Parenthetically Yours

Favorite Things Friday!

Would you look at this? I'm writing two days in a row! You'd think I could carve an hour out of each day like a succulent slice of turkey (that's two Thanksgiving references in two consecutive blog entries, for those of you who care about the trivial and the self-indulgent side of me), but it's not that easy when you have no self-discipline or "goals."

But here we are, one week after I introduced Randy's Favorite Things, and I'm back and ready to promote, wag, push, sell, extol, celebrate, honor, and hail the fabulous, the funky, and the funny things I run across each week. It'll always be a little different, it'll always be the same: One man's opinion (albeit a totally awesome opinion). 

First up, my friend Barak (pronounced like military sleeping quarters, not our president-elect) is a funny, funny man. You'll find a link to his site over there on the right side of the page. He's been getting some fairly steady work lately in commercials and he's always the sarcastic guy with indie glasses and a beard. I thought he was being unfairly typecast until I remembered that's he's a sarcastic guy with indie glasses and a beard. At any rate, he recently shot a commercial for Swedish Fish. Remember those things? Sorta like gummy bears, but better and more, uhmm...european? They're an odd little snack. The marketing is just as odd. As a side note, apparently it was in the 90s when they shot this outside Los Angeles. 

Swedish Fish from 50YearPlan on Vimeo.

Next, in an attempt to come across as "smart" and "well-read" and "able to type quotation marks," I found a great quote by one of my favorite writers, Jon Meacham. He's the managing editor of Newsweek and a native Tennessean, which explains why he wrote a new biography on Andrew Jackson, arguably the most scandal-ridden president in U.S. history. You think Clinton had problems? Jackson was in an entirely other league. The quote is from Meacham's new book, American Lion: Andrew Jackson in the White House.

"The number of scandals that threatened to consume Jackson between his admission to the bar and his election to the White House--declaring Marshall Law in New Orleans, the execution of mutineers in the field, invading Florida (arguably without proper authority), killing British subjects, his murky marriage, his slaying of Charles Dickenson, the gunfight with the Bentons--would have ended most political careers."

Funny.

Last up, is a shout-out to a hometown homie (and my former boss), Tim McGraw who got called in at the last minute to host Saturday Night Live, my favorite show on television for the past 20-something years. Apparently, Justin Timberlake was supposed to host but had to cancel. This could give a bit of a boost to his plateau-ing career. Anyway, I'm happy for the guy and here are a couple of promos for tomorrow's show. 

 

For those of you who care, Katie and I have been 99% successful in our quest to stay off bread. We indulged in the occasional pinch of cookie or cake when it was offered. We don't wan't to be rude.

(rw)

Home Recording for Idiots, Morons, and Dummies (like me)

For me, trying to learn intense recording software is like setting down and trying to start (and finish) War and Peace in a day. In Russian. In Braille. The learning curve is—how do you say?—steep. Steep, as in, Mt. Kilimanjaro is steep.

It’s something I’ve been meaning to do, though, for eight years. That’s slightly on the pathetic side. I was in my early thirties when I got my first recording equipment. It was a portable device that had everything you need, built right in. No need for a separate computer, so went the sales pitch, just plug in and record. Not a problem. That seemed simple enough. Oh yeah, there were about 1,300 buttons, knobs, faders, levers, and pulleys crammed onto the 14x20 surface around of the machine. I broke all kinds of child labor laws hiring various toddlers whose fingers were small enough to hit the record button. Never really got the hang of that particular device.

Then I moved on to the famed ProTools software about four years ago. This too was an all-inclusive package with a small interface allowing me to get sounds from a guitar or a microphone into the computer (ahhh…the files are IN the computer). I bought a nice microphone, bought a little keyboard, mic stands, cables, speakers…everything to complete the set-up. Then I sat down to make my first recording. I double-click on the ProTools icon, wait a moment, and before I know it I’m hearing the faint whizzing and whirring of a hard drive in motion, all the while, unbeknownst to anyone (save maybe Steve Jobs) RAM was getting gobbled up like a Thanksgiving turkey at a homeless shelter. Beep. What’s that? Oh, it’s some sort of message from my computer. Let’s see. You should quit while you’re ahead. The road before you will be marked with despair, frustration, and expensive trips to a pro audio store near you (click here to find the nearest authorized ProTools technician). Uhmm. What? Actually it said something more along the lines of Gobbledy-gook blah blah technical words blah blah 01100101 etc BORING.   

