March 2009 Archives

Tim Marchman writes for Sports Illustrated? Why wasn't I informed earlier?! Oh Brenda, I'm very concerned about your secretarial skills of late! I would seriously consider firing you if you weren't imaginary!

Readers of this site know I've shared my love for Mr. Marchman many times. He is a quality baseball writer, and the only reason to read the now-defunct NY Sun. He wrote a column on Monday about the difficulty of predicting playoff teams this time of year. As always, it is quality stuff. Go read it now.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

These are all songs I heard in the police van last night while I awaited paperwork, presented without comment, because I will now look at them all as inappropriate (even though I would have anyway before this incident--for either walk-up music or soundtrack to sitting in a police van).

* "Single Ladies", Beyonce

* "Lollipop", Lil' Wayne

* "Poker Face", Lady GaGa
Yes, I know I picked this song already, way back when, but it bears repeating that I heard this on a police radio (!) while waiting to file a stolen vehicle report. So this terrible song is doubly weird for me now.

Did you know that if your car's stolen, you have to call 911? My first impulse was to call the local precinct. As much as having your car stolen might be a lifestyle crisis and an emotional trauma, it doesn't qualify as an emergency in my book. At least not on the level I associate with a 911 call. But the dispatcher told me to call 911, so I did as I was told.

Did you know that you can call up 911 and hear weird fax noises instead of a real person? I seriously doubt "911" is close to any kind of modem number, but that's what I heard on my first try.

Did you know the 911 dispatcher will not ask you where your car was stolen from, but where you are? I guess that makes sense in a way, but I figured this piece of info was vital to the whole process.

Did you know that you could wait for 2+ hours for the police to arrive? After sitting by my front window for a small eternity, I actually called 911 again to check up on it (I called the local precinct first, but they didn't pick up at all--a comforting thought). Even more amazing, when I called back, the dispatcher was apologetic. "I'm so sorry for any inconvenience", she said, as if I'd been put on hold while trying to order a mattress.

Did you know that they'll send two cops out in one large squad van? Seems like a waste of gas/space to me. You could've comfortably seated a softball team in this thing, but it was occupied by just two officers and their equipment bags.

Did you know that a nightstick sheathed in the straps of a NYPD duffel bag looks really frightening? Don't ask me why.

Did you know that early-90s cars are in high demand at chop shops? Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine my 1990 Olds would be a target for theft. But the cops informed me that it "fits the profile" of cars swiped for parts these days. It makes sense, I suppose--a lot of those cars are still on the road, and in need of frequent repair. It was also in fairly good condition, both operation-wise and aesthetically--other than a mismatched replacement bumper, which, in my opinion, gave the car character. So in retrospect, even though I had no fear of my car ever being stolen,

Did you know that it's a bad idea to park your car near a highway access road? Even one lined with houses? A thief can use said access road to get on the highway and be ten miles away before you blink. So even if it's late on a Sunday night and you're tired and there's no other spaces near your house, don't park there. This would've occurred to me--if it had also occurred to me that my car was enticing to thieves (see above).

Did you know the cops will drive you around to look for your car, assuming you just forgot where you parked it? Believe me, this was the first thought that crossed my mind. But I had very clear memories of parking the car where I did, because I seldom park that far from my house. I indulged the cops, because it couldn't hurt to look around the neighborhood, but I had little hope of finding it. Based on my description, they pointed out every boat-sized car in a five-block radius, and I had to sadly inform them that none of these behemoths were my car.

Did you know there are Indian cops? I met one! I grew up in a Cop Town, and I see cops of every ethnic variety on the streets all the time, but this was the first cop of the Indian persuasion I'd met. Actually, I can't definitively say he was Indian, but he did seem to hail from the Subcontinent. Then again, he could have also been from a Caribbean nation with a large Indian immigrant population (say, Trinidad). Then again, is any of this remarkable at all? What difference does it make where the man is from?

Did you know that I'm vaguely racist? At least I feel so after writing that last paragraph.

Did you know that staring at your vehicle/registration information on a laptop in a squad van feels upsetting and Big Brother-ish? I tried to look away as I waited for paperwork/procedure to be finished, but there was nothing else to look at, except for a space on the block where my car was supposed to be. I expected to see my name followed by the word DOUBLEPLUSUNGOOD.

Did you know it costs an assload of money to ship a toddler's car seat? Looks like I'll be taking the bus back from Babys R Us some time this week. Sure looking forward to that.

