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Friday, March 30, 2012
Dollar Bills, Y'all.
The Yankee Chicken takes a break from imagining all the next-to-the-dugout seats he'll be able to afford, and how, exactly, he and Derek Jeter will coordinate their evening plans (The Chicken does not have opposable thumbs, and therefore has issues with texting) when he strikes it super rich this evening, to give you this wealth of information. (No, seriously, he will be Derek Jeter's BFF. Just you wait.)
Friday, March 23, 2012
Spring Training, Spring Cleaning, Etc.
The Yankee Chicken is so desperately glad that baseball season is approaching, so he won't have to busy himself with trivial things like cleaning the bathroom for six whole months. (The bathroom cleans itself, right?)
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Sing Us a Song as An Idol Contestant, Not as Someone You're Not.
It's been awhile since I've had an American Idol post, no? Well, let's rectify that. Last night's theme was one close to my heart: Songs of Billy Joel. His greatest hits were the first CD I ever bought (along with the Les Miserables soundtrack) and I wore that double-disk set out in high school. And then, as I got older, I started listening to the "deep cuts" and when I finally got to see him in concert, I knew the words to all the songs. So, yeah, he's seriously one of my all-time favorite artists and I'm a little protective of his catalog (even though he's obviously not, since he allowed the show access to his songs, but this is my blog post, not Billy Joel's, so there).
Full disclosure: I love "Piano Man." It's Billy Joel's most well-known hit, documenting one of the gigs he had before making it big, and I admire anyone who can sell that kind of a "story" song. It's also a great for a sing-along (ah, college)... when the focus isn't on one person trying to make a song "their own." Which is what Colton did last night and really kind of annoyed me.
This is not a song you can project yourself into. The characters are clearly defined and the experience is all Billy Joel's. To take it on as such and to praise it is arrogant or ignorant as all get-out. I wanted to shake the judges and the mentors to be like "Have you LISTENED to the lyrics? Is "John at the Bar" a friend of Colton who gets him his 'drinks for free?'" NO. Jesus, he's not even old enough to drink legally, let alone be bringing down the offbeat denizens of a piano bar with his masterpieces. You are not THE "Piano Man" merely because you can play the piano and move people, I'm sorry. There are so many non-totally-obviously biographical piano-based songs (Hi, "She's Only a Woman") he could've taken on that would've been ideal for the "moment" the show seems to feel the need to manufacture on a weekly basis these days. Which takes me to my next point.
I remember my favorite moments on the show: Kelly Clarkson's "Stuff Like That There," Fantasia's "Summertime," LaToya London's "Don't Rain on My Parade," Bo Bice's "In a Dream", Carrie Underwood's "Alone", Chris Daughtry's "Hemorrhage," Melinda Dolittle's "My Funny Valentine," Kris Allen's "Heartless". ALL of these performances didn't rely on crazy lighting schemes, background montages or dry ice to help hold the viewer's hand and out-right tell them that a "moment" was happening. The songs stood for themselves. Now? Forget it. It seems the second the producers sense a good performance is about to happen, they go all out to make it as theatrical as possible, an obvious ploy to be watercooler talk in the morning. It makes me wonder if they have any faith at all in their contestants to prove their worth organically, on their own, as SO MANY have done before them (i.e., it's not so impossible for such a thing to happen when you have talented people in your presence). It's sad.
Yes, I'm still watching this show, but the last few seasons have left me...meh. It just feels like the producers' fingerprints are all over this show now, and it's more about viewer manipulation than actually letting contestants do their thing, which is a shame.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go listen to some "Miami 2017". They sent the carrier up from Norfolk, and picked the Yankees up for free, people! Broke-ass New York in the 70s. Ahh.
Full disclosure: I love "Piano Man." It's Billy Joel's most well-known hit, documenting one of the gigs he had before making it big, and I admire anyone who can sell that kind of a "story" song. It's also a great for a sing-along (ah, college)... when the focus isn't on one person trying to make a song "their own." Which is what Colton did last night and really kind of annoyed me.
