The Simpsons

I first became aware of Matt Groening through a series of books reprinting the Life In Hell comic strip: Work Is Hell and School Is Hell – the latter cover features a one-eared rabbit writing on the chalkboard repeated, “I must remember to be cheerful and obedient.” My favorite, though, was Love Is Hell, part of my off-and-on philosophy at the time.

I was watching The Tracy Ullman Show when this strange, dysfunctional cartoon family came on. The characters reminded me greatly of the Hell characters, and I was instantly drawn in. Then, a couple years later, they got their own show. I watched it fairly religiously for the first eight or nine seasons, not quite so faithfully in the last eight or nine years.

I had never been able to convince my wife that the Simpsons are good, clever. She seemed to find them coarse and crude, which, of course, they are. But there’s more to them than that. Finally, I had borrowed a Simpsons DVD of an early season from the library, and my wife caught a Treehouse of Horror segment when Homer reads “The Raven”. She LIKED it!

I went to a presentation by a librarian last year who was talking about copyright, and at one point, he ran a segment from the Simpsons that addressed why they couldn’t sing Christmas carols that weren’t in the public domain. The speaker said that 30-second piece addressed most of the major concerns of copyright law. (It’s on this video, starting at about 50 seconds in.)

Just one example of their culture impact: The Rhetoric of Homer Simpson.

Tomorrow is the 20th anniversary of the first appearance of the Simpsons. I may have to pull out my soundtrack, sing along with the musical version of Streetcar Named Desire or “Monorail” or “Baby’s on Board.” The longest-running animated program, one of the longest running primetime shows PERIOD, has definitely passed the audition, even if Barney still doesn’t get it.
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Thanks to rain for the last two or three days, Lake 54 almost crested. Actually, we’re better off than our next door neighbors, whosee lawn is lower than ours and is still covered with nearly a foot of water. Our basement is damp; theirs is flooded.

ROG

Don and Jackie


The thing I got out of the Sunday morning talk shows was that many in Big Media were enablers of Don Imus. On ABC’s This Week, host George Stephanoplolous admitted to appearing on the show. On NBC’s Meet the Press, host Tim Russert and David Brooks of the New York Times noted their appearances on the show. One of them mentioned that high-profile media and politicians were happy to get that demographic of mostly young people who don’t watch the traditional news or attend political rallies. Apparently, the conversation within NBC over the “correct response” to Imus’ comments was rather intense; next week’s TV Guide suggests that Al Roker’s “it could have been my daughter” speech held the day. Brooks was self-admittedly being disingenuous when he claimed that he didn’t know what was on the Imus show, except for his own segment. Given that both Time and Newsweek had cover stories on in the late 1990s, this perhaps seems not credible.

But as the conversations inevitably headed in the “Who can say what?” territory, I did find a bit of possible, albeit lame evidence. Some folks noted that politicians have embraced rappers who have used the same kind of language. It is true for me that I don’t listen to a lot of rap, specifically because of the lyric content that denigrates women, lifts up thuggery and dismisses education; I hear it, and I turn it off. I’d be hard pressed to identify any rapper to a specific song since the early 1990s, save for a few that were so popular or so controversial that I couldn’t help but to know. And yes, I know that other music can be misogynistic and that not all rap is.

This, it has occurred to me that with a three-year old, I’m going to have to start listening to more music and radio that I don’t particularly enjoy, if only to be in touch with the messages she may be subjected to. That’s what PBS’ Gwen Ifill does for her seven-year-old goddaughter, she noted on Meet the Press. Eh. I haven’t listened to Imus since he was a local DJ in the 1970s, though I certainly knew his rep.

I also got specifically annoyed with George Will on ABC, who though one of the Rutgers players as harmed for life as disingenuous. I don’t think he understands the context: denigrated initially, then denigrated again for, in the minds of some, getting Imus fired, receiving hate mail and threats. A 20-year old feeling threatened is not the advancement of the “victim market.”

Sunday, of course, was also the 60th anniversary of Jackie Robinson’s first major league appearance. Some 200 players, managers and coaches were wearing Robinson’s number 42, which had been retired a decade earlier. (Unfortunately, a goodly number of east coast games, which were free on cable just for the weekend, were postponed because of the rain, but I did enjoy seeing the commercials on FSN South and especially FSN Bay area – what is that store logo that looks like SpongeBob SquarePants?) I found the tributes, especially the pregame before the Dodgers-Padres matchup on ESPN, when Jackie’s widow Rachel was given an award by the baseball commisioner, to be surprisingly moving.

My wife asked if anyone had made a link between Don Imus and Jackie Robinson. Actually, ABC News did, as it named Jackie Robinson its Person of the Week, noting that much had been accomplished, but with much more to be done. Oh, and I discovered that Rachel Robinson’s birthday is July 19, 1922 – looking very spry – while Don Imus’ is July 23, 1940.

