RSVP.

Sorry for the delay in posting, gentle readers, but as I sat in front of my computer last night, my mind was a blank slate. After being mocked for an hour or so by a blinking cursor, I decided to pack it in for the night and see if I felt a bit more inspired today. I blame the nearly five hours of All Star game I watched last night.

So, I have to give you a word of warning, I'm a little bitter today, so if you aren't interested in hearing me rant a tad about the shortcomings of my generation, you might want to look elsewhere. If not, I hope the following entertains you a little (as I always hope to) and makes you give a little look into a corner of manners that has fallen off the map. I'm talking, of course, about planning.

We live in an amazing world. Technology allows us to check our stock quotes while we're on the john, record our favorite programming by name instead of time so that it simply records whenever the name pops up, and even allows our military, pathetic and misguided though they may be, to drop bombs on unsuspecting foreign countries via remote control fighter planes from the comfort of a barcalounger. So, why is it that no one seems to be able to figure out when anything is happening, or keep any dates straight in their head? A reminder, folks: a cell phone is not an excuse for punctuality. If you say you are going to meet or do something at 3:00 on a Sunday afternoon, calling at 3:15 and saying you're just leaving your house does not make it all better. The recipient of the call is still sitting at the pre-disclosed location by themselves for however long it takes you to get there. It seems like such a simple concept: when you make a plan with someone, record it wherever it will do you some good, remember it, and, in the end, keep that plan. Show up where you say you'll be when you say you'll be there. How hard is that? People have been doing it for centuries. It's a sad commentary on our time and people when someone is praised for their punctuality. I am not saying that I'm perfect or blameless in this gripe, but I can say for damn sure that I have been on the other end of this issue many more times than I have been the offending party.

The other component to this is remembering dates. I'm not talking about the forgetting your significant other's birthday or something like that; I'm more concerned with the number of times people seem to need to check or verify a date that they have already confirmed for something: travel plans, dinner reservations, concerts, or just days to get together and hang out. In this advanced age of smartphones that synch up with your computer's planner and send you mobile updates, why is it that the guy who keeps everything written down on paper is the only person who knows what date things are happening?

These are amazing times, people, so why is it that our reliance on technology has only taught us to circumvent the time-honored traditions of punctuality and adherence to our word?

Getting older.

For some strange reason, dear readers, it seems that a lot of conversations I've been having with friends (especially this weekend) have been about aging and changes in lifestyle that accompany an increased number of birthdays. I feel that I have kept a fairly decent balance, in that I maintain the late night habits and a level of alcohol consumption that I have enjoyed for the past few years of my life, however I do find an increased desire to settle down a little bit, meet someone nice, and not feel so bad that the nights of wild partying are much fewer and further in between than they once were.

Still, I was having a conversation with a friend over dinner tonight, and she said that someone once told her that everything changes with everyone around you when you're twenty seven. As I am dangerously close to the halfway point of my twenty seventh year on this planet, I have looked around and noticed that while not all the changes have happened just this year, in the past couple of years, the stats on my friends are skewing a lot. Friends who read this, don't worry - I couldn't be happier for all of you. I wish you all years of happiness and well being. I consider myself honored to have you all in my life. Nonetheless, I look around and see that most all of my closest friends are either married or engaged. There is one baby (though not a baby anymore...) and one on the way shortly. People's bedtimes are now far closer to sundown than sunup, and even the weekend festivities that once took us to the not-so-wee hours of the morning are now breaking up before last call.

I guess there isn't a real point to this, no greater realization about myself of my general condition gained in the writing of this post, but as I stand here at 1:45 in the morning, looking forward to yet another day of this peculiar age, I am wondering when some of these changes will start manifesting themselves in my life, but as of this time and date, the right-here and the right-now; I can look upon my empty bed, my ringless fingers, and my cozy little hovel and say "better you than me."

Borrowed genius.

So here we go, I am saying this as loud and clear as I possibly can: I am posting these from Diesel Sweeties, a web comic that is awesome and hilarious. I did NOT come up with these, though they touch on jokes that are rather close to my heart. The first one is hilarious because "indie rock Pete" is looking for band mates, while in my life "Indie Rock Bill" realizes he may never have any. While the second one tugs at the heartstrings of my passion for facial hair. so, with no further ado, I give you the Diesel Sweeties strips entitled "It's Bad Form To Rub Your Chopsticks In Front Of Your Host" and "Facial Hair: Threat or Menace", and if you have a chance go to www.dieselsweeties.com and read the comics on your own, or even better, get one of their wonderful t-shirts:

Citizens, rejoice!