This is not a song you can project yourself into. The characters are clearly defined and the experience is all Billy Joel's. To take it on as such and to praise it is arrogant or ignorant as all get-out. I wanted to shake the judges and the mentors to be like "Have you LISTENED to the lyrics? Is "John at the Bar" a friend of Colton who gets him his 'drinks for free?'" NO. Jesus, he's not even old enough to drink legally, let alone be bringing down the offbeat denizens of a piano bar with his masterpieces. You are not THE "Piano Man" merely because you can play the piano and move people, I'm sorry. There are so many non-totally-obviously biographical piano-based songs (Hi, "She's Only a Woman") he could've taken on that would've been ideal for the "moment" the show seems to feel the need to manufacture on a weekly basis these days. Which takes me to my next point.
I remember my favorite moments on the show: Kelly Clarkson's "Stuff Like That There," Fantasia's "Summertime," LaToya London's "Don't Rain on My Parade," Bo Bice's "In a Dream", Carrie Underwood's "Alone", Chris Daughtry's "Hemorrhage," Melinda Dolittle's "My Funny Valentine," Kris Allen's "Heartless". ALL of these performances didn't rely on crazy lighting schemes, background montages or dry ice to help hold the viewer's hand and out-right tell them that a "moment" was happening. The songs stood for themselves. Now? Forget it. It seems the second the producers sense a good performance is about to happen, they go all out to make it as theatrical as possible, an obvious ploy to be watercooler talk in the morning. It makes me wonder if they have any faith at all in their contestants to prove their worth organically, on their own, as SO MANY have done before them (i.e., it's not so impossible for such a thing to happen when you have talented people in your presence). It's sad.
Yes, I'm still watching this show, but the last few seasons have left me...meh. It just feels like the producers' fingerprints are all over this show now, and it's more about viewer manipulation than actually letting contestants do their thing, which is a shame.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go listen to some "Miami 2017". They sent the carrier up from Norfolk, and picked the Yankees up for free, people! Broke-ass New York in the 70s. Ahh.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
You Can Never Have Enough Solid Gold Dancers
So, as with most pop-culture countdown shows, I've recently gotten sucked into TV Guide Network's 100 Shows to See Before You Die. While the commentators all seem my age or younger (which kind of takes away when someone is talking about how great Bonanza was. I mean, there are plenty of snarky, funny people over the age of 40) and therefore seemingly geared toward a "Time began in 1992 crowd", I appreciate the hell out of it for including some random shows in there. Like, Solid Gold:
For some reason this show (and Dance Fever) captivated me when I was a kid. I don't know why, exactly. Maybe because I was born in the disco era and I have an affinity for it. But check out those ensembles (the clothes, not groups of dancers). It's a wonder I didn't walk around in lamé leotards and sweatbands. And the music! Where else are you going to hear "Obscene Telephone Caller" and have it choreographed?
Anyway, I find it a little sad that shows like this don't exist anymore. I mean, when there was a Soul Train marathon on after Don Cornelius died, I kept the channel on all day. Not only are these things a great time capsule, you get to hear songs you forgot existed. And if you think about it, do people even dance anymore? Sure at clubs and weddings, but are kids learning new moves anywhere? It's sort of sad that that all kind of died in the 80s after breakdancing - unless I'm that ignorant and new dances have been invented that I don't know about.
Ah well, I guess for people who think the world began in 1992, musical dance shows are just for old people. Like me.
Thank god for YouTube.
For some reason this show (and Dance Fever) captivated me when I was a kid. I don't know why, exactly. Maybe because I was born in the disco era and I have an affinity for it. But check out those ensembles (the clothes, not groups of dancers). It's a wonder I didn't walk around in lamé leotards and sweatbands. And the music! Where else are you going to hear "Obscene Telephone Caller" and have it choreographed?
Anyway, I find it a little sad that shows like this don't exist anymore. I mean, when there was a Soul Train marathon on after Don Cornelius died, I kept the channel on all day. Not only are these things a great time capsule, you get to hear songs you forgot existed. And if you think about it, do people even dance anymore? Sure at clubs and weddings, but are kids learning new moves anywhere? It's sort of sad that that all kind of died in the 80s after breakdancing - unless I'm that ignorant and new dances have been invented that I don't know about.
Ah well, I guess for people who think the world began in 1992, musical dance shows are just for old people. Like me.