Did you know that, the next morning on the bus, you'll stare out the window constantly, as if you're going to see your car sitting on the curb somewhere? And you'll even take your keys with you so you can hop out and take it home where it belongs? Don't bother, 'cause your car is down to the axles by now.

Did you know I got that car from my grandfather? And that I'd left a bunch of his stuff in there? A small rosary that hung from the gear shift. A pair of very large sunglasses. A small notepad where he wrote down the date and odometer reading every time he filled the gas tank. I didn't want to disturb any of these items, because I always felt it wasn't really my car; it was his and I was just borrowing it. If I had the slightest suspicion that it would be stolen someday, I definitely would have taken these things out.

Especially the notepad. It was such a classic Grampa thing. I can see him writing in it, on a million different trips we took, whether it was to Cooperstown or Niagara Falls or just into town to get pizza. He wouldn't start the car again until he made his note.

Did you know that if his car was stolen, but I still had that notepad, I'd feel a lot better this morning?

I'm sick of all this criticism of the charts and graphs in the Republican budget plan. I thought the liberal media would be able to recognize the aesthetic reality we were going for. But obviously, I have to explain myself to you philistines.

Unlike the President, Republicans have no interest in the showy maximalism of Shepherd Fairey. The pop culture references, the retro-Soviet imagery, the cold, angular typefaces--ugh, it makes me cringe!

Have you read the President's budget? It's incomprehensible! What font did he use for this thing? I wouldn't be surprised to see overlapping type in here, like some horrible early 90s music rag. I thought we were all over David Carson, but I guess some of us aren't!

No, Republicans harken back to the sleek minimalism of Milton Glaser. Like "I Heart NY", one of the most successful ad campaigns of all time. That art was such a perfect synthesis of simplicity and complication, it almost quelled the burning hatred I have for New York and all its out-of-touch liberal elites. And its hopelessly navel-gazing art world.

Is our art simple? I would ask, Is a line simple? It depends on where the line comes from, and where it leads to. A line means nothing, but a line means everything. I would think you would all know that by now.

I shouldn't have to explain the Republican budget plan to you people. It should stand on its own, and if you had even the most rudimentary grounding in art and graphic design, you would know that!

God, I haven't been this mad since I went to the last Matthew Barney exhibit!

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Nothing Natural", Lush
This choice is a not-at-all-veiled excuse for me to post the video for a song I loved once upon a time. In the early 90s, just prior to the arrival of Nirvana, 120 Minutes was chock full o' English shoegazer bands that I liked a lot (this would be the Dave Kendall years, not the Kennedy years). Mind you, I didn't actually have cable at this time. I basically begged my more fortunate grandparents (who lived next door) to let me monopolize their VCR, for taping both this and Mystery Science Theatre 3000. They basically weren't watching TV when 120 Minutes or MST3K were on anyway, and they trusted me to not tape anything porn-arific.

Lush would later mutate into a much more poppy outfit. Or did they want to be poppy along and did the shoegaze thing to fit in with the 1991 music scene? In either case, I like this version better. Sheets of noise, cooing vocals--kinda like a more aesthetically pleasing My Bloody Valentine (more pleasing to me, anyway).



* "Rubber Car", Enon
I loved this when it came out in the early Oughts. It's like some mutant industrial Prince song. Haven't really dug any other Enon tunes since then, but maybe that's because this is so awesome taht everything else pales in comparison. I would love to see a stadium reverberate with RUBBA CAR!

* "Bumble Boogie", LIberace
I'm always a little suspicious when an artist passes from complete pop acceptance to universal derision. I think it's defense mechanism put on by people who realize that they bought into something that's no longer popular, so they have to be extra-harsh in their denunciation so no one suspects their Dirty Secret. Like Vanilla Ice, who's a walking joke, even though he sold more than 10 million albums. Somebody bought them CDs, people.

Earlier case in point: Liberace. He's a punchline nowadays for a million different reasons. But in the 1950s and 60s, he was HUGE. Like, Elvis and Sinatra Huge, just for a different audience. So to me, people's reactions to him have less to do with opinions formed by actually listening to his music (since he's not someone you exactly hear on the radio all the time), but by the collective embarrassment of, "Jeez, we liked THAT?"

