$500,000 TOUGH

While I’m sure it was a tough decision, it couldn’t have been that hard for Bruce Pearl to decide that he’d rather spend his winters in Knoxville instead of Milwaukee:

“I love my players and I love UWM, and I made some lifelong friends in Milwaukee,” Pearl said. “But it came down to the fact that if I passed this up, I would be committed to UWM for the rest of my life.

“It’s like the expression, ‘Making hay while the sun shines.’ When was I ever going to be in position to win two games in the NCAA tournament again? Who knows?

“I made the decision Sunday night. It was just too great to pass it up.”

No word yet from the local media on how Brett Favre is reacting to the Bruce Pearl situation or whether this will affectimpact his decision to retire after next season.

HIGH-CONCEPT MUSIC

Ten songs I like from ten artists I don’t like:

1. “Save A Prayer” (Duran Duran): I still stand by my assessment of these guys as “no-talent disco hacks,” but this moody ballad about an ill-fated one-night stand is pretty transcendent stuff. It marks pretty much the only good keyboard playing Nick “Two Fingers” Rhoades ever did, and Simon Le Bon isn’t as wretchedly off-key as he usually is. “The Reflex” and “Rio” are still awful period pieces, but “Save A Prayer” has tremendous evocative power.
2. “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” (Poison): When, as an impressionable lad of fifteen or so, I wandered into our local Musicland and saw a poster of that hip new band Poison, I became convinced that the world could not possibly end soon enough. People who dressed like that were supposed to get beaten up in my town; they certainly weren’t supposed to sell records. But sell they did; by my junior year of high school, Poison and G ‘n R were about the only two bands on the radio in Fort Dodge. I hated glam-metal then, and I still do. In fact, I’m undecided what to hope for: that G ‘n R will never finish “Chinese Democracy,” or that they will, it’ll sell 25,000 copies, and we’ll never have to hear about Axl Rose again. But I digress. I’ve been an anti-fan of Poison since they broke ca. 1986; I laughed my head off when CC DeVille came out with his new band Samantha 7 mere moments after Eve 6 had a big hit; and I can’t wait for the day when Poison headlines at the Iowa State Fair. On a Wednesday. In the afternoon. Before the monster truck rally. But “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” is one of the best country songs ever written, and I can’t hide my affection for it.
3. “If You Were There” (Wham!): I’m from Iowa. I had never even heard of the Style Council when a record-club error (forgot to send in the flippin’ card) dropped Make It Big into my mailbox. So I had no idea this song was a ripoff. I just liked its sunny 70s vibe, and I still do.
4. “The Unforgiven” (Metallica): I could do without ever hearing “One” or “Enter Sandman” again, but this spooky song never fails to shake me up. It’s never on the radio, though; I bet I haven’t heard it in a decade.
5. “Tumbling Dice” (The Rolling Stones): There are lots of people who hate Wham! (in fact, I think that feeling’s pretty much universal) and a fair number who hate Metallica. There are not so many who hate the Stones, but I’m one of them. It probably comes from a lifetime of baby-boomer hegemony; after being told over and over that the Stones are the greatest rock and roll band of all time, I cannot possibly believe that they’re even good. But “Tumbling Dice” is. I’m pretty sure that this song epitomizes what people mean by “Stonesy” music. Because I know they don’t mean dreck like “Honky Tonk Women” or “Emotional Rescue.”
6. “Black” (Pearl Jam): While I deeply appreciate the fact that they’ve now moved on to the “we’re so anti-commercial we don’t even sell records anymore” phase of their rock ‘n roll lifestyle, thus putting them one step short of Todd Snider’s ultimate ideal of hipster authenticity, Pearl Jam is still a disgusting band with a disgusting name. However, “Jeremy” was epochal, and “Black” was one of the few moments of great musicianship this band has ever known. Doesn’t make up for the unlistenable Vitalogy, though.
7. “A Place In This World” (Michael W. Smith): Back when “Christian music” meant MWS, Amy Grant, and Petra, I figured that, for the rest of my life, my faith would influence everything but my stereo. Then somebody slipped me a Charlie Peacock CD and things started to change. But I digress. Most of Michael W. Smith’s music has always struck me as advertising jingles for Jesus. Fine if you’re into that sort of thing, but I was not and am not. “A Place In This World” was different, though. For as much as I don’t care for his music, Smith is at least sincere and, whatever you do or don’t believe, you’ve got to admit that this is a really heart-felt performance. (See? I’m not cynical about everything . . .)
8. “The Game” (Queen): I used to love Queen, but that was when I was 10 years old. Now, they’re pretty much seek-button material for me. But the heady sound of “The Game” still gets to me. It almost–almost–makes up for “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
9. “Another Park, Another Sunday” (Doobie Brothers): About the only good Doobie Brothers song which hasn’t been played to death on the radio. And Michael McDonald had nothing to do with it.
10. “I Was Made For Loving You” (KISS): If you’re only going to like one KISS song, it might as well be one that a lot of KISS fans hated. Probably because this song proved they were really a pop band after all.