Thank god for YouTube.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Quote of the Day
"You know I kinda liken this to a beloved character coming 'back from the dead' on a soap." - Tonya, on the return of Andy Pettitte.
You know who else is excited?
That's The Chicken practicing his Pettitte-as-Snoopy-the-Vulture stare. Because it may take longer than three weeks to see him again, but better late than retired.
You know who else is excited?
That's The Chicken practicing his Pettitte-as-Snoopy-the-Vulture stare. Because it may take longer than three weeks to see him again, but better late than retired.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
The Perfect Man: Goofy + a Good Theme Song = Squee!
So, what with this whole Kirk Cameron seeming kind of, uh, not-so-sitcom-y lately, I feel like an exceptionally wise preteen for not being gaga over him, like pretty much all of my peers were. Like, let me high-five you, 9-year-old KB for not falling for that.
But it made me think about why I didn't like him back then. Objectively, he was cute. But Mike Seaver was kind of a wise-ass, which I've never really had time for. In fact, looking back on it, most of my TV character crushes were guys who I would want to be friends with (because the whole lusty part is completely missing when you're a kid, even if you can sort of appreciate good eye candy as a tyke), and a lot of their traits are things I still look for in a guy today to some degree. So let me go a little nuts here and expose the inner-workings of my younger self when it came to the laws of attraction. Although it should be noted that pretty much every one of these guys came from shows with the best theme songs ever, so maybe that's what was swaying me. Anyhow:
KB's Most Crush-Worthy TV Characters of All-Time (Or at Least of My Childhood), Bitchez.
Bo Duke, The Dukes of Hazzard:
Reasons to like him: He slid through the windows of his car to get in it, which is the height of attractiveness to a 4-year-old. Also: Was involved with lots of kid-understandable hijinks with his equally cute cousin, Luke, though the fact that Bo did the bulk of the driving may have tipped the scales in his favor. (Note: If this show were on today, I'd prefer Luke. I rarely like blonds these days and driving is highly overrated since I can do it myself now.)
Jack Tripper, Three's Company:
Reasons to like him: Goofy to the nth. Clumsy, which is sheer hilarity to a 3-4-year-old - I mean, do not underestimate the power of a pratfall to a child. Could cook, which, well, what woman doesn't like that about a guy at any age?
Mork, Mork and Mindy:
Reasons to like him: Off-the-wall, nearly manic goofy. Proooooobably not something I'd like in my later years for sure. But at age 4? The perfect man. Also: Colorful suspenders.
Kip & Henry, Bosom Buddies:
Reasons to like them: They were adorable (Henry was practically my height!) and hilarious and dressed like women. I guess the whole desperateness of creative professionals needing cheap rent was something I understood long before I had to.
Face, The A-Team:
Reasons to like him: He was the token hot guy (although, to be fair, my older self understands George Peppard's appeal. Cigars and a headful of white hair is kind of a turn off to a 7-year-old, though) of a group who spent at least part of the show building awesome things to destroy mean people's sinister plots. And like the rest of the A-Team, he didn't actually kill anyone despite being an elite military person or whatever. (It should be noted that I had at least two A-Team coloring/activity books and a flashlight. I was devoted and I wasn't even the target demographic, y'all.)
Angus MacGyver, MacGyver:
Reasons to like him: WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE? Seriously. Do I really need to explain this? If you didn't watch the show and don't know what I'm talking about, I feel sorry for you.
Peter Tork, The Monkees:
Reasons to like him: Goofy (you're seeing a theme here, right?) and the most innocent guy on a highly innocent show. Dimples. Wore bunny pajamas - in public - and thus awesome.
Joe & Brian Hackett, Wings:
Reasons to like them: At this point, I was hitting my teen years, so I was able to discern the characters from the real men (Like, I was in remedial math, but I was doing okay in the whole separation of fantasy vs. reality thing. At least, I think I was...), but I feel the need to give a shout-out here anyway, since they are probably the comeliest on-screen brothers, like, ever. I mean, they flew planes. Yes, they were Red Sox fans, due to their Nantucket locale, but it's forgivable due to their incessant hotness.