Then again, having watched this video, I can't say I blame people for covering their tracks. There's just so much weirdness here. Like, turning "Flight of the Bumblebee" into a Fats Waller-style piano romp. And a fey, super-white guy doing a Fats Waller-style piano romp. And the out-of-nowhere emergence of a string quartet. It contains all the aggressive weirdness of something that has no idea how weird it is. Sadly, Liberace does not mention his brother George.

As this title implies, what follows barely qualifies as a review of the Mets' new ballpark, CitiField, aka TARP Memorial Grounds at Bernie Madoff Stadium, which I visited on Sunday for its first event: a college baseball game betwen St. John's and Georgetown. There are several reasons for this.

The first was my not-very-smart notion to bring The Baby with me. In an ideal world, she can say she saw the first ever game that took place at this stadium, if she grows up to care about such trivial nonsense (and if she grows up to care about trivial nonsense, she is definitely my daughter).

But in the real world, she's two-and-a-half years old, at a stage where her every whim must be catered to or a complete thermonuclear meltdown ensues (and sometimes occurs even when her every demand has been met). So The Wife and I spent much of our time trying to stave off the inevitable freakouts. This left little time to make detailed observations.

Second of all, the stadium was clearly not quite finished yet in many respects. For instance, several large tile spaces in the Jackie Robinson Rotunda, which should have been filled with portraits of its namesake, were instead filled with slabs of sheetrock. Nearly all the concession stands were manned and serving customers--however, nearly all of them were either missing some of the juicier new food items promised to fans, or experiencing some kind of technical difficulties. I saw no fewer than three escalators out of service (I took this to be a subtle homage to Shea).

Finally, crummy weather depressed attendance to begin with, and most of the folks who showed up were clearly there to check out the new joint rather than see the actual game being played (myself included). So CitiField did not have the energy it would during a Mets game. An essential part of the fan experience is being around other rabid fans, high-five-ing complete strangers and second-guessing bullpen moves with them. In the absence of that atmosphere, it's a stadium trip in name only.

For all these reasons, I can't judge CitiField in any definitive way. I don't think I could judge any ballpark unless I've been there at least twice, and under optimal conditions. But I did want to post some pics for the curious, and record my initial thoughts for posterity.

If I had to sum up the feeling of a Mets fan visiting CitiField for the first time, it's akin to buying a brand new car. You got sold on all the new fancy features, but when you finally take delivery, you don't know how to use half of them, and owner's manual is no help, and this one light keeps blinking on the dashboard and you have no idea what it means. You figure that once you get used to the new car and learn how to use it better, you'll love it, but for now you're kind of nostalgic for the old beater you used to drive.

More pics and attempts at detailed analysis after the jump:

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "I'm a Boy", The Who
A good slice of Mod-era Who, but the subject matter obviously puts it in the Inappropriate ledger. I'm surprised they were allowed to release this song way back in the 60s. Not too many songs about crossdressers back then, even in England (except "Arnold Layne", that's about it). And as far as I know, not any others about kids forced to crossdress because their mothers wish they were girls.



* "Octopus", Syd Barrett
Mentioning an early Pink Floyd track in today's first selection made me think of this Syd Barrett tune from The Madcap Laughs. That entire album is like listening to someone desperately cling to sanity, and it's sad and terrifying to know that he never truly succeeded. I find this cut from it particularly awesome/disturbing.



* "To Be With You", Mr. Big
It's no better or worse than any other crappy 80s Power Ballad, but it's inspired far too many dudes with acoustic guitars to film themselves playing it, then post it to YouTube. And no, I'm not going to link to any of those videos, because that's an almost textbook definition of shooting fish in a barrel.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

*"Girl Afraid", The Smiths
I wanted to include a Smiths song in this list, but nearly all of them would be inappropriate in this context, so it was hard to pick just one. Then, I heard this song pop up on iTunes shuffle, and the lightbulb went off.



* "We're Having a Baby", The Make-Up
Not to be confused with "She's Having My Baby", which is just as inappropriate. I can think of some Make-Up tunes that would work as walk-up music ("Untouchable Sound" for one), but this ain't one of them.



* "Wo Ist Du Haus, Mama", Johnny Cash
They used to play this track often on WFMU, and I could never figure out if it was hilarious or bone-chilling. Just like The Beatles, The Man in Black cut a bunch of tracks in German early in his career. As much as Johnny Cash in English is bad-ass, that's how much Johnny Cash in German is fucking terrifying. All of the Deutsch versions are weird in this "video", but fast-forward to 6:24 to hear the especially bizarre tune "Wo Ist Du Haus, Mama".