Paralysis. To make a long story short, I used it all of 10-15 hours, and about 13.5 of those hours were spent looking through the PDF manual. I just wanted to hit a button and hear the songs in my head coming from my speakers.

So, anyway, I got the itch to record again a few months ago and hatched a plan. I dug out the old ProTools interface only to find out that while technology had continued to progress, my old software became completely inoperable. So…I decided to downgrade to an older version Apple’s operating system (nerd alert!). Turns out this older version was still too new for the old ProTools. In fact, ProTools didn’t even offer an upgrade from such an old version. Aargh.  This was gonna cost me deep if I went forward. Like, a lot of money. That would’ve meant less food and shelter for me. Nope. I like my roof and coffee. So does Katie. I’m not bowing.

After many sleepless soul-searching nights, some practical instruction by a friend who knows what he’s doing, and a new favorite (and less expensive) recording program, I’m FINALLY up and running. Well, if by “running” you mean “tripping every other step and spilling coffee all over my shirt while simultaneously running into walls, both theoretical and literal.” I’ve actually been able to get a few things recorded. They’re primitive, at best, but still sound better than pretty much any Pavement record.

Join me here tomorrow for another installment of Randy’s Favorite Things. ProTools will NOT be on the list. 

(rw)

RANDY'S FAVORITE THINGS

Hear ye! Hear ye! Friday's are becoming a whole new thing here at the ol' blog. Today I introduce RANDY'S FAVORITE THINGS...sorta like Oprah, except I'm not going to give you any money or free iPods. I'm just interested in turning people on to cool sites, music, companies, books, movies, etc. I'm spreading the love and hope you'll like what you see/hear/read/buy. 

I'm not sure how many of you are familiar with PASTE Magazine, but it's, without a doubt, my favorite. They cover every genre of music, film, and books, but only by people who have something substantial to say. You won't find the latest flavor-of-the-month music or big-budget movie release...but you will find the latest Griffin House or Wes Anderson offering. Their tagline is Signs of life in music, film, and culture. and it was started by these Christian guys in Atlanta who realized there was an entire genre and subculture of art going nearly unnoticed--that is, there's a whole lot of art out there dealing with Eternal and Universal themes. Great stuff, but it's usually pretty under-the-radar. Their point was and is to get this stuff noticed.

Well, one of my favorite new sites, www.noisetrade.com (started by Derek Webb and others) is offering a Name Your Own Price subscription to PASTE. You can get an entire year's subscription for as little as $1...or more, you decide. I signed up for $5. You can even renew if you're currently subscribing. Here's the catch: after the year is up, you will automatically be renewed for another year at the going rate of $19.99. Not a bad deal, in my estimation.  So, CLICK THIS for the Paste offer.

FAVORITE THING #2:

My favorite local music happening, Ten Out of Tenn has released their Christmas CD and tour dates. I'm not going to over-hype it too much because I did that already here. If you'll click the link to their Myspace site, you can hear many of the songs and find out how you can own it. This will be the most-played music this season in the Williams household. 

Well, except for our own little Christmas EP. You'll be hearing more about that soon enough. Let's just say my wife has a ridiculously great voice. 

(rw)

CMA, Country is Mediocre Again

So I was all prepared to write a lengthy diatribe about last night’s CMA Awards which was broadcast from our fair city here in Nashville. Diatribe is a little harsh, I guess, but you know what I mean. The main point I was hoping to make is that country music is not simply putting a fiddle and/or a banjo in a pop or rock song. I was getting myself worked up for some morning sarcasm. 

But, you know that feeling you get when you see someone do something better than you could imagine yourself ever doing that something? It’s part awe and it’s part ugh. Well, that’s how I felt this morning when I went to EW.com. I’m a fan of Entertainment Weekly. It’s a great magazine about “the industry” without the stuffiness of Variety or the pop-trashiness of US or People. They have a blog there called PopWatch. It’s funny, self-aware, and really well-informed.  Turns out, the girl said everything I was already thinking and said it in a funnier, more incisive way than I ever could’ve churned out. Plus, after having read it, all I wanted to do was steal some of her better jabs.

