Don't fight it, Curtis.

I can’t believe it’s the end of another year. I’ve always heard that the years fly by as you get older, and it’s true. I’ve got my aviator glasses on and doing a few barrel rolls right now.

I’m already seeing some ‘best of’ lists, and I figured since I’m hanging solo on Christmas, I should go ahead and get this done so I can just party all next week. I’m not going to refer to my list as ‘best of’. I do work in the music industry, but I’m no taste maker. These are simply some of ‘my favorite’ things of 2010.

Without further ado…

Let’s start with music.


Mumford and Sons – Sigh No More

This will most likely be showing up on many ‘best of’ lists of the year, and it very well should. Before the Mumford bandwagon left the station, I had started to hear their name amongst a few of my music city peers. I’ll admit, it’s hard for me to buy music these days. Well, let me clarify. It’s hard for me to take a chance on new music these days. Sort of indicative of the industry itself, but that’s another conversation.

So, okay – I confess. I downloaded the record for free. Initially.

I’ll just say it. It hands down one of the best albums I’ve gotten in the past 5 years, probably 10. Hell, it might be a desert island CD for me. It’s just the embodiment of what I love about music. It’s emotive, soulful, hopeful, and genuine. It has an honesty and rawness that just connected with me instantly.

In fact, I loved it so much, that I deleted it and went and purchased it on itunes. Again, I’d say that's indicative of the music industry right now.



The National – High Violet

Where Mumford connected with me instantly, The National’s new release slowly worked its way outside in, much like its predecessor, ‘The Boxer’. Once High Violet does begin to gain traction, it’s like learning a secret handshake to a special club - a rewarding one at that.

Because I loved ‘Boxer’, I had no trouble purchasing this record immediately (digitally). I also recently bought the expanded edition of the record, making it the first physical CD I’ve bought in probably at least 6 or 7 years. I also bought tickets to see them live. Suck, music industry.



Johnny Flynn – Been Listening

I mentioned Johnny recently in another blog. My friends and neighbors at Thirty Tigers are working this release, and I first heard it pumping downstairs at Grimey’s record store.

Something about the first track just grabbed me. It was different and infectious. Needless to say, I quickly ran up and snagged a copy from the Thirty Tigers vault. It doesn’t disappoint.




Vampire Weekend – Contra

A wonderful continuation of their earlier self-titled release, Contra is a quirky, fun record. For me, it’s a quick jaunt through the fair. It doesn’t provoke deep emotions, and I don’t think it intends to. It’s perfect to listen to while working and exercising. Hell, it’s perfect for most occasions.



Yeasayer – Odd World

I f**king love this record. Not sure how to explain, and its admittedly not usually my cup of tea. I saw them perform this year as a part of Next Big Nashville, (although they hail from Brooklyn, NY), and they just sort of burned the place down.

Just to note, I paid for this record as well. Emusic is a great way to explore and invest in new music.




Okay, lets move on to the theater…

Honestly, it’s rare that I go to the movies these days. Rising ticket costs and a better home experience can do that to someone in their mid-thirties.

Granted, there are still many movies of 2010 that I’ve yet to see. Many of which I’m sure are deserving to be written about. Again, I’m not a taste maker, and this isn’t a list of Oscar worthy movies. More just fun.


The A-Team

Oh, man. It’s so bad, and so good. As a child that watched the original series as a kid, I couldn’t resist seeing this one at the theater.

The bad, well – it’s just ridiculous. Not much more to say. The good, well – it’s just ridiculous.

It keeps the spirit of the show, and it’s perfectly cast. Bradley Cooper is great as ‘Face’, and Sharlto Copley as ‘Murdock’ takes the movie over the edge for me. Liam Neeson is Liam Neeson, and Quintin ‘Rampage’ Jackson plays the iconic ‘BA’ perfectly. Better than ‘Mr. T’ himself, actually.

Don’t fight it people. Kiddy pools are still fun, and they’re shallow.





The Town

This is a tough call. I really liked this movie, despite my distaste for one Benjamin Affleck. It does seem to me that Sir Ben does his best work off camera and in the director’s chair. Perhaps that’s what made this work.

I say it’s tough call just because I don’t want to give it too much credit. It’s really good, but I’m old enough to have seen ‘Heat’ at the theater, and you sir, are no ‘Heat’.

It’s a great crime drama for a younger generation, and a great way to spend an evening. Damn, those masks were creepy.





Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Pt. 1.

This is the first Harry Potter movie in years that I haven’t seen at midnight. One reason being that our beloved IMAX Theater is now closed due to the Nashville flood of 2010. The other reason, well, I have to blame the ‘Half-Blood Prince’. I could write a whole essay on why I despise ‘HPP’, but let me just say – two thumbs down. For a series that has done a great job adapting book to film, I was baffled by some of the choices made in ‘Half-Blood’. It left a bitter taste in my mouth and took the wind out of my Harry Potter sails.