I'll be traveling to CitiField for the first time this weekend, to watch St. John's take on Georgetown. That would be a great matchup, if it were a basketball game. And it was still 1987.

Obviously, my main objective in this outing is to grab a sneak peek of the Mets' new ballpark. Lotsa web sites have been posting pics and previews lately, so I'm ultra excited. I may even live-TwitPic the event. The Wife might, too. We shall keep you posted.

But if there's anything you wanna know, any item you want to see a photo of, or any questions you want answered, comment here and I will endeavor to answer them on Sunday.

Huge-ass photo-packed post to follow on Monday. Unless it sucks. In which case, huge-ass profanity-laced post to follow on Monday.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "The Battle of Evermore", Led Zeppelin
I deem this song inappropriate because it does not rock, and because it's full of ridiculous medieval imagery and pseudo-mystical nonsense. And because it inspired a generation of dumb stoner metalheads to try to pick up 12-string guitars and write songs about hobbits.

Side note: There are many rock bands with have a charismatic frontman who is the strongest element from an image standpoint, but the absolute weakest musical link. Led Zeppelin is a prime example. See also: The Doors.

* The song from the tunnel scene in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory"
Imagine you're at a game, and as someone comes to bat, the Jumbotron shows this scene. I mean, just picture this horror broadcast to a crowd of 50,000. By the time Gene Wilder sang "is it raining, is it snowing, is a hurricane a-blowing..." everyone in the stands would have soiled themselves.



* "Prayer to God", Shellac
Possibly the angriest song ever. Especially if you've ever seen them do it live. I saw Shellac twice, they did this song both times, and I swear my sternum was vibrating by the end as Steve Albini screamed KILL HIM! FUCKING KILL HIM! KILL HIM ALREADY! KILL HIM!

Also, never heckle Steve Albini unless you're prepared to get totally owned. (I absolutely hate the Show Heckling trend; every show I go to now, some hipster douche has a whole routine worked up in his head to yell at quiet parts of the show. But that's a whole other post.) One time I saw Shellac, some girl kept screaming at the top of her lungs, in a seemingly pseudo-ironic way. Albini finally couldn't take it anymore and yelled back, "Jesus, woman, what is your day job--siren?!"

There's one block of Flushing Avenue, right around Bedford, that's completely torn up. And it's been completely torn up since I started taking the bus to work.

The street is literally ripped open, with a huge, gaping hole cordoned off by an rickety wooden fence. You can see down inside, where months of rainwater have accumulated, leaving a lime green, radioactive scummy pond. Enormous segments of concrete sewer pipe lay on the sidewalk. They once had screens on their open ends that looked kinda like cheesecloth, but those were weathered away long ago, and their remnants flap in the breeze.

None of this crap has moved in at least 6 months. I don't know who's to blame: the city, or whatever slumlord started repairs and never finished them. But because of it, my bus gets trapped on this block every morning, thus making my commute far longer than it need be.

So this morning, while I'm stuck at this point, I see some Hasidic kids playing on the sidewalk. They're taking cardboard box from the kosher grocery store across the street, and they're trying to bale a puddle of dirty rainwater with it. They range in age from 4 to 8, and they look like they're having the time of their lives.

I see this is in my own home. My daughter will play with a 10 cent hair scrunchie, or a paper towel roll, and have as much fun as she does playing with expensive Christmas presents. If not more.

So my parental advice is, exploit this childhood window while you can. Forget the Baby Einstein nonsense and get the kid an empty pallet of tissue boxes from behind the local Duane Reade. The kid won't care, and you won't have to cajole them to play with that hand-crafted wooden xylophone you wasted 30 dollars on.