I have since matured enough to the point where as charming as the characters are, it's the actors I know are doing all the work to make that happen. Though, I will be real here:
If Friday Night Lights' Matt Saracen were an actual person, I'd high-tail it down to Texas, crazy age difference (exacerbated by the fact that a guy in his 20s is playing a teen) be damned. Seriously the most KB-crushworthy character on my TV in my adult years. Le swoon.
But it made me think about why I didn't like him back then. Objectively, he was cute. But Mike Seaver was kind of a wise-ass, which I've never really had time for. In fact, looking back on it, most of my TV character crushes were guys who I would want to be friends with (because the whole lusty part is completely missing when you're a kid, even if you can sort of appreciate good eye candy as a tyke), and a lot of their traits are things I still look for in a guy today to some degree. So let me go a little nuts here and expose the inner-workings of my younger self when it came to the laws of attraction. Although it should be noted that pretty much every one of these guys came from shows with the best theme songs ever, so maybe that's what was swaying me. Anyhow:
KB's Most Crush-Worthy TV Characters of All-Time (Or at Least of My Childhood), Bitchez.
Bo Duke, The Dukes of Hazzard:
Reasons to like him: He slid through the windows of his car to get in it, which is the height of attractiveness to a 4-year-old. Also: Was involved with lots of kid-understandable hijinks with his equally cute cousin, Luke, though the fact that Bo did the bulk of the driving may have tipped the scales in his favor. (Note: If this show were on today, I'd prefer Luke. I rarely like blonds these days and driving is highly overrated since I can do it myself now.)
Jack Tripper, Three's Company:
Reasons to like him: Goofy to the nth. Clumsy, which is sheer hilarity to a 3-4-year-old - I mean, do not underestimate the power of a pratfall to a child. Could cook, which, well, what woman doesn't like that about a guy at any age?
Mork, Mork and Mindy:
Reasons to like him: Off-the-wall, nearly manic goofy. Proooooobably not something I'd like in my later years for sure. But at age 4? The perfect man. Also: Colorful suspenders.
Kip & Henry, Bosom Buddies:
Reasons to like them: They were adorable (Henry was practically my height!) and hilarious and dressed like women. I guess the whole desperateness of creative professionals needing cheap rent was something I understood long before I had to.
Face, The A-Team:
Reasons to like him: He was the token hot guy (although, to be fair, my older self understands George Peppard's appeal. Cigars and a headful of white hair is kind of a turn off to a 7-year-old, though) of a group who spent at least part of the show building awesome things to destroy mean people's sinister plots. And like the rest of the A-Team, he didn't actually kill anyone despite being an elite military person or whatever. (It should be noted that I had at least two A-Team coloring/activity books and a flashlight. I was devoted and I wasn't even the target demographic, y'all.)
Angus MacGyver, MacGyver:
Reasons to like him: WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE? Seriously. Do I really need to explain this? If you didn't watch the show and don't know what I'm talking about, I feel sorry for you.
Peter Tork, The Monkees:
Reasons to like him: Goofy (you're seeing a theme here, right?) and the most innocent guy on a highly innocent show. Dimples. Wore bunny pajamas - in public - and thus awesome.
Joe & Brian Hackett, Wings:
Reasons to like them: At this point, I was hitting my teen years, so I was able to discern the characters from the real men (Like, I was in remedial math, but I was doing okay in the whole separation of fantasy vs. reality thing. At least, I think I was...), but I feel the need to give a shout-out here anyway, since they are probably the comeliest on-screen brothers, like, ever. I mean, they flew planes. Yes, they were Red Sox fans, due to their Nantucket locale, but it's forgivable due to their incessant hotness.
I have since matured enough to the point where as charming as the characters are, it's the actors I know are doing all the work to make that happen. Though, I will be real here:
If Friday Night Lights' Matt Saracen were an actual person, I'd high-tail it down to Texas, crazy age difference (exacerbated by the fact that a guy in his 20s is playing a teen) be damned. Seriously the most KB-crushworthy character on my TV in my adult years. Le swoon.
Friday, March 9, 2012
The Chicken is Totally Team Gale. Just So You Know.