I’m happy to report that Deathly Hallows does deliver, and it seems that the series will go out on the high note it deserves. I was wary of another David Yates directed Potter, but it does seem as if he’s hit the mark for the finale.

Also, I love a fall Harry Potter movie, much more than the summer release.




True Grit

The Coen Brothers are hit and miss with me, Jeff Bridges isn’t. I don’t know that the movie is worthy all the high praise it’s getting, but it definitely doesn’t suck.

Mr. Bridges is stellar as always, and Hailee Steinfeld is quite good as well. Matt Damon barely out acts Glenn Campbell here, but Josh Brolin’s voice makes up for that.






And, on the small screen…

Dexter

It’s rare for a show to get better every year, but Dexter continues to deliver. I honestly didn’t think they could top last year, and while they didn’t necessarily outdo themselves, season 5 very much held its own.

Julia Stiles’ character was a surprisingly wonderful addition, and Peter Weller stole every scene he was in. In fact, my only complaint is that there was not enough Robocop.



Eastbound and Down

It was a long wait between seasons for fans of the now legendary Kenny Powers. Let’s be honest, would anybody want the task of trying to follow up season 1? It is perhaps the funniest and raunchiest 3 hours of television ever made.

Well, I don’t care to compare. Kenny Powers cannot disappoint. Throw in a little Stevie J., Michael Pena, and Don Johnson, and you’ve got a whole new set of one liners to recite.

(warning: F-Bombs)

Grab some popcorn...

Let me just say, I love You Tube - especially for music.  Don't get me wrong, I love to watch people pull g-forces, eat peppers, and punch each other in the face. I watch those things a lot. I also love 'fail' videos.

But, back to music. How awesome is it that I can watch live performances from the 50's and 60's. Buck Owens, The Doors, rare Steely Dan - it's all a search and click away, and it's pretty amazing. Such a great way to connect with artists and their music.

That said, I thought I'd post a few videos I've been digging lately. I could try and make this a weekly segment, but I would just fail miserably. I will however try to to do this from time to time.

I've been enjoying Yeasayer's Odd World album since catching them at Next Big Nashville a few months back. I recently came across this video for 'Madder Red' on another blog. Seeing it's my favorite track on the record, and the video has Kristin Bell in it - well, I can't believe I've missed it.

I still love the song, but this video sorta messed me up. Kinda like that MIG did 'Cougar' in the opening scene in Top Gun. How can something be so odd and yet make me cry. (Whew) Dammit, man. You've been warned.



Mark Knopfler is kinda like Sex Panther to me (Ron Burgundy reference). Sixty percent of the time, it works every time. The stuff of his I love, I really love. Both with Dire Straights and as a solo artist. I had the pleasure of seeing him at the Ryman years ago, and it was one of the best shows I've ever been to.

His first non-soundtrack solo release was 'Golden Heart' in 1996, and to me it's right up there with 2001's Sailing To Philadelphia'. The stand out songs are the title track, 'Golden Heart', and the closing tune, 'Are We In Trouble Now'. I think Randy Travis had a hit with his own version of that song.

Not many musicians make me want to play these days, but Mark is one that does. That rumbling vocal and his fat, warm guitar tone just make me want to pick up an instrument and join in. He has a call and response quality to his solos, and the chordal phrases that he does like at (2:48) just slay me. They really do.   

This one didn't want to embed, so just click the image and you will magically be transported.

My lovely neighbors at Thirty Tigers have been working this new Johnny Flynn record, 'Been Listening'. I first heard it downstairs at Grimey's and immediately headed up to swipe a copy.

It's always interesting to finally put a visual on the music. This isn't what I was necessarily picturing, but it all makes sense now. Such a great tune.



I think this video is a few years old now, but if you haven't seen it then take a moment. It's a great tune, but this video makes me laugh so hard. Bloody brilliant.



Okay, this did hit Deadspin today. Not a music video, but the music takes it to the next level.

The Bears are who we thought they were...

I have an overinflated opinion of myself. Not really in any sort of arrogant way, I’m pretty self-deprecating actually. (Read my previous post about self-confidence.) No, this is more so a feeling that I have more importance and affect on people’s lives than I really do. It's wishful thinking perhaps. 

For those of you that keep up with my blog, you know that the last few posts have been a little more personal than usual. Several reasons play into that. One, I really want to blog more. Not just more frequently, but I want to write with more meaning, more substance. Some of the recent inspiration has come from great conversations with friends that I love dearly. Other inspiration has been found with more distant acquaintances daring themselves to open up in their own blogosphere. 

For the most part, I’ve gotten some amazing responses to my last few posts. I’ve made some deeper connections with friends, and reconnected with old ones in familiar ways that make us remember our importance in each other’s lives. I’m so fortunate for those relationships. I don’t really believe in an afterlife, but if there is one, (spoiler alert) I hope we meet up like the castaways on Lost – that would be awesome.