I don't know how many of you have heard about this yet, but Anchor Brewing is at it again. After the wondrous years of producing the "Old Potrero" straight rye whiskey, they've taken things up a notch. That's right, they've now started producing a specialty small-batch rye called "Old Potrero Hoatling's Single Malt Whiskey" which has been aged in old recycled bourbon barrels for seventeen years now, and I couldn't be more excited. Granted, I have no idea how I'm going to get some of this down my hatch any time soon, but I'll be damned if I don't find a way.

Why the enthusiasm? Simple. I have been a fan of rye for a while now, and often turn to it as a welcome change of pace from my beloved bourbon, but there's one problem: most liquor stores and bars only have Jim Beam. Now don't get me wrong, me and ol' Jimmy go way back, and the man (and his lineage) makes themselves a fine bottle of rye, but there is a whole world out there. So, by some divine happenstance, I wound up at a local bar just over a week ago that treated me to a lucky surprise. As a frequent orderer of rye on the rocks, I am used to seeing the yellow label of Jim Beam staring me back in the face as the bartender pours, or else being told that there is no rye to be had. But on this fateful night, the bartender pulled out a bottle and asked "Is this okay?" Nearly gape-mouthed, all I could do was nod, since he had produced a bottle of Michter's ten year aged rye. And boy was it phenomenal. However, after finally having this somewhat sought-after rye, my taste buds are clamoring for a taste of Anchor's rarity.

In an odd and almost completely unrelated side note, I will wind down this posting with a simple opinion: meats imitating as other meats are just wrong. You know what I'm talking about, when people make a type of meat out of something that it isn't supposed to be. What brings this about? Easy: a package of turkey pastrami that is in my fridge at this very moment. It goes against the laws of nature, but damn, it does go down smooth.

Hats.

Yes, I know this has been discussed before, but I spent much of the evening at the A's game tonight and on BART both to and from the game, so I had plenty of time to sit and stew about all this.

I have come to the point in my life where I realize that I can only wear a baseball hat in one manner: the generic white man baseball hat style. That means straight forward, with just enough curve to the bill to make it a tad more comfortable. Worn at an angle roughly parallel with the ground. I am fine with this. In some ways, I am even happy about it.

Now here are some of the abominations I saw today.

1) The Charlie Brown: This is the worst offender in my mind. I can't even link it to any particular ethnic or social group. But you all know what I'm talking about -- this is when guys insist on wearing their hat with an absolutely flat bill (usually with the stickers still on it to show authenticity) that is also a few sizes too big, so that they can tuck their ears in to the hat. I just don't get it. This cannot be, or at least should never be, cool. (my example is with the ears out, but y'all must have seen it somewhere)

2) The straight-to-the-side: This is tragically uncool unless you're a rapper from the '80s. Even then, it was borderline. Sadly, the cool rappers have all replaced the sideways hat with....

3) The cock-a-doodle: Also known as the gangsta lean, this is wearing the hat at an extreme angle, usually a bit off to the side, and often at a low slant. Some guys have switched it up and done the side-cock while wearing the hat far back on their head. Which leads me to....

4) The farmboy: This is the look popularized by many older men (my father included) in which the hat rides faaaar back on the head, exposing the entire forehead. Acceptable for those who are sixty-plus, but few others. This almost entirely negates the benefit of wearing a hat, which is to use the bill of a hat for shade. This leads me to...

5) The backwards hat: this is a socially acceptable for people who believe themselves to be cool. Generally speaking, most any male can rock this look through high school, but by the time college rolls around, especially for white males, this look get waylaid by frat boys. Which is why most people past about 25 shouldn't even bother attempting this look. It can sometimes slip by well enough if you are wearing a fitted hat, and don't have the awful sunrise of forehead exposed above the adjustable band of your hat. Whatever you do, NEVER wear a backwards hat in the farmboy manner. That look is reserved for dorks in the 80s and maybe beach volleyball players. Which leads me to...

6) The flip-up: When one feels the inexplicable need to flip the bill of their hat upwards, either in a straight-ish line, or possibly worse, to curl the bill of the hat up so that it curls over upon itself. This should pretty much never be done. I've never seen anyone look cool doing it. Except maybe Karch.

So, white males age 25 and up, I implore you, take a page out of the Book of Bill, and wear your hats like normal human beings. The world thanks you. So does Karch.

Oh so much.

Well well, the holiday weekend is winding down, and I have much to report and mull over.