Oh, BTW, GayProf, guess which one of the 16 baseball teams of the 1940s and 1950s was the last to integrate? (Answer is within the labels to this post.)
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My prayers to the Virginia Tech community, and to us all.


ROG

My Mind Is Very Balanced, But a Little Cluttered

Brain Lateralization Test Results
Right Brain (52%) The right hemisphere is the visual, figurative, artistic, and intuitive side of the brain.
Left Brain (50%) The left hemisphere is the logical, articulate, assertive, and practical side of the brain

Are You Right or Left Brained?
personality tests by similarminds.com

Your Mind is 58% Cluttered

Your mind is starting to get cluttered, and as a result, it’s a little harder for you to keep focused.
Try to let go of your pettiest worries and concerns. The worrying is worse than the actual problems!

And speaking of a cluttered mind, Fred Hembeck told me last week that he remembers the first FantaCon, a comic book convention run by the store I eventually worked at in the ’80’s, coincided with the death of Vivian Vance, Lucille Ball’s sidekick in three TV shows, in August 1979.

Maybe Fred’s just excited about getting a call from SpongeBob SquarePants! REALLY! Read all about it here. I wish someone had captured the conversation in a podcast.

Speaking of podcasts, I listened to my very first one just last week, when Gordon answered a bunch of questions, one or two of which were asked by me. I’m sure I’ll be doing one soon – maybe by 2011.

Here’s something I didn’t know until recently: Kurt Vonnegut worked at GE in Schenectady years ago. Here’s a news story and an editorial in the local paper on that point. The former begins: “When Kurt Vonnegut’s mercurial recurring character and alter ego, Kilgore Trout, took his own life in 2004 by drinking Drano, the character did it in Cohoes.”

Hey, Tosy, the guest critic on Ebert and Roeper this week is John Mellencamp!

ROG

My Dinner with Hembecks


I’m pretty sure it started with a March 2 e-mail from Fred Hembeck to me and to our mutual friend Rocco, who also lives in Albany: “Lynn (Moss, Fred’s wife) just informed me that Sean Lennon is going to be performing at the Egg on Tuesday, April 10th–tickets are currently being offered to Egg members only (only fair that Egg men have the advantage when it comes to a Lennon, I suppose…), but the general public get their chance starting on March 12th. Seeing as how tickets are going for only $24–and that Sean’s new album has gotten mostly positive reviews (I haven’t gotten a copy yet, tho when I saw him on Conan about a month or so back, I was pretty impressed by his performance–and I WILL be getting a copy soon, given the new set of circumstances), we’re thinking about driving up to see the concert. Hey, it’s either this, or Zak Starkey and his band, and Who tickets are way more expensive! As you fellows–and your lady friends–actually live in Albany, I thought I’d check in with you and see if either of you have any potential interest in joining us?”

We mulled it over. Rocco evidently decided against, and my wife was likewise disinclined, as she hadn’t heard any of his music. Well, I hadn’t heard any of his music either, except for It’s Alright, when he appeared on an album of cover versions of his mother’s songs called Every Man Has a Woman.

But if Fred, Lynn, and their daughter Julie were going to drive a couple hours to Albany to see Sean, how could I say no? (Fred and I discussed this later: the fact that THEY initiated the activity made it easier to go without Carol. I wouldn’t have considered inviting them up, for logistical reasons having to do with the child, but since they were coming up anyway…)

So, they ordered the tickets, and then Fred sent me copies of both of Sean’s albums. I discovered that I liked them both quite a bit, though some of the lyrics were a bit of a downer, I thought.

So, now I’m psyched, Fred and Lynn are psyched, Julie’s psyched.

With the help of Green Van Lines Moving Company – moving services the business was able to figure out the logistics. They would pick me up from work (faster than the irregular bus service from Corporate Woods), and we would go out to dinner. The initial request was for a place with a decent vegetarian menu, but was later modified to a vegan place, for Julie’s gone vegan.

On the day of the show, Fred writes: We’ll leave here at 3:15.
We’ll call you on Julie’s cell phone when we arrive!
We’ll eat!!
We’ll go to the concert!!!
WE’LL HAVE FUN!!!!!

I get picked up, and I hear the dulcet tones of Rod Stewart, Julie’s current obsession. At least it was Rod back he was good. We eat at Mamoun’s Falafel, which was satisfying to all. We drive to the Egg. (The Albanian forgets the fastest approach to the underground parking, and we go on a mild excursion.)

We get to the concert. Our seats are in the fourth row, not too from the center aisle. This is a very intimate setting to see a show. The great thing about the Egg is that there aren’t many really bad seats. But we had an excellent location, about 30 feet from at least one performer in every set.