A CRY FOR HELP

I can accept that I don’t get trackbacks any more. TBP hasn’t been a traditional blog for over six months now. Also since everybody else is pontificating about Terri Schiavo, I can understand the lack of interest in tracking back to me, since I’ve shown little interest in the Outrage du Jour. (OK, that’s a lie . . . I’ve shown no interest in it.)

I can accept that I’ve been an “Adorable Little Rodent” in the TTLB Ecosystem for about eight months now, without any significant upward or downward movement. With the crush of blogs being added every day, maintaining one’s place is pretty much the same as moving up.

I can accept that Instapundit will never visit this site and bestow me with a little crumb from his traffic. After all, I’ve had a FARKalanche, and that was almost as good.

Shoot, I can even tolerate not making the Beltway Traffic Jam for a couple months. James Joyner has been more than gracious to me over the past two years, after all; he doesn’t owe me a thing.

But dang it, it’s been almost twelve hours since I had to delete any poorly-spelled spam dealing with online poker or phentermine. I can understand everybody else’s lack of interest in what I’ve been writing here lately–but why have the spammers forsaken me all of a sudden?

FACTOIDS FROM A QUINTILE OF BLOGGING

Most-viewed post in TBP history: The Guide To Picking A College Major, and it’s not even close.

Posts I enjoy writing the most: Pickin’ on the Big Ten.

Odds that Tony Kornheiser and/or Colin Cowherd will make “guest” PotB10 appearances in 2005: 1:1.

Series I started but never finished: Seven Deadly Sins, Bad 80s Cars, Uncle Tupelo Appreciation Week.

Posts that I thought deserved wider recognition than they got: Fake 80s Movie Catchphrases, Debate Review, The Politics of Existentialism.

Thank you, however, for not pointing out how bad these posts were: The Process of Predation, The Upper Midwestern Bill of Rights, Be a Rock Critic!, What I’m Reading These Days

Person most frequently mocked on this blog: Jim Rome.

Second most-frequently mocked person:Mark Hasty.

Number of times I’ve had to sleep on the couch because of something I blogged: Zero.

Number of times I probably should have been exiled to the couch: At least six.

Beverages that fuel TBP: Coffee, TaB, Diet Cherry Coke, Verifine Fruit Punch.

My sincere wish for you, the reader: That you would continue to find this site enjoyable.

My sincere wish for me, the blogger: More-frequent visits from the Topic Fairy.

UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES

Long-time TBP readers know that one of this site’s more-popular features is “The Search Engine Answer Guy,” a sarcastic look at my search-engine referrals which I used to post monthly, back when I had time to post anything on a monthly basis. The very first SEAG concluded with a subtle dig at Roman Polanski, based on his well-known proclivities. I figured it was a nice way to make light of the fact that lots of people were coming to this site looking for porn.

Ever since, the #1 search phrase at this site has been some variant of ‘naked 13-year-olds,’ linking to SEAG #1. I really don’t care. If I slow down people looking for child porn, that can only be a good thing. But there’s a lesson in that for bloggers.

DOS OF REALITY

Today, March 23rd, marks the second anniversary of TBP. I’ll be providing more retrospective content as the day goes on, but now, I really have to get some work done.

THE MOST TRAGIC TRAGEDY EVER TRAGEDIZED

I sure hope Bruce Pearl and Brett Favre never get into a minor automobile accident, because the resulting media frenzy would probably paralyze life as we know it here in Wisconsin.

THINGS YOU CAN AND CAN’T HATE ABOUT BASEBALL

With Opening Day just about a week and a half away, it’s time to address the terrible rumor that yr obt svt hates everything about baseball. What a vicious rumor. You people need to learn there is a huge difference between (a) hating everything about a sport, and (b) not finding anything to like about a sport. I’m definitely in category ‘b’ when it comes to baseball, because there are just too many things about baseball that you can’t hate.