I think another reason for the more personal posts is that I feel a little broken right now. Don’t be worried, this wouldn’t be the first time. Lately my mind has just been swirling with thoughts, feelings, worries, and fears that I can’t quite process. I’m feeling vulnerable, distant, and numb. Usually when this happens, my first instinct is to withdraw. Yes, pretty much like a turtle going into its shell. Well, this time is no exception. My head and limbs are trying to retract, and I’m trying to fight it, but it’s hard.

In a moment of feeling venerable, I felt that I had exposed too much about myself. In haste, I deleted my twitter account. Yes, I’m twit-less. I used to promote my blog there, but the reality is, that was too much for me. While some folks connected with me, I think some begin to feel differently. In other words, I think I freaked some folks out.

I’ve recently reconnected with a few people from my past. Mind you, these are people that I haven’t talked to in years. When I say years, I mean ten or more years to be specific. More like fifteen to twenty. I was recounting a memory to an old friend, however they didn’t remember this particular story. I was devastated. I didn’t tell them, but it immediately made my think of the age-old question – ‘if a tree falls in the woods, and nobody is there to hear it, does it make a sound?’ Am I only what people remember me as? 

I don’t have a big family, just mom and I, really. To clarify, I'm talking about immediate blood family that is to say. Right now, my posterity is dependant upon you, my friends. I think a lot of folks would call me an extrovert, but in reality, I think I’m just and introvert trying to climb out of my box. . Although, my kindergarten did tell my mom that I 1) talked too much 2) hugged people too much. Okay, so maybe I’ve spent years suppressing my extroverted-ness. (I do look really creepy in this picture.)

My point is, I really just want to connect with folks. If I feel a connection to you, I want to let you know. I want to be a positive part of your life; a memorable part of your life. I’ll usually try to make you laugh. Laughing soothes my soul.

I think this post maybe a blog fail, honestly. Just wanted to say thank you to those who’ve read some of my latest post, and thank you for your comments and emails. It’s very much appreciated. I’d say probably every eight out of ten visitors, ‘I love ya’ll very much, and no I won’t stop yelling, cause that I’ll mean I lost the fight.’ – Kenny Powers. 

Have you ever seen a squonk's tears?

The blog train has been chugging along very slowly this week. For whatever reason, it's been really hard to concentrate over the past several days. I can blame some of it on an unwelcome stomach bug that crane kicked my Thanksgiving, but other than that, probably just stress.

In the meantime, I'm aware that it wouldn't hurt to lighten the mood here at the 'roach'.

A few months ago, I posted a series of video promos I did for one of our artists 'The Apache Relay', for their August residency at The End here in Nashville. The band was kind enough to give me creative liberty with the videos which allowed me indulge my love of retro television and video games. I realized the other night that I never posted the final, and perhaps my favorite of the promos.

The quotes about the band were really taken from reviews of 'Scott Pilgrim vs. The World', altered and given fake names and publications. Probably not legal, I know.

My favorite part of the video is the final twenty seconds. The idea came to me while editing, and like usual, I was really just entertaining myself and couldn't stop laughing. And yes, the voice is mine. You have no idea how many takes it took for me to get this right.

I Think I'm Bleeding Inside My Chest.

Once again, it's Friday night. This week I've made the conscious decision to shut my computer and unplug from the hustle and bustle of my cyber life. Now, after one crappy movie and stellar bottle of wine, I find myself once again being all computery and stuff.
 
For whatever reason,  I can't shut my brain off these days. It's constantly on 11 (Spinal Tap reference). Work, life, world domination, it's all just swirling around in my head and I can't find any peace. Even sleeping has been difficult lately, despite exercise and the steady nightcap.

Tonight I'm bothered, and more so annoyed. As I lie here with my trusty pup Brodie, even his steady Darth Vader breathing can't calm me. As we both attempt to watch this terrible movie, I'm really trying to balance all the thoughts and feelings bouncing around my melon. Searching for some sort of clarity or center, but it's just not there.

 

 

I've not really be a fan of myself recently. No cheers for me, especially over the past few weeks. I worry that I've become emotionally needy, but I think I'm really just trying to distract myself from getting to the bottom of a few issues. I already spilled my gut (wait for it… ba dump dump) earlier this week, and even though it hasn't put a complete stop to my 'Dead Man Walking' jokes, I do feel somewhat better.

With that said, maybe it's time I approach another hot button topic with the same sort of honesty. Yep, that's right, my age.

I make a lot of comments about my age, especially since I'm fortunate and spend the majority of my time with people that are quite a bit younger than me. I make stupid jokes about hip replacements and peeing frequently, to which everyone responds, 'stop it, you're not old'. '35 isn't old'.

Well, early to mid 20's person, you're right - to some degree. But, I saw The Goonies, Top Gun, Ghostbusters, and the original Star Wars trilogy in the theater. So, already, we're a lifetime apart.




Am I struggling with getting older? Hells yes, I am.