First of all, happy first anniversary to Nate and Jen. One down, and here's to many more to come.

The fourth was great -- good time, good peeps, good eats, and I got to see a lot of stuff get blown up. It's a not too secret fact about me: I go crazy for fireworks. That being said, the fourth of July is one of my favorite holidays, even if it was in the 50s that night, and everyone was dressed in layers.

I spent a good deal of the day Saturday watching "Deadliest Catch". I don't know why, but it's one of my rare TV addictions. I can watch that program damn near all day, and that's pretty much what I did. Fortunately, the Discovery Channel does the marathons of it, so in those rare days when I do become obsessed with it again, I can pretty much watch an entire season in a single sitting. Watching it, I got to thinking, though. These guys absolutely love what they do. For most of the guys on the program, crabbing is a family tradition, but still. Think about your job for a second, think about what you hate the most about it, then think about these Alaskan crab fishermen. Literally every day they could easily die as a result of one little thing going wrong. They work in frigid temperatures, and the average day's work is in the neighborhood of eighteen hours. They are away from their families for weeks, sometimes months, at a time. But still, when they start doing what they do, they are really caught up in the moment, and once that first big catch is brought in, they pretty much go apeshit, regardless of if it's their first year on the ship, or if they've been on for twenty years. I watch these guys, and I don't honestly know if there is anything that I love enough to want to it for the rest of my life like that, let alone something that puts you into stage on hypothermia as part of the job from time to time.

Tonight I went with the fellas to see We Are Scientists play at the Independent. Amazing show, and even the opening band "Cut Off Your Hands" was pretty damn respectable. I suppose seeing the show kind of coincides with the news that my new band is finally beginning to take shape. Everything is still in that awkward "we all want to be in a band together but don't know any of the same songs" stage, but that's just part of the game, really. I've got some stuff I'm working on, but here's the big problem that I have faced for a number of years: how the hell does one go about writing lyrics? I guess that's a reasonable part of the reason I have been playing instrumental music all these years, but still, I would think that I listen to enough music that I could pick out some themes in the bands that I like and sort of hope to emulate, but the main common thread I can find is that none of them really make a lot of logical sense. And that is absolutely no help to me. So I'll close this up with a question for you, and I hope to get response from musical folks and non-musical peeps as well. When you're listening to music, what makes the lyrics "good"? Is it more a matter of the melody or the words? Are harmonies a major factor? Because I have to be honest with you all for a minute here: I really feel like that is a big barrier to my songwriting at the moment. Any help or advice would be greatly appreciated.

Television.

Most of you, dear readers, know me. That is probably at least part of the reason that you read this here blog. So it is no news to any of you that I'm not much of a TV watcher. Yes, I have my weaknesses, and I try my best to miss as few Jeopardy matches as possible, but in general, I don't follow a lot of programs or anything like that. Hell, for the last three months I have been getting by just fine without any type of television in my little basement hovel.

Having said that, I find myself in a very interesting position: for the first time in my life, I have a television in my living space that actually gets channels. I'd say that I have cable, but basic network television, ten Spanish channels, the Discovery Channel, and Sci-Fi network hardly qualifies as cable. Still, this is the first time that, from the comfort of my own bed or desk chair, I can switch on the television and be certain that anything that is being broadcast at that moment will be completely visible on my television set.

So here's the thing: now that I have so much of this television, I realize just how awful television has become. In cruising channels to test the capabilities of my new-fangled television connectivity, I happened upon an episode of WifeSwap. All I can say is wow. It's not new to me or anything like that, I've even seen bits and pieces before, but man, I think it's gotten worse. It didn't help, of course, that nearly every other network that I stumbled across was showing some form of reality programming. I realize that there is wonderful and amazing programming out there on "real" cable (which I'd have to consider just for The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, and The Soup) but I really wonder what the hell happened to television. I wrote a seminar paper this past semester on how the computer is altering the entire concept of television, and I'm going to be so bold as to say this: if I could pay a reasonable fee to get a DVD in the mail once a week with whatever programming I really wanted to watch, I'd never watch live TV again. Think about it... if you could subscribe to a certain number of television shows, kind of like a podcast, would you give a damn about having other options? I mean, these days, I catch probably seventy percent of my television watching either via internet streaming or else from the purchase of a box set.

I realize I'm biased, and I'm sure if I had a bit more "real" programming to choose from, rather than reality programming, this might well be a completely different posting. But in the meantime, I am going to flip on a DVD and ignore all the other crap that might show up on my TV screen.