So, with that in mind, and to keep me from plagiarism, I’m going to give you some highlights from PopWatch and suggest you check out the entire blog here.

“…it was like a Chevy commercial that wouldn't end but instead kept bumping up against an ad for Ambien starring Jewel…

“Carrie Underwood. Yes, it was cheating to bring out the wife of a deceased soldier to introduce "Just a Dream" and get the waterworks going before she even sang a note. But this was a true showstopper, the emotional equivalent of Sugarland doing "Stay" last year, and official notice that we can now stop looking down on Ms. Underwood because of how she got here. The girl is learning how to use her voice for something other than blowing the doors off the joint every time she steps to the bedazzled mic -- and then she went ahead and blew the doors off anyway. I didn't breathe during this…

“Kid Rock. Regardless of what you think about the song or its presence on country radio, it is really hard to deny that Kid Rock is having way more fun than all of us.

“Awards of special merit. Hootie, a natural performer who really did write a very good country song in "Don't Think I Don't Think About It"…George Strait, because he is George Strait, and Paisley for obviously rewriting several of his jokes at the emcee mic, resulting in occasional brilliance. ("Left game controller," heh-heh.)

 “Kellie Pickler's incompetence as both a country music superstar and/or Pat Benatar! I give her props for bringing everyone to tears during last year's performance of "I Wonder," but she has now skidded back to zero on the cred scale..

“I will go easy on Taylor Swift because if I went hard on the little dead-eyed darling and her ridiculous ballroom dancing fairy tale fiasco (your move, Twilight), I'd probably never get my rage back under control. So she can't sing, has exactly zero stage presence, and has now used the same My-Costume-Change-Will-Blow-Your-Mind gag on two straight awards shows...Carry on, my wayward waif…

“A strong block…of Urban, Underwood, and Sugarland, while James Otto seemed like a sweet kid who should not be taking hair tips from any of the following people: Billy Ray Cyrus, Ronnie Dunn, or that one dude in Little Big Town. And if I'm to believe that Kenny Chesney and his nervous tic motion of the head to the left are what makes for a 97-time Entertainer of the Year, I should hope he'd come packing more than Bob Marley's backing band, now fronted by the reggae equivalent of that Filipino dude Journey found to impersonate Steve Perry. I'm sorry, Wailers lead singer Elan Atias. You seem very talented...but I am not on a cruise…I know many, many people love Kenny -- but I can't stop respectfully wondering how much rum is involved in that affection, because I just don't get it, and I'm trying to get it, and a bar-band rendition of "Three Little Birds" is not helping me get it. Was Trace Adkins really that good on "You're Gonna Miss This," or was Kenny really that pointless?

“We ended with the night's Big Special Guest, Shania Twain, who did not sing, but instead gave Kenny his EOTY award, got ogled, and disappeared into Canada for what I hope is not another six years of winter. Please come back, Shania. While you're at it, bring Garth Brooks, Faith Hill and, I dunno, Alabama with you. Open your mouths and turn these disposable, auto-tuned posers to dust that blows into the upper recesses of the Sommet Center, never to be heard from again. I know that's mean to the disposable posers, and doesn't give enough credit to the talented folks still holding it down with all their might. And I know that the crossover success of people like Shania and Garth and Faith is greatly responsible for the Pickle(r) we're in now. But if this was country's biggest night (until May)... that don't impress me much.”

Yeah. What she said.

(rw)

Now, let's let ol' Hag remind us how it's done without pyrotechnics, autotune, and stylists.

Torture and Denial

I made a flippant remark Sunday night that has had severe consequences. That one, unplanned sentence has become known in my head as “the ant” because, like that tiny six-legged critter, you wouldn’t think it could carry such weight. But it can and does.

In a fit of general health frustration (which is primarily a result of less exercise), I made the exclamation, “Let’s not eat bread until Thanksgiving.” Katie immediately went for it. If there’s any opportunity that I’ll eat more consciously, she’s all over it like Republicans on Arkansas (or, to be fair, Democrats on Oregon). So she, somewhat bewildered by my comment, hastily agreed. I suspect she may have fallen in love with me all over again too, but that’s pure conjecture.