Some folks get older and focus on regrets, things they didn't do, or things they should of done differently. Not me. I'm pretty happy with my journey thus far. To be honest, in a lot of ways, each year has been better then the last. While my appearance is a little different (less goobery, a few wrinkles, the added wisdom and strength of a damn Jedi), most folks will tell you that I haven't changed all that much over the years. Some would say not at all.

So, why? Why do I seem to be going kicking and screaming further into adulthood? Simple really. It's because I'm moving closer to death.

(insert Debbie Downer sound clip)


I think most people that know me, whether casually or more in depth, would probably say that I'm a laid back guy. While I am learning to live more in the moment, I've spent the majority of my life living for what's to come. Maybe it's a specific event, an overall goal, or maybe it's just a summer of awesome movies to get excited about. Regardless, I'm a dreamer. A dreamer that's now trying to co-exist with a realist, also me. Even though I've grown more comfortable living in the moments, I still experience anxiety about those moments ending.

A few posts ago, I talked a little about how the death of a parent at a young age can affect you. The affects aren't obvious at first, but with a little digging, they start to seep up to the surface.

My dad was older when he had me, but still, he had just turned 61 when he passed. I was 12. As my mother continues reaping the rewards of great genetics and drinking glasses of water poured from the fountain of youth, the death of my dad has psychologically put an expiration date on my life.

In my mind, it's not a matter of if I'll get cancer, but when. Dad was treated for a year with back pain, while the true culprit went unnoticed and untreated. I'm really not that afraid of dying, but I am afraid of dying like that.

In a lot of ways, I'm not much different then the folks that believe the Mayan calendar signals the end of the world in 2012. Compounded with this countdown to 61, is the fact that time is indeed moving by quickly. Memories of my teenage years are now 20 years old, and I have 30 year relationships with those I grew up with. Damn. I just can't process how recent my memories feel in relation to the length of time that has passed. I don't want or wish for those times again. However, my heart aches when I look in the rearview mirror and see those times continuing to fade in the distance. Much like leaving a loved one after a visit, even though they may annoy the crap out of you.

A lot of people will never read this post, but for those friends and family that do, please don't be afraid of me. I'm aware this is sorta dark. If anything, writing this forces a bit of accountability for me. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally okay with annoying all of you, just not myself.

Senior Chubby Stilts

After weeks of a lingering head cold, I finally decided that today was the day I call the doctor. Not that I don't like going to the doctor, I actually do. I just figured with the right amount of Nyquil, Advil, Thera-flu, and Jack Daniels, that I could just ride this puppy on out. It was not to be.

After an early morning plea for help, I finally get a call from the nurse to let me know that if I show up in next 15 minutes, they can work me in. No time to debate. 'Yes m'am' I said, grabbing my coat and scarf as I slid down the Batpole and made my way to the Batmobile.

Rolling toward Vanderbilt, I start to feel a bit nervous. I didn't think it was cancer, however, I always worry about that. I wasn't even concerned about the shot I was about to get. Hell, I was requesting that. No, the since of dread that was slowly overtaking me came from the fear of knowing that I had to step on the scale. More so, what that scale would say.

I'm not sure what's worse. Those digital scales, or the manual ones. You know, the ones where they just keep moving those damn little weights over until they have enough lead to balance you out. Well, my vote goes for the manual one. As I try for a moment to convince myself that my scarf weighs 25 pounds, I can feel the foundation starting to shake under my home of self confidence. I'm straining to hold it up, like that time that Superman pushed Lex Luthor's island hideout into space. However, I'm weak, and lack of self confidence is my kryptonite.

You hear a lot of talk regarding the negative affects of body image on females. Well, us males have feelings too. Especially someone like me that was raised by his mother.

Leaving the doctor's office, I immediately begin to feel 17 again. Okay, more like anytime between the years of 13 and 21.

As a rule, I try to make a conscious effort to not be self depreciating. It's not always easy and sometimes it's just damn near impossible. However, I know that people don't care to hear it, and it doesn't make them feel attracted to you. I will admit to going fishing a time or two for compliments. But, who doesn't though, right?

To take a step back, my mom is one of the most beautiful women ever. Check out this amazing picture. Homecoming queen 1957. It looks like something out of a movie. Still, as pretty as she was, she still struggled with self-confidence issues. To some degree, I think it does start there, with the parent. It may not be genetic, but I think it is passed down.

Let's be clear though. I wasn't blessed with my mother's beauty. That's just a fact. When my prepubescent years began, I was sporting acne, slumped shoulders, and what folks referred to as a bird chest. As I went into high school, my head got bigger and my body got skinnier. At that point, I just started to just retreat and take up residence in my head. When I did ask a girl out, it became more like an event. Oh the stories I can tell.

I think some of this relates to my previous post. I began to find/create self confidence in my music. But, in the end, those two became closely intertwined, resulting in negative effects on both my self confidence and my music.