Mr. President, Chuck Todd, NBC News. Some have compared this financial crisis to a war, and in times of war, past presidents have called for some form of sacrifice. Why, given this new era of responsibility that you're asking for, why haven't you asked for something specific that the public should be sacrificing to participate in this economic recovery?
Chuck, I think Americans are sacrificing a lot right now, doing a lot of belt tightening to get through this rough patch...
No, that's simply not good enough. I think you should demand that the American people sacrifice something very specific.
I don't really understand what you're getting at.
I want you to ask Americans to stop eating hot dogs.
Why?
I think they're gross.
I won't ask Americans to forego hot dogs just because you don't like them, Chuck.
What about kielbasa? Certainly Americans should quit their wanton consumption of kielbasa in such a financial environment.
I don't think a reduction of kielbasa purchases will help our economy one bit
What about those weird mini-pepperoni things? You know, like you see next to the cash register at all-night delis? Yeesh, those things creep me out, glistening in their plastic tubes under the fluorescent light. Ick!
What do those things cost, like, a buck? That's not gonna break anyone's budget.
Is there any type of sausage product you'd like Americans to give up for the duration of this economic crisis?
That kind of decision should be made by each individual family. It's not the president's job to tell the American people what processed foods they can and can't eat.
Baloney!
Excuse me? Do you think you know more about the executive branch than I do?!
No, I mean baloney! We can get rid of that, right?
Chuck, if you have issues with luncheon meat, work those out on your own time. Other people at this press conference have questions.
Sure, I understand..oh wait, this just in! The National Science-y Institute says the nation's supply of Slim Jims is contaminated with Melting Brain Disease! Guess you'll have to ban those, huh?
No, I'm banning you from presidential press conferences. For three years.
Do you know who you're talking to? I did those stupid electoral maps all night on MSNBC on Election Day! I MADE YOU, BARRY!

A recently leaked excerpt from Jeff Pearlman's upcoming book on Roger Clemens (The Rocket Who Fell to Earth, which sounds less like a sports tome and more like a David Bowie album) alleges that Mike Piazza used performance enhancing drugs. And by alleges, I mean Pearlman says Piazza totally did them.

Although--unless there's more in the book than the excerpt contains--the accusations come mostly from unnamed sources, all of whom say some variation of "Yeah, we're pretty sure he did it," without any specifics. Same goes for the one former player who went on the record: Reggie Jefferson, who's most famous for having a hissy fit and quitting baseball for good when the Red Sox left him of their playoff roster in 1999.

And if you want an idea of how much of a douche Jefferson is, consider the first line of the article linked above: "This is not how Reggie Jefferson expected to begin the playoffs, taking care of his newborn infant daughter in Tampa." 'I coulda been playing against the Indians right now, but NOOOO! I just had to come home and take care of this stupid baby!'

However, according to Pearlman, Piazza confided that he used PEDs on occasion to reporters off the record. Pearlman's theory is that Piazza did this to make it an open secret and thus cut off further questioning on the subject.

Bottom line: You can't imply something like this in a book and not be damn sure you won't get sued over it. And the best way to ensure you won't get sued is to print the truth. So I felt it only fair to address this subject, since I've hammered Roger Clemens at every opportunity. And hammered. And hammered.

Part of me wants to split hairs and say that it's unclear when Piazza used PEDs and for how long, whereas Clemens' use is pretty well documented: the post-Boston tail-end of his career, when it looked like his career might be over.

I'm tempted to say that you could jam needles in your ass til the cows came home and it still wouldn't enable you to differentiate a fastball from a changeup in a split second, while Clemens used PEDs to pitch effectively way beyond retirement age.

But who's to say that PEDs didn't help Piazza recover more quickly from the various dings and cuts associated with catching? And how do I know it didn't help him bat better (as opposed to slug better, which I'm sure it did)?

So am I now forced to admit that Mike Piazza is really no better than Roger Clemens? No, I am not.

First off, the use of PEDs doesn't upset me. As far as levels of cheating go, I put it below spitballers and bat corking. To me, it's more like the widespread use of amphetamines in baseball, which goes all the way back to the 1950s. They're both artificial chemical means to improve one's performance.

Plus, MLB's anti-drug policy was such a joke for so long that it practically dared players to do steroids. It was like putting a sack of money out on the street, with a sign that said PLEASE DON'T STEAL.

Granted, I like baseball better now that it welcomes Good Pitching again. Now that batters no longer look like overstuffed sausages stitched together. Now that we have fewer of the Mark McGwire style players--guys who can hit titanic homers and do absolutely nothing else. Now that players no longer shorten their lives to hit a few more dingers.

But I've never gotten fist-shakin' angry over the whole steroids thing. Because first of all, baseball ain't the only offender on the PED front. How many linebackers you think aren't juicing? Football fans don't give a shit, though, because no one cares about numbers in football. No one cares about the players in football. Fans just wanna see Football:The Sport presented to them every Sunday in the fall, by any means necessary. Sometimes I wish baseball fans could look at their sport the same way.