As he rushes to finish the end of The Hunger Games trilogy before the first movie comes out, The Yankee Chicken pauses only briefly from his intensive reading to remind you that a month from now, we won't have to worry about spoilers because YOU CAN'T SPOIL A SPORTING EVENT. And that makes him very happy.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Water Works
Whoops! You caught The Yankee Chicken hastening to water the plants he forgot to tend to last week. Shirking his responsibilities? Only when spring training games have started to air (the plants will forgive him. They were watching too)
They Were the Young Generation and Had Something to Say and, Boy Howdy, Did I Listen
There is a holy trinity in my life of things that I have been obsessed with. It of course, includes the New York Yankees. It started with the Smurfs. And in between the two, there was the Monkees. Oh god, how my 9-year-old self completely ate up anything and everything about them. It all began when my dad started recording their reruns in 1986(off Channel 9 around here - we didn't have cable back then) and would watch them after work, and, you guys, it was like the perfect thing for me at that age. 1) They were all cute in some way. 2) They were funny. 3) I was one of a quad of neighborhood friends, so it was like we were the Monkees. No, really, my friends Brian, Johnny, Kimberly and I would pretend we were them - I was always my favorite, Peter, because apparently at the age of 9 stoner humor was really my sort of thing or something - and we would act out our favorite scenes from the show and dream of what it would be like if we were ever to meet them and they wanted to adopt us or something. We would be jealous of one another when our parents would get us one of their records or tapes (I think Kimberly got the album with "I'm Gonna Buy Me a Dog" on it and I secretly hated her until I got the record myself for Christmas). I know there is a tape somewhere around my house of the four of us on my front steps singing a really terrible version of "I'm a Believer" in which we may have played our own coffee can drums and a guitar made of a plastic box and rubber bands. Oh, yes, we were the Monkees.
Best. Video. Ever. For a third/fourth grader whose only wish, outside of meeting the Monkees, was to have a dog, anyway.
The biggest moment in all this came down one day after school in May of 1987, when Brian, who lived across the street, called. I picked up the phone in my basement (I was probably re-watching The Muppets Take Manhattan for the 7,324 time) and he was like "GUESS WHAT?" And I was like "WHAT?" And he was like "MY MOM GOT US TICKETS TO SEE THE MONKEES" And seriously? That was the best moment in my life to that point. He came over right after that and all we did was jump up and down like crazy people. And then all we did after that was talk about it for months, speculating what the show would be like (we'd never been to a concert before), what kind of swag we could score, what we would wear. And when Sunday, August 9, 1987 (you don't forget the most important days of your life, guys) rolled around, we were nearly exploding with anticipation. We got to the Garden State Arts Center, in our seats in like the third-to-last row, and we were so damn excited to see them that we actually were rolling our eyes and whining about the opening act, Weird Al Yankovic, who we also liked (this concert was tailor-made for kids, I'm telling you), but GOD he took forever to get off the stage.
When the Monkees did come out, it was pandemonium and Brian's mom, Pat, remembers us complaining about it being so loud. It was also the first time I'd ever smelled pot, which is kind of hilarious. Anyway, the concert was, of course, the most incredible thing ever at the time - we were several hundred feet from our idols! In the same venue! - and I remember there was a really bad thunderstorm during it and not even being freaked out. I also remember being rendered deaf by the time we got in the car to go home, and felt like my ringing ears were a badge of honor as we paged through the way awesome souvenier program. Which I also poured over for the rest of the summer and probably even slept with.
So all of this is to say that when I saw a friend's Facebook status declaring "RIP Davy Jones" the other day, I actually gasped out loud at work. Sure, I haven't really followed the Monkees in, oh, 25-26 years, but that sort of crazy love always lays dormant in you. To see that Davy, the most spry, youthful-seeming one of them was no longer among the living was like someone taking a baseball bat to the pinata of my childhood. I'd spent every summer weekday with Davy on the little black-and-white TV I'd put in our living room, when I was too afraid of the crickets in the basement to watch the big TV down there. He was a huge part of a show/group that pretty much shaped my sense of humor in storytelling. And, of course, was one of the first musical things I adored. I guess maybe I was hoping deep down that maybe they'd reunite and maybe we could go see them again, and not get so over-the-top impatient and fire-spitty at the opening act this time.