 Several years after high school however,  I decided that I was done being skinny and I went on an eating tirade. This was probably about the time my metabolism started to slow, and I gained 80 pounds in one year. Sounds scary, eh? Well, after being skinny all my life, I was feeling great. I wasn't 'bird chest' anymore. It wasn't until I started seeing pictures of myself, that I realized my perception was not quite reality.

Ironically, I was feeling self confident. However, the reality was that I probably looked the worst I'd ever looked. I even had sort of a mullet. The time had come where I needed to find balance. For the next 5 years I consistently worked out, and when I hit 30, I was probably in the best physical, mental, and emotional shape of my life. All this even culminated in my first half marathon, which was no easy feat for me.

After the half marathon, I managed to keep up my running throughout the next year. I was really happy, not to mention confident. While training for the half marathon the following year, I couldn't fight a pain in my hip and ended up in a place I know all to well - physical therapy. They love me there, but that's another story.



Since then, I've failed at getting back in a regular exercise routine. I've been close, don't get me wrong, but I haven't been able to gain traction.

Despite some weight gain, I've generally felt pretty good about myself over the past year. However, the elevator ride down from the Doctor's office to the parking garage paralleled the feeling of my spirit spiraling toward the gutter.



I guess we're all fighting certain external forces that have shaped who we are. Some are traumatic, some are subtle. Some are genetics, and some are baggage handed down from generation to generation. Sometimes, just recognizing and accepting these things for what they are can be the first step in moving past them.

All that said, I don't want to call my shot, but I'm looking at being ready for a certain event this Spring. I'll keep you posted. Lots of work to do.

'That makes me sad, Brad' - Well, your mom makes me sad.

I hear this a lot. It's the response I get when folks ask me if I'm still playing music and I say 'no'.


Those of you who have met me in the last few years may not know this, but I'm a recovering musician. I did the obligatory piano as a kid, then moved on a brief stint with the trumpet. (FYI - that trumpet was mercifully destroyed by a car that hit me in the 7th grade. Supposedly the trumpet kept my legs from breaking, nonetheless, there was a certain band teacher that was happy to be done with me.)

After that, I played bass and guitar before settling on the Dobro for about the next 20 years. I was never as good as I wanted to be, but I did play professionally for about 10 of those years. I'm also the first Dobro student to graduate from Belmont University. Most likely the whole world. Pretty self indulgent, yes?

I got to do lots of traveling, and I had the opportunity to play with lots of amazing musicians. I also spent 3 years working on a transcription novella for Dobro master Jerry Douglas, which was an amazing challenge and honor. It also made me never want to hear Dobro again. Like, ever.

Are you feeling sad yet? Well don't. I don't play anymore, and I'm the happiest and the most comfortable with myself that I've ever been. Now, coming to terms with the fact that the dreams I chased didn't make me happy was one of the hardest things I've ever had to except.  But, when I finally did, it brought a lot of peace.

I think there are several reasons that fed my passion to play. Some that were genuine, and some that maybe were not. It does take a healthy dose of valid desire to dedicate the hours that I've put in.  To give perspective, I rarely practiced less than 4 hours a day in the two decades that I played, and there were a lot of periods where I played 6-8 hours a day.

To be completely honest, part of my passion for playing stems from a basic need of feeling acceptance; a desire to be noticed. Ask any girl I went to middle and high school with - I looked like Rock-A-Doodle, but with acne and not those weird Rooster muscles. I needed to create a story for myself, and it worked. I started to find a niche.

I also connected the death of my dad to my career path. In the months before he passed, he repeatedly told me and my mom that he wasn't going to be around much longer, but that I was supposed to have a career in music. It's nice to romanticize that, but the reality is, he may not have known what the hell he was talking about. I do have a career in music though, as an artist manager. (insert Twilight Zone music).

There was much more than superficiality to my music, however. The Dobro possesses a soulfulness and vocal quality that truly connected with me.  I needed a voice - a way to express my emotions. While I didn't always have the technique, my expressiveness on the instrument was my greatest strength. When I played my best, it was often filled with memories and emotions that are mine alone, and ones that I hold to dearly.

Over the years that I played, I began to connect myself to the instrument so much that how I played, or thought that I played, affected my self-esteem. It infected me like a virus. If people didn't think I played well, then I figured they just wouldn't like me as much. Ego and insecurity became a factor, and I began to feel uncomfortable and inferior around other musicians.

If that wasn't enough, the reality was that I loved being a student of the instrument, and I loved to express my feelings through music. However, the life of a professional musician didn't quite fit my soul. There are major sacrifices. Sacrifices that worked against the grain of my heart, and no matter how hard I tried to resist, I couldn't.

As I have grown older, my perspectives have, and continue to change.  Now, at age 35 (holy shit), I've found other ways to express myself. In addition, I've grown comfortable in this skin that for years felt awkward.  I love music, but I also love many other things. Things that perhaps I've neglected or attached guilt to since I was a kid.