And if you know anything about the history of baseball, you know that steroid use is way low on its list of crimes. For 15-20 years, tons of guys did steroids. And yet the game endures.

What tons of guys didn't do is try to end other players' careers by throwing at their heads, because they couldn't get them out any other way. Or start some weird drama by hurling a shattered bat during a World Series game--and somehow not get kicked out of that game because they're too big to get kicked out of such a huge game. Or get all their reporter buddies to write glowing articles about how they owe all their success to an intense workout regimen. Or protest their innocence when all the evidence pointed elsewhere. Or cajole Congress into giving them hearings to prove their innocence because they're tight with the sitting President's family. 

Nope, last I checked, there was only one very special breed of asshole who did that.

There are several levels of Sports Hate. Lowest are the guys you really don't hate, you just hate the fact that they always beat Your Team, and your hatred is actually a sign of respect (for me, this would be John Smoltz).

Then there are guys who you hate because they always beat Your Team, and who you can't prove are douchebags, but you just know they're douchebags (Greg Maddux, Derek Jeter).

Then there are guys who you hate because they always beat Your Team and you know they're douchebags because they've provided ample evidence (Chipper Jones, Barry Bonds).

And then there are enormous douches whose douchiness breaks the lowly bonds of douchery and passes into supervillainy. Roger Clemens resides in this pantheon, and I have no problem singling him out for an extra fiery, hellish hate that rages like a thousand suns.

If I have to readjust my thinking on anything, it's my attitude toward fans of players on other teams who juiced. We all know the obvious offenders, and I've wondered to myself, "How could those morons root for [fill in the blank]?"

I now realize I was one of those morons. I mean, I always knew I was. I just never had to confront that reality head-on like other fans did.

As usual, Faith and Fear in Flushing said it much better than I could. Ultimately, what did any of these players really do, other than hit baseballs really far and make people happy? And how many of them jacked those homers off of players who were just as "dirty" as them?

So if you cheered for Bonds or Sammy Sosa or Mark McGwire or Brady Anderson or Ken Caminiti, I won't judge you for that.

In turn, don't judge me for rooting for someone who almost single-handedly willed the Mets back from the dead in 1999. Someone who put the capper on a 10-run rally on our Most Hated Rival. Someone who hit the most titanic homers I ever saw, and the most important one I ever saw.

So, we got a deal?

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Dark Entries", Bauhaus
Suggested by The Wife. I like this because it actually sounds like it might be a rockin' walk up tune. But it's ultimately inappropriate because, duh, it's Bauhaus. Unless there's a contingent of major league Goths I'm unaware of.

Speaking of which, I recently heard Bauhaus covering "Ziggy Stardust". Holy crap, did that suck. I don't know what Bowie song they should cover, but that ain't it.

Speaking of which further, I swear on the holy book of your choice that I have a tape of a Jean Shepherd show from 1960 in which Shep describes secretly following around a young woman graffiti artist as she defaces various subway ads. And on one, she scrawls BELA LUGOSI IS DEAD. This blew my mind. Did some Goth chick travel back in time to profess her love for Peter Murphy on the A train?



* "You're the One for Me, Fatty", Morrissey
Also (partially) inspired by The Wife. She suggested "Tomorrow", but I thought this was a better cut off of Your Arsenal. I love that the relative girth of the singer's beloved is not mentioned at all except in the one titular line of the chorus. It almost has nothing to do with the song, and let the childish ludicrousness of it hangs over the song, even when the line is not being sung.



* "Send Me an Angel", Real Life
The sad thing is, I can see a team using this song in some capacity. In fact, I remember last April, with Moises Alou hurt (surprise surprise), the Mets leaned pretty heavily on Angel Pagan. There was one early game against the Phillies where Pagan knocked in the walk-off run in the bottom of the 12th, and the scoreboard flashed SEND US AN ANGEL! Thankfully, they didn't play this song.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Dare Me", The Pointer Sisters
The Wife told me she wanted to compile a list of awesome Walk Up Music for the players on her fantasy team--like, what should play as they come to bat. So I suggested she google each of them and find out their real walk up music. She discovered that "Dare Me" is Derrek Lee's actual walk up music. What makes this even weirder is that the Cubs don't play prerecorded music at Wrigley Field--all songs are played by their organist. So imagine this song played on a stadium-sized organ. And envision the creepy drag-king gangster Pointer Sisters in the video. If that ain't inappropriate, tell me what is.