First of all, it’s plainly obvious that anywhere from two-thirds to three-quarters of the teams in Major League Baseball aren’t good enough to hate. Life is short; why devote any time or psychic energy to hating the San Diego Padres? Innocuous games between the Pittsburgh Pirates and the Cincinnati Reds harm no one since, in the grand schemes of both baseball and the universe, they’re piffle. Sort of like a game of ‘Sorry!’ between 8-year-old neighbors on a rainy afternoon, except the ‘Sorry!’ game would probably feature more action.

So that means that, at most, there’s about eleven teams in baseball that it’s probably worth hating. But I think the actual number of teams worth getting upset about is even smaller. You can’t really get upset about the Atlanta Braves, for instance. They’re sort of like the St. Louis Rams of the National League; they make the playoffs every year because somebody from their division has to go. But why get upset about them making the playoffs for the 32nd consecutive year? Soon they’ll have lost enough in October that Ted Turner will become one of the losers he thinks Christianity is for.

Along the same lines, it’s not worth it to get upset about the San Francisco Giants or the Oakland A’s. Yes, it’s easy to hate Barry Bonds; the problem is, that’s what he wants us to do, so why give him the satisfaction? And as for the A’s and their ‘moneyball’ strategy, all they’ve proved is that you don’t have to spend a lot of money to be as unsuccessful in the post-season as the Braves are.

You can’t hate the Twins, either, though you certainly can hate their owner, Carl Pohlad, who is essentially C. Montgomery Burns without the irony. If Pohlad could start one pitcher in all 162 games, and have one guy covering the entire outfield, he would. That’s why you can’t hate the Twins. Plus the players and fans spend Minnesota’s only nice season inside a giant Rubbermaid container. You just can’t hate the Twins, even though they’re good; just look at what they have to go through.

You can’t hate the Phillies because (a) they’re not good enough, and (b) sports fans in Philly aren’t happy unless they’re miserable anyway. If anything good ever happened in Philly, the populace would be at a loss; the last person in town who knew how to applaud anything has probably been dead for years.

You know what? You can’t even hate the Yankees anymore. They’re not a dynasty; they’re a money pit. A living argument that you can’t play fantasy baseball in the real world. I mean, George Steinbrenner has spent what, half a BILLION dollars on players in the last couple years, and what has it got him? Besides, Yankees fans are an endless source of amusement. There’s not a single player on the roster whose name they can pronounce. I, personally, would feel impoverished without getting to hear Yankee fans talk about “Deyh-rik JETAH!” or “Ayee-rawd.”

In fact, I can only come up with three teams in baseball that it might be worth hating: the Cardinals, the Cubs, and the Red Sox. I’ll exclude the Cardinals so long as the state of Missouri actually does remove Mark McGwire’s name from I-70 . . . by the way, is there any truth to the rumor that that particular stretch of highway is actually only six lanes wide, but it looks like ten?

Now, you may say it’s not right to hate the Red Sox right now, what with them being the world champions for the first time since before Walter Cronkite was born. And you may have a point, but remember: loveable losers invariably stop being loveable when they stop losing. Thus, I have a feeling we’re going to look upon the Red Sock Nation as just the latest example of “sore winners.” Therefore, I’m holding out the possibility of hating the Red Sox.

And the Cubs? Wow, talk about unfair, right? Why kick a team when they’re down, and they just lost/ran off the best player they’ve had in the past decade or so? It’s like this: all those people who have been ‘die-hard Cubs fans’ since their local cable franchise added WGN somehow have to deal with the fact that almost every team in the past century has had moments of excellence except for them. When cornered about why this is so, the Cub fan is impaled on a dilemma. It’s either due to (a) a century of epic mismanagement, lately perpetrated by a giant media company which believes it is incapable of putting out a product that’s so bad nobody will buy it, or (b) a tavern owner who was upset about his pet goat not being allowed into the stadium. Which is a Cub fan more likely to believe? Well, the team fired Steve Stone for saying what everybody and his goat already knew about the Cubs: they just weren’t a very good baseball team last year. I don’t care that they blew up the Bartman Ball. I wouldn’t care if they’d blown up Bartman himself. The only curse on the Chicago Cubs is the curse of lowered expectations. They cannot possibly field a team so bad that Cubs fans will abandon them; thus, they are doomed to perpetual sub-mediocrity.