I"m enjoying this stage of my life, and I'm also loving music again. The way that I did before I started playing. If you know me well, then you know that everything reminds me of an episode of the show 'Wings'. This is no exception.

In the show, Helen Chapel, (who ran the lunch counter at the airport), dedicated her life to playing the cello.  She constantly auditioned, only to have her hopes crushed every time. At one point, she finally decided to give up the cello. The first morning after this decision, she comes into work so happy. She describes to the Hackett brothers how she got up that morning and took a walk on the beach, and for once she didn't feel guilty about not practicing. It's been about 18 years since that aired and I've never forgotten that moment. I've never forgotten it because I knew exactly what she was talking about.

Don't cry for me, Argentina. I'm doing just fine. Hell, I got 5 stars on the DJ Jazzy Jeff 'Rock The Bells' mix on DJ Hero. Expert level, bitches.

I know you are, but what am I?

It's Friday night, and I'm volleying between playing DJ Hero** and watching Bill Cosby 'Himself', the 1983 stand-up routine from one of comedy's masters. It's amazing that I thought this was funny when I was a kid, b/c I really didn't understand a lot of the humor. But, Bill did 'Picture Pages', 'Fat Albert', and the 'Cosby Show', so naturally - just seeing Bill Cosby was funny to me.

(**fyi - I'm a DJ Hero bad-ass)

I've neglected my blog for awhile now, often posting some videos instead of actually challenging myself to write. As you can tell from the title of the blog, it's not a place where seriousness takes a front seat. If I'm not writing about Fred Dryer, or pretending to write for The Onion - then I'm not sure what to write about sometimes. (By the way, according to Google Analytics, the blog about Charlie Daniels is the most popular of all time.)

I live inside my head, and although it's strange place up there, it's where I'm most comfortable. Sometimes I think I need to just bust out, like that blow up ramp on an airplane that they deploy in an emergency landing. I imagine myself sliding down to join the real world, and freeing myself from the little tin tube with wings that is my brain. 

I try too hard, and if I'm going to write more often, then maybe I should be more open from time to time about what I'm thinking. Quirky or not.

That said, here we go…

Dropped my iphone yesterday. It was sorta like a word problem for advanced high school students. The formula for complete destruction of an iphone is, the velocity (x) divided by the distance (y) is then multiplied by the constant (blah, blah, blah). I suck at math, by the way. Nevertheless, it was ugly.  Really ugly. 

It's weird what things trigger certain memories. Tonight, I'm thinking about my dad. More specifically, the time he bought a new Volkswagon, only to back it into the riding lawnmower the next morning. Pretty funny actually.

For those that don't know, my dad passed away when I was 12 years old. Just months after the above incident. Also, if you don't know. That's been 22 years ago.

Over the past few years, I've had several friends lose their fathers. Such a terrible loss that I can't even imagine. Even though I lost my dad to cancer, I don't feel that I relate at all. Losing a parent at a young age is devastating, but I think it effects you in a different way then losing one later in life. 

I don't think about my dad very often, although it's fascinating how the loss constantly lives under the surface. Even more fascinating, is when it chooses to reveal itself. In truth, I can write several blogs about this, maybe even a book. Okay, okay - definitely a lengthy essay. But, I'll keep this short.

Just so happened, that dropping my phone and having it shatter to pieces reminded me of the time the old man crashed our new car within 12 hours of buying it. That got me thinking… too bad I didn't know him. It just maybe, that what some people call 'Brad stories', are really just a result of genetics - passed down from father to son. I can't help but wonder what else we have in common?

I compare it to how the Stormtrooper in Star Wars bumped his head on a doorway, so in Episode II you saw their 'dad, Jango Fett, bump his head on the Slave I. Okay, geek tangent. 

If my dad were here, I imagine he'd tell you about the time he bought a little boat for our pond so that he could fish, not realizing that it had a hole in it. Not until he was in the middle of the pond and sank that is. As for me, well - I'd probably counter that by talking about the time I crashed a mini-bike into an above ground swimming pool, thus flooding my neighbors yard. 

Yes, that happened...

(Knock knock) Who's there? Shake Weight...

Ever since I bought my FLIP cam at the beginning June, posts with words have been replaced with a series of self indulgent videos. Well, I guess the Apache promos have some work relevance. Eh, a little.

As Fall approaches, I'm challenging myself to write more. What does that mean for you, the reader? Well, it's back to the same sort of random poo spew that is Ghost Cockroach. Oh, and there will still be videos.

It's been a pretty amazing summer. And, given the fact that it's October and still 90 degrees outside, I'd say Summer is still kicking ass pretty hard. I'm very thankful for the friends, family, demolition derby's, ghost hunts, stunt driving, Jon Bon Jovi concerts, and great trips to NOLA, Chicago, and NYC that have have filled my calendar.

Maybe I'll go back and write about my adventures, or maybe I'll blog about Streethawk, and compare it to Knight Rider and Blue Thunder. Oh, that sounds like a good idea.