* "Fistful of Love", Antony and the Johnsons
I avoided hearing these guys for a long time. This weekend, I finally did, and I've heard about as much as I need to, thank you very much. The singer (Antony, I assume?) sounds like a slightly bassier version of Tiny Tim. Hard to pick one song, but I'll go with this one for the double entendres implied by its title.

* "Take My Breath Away", Berlin
Both because it's a sappy, synth-filled love ballad, and because it was on the soundtrack to Top Gun, which is straight up the gayest movie every made.

I remember my first encounter with M&M kids. This was just post college, would've been around 1999/2000. I was on Broadway in the upper 90s, wandering around on my lunch break, when I was accosted by a couple of pre-teens who said they were selling candy for their basketball team. I gave them a buck and walked away with some Peanut M&Ms I had no intention of eating.

I also remember that, in the exact second the kids were out of earshot, I was immediately counter-accosted by some VERY CONCERNED woman who said to me, "You don't REALLY think that money's going to a basketball team, DO YOU?!" I shrugged and told her, "If it's not, there are worse scams."

To this day, I have no doubt that few--if any--of the kids who sell candy in this city do so for actual charities. But again, if it's a scam, to what end? My only theory is that it rids Hershey of every last horrible pack of Peanut M&Ms, since that's the only brand these kids ever have. And because Peanut M&Ms are an abomination.

However, I think this scam--if that is, indeed what it is--has run its course. Because the kids doing it have gotten progressively younger over the years. That suggests to me the real scam is some older scammer convincing naive types that The M&M Job still works.

But I got the real evidence of its demise last night. As I rode the M train home, I heard a kid make his pitch through my iPod headphones. "Scuse me, ladies and gentlemen, sorry to disturb your conversations..." I couldn't see him from my vantage point--I sure wasn't gonna try and make eye contact--but he sounded a little older than the usual M&M kid.

Shortly thereafter, my fellow subway riders cleared a path for him. I found this odd, because people usually ignore the M&M Kids. Plus, this car was pretty packed. But I found out in seconds why they cleared the way for him: He reeked of weed. This guy didn't look nearly as high as the Stoned Man I saw at Toys R Us last December, but he smelled much, much worse.

Any dedicated scammer knows that a scam can only succeed when the scammer appears sincere and respectable. You don't want the public at large to suspect you're using their money for personal gain or nefarious purposes. Or to go roll up a fatty and laugh your ass off to Friday.

Once a scam has passed hands from skilled actors to young kids to degenerates, the scam is dead. I expect The M&M Kids to completely disappear from the city by year's end. And it's all thanks to the Cheech and Chong enthusiast I saw on the M train last night. Thanks, mysterious stranger!

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Dust in the Wind", Kansas
Suggested by Jon from Maplewood over at the Friends of Tom forum. As he put it, "I have always felt that "Dust In the Wind" would be incredibly unsettling to everyone involved. The diverting effect of sports temporarily wiped away...all in earshot reminded of the existential truths about life. Does this next pitch matter? Not really. Ultimately, we will all die." Batter up!

* "Dude Looks Like a Lady", Aerosmith
Another FOT shoutout to Steve of Bloomington for this suggestion. In fact, pretty much any Aerosmith tune mid-80s onward works for our purposes. They all contain extremely high levels of suck. But this tune has some extra levels of inappropriateness to it that should be fairly obvious. It's one of those songs whose mere existence amazes me, never mind that it was a huge hit.

Speaking of which, seen Steven Tyler lately? Good god, he looks like Joan Rivers. Dress as Latter-Day Steven Tyler next Halloween--trust me, you'll clear the sidewalk.

* "No Language in Our Lungs", XTC
I've never tried to parse out my 50 favorite songs ever, but I'm sure this makes the list. In the XTC catalog, "Dear God" might be slightly more inappropriate as walk-up music, what with its aggressive and poignant atheistic message. But "No Language in Our Lungs" gets my nod for being more heart-wrenching. Plus, I'll always associate it with the scene in Freaks and Geeks where Bill begs not to be picked last for softball. He doesn't want to be picked first; he just wants to not be picked last for once in his life. I'm sure you can guess what happens. Lord, this kills me.

First off, kudos to those who joined Scratchbomb's official fantasy baseball league, The League of Calamitous Intent, and drafted with us this past weekend. I thank you for choosing The League of Calamitous Intent as the instrument of your demise.