Thus, you can hate two of the thirty-two teams in baseball. What else can’t a baseball detractor hate? Hands off the commissioner. If Bud Selig could figure out how to make money off the Brewers, and manage to bamboozle the people of Wisconsin into building a stadium that hasn’t worked properly since the day it opened, then he’s exactly the sort of person who ought to be running baseball.

You can’t hate steroids, at least not any more, since any baseball player stupid enough to use them now is more to be pitied than despised. After all, you, too, might be forced to deliver the world’s least believable testimony before Congress someday.

You can’t hate the prices of ballpark concessions, because you willingly pay those prices at the theater, DON’T YOU? Well, at least at the ballpark, you get food that sort of tastes good, instead of bug-riddled Butterfinger bars and a bucket of Artificial Infarction Flavored popcorn.

You can hate baseball TV announcers. You can hate the radio guys, too, but I’d suggest you don’t. It leads to interesting e-mails.

You can hate fantasy baseball players, too. Fantasy football makes sense; you go up against an opponent every weekend. It takes about five minutes a week to run a fantasy football team. Fantasy baseball is different. The non-stop schedule watching and mathematical finagling is enough to take all the fun out of a sport that wasn’t all that fun in the first place.

So we face the question: If all you can truly hate about baseball is the Cubs, the announcers, and the rotisserie-leaguers, is that enough? Does baseball deserve scorn just for those reasons?

I’d say so.

UNCLE TUPELO APPRECIATION WEEK, DAY TWO

I never saw Uncle Tupelo live; they became an ex-band shortly before I heard of them. But I was at one of the very first Son Volt shows ever, and I’ve seen Wilco live six times. However, this is Uncle Tupelo appreciation week, so here’s another of my favorite UT songs, again from No Depression. This is the album opener, “Graveyard Shift,” and if you’ve never heard it, it’s one of the most exciting pieces of music I know.

Hometown, same town blues
Same old walls closing in
Oh what a life a mess can be
I’m sitting here thinking of you once again
Won’t you talk to me

Well, time won’t wait, better open the gate
Get up and start what needs to be done
It’s winding down, there’s much you missed
Working on that graveyard shift
Well, I’m not saying there’s nothing wrong as the day comes along
If what I see is true I could learn to believe
Can’t look away
The powers that be might take it all away
Together we burn, together we burn away

Some say a land of paradise
Some say a land of pain
Well, which side are you looking from
Some people have it all
Some all to gain

Well a man in a tie gonna break his twenty dollar bill
There’s plenty of reasons in this world
We’re no longer standing still
But I’m not saying there’s nothing wrong as the day comes along
If what I see is true I could learn to believe
Can’t look away
The powers that be might take it all away
Together we burn, together we burn away

There’s too much time spent looking for a reason
It’s the simple ones that beat the most truth
Oh, what a life a mess can be
I’m sitting here thinking of you once again
Give a thought to me

Well, time won’t wait, better open the gate
Get up and start what needs to be done
It’s running down, there’s much you missed
Working on that graveyard shift
But I’m not saying there’s nothing wrong as the day comes along
If what I see is true I could learn to believe
Can’t look away
The powers that be might take it all away
Together we burn, together we burn away

UNCLE TUPELO APPRECIATION WEEK

By virtue of the power I possess due to paying $10 a month for a blog, I hereby declare March 16-20 to be Uncle Tupelo Appreciation Week (UTAW) and call upon on all bloggers familiar with the boys from Belleville to post their favorite lyrics, anecdotes, close encounters, and so on. I plan on posting something every day from now (very late Wednesday) to Sunday, starting with the lyrics to “Whiskey Bottle” from Uncle Tupelo’s debut album, No Depression:

Persuaded, paraded, inebriated, in doubt
Still aware of everything life carries on without
‘Cause there’s one too many faces with dollar sign smiles
Got to find the shortest path to the bar for a while

A long way from happiness
In a three-hour-away town
Whiskey bottle over Jesus
Not forever, just for now
Not forever, just for now

There’s a trouble around, it’s never far away
The same trouble’s been around for a life and a day
I can’t forget the sound, ’cause it’s here to stay
The sound of people chasing money and money getting away

A long way from happiness
In a three-hour-away town
Whiskey bottle over Jesus
Not forever, just for now
Not forever, just for now

In between the dirt and disgust there must be
Some air to breathe and something to believe
Liquor and guns the sign says quite plain
Somehow life goes on in a place so insane

A long way from happiness
In a three-hour-away town
Whiskey bottle over Jesus
Not forever, just for now
Not forever, just for now