Until then, I leave you with another video. No description required.

NAPS: The Complete Series

NAPS 3.0 and 3.5

I taught I saw a puddy tat. (Waverly Hills Sanatorium)

NAPS pt. 2 - Conversations with Claire

Road Cases (A Collection)

A collection of some promos I've done for The Apache Relay. Most awesome band ever made.

What is NAPS?

The Return of Music City Stunt Driver...

Still looking for work, bitches. 

Music City Stunt Driver

Jean Claude Van NAMM

 

One hot day in June, I took my camera and joined The Apache Relay as they descended on Summer NAMM. This is our story.

Meet my buddy, Johnnie Walker. He's from Scotland.

Okay, so this is the first, um 'potentially drunk' post I've ever written. However, I've also wanted to, you know, perhaps do that. With that said, let's get real...

Just watched the ending of St. Elmo's Fire. Remember Andrew McCarthy? I gotta be honest, the music from that movie makes my heartache. It's like, I don't know, a reminder of how old I'm getting. 80's music always does that to me. It's just scary how time flies by.



Getting older is such a surreal experience, and I really don't know how to explain it. I've spent my life dealing with people that are older then me, but now, that's not the case. Professionals such as doctors, lawyers, athletes, you name it - all younger than me. I tell myself that 30 was the new 21, but hell, that was five years ago.

But wait, I do have a silver lining. Not sure if that's the right term, actually.

Anyway, my 30's so far has kicked my 20's ass, and my 20's were pretty awesome too. At this point I'm comfortable with who I am and that's pretty damn liberating. I often wish that 20's Brad could have been more like 30's Brad, but then you'd have time/space continuum issues.

I've always been a late bloomer, I mean damn, it takes me 4 months to grow a beard like this. But, I do feel sad about the fact that the years go by so quickly now. Relationships really mean so much to me now, and connecting the dots of my life bring me some sort of peace.

With that, I'm going to bed. Woo!

Counting sheep...

So, it's over.

I've used my blog to talk 24 before, and now it seems as relevant as ever before. As the clock ended on the series last night, I went to bed counting sheep by trying to list my top ten favorite 24 moments of all time.

What I couldn't do is list them in numerical order, so instead they're listed in order of season. I've included my honorable mentions at the bottom. 

(I apologize that I couldn't find clips of these moments, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless. The whole series can now be streamed on Netflix.)

•  That bitch!

After spending the first day so close to Nina, you'd have considered her a main character that was the Tonto to Jack's Lone Ranger. Sure, she had her shady qualities, but they all did.

In the final hours, the sound of her voice speaking Serbian, or whatever the hell that was made me shit my pants. Seriously, poo everywhere. Well played, 24.

• Hacksaw Jim Duggin

In the first season, Jack's family was at risk, and while we knew that he was crazy, at least we knew why. Or, at least we thought we did. 

They made a huge statement in the first hour of the second season, and let us know without a doubt that shit was 'bout' to get crazy.

    •    Jack and Nina, sitting in a tree.

After that bitch killed Jack's wife, there were many awesome moments in the following seasons. It's hard to narrow them down, but here's my three favorites

    ⁃   Is Wayne Brady going to have to choke a bitch?
First contact since the end of season 1. Nina is trying to not look scared as shit, but she's scared as shit. Also, Jack knows she's scared as shit, so let the mind fucking begin. Nothing like a good throat grab, drag, and slam to get things started.

    ⁃    Lost in translation.
Lost In Translation has got nothing on this. Oh if we could only know what Jack whispered to Nina in the desert after a thwarted attempt to kill him. The look in her eye gave you an idea.

    ⁃    I don't care.
Season 3 - on the plane back from Mexico. Nina thinks she's crippled CTU and will soon be set free. By threatening the pilot, Jack gives Chloe enough time to stop the computer virus. Nina didn't believe him, but Jack responded with 'I don't care what you believe'. However, it was Jack's smile that followed that made it a million times more awesome.

• Death of George Mason

In didn't take long into the 2nd day for 24 to show us how crazy the real time scenarios could get. CTU's resident asshole took a wrong turn at Albuquerque and got a heaping helping of radiation poison.

With less than 24 hours to live, Mason bucked up and went back to work.  This work ethic would lead him to hide in the back of a plane carrying a nuclear weapon, and giving Jack a reason to live.

It was the moment that Jack got ready to bail out that left a mark. The final grasp from Mason, then Jack was gone, leaving nothing but a scared, lonesome Mason and his eminent fate.

•  Death of Ryan Chappelle

Whew, what can you say about this. It was the first moment where both Jack and President Palmer let me down. It was also a point where the series strapped Fonzie in some skis and had the boat on standby.

I guess in the end, you can say it was the definitive moment where the series dropped it's elephant sized balls on the viewer. Like with Mason, it was the moments leading up to the final shot that fucked me up. Jack had to help him out of the helicopter because his legs were shaky - I mean, that's some cold-blooded shit.