First up is Kamila Thompson, daughter of the legendary Richard and Linda Thompson. She’s wearing this attractively funky outfit, a fairly short blue dress with some sort of red print, a black sweater, black Capri pants and light colored high heels (Pink? Peach? Hard to tell with the lighting). There were so many power chords all over the floor that I thought she might trip over something.

She had a quite lovely voice, though not all of her songs, mostly about love and loss, were all that compelling. They seemed a bit pedestrian. A few riffs on her pink guitar, which she did not, she assures us, get from Hello Kitty, were rather tasty. She wanted people to go to her MySpace page; one of her MySpace friends, BTW, is Sean Lennon, I later discovered.

After as short break, Women & Children came out. There was but one woman, Cheryl, who sounded as though she had a cold and/or allergies (I sympathize). Her voice, for some reason, reminded me a little of Marianne Faithfull, circa Broken English. She did one song with her at the keyboards, then a guy comes out to play bass on the next song; he eventually plays guitar. The first drummer ends up on bass, and a second drummer eventually appears. A reviewer described them as being like Velvet Underground, and I guess that’s accurate. The real problem is that no one wanted to hear them. One opening act was OK; two strained the patience of this largely middle-aged audience; it IS a work night. No fewer than three people I knew and saw during the second, fairly lengthy intermission said that W&C “sucked”; so did the Metroland reviewer. I didn’t think so, but the vocals were thin, and the 40-minute set seemed interminable.

Finally, there’s Sean and his band, all in suits, except for the woman on the keyboards, his musical director. I think that familiarity with his music helped my appreciation of the tunes. But as Sean acknowledged onstage, he knew that most of the people in that room had no idea what his music sounded like; while he never used the B word, he knew there were people there just because he was a “son of a Beatle”. I got the sense that he’s made peace with that. He introduced one song, and one woman near the front clapped; he dedicated the song to her.

Most of the songs he played early on sounded not unlike the albums, but as the show progressed, I heard some pleasant variations on the theme. He played at least one new song. Sean was very good, the band was tight, and it was an enjoyable experience.

Well, except for the one loudmouth somewhere near the back. Three or four times he shouted out stuff, and except for the first one, “Listen to What The Man Said!” (a McCartney tune! har, har!), it was incomprehensible to Sean and to me. Eventually, security people invited him to leave . Also, there were flash pictures being taken during Kamila’s set, after which a guy from the Egg asked that no more be shot, not just for legal reasons, but because at least one person in the audience was having a bad physical reaction to the strobelight effect of the flashes. I noticed none during W&C, but plenty during Sean’s set.

I’m sure Fred, when he gives his Rashomon version of the event for his Quick Step column next week, will describe a post-concert purchase.

They dropped me off, then headed off on their two-hour ride home. I’m tempted to say, “A splendid time was had by all,” but I’ll pass. Thanks to Fred, Lynn and Julie for the invitation.


Jackie Robinson played with the Brooklyn Dodgers for the first time 60 years ago today.

ROG

1st and 16th Amendments QUESTIONS


1. There’s been a lot of discussion about the rules of engagement on blogs and whether removing inappropriate comments is censorship. Initially, I think, the rules of engagement should be common decency, and if someone puts something inappropriate on the comments on this blog – and I alone get to decide what that is – then I will. But then , I came across a ning called Stop Cyberbullying, and I recognize cyberbullying can be disruptive in the victims’ lives. So I thought, maybe there SHOULD be some sort of rules of engagement. It may be like the speed limit, where many/most people drive over it, but maybe it’ll keep some people from doing 70 in a 35 m.p.h. zone.
So, do we need rules of engagement in cyberspace? What would it look like? And who gets to enforce them?

2. Paying taxes this weekend. Again. I suppose we could take fewer deductions, but then the government would have my money longer. I’m not always thrilled with the use. I can support a national defense, but not so much lucrative contracts to the Betchtels of the work that take the money and do shoddy or no work. I’m glad my taxes pay for schools, libraries (well, yeah), feeding the poor, clothing the hungry. Not so keen on the government executing people in my name.
So, if one could pick and choose: what taxes would you gladly pay, and which ones make you pause?
(Picture from Narconews.com.)
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And while I’m in the question mode, a couple speculative modes about TV:
1. If Fred D. Thompson actually runs for President, will the networks that carry his various Law & Order shows have to broadcast only those episodes in which he does not appear? Otherwise, won’t his political opponents make a claim for equal time?

2. On last week’s Boston Legal, a very pregnant Denise (Julie Bowen) accepted a wedding proposal from the father of the child, Brad (Mark Valley). But in the preview for the next episode, Shirley (Candice Bergen) seems to suggest that Julie should not marry Brad. Is she saying that this single professional woman go it alone with her baby, a la Murphy Brown (Candice Bergen)?
ROG

Ramblin' with Roger
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