--wouldn't mind being stuck in an elevator with that one, right?

Baseball Armageddon

Readers, you may have noticed that there has been a marked drop-off in the number of baseball related posts here at MM (like, from several a week to...uh, zero). That may or may not be directly proportional to the suckiness rate of my beloved Cincinnati Reds this season. Well, I'm no sore loser or anything: you have to remember how long its been since the Reds were anything but a second-rate embarrassment--in fact, you'd have to go way back to 1995, when the Reds won the Central Division pennant (I was there, by the way, readers), and it was five years before that in 1990 the last time the Reds won the World Series, and way back in 1975 when the above picture was taken of the last Cincinnati club worthy of a nickname: The Big Red Machine. So you could say I'm used to Loser-ville by now.

I mention this because the other day I read a particularly whiny article in the New York Times by A. G. Sulzberger entitled Met's Fans Have Choice of Two Evils in World Series. Its all about how hard it is this year to be a Mets fan; how to choose the team to root for when you actively hate both, which team to hate less, how long its been since you got to celebrate a pennant win, blah blah blah boo-hoo-hoo. So the Mets haven't been any good for a few seasons, and it's been since 1986 since they won the Series--so what? The Reds haven't been good since that year in 1995...like at all. At least Mets fans had hope recently, like when in 2006 they came thisclose to winning their division--the Reds usually keep a close eye on third place until around the All Star break, then it's head first into the crapper for the rest of the season. And what about Pittsburgh fans? The Pirates are usually solid cellar dwellers by the 3rd week of the season--they haven't won a World Series since 1979. Washington D.C. just got their team a few seasons ago and it's been nothing but a shameful bloodbath for the Nationals thus far. The Royals, the Padres, the Mariners, the Orioles--all bottom-feeding fodder for teams like the Yankees, the Red Sox and the Dodgers to humiliate with their top-dollar talent season after season.

Popular Mets blogger John Coppinger (Musings and Prophecies of Metstradamus) is calling for Mets fans to boycott this year's Series, calling it, dramatically, "baseball Armageddon." Sheesh, simmer down, crybaby--the rest of us middle American die-hards have been dealing with our own squads of AAA losers for decades, so join the club. But of course it's not just Mets fans who get a bruised ego and have self-righteous hissy fits after a disappointing season--Cubs fans are downright scary when the subject of entitlement comes up, and don't they still burn Kenesaw Mountain Landis effigies on Chicago's Southside every October? Nobody holds a grudge like a real baseball fan.

So, not to sound bitter or anything, but I really can't spare the pity for the fella from Queens who ends Sulzberger's article by emoting: "I'm having a real tough time right now. They tell me the longer I wait, the sweeter it's going to be. But I was 3 years old in 1986, so I don't really remember. I want to know what it feels like to win." Well, I'm sure there are thousands of other fans of other teams who feel the same way every year the Yankees' newest permutation of ever-larger-muscled baseball millionaires buy their way to the top. There's a lot of disenfranchised fans out there who want to know what it feels like, just once, to be able to look down their noses at them and say "better luck next year, ya bums!" In fact, that popular sentiment demonstrates a real need that isn't currently being met in the consumer market that tends towards the ESPN demographic: sports therapy. Maybe I'll open my couch for business...

(Go Phillies!)