    •    You, me, and an axe.

Okay, so there was plenty of shock in season 3, but it was the conversation that Jack and Chase had with their eyes. No words were needed, just a tourniquet.

    •    Don't fight it.

My favorite ending of any season, and probably the most fitting. After a day of doing some hanis in my anus shit, Jack sits in his CTU mobile and has one hell of a sob fest.

It's a moment where we realize that he was indeed affected by his actions. It's a moment of awareness where Jack realizes that his actions that day have changed him forever. Yep, he's going to hell.

    •    What's your primary objective?

Imagine if Superman had lived for a few years as only Clark Kent, then in a shining moment, bypassed the phone booth and just stripped down to the outfit. Well, that's what happened at the end of season 4's first hour, and it was glorious.

    •    Nobody puts baby in a corner

Not much good about season 6. In fact, I try to forget about it. However, it's rare that we get a moment with Jack where he can express his feelings, and the final scene between him and Secretary Heller is one of my favorites of the whole series.

    •    Soul Patch Zombie

It still doesn't make sense, but damn, it was great to see Soul Patch Jesus again. The year off due to the writers strike actually helped. I had some time away from the series and I didn't feel as inclined to care.

Be honest, when Tony showed us his scarred face in season 7 it felt like a friend coming home. Let's not get caught up on the fact that he died and they really couldn't explain that away. I wanted it and so did you . Is he bad, good, good, bad? Who cares? Hell, we were all upset that they killed that hot ass Michelle Dessler. 


Honorable mentions:

• I think I love you.

After her work in season 3, Michelle Dessler could have taken over the series. Remember when she shot that dude for trying to leave the hotel? Damn.

• Jack calls Kim

Season 2 - 'Hey Kim, going to die now saving the world.' Should have been cheeseball and maybe it was, but man, it's getting a little dusty in here. (sniff, sniff)

• Death of a hobbit

So much death in season 5, however, it was Sean Astin's final breath that was the most horrific. Holding his breath knowing that when he finally did breathe he would die an excruciating death from poison gas. WTF?

• Tony saves Jack 

Oh man, when Jack called the 'only person he could trust' in season 4, I really didn't know that Tony was coming in shooting. Beer belly and all.

• Paul dies

This would have been Audrey's ex husband Paul gets his nipples shocked with a lamp cord. However, after taking a bullet for Jack, he's left to die by Jack's orders so that they can save the terrorist and get the pertinent info.

• Jack on Heroin  

Need I say more?

The house that Jack built.

So, the house has finally been painted. However, it didn't happen without controversy.

Deciding on colors can be overwhelming, especially if you want something unique. I knew that I wanted something that looked clean and modern, something that stood out, without being too flashy. Brighter colors can be risky, and our paint guy, who was excellent by the way, steered me clear of the brightness. However, I didn't want neutral colors, I needed something a little more bold.

We did lots of driving around trying to find houses that we liked. Finally, we settled on about three houses that we liked. I wasn't sure when we had to decide, but I figured I'd just take our guy around and show him the houses and let him go to work.

The one thing I didn't anticipate, is that they'd come for our decision at 7 am on a morning after, well, a get together with a plethora of spirits. At that point, I was left alone in what Jack Bauer would call a 'flank 2 position'. As the paint ninja put some colors on the house, I thought, yeah - I should take him to those houses, but I couldn't.

No coffee to help, no time for food. Just me and the painters and one decision to make. A big one.

Let me just say this. I told everyone that we'd decided on a 'dark, charcoal gray'. So, when I walked out to see the first painted side of the house, I was taken back with the brown-ness of it all. Compounded with that, one the crew looked at me and said, 'is this really the color you want to paint it?'. I nodded, and he just replied 'oookaay'. As the paint started to dry, it did start to look better, and it did look more like what I pictured it looking like… somewhat.

What I didn't anticipate is that my neighbors actually expressed concerns to paint ninja (Oscar) that these weren't good colors.

I guess it's just me, but I don't give a fuck what color my neighbors paint their house.  I don't know who the culprits were, but honestly, I do live on an awesome street. So, I forgive you.

Once the porch was painted, well, it all came together, just as I planned. Drum roll please…

Your mom is a minesweeper.

It's been almost ten years now since I made that glorious, albeit pretentious switch from PC to Mac. I have to say it was a clean break, however, there was just one thing I had to part with that left a little hole in my heart. That little thing was the ever addicting Minesweeper.

To be honest, years went by before I even learned how to play it, but thanks to my brother-in-law I soon became a sweeping machine. I'm talking expert, bitches.

So when I came across this the other day I fell into what I would imagine being a very limited demographic of people who think this is funny.

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Speaking of funny. If I was a band teacher, this would be me. Dad?....

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

Finally, the NBA playoffs are underway. (Thug life) The NBA isn't what it used to be, but this is still a great time of year. Don't believe me? Watch this ownage.