Still, it kind of warmed my heart to see the incredible outpouring of remembrances on Twitter, a social media site that makes me feel, uh, a little old from time to time given its primary audience. In this case, though, "RIP Davy Jones," and even "Marcia Brady" trended for almost the entire day, as pretty much anyone between the ages of 30 and 70 expressed their sadness, pushing the tween Beliebers out of their domain for just a bit. It was nice to know that even though you've gotten older, other people still have a soft spot in their heart for the icons of their younger days, even if they'd seem "corny" by today's standards.
Anyway, I still don't know what it can mean to a Daydream Believer/Homecoming Queen, but I do know that I practically wore out the album with that song on it, so it meant a great deal to me. I may never have met Davy Jones (and therefore never received an offer of him wanting to adopt my friends and me to become the awesomest fake family ever), but I am forever grateful for the mark he left on my childhood. RIP, indeed.
Best. Video. Ever. For a third/fourth grader whose only wish, outside of meeting the Monkees, was to have a dog, anyway.
The biggest moment in all this came down one day after school in May of 1987, when Brian, who lived across the street, called. I picked up the phone in my basement (I was probably re-watching The Muppets Take Manhattan for the 7,324 time) and he was like "GUESS WHAT?" And I was like "WHAT?" And he was like "MY MOM GOT US TICKETS TO SEE THE MONKEES" And seriously? That was the best moment in my life to that point. He came over right after that and all we did was jump up and down like crazy people. And then all we did after that was talk about it for months, speculating what the show would be like (we'd never been to a concert before), what kind of swag we could score, what we would wear. And when Sunday, August 9, 1987 (you don't forget the most important days of your life, guys) rolled around, we were nearly exploding with anticipation. We got to the Garden State Arts Center, in our seats in like the third-to-last row, and we were so damn excited to see them that we actually were rolling our eyes and whining about the opening act, Weird Al Yankovic, who we also liked (this concert was tailor-made for kids, I'm telling you), but GOD he took forever to get off the stage.
When the Monkees did come out, it was pandemonium and Brian's mom, Pat, remembers us complaining about it being so loud. It was also the first time I'd ever smelled pot, which is kind of hilarious. Anyway, the concert was, of course, the most incredible thing ever at the time - we were several hundred feet from our idols! In the same venue! - and I remember there was a really bad thunderstorm during it and not even being freaked out. I also remember being rendered deaf by the time we got in the car to go home, and felt like my ringing ears were a badge of honor as we paged through the way awesome souvenier program. Which I also poured over for the rest of the summer and probably even slept with.
So all of this is to say that when I saw a friend's Facebook status declaring "RIP Davy Jones" the other day, I actually gasped out loud at work. Sure, I haven't really followed the Monkees in, oh, 25-26 years, but that sort of crazy love always lays dormant in you. To see that Davy, the most spry, youthful-seeming one of them was no longer among the living was like someone taking a baseball bat to the pinata of my childhood. I'd spent every summer weekday with Davy on the little black-and-white TV I'd put in our living room, when I was too afraid of the crickets in the basement to watch the big TV down there. He was a huge part of a show/group that pretty much shaped my sense of humor in storytelling. And, of course, was one of the first musical things I adored. I guess maybe I was hoping deep down that maybe they'd reunite and maybe we could go see them again, and not get so over-the-top impatient and fire-spitty at the opening act this time.
Still, it kind of warmed my heart to see the incredible outpouring of remembrances on Twitter, a social media site that makes me feel, uh, a little old from time to time given its primary audience. In this case, though, "RIP Davy Jones," and even "Marcia Brady" trended for almost the entire day, as pretty much anyone between the ages of 30 and 70 expressed their sadness, pushing the tween Beliebers out of their domain for just a bit. It was nice to know that even though you've gotten older, other people still have a soft spot in their heart for the icons of their younger days, even if they'd seem "corny" by today's standards.
Anyway, I still don't know what it can mean to a Daydream Believer/Homecoming Queen, but I do know that I practically wore out the album with that song on it, so it meant a great deal to me. I may never have met Davy Jones (and therefore never received an offer of him wanting to adopt my friends and me to become the awesomest fake family ever), but I am forever grateful for the mark he left on my childhood. RIP, indeed.
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