Giving up bread, for us, is not like giving up Coke or cable. No, those things are optional. Bread, however, is part of my foundational nutrition guide. I mean, come on—it’s a FOOD GROUP! Do you expect me to give up an ENTIRE FOOD GROUP?! That leaves me with only three groups to choose from: sugar, coffee, and meat. That doesn’t seem healthy to me.

It was an easy directive to follow that night since we’d run out of Ezekiel bread over the weekend and hadn’t yet been to the grocery store (pause: if you live in middle Tennesee, have you been to our new Trader Joe’s in Green Hills yet? Healthy, delicious, and cheaper than Kroger. Now, GO!). We simply had no bread options that night, so the decision was made for us.

The next morning, I drove Katie to work and had to meet someone a couple of hours later so I decided to go to Panera to return some emails. Now, what kind of moron goes to Panera when they’ve sworn off bread? Apparently, I’m the kind of moron who does just such. Can you imagine a recovering junkie attending a heroin carnival? That’s what it was like. As if this wasn’t bad enough, Katie met a friend for breakfast this morning…AT PANERA. Why are we torturing ourselves?

Maybe it’s partly because we want to know our respective bread thresholds. Or maybe we just need to smell the warm, buttery goodness, drizzled with just enough honey to make the taste buds explode in ecstatic jubilation.

Or, maybe that’s just the tremors talking.

(rw)

A Long Time Comin'

Indulge me for a second. Beyond the politics, beyond the issues, beyond red and blue, history was made last night. The sight of men and women, young and old, black and white, embracing, sobbing told me that this was bigger than issues and, I’m ashamed to say, bigger than I’d realized. In the quiet darkness of the house last night I wept. I wept for a community and a culture that has now been more than symbolically, but literally released to their empowering destiny. Legislation has released them in bits and pieces—a shackle here, a human right there—over the past 100 years. But legislation only gives the potential for opportunity. The real hope for opportunity lies in the everyday interactions between man and woman, young and old, black and white—how we treat our fellow man and the opportunities we give each other. The citizens of our country extended a new level of opportunity, not just to one man or one family but to an entire generation and culture, not just for now, but forever.

My mother was a student at Little Rock Central High School during its historic integration. The stories I’ve heard from her about the private goings-on in classrooms, the hushed conversations, and the barbaric actions of some moronic students have always been a touchstone I return to whenever racial issues surface. It stings me, it always has. And when I hear Sam Cooke sing, it makes me cry. When the president-elect referenced the song in his acceptance speech last night, it was all I could do to keep from standing up in the middle of my living room and shouting “YES!”

I'd love say I voted for him and that I helped create this moment, but I didn’t. I may seem like a hypocrite, like I'm talking out of both sides of my mouth, but hear me out: I didn’t vote for Obama because it would have been merely a racial vote. I so desperately wanted to see an African-American as president in my lifetime, sooner than later, but I didn’t want to vote for anyone based on the color of their skin. That’s the point—to get beyond race. I voted my conscience on the issues. I’m proud of my vote. I’m also more proud of this country than I’ve been in a long time.

Somewhere in deepest south, one final chain has fallen from the hands and feet of plantation ghosts, releasing them to finally, finally, rest in peace.

I was born by the river in a little tent

And just like the river, I've been running ever since

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

 

It's been too hard living, but I'm afraid to die

I don't know what's up there beyond the sky

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

 

I go to the movie, and I go downtown

Somebody keep telling me "Don't hang around"

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

 

Then I go to my brother and I say, "Brother, help me please"

But he winds up knocking me back down on my knees

 

There've been times that I've thought I couldn't last for long

But now I think I'm able to carry on

It's been a long time coming

But I know a change is gonna come

 

(rw)

Bug

Yeah, there's a stomach bug going around. Katie had it all weekend and I've got it today. It's not pretty. I feel as if I'm simultaneously giving birth to an eel, a dragon, and barbed wire.

I'll see you guys tomorrow.

(rw)