Round this time of year, I always read two books: the newest edition of Baseball Prospectus, and the 1994 edition of The Official Rule Book and Draft-Day Guide for Rotisserie League Baseball.

I was not into fantasy baseball in 1994. Back then, it was still referred to as "rotisserie baseball" and it seemed to be fading as a pop culture relic of the 80s, like Family Ties and the omnipresent threat of nuclear holocaust. Even at its height, rotisserie baseball was a niche hobby amongst dedicated nerds, sort of a slightly more athletic Dungeons and Dragons. But it's virtually indistinguishable with the brand of fantasy baseball that went mainstream with the rise of the intertubes in the late 90s.

I found this book at my in-laws' house, which is weird because they're not really into baseball. But I don't look gift horses like these in the mouth. It's an awesome time capsule of the waning days of the first fantasy baseball explosion. It also has a bittersweet tone if you remember that the 1994 baseball season didn't end with a World Series, but with a strike.

This book is clearly a spiritual godfather to Baseball Prospectus.  it doesn't have any predictive stats like PECOTA, merely hunches as to what various players will do and what you should pay for them in keeper leagues. But its pithy descriptions of players will ring familiar to any BP reader.

The Guide gives praise where praise is due, of course, but its most entertaining assessment are its bitchiest.

WALT WEISS: Eureka! He played a full season without spending a minute on the DL! Alert the media!

SAMMY SOSA: Ninety percent of Sosa's production came in spectacular but brief bursts followed by long, yawning chasms of nothing. His outfield play can charitably be described as inconsistent. He is constitutionally incapable of hitting  cutoff man. And his teammates consider him a selfish, mindless player. Hey, nobody's perfect.

MARK WHITEN: He had a big season one night last September.

KEVIN McREYNOLDS: Someone wake him up and tell him his career is over.

HAROLD BAINES: Your grandmother has nimbler knees, but as long as he can stand, the man will be able to hit

PAUL O'NEILL: Watch him enough and you realize sitting him against the tough left-handers makes sense. O'Neill gives new meaning to the word intensity. When he runs into a bad streak, the look on his face causes small children in the stands to burst into tears.

FRANK TANANA: About one of every four outings, this master craftsman gives a clinic on pitching. The other three, watch out.

But some of their funniest assessments are extremely brief dismissals:

DAN PASQUA: Pass.

KEVIN MAAS: No Maas.

JOE HESHKETH: Smeshketh

And there are also some prescient reviews of up-and-coming prospects:

CHIPPER JONES: Long regarded as the best minor league prospect in baseball....The early line has him sticking with the big team this spring, playing a little backup infield, then moving over to third if Pendleton continues to show signs of slowing down. Another scenario has Jones pushing Blauser  over to second. Still another has the Chipster going straight to Cooperstown without bothering to play major league ball.

MANNY RAMIREZ: Not a bad major league debut in his hometown, was it? Kid from New York shows up in a Cleveland uniform to play in Yankee Stadium for the first time, packs the stands with friends from the old neighborhood, and proceeds to hit two home runs and a double and drive in five runs. That's the way we want to break in. At the plate, he resembles Juan Gonzalez, with his front-leg kick and solid 190-pound frame. His numbers also remind us of Gonzalez. We're pretty excited.

CARLOS DELGADO: Not just a powerful bat, but a powerful left-handed bat. The only thing holding him back is his defense, and he's learning.

JIM THOME: The old Indians never would have let this guy languish long enough to lead the International League in batting average and RBI. Come to think of it, the Indians didn't leave him down in 1992. Now AL pitchers will be suffering from (dare we say it?) Thomaine.

As March Madness continues, let's take a little trip down memory lane with Dickie V to this post from March 13, 2007.

"Okay, Mr. Vitale. The tape is rolling. You can start your reading whenever you're ready."

"First of all, I wanna say this is an honor. Doing voice over work for the great Ken Burns. I mean, New York, The Civil War, The Brooklyn Bridge, baby. You can't beat that with a stick. It's unbeatable, just like DiGiorno pizza. It's not delivery, baby!"

"Thank you, Mr. Vitale. Now, whenever you're ready."

"Okay, baby, let's do this! Civil War Part II! It's awesome with a capital Appomatox, baby! We're gonna make a Bull Run at another dozen Emmys! And lemme tell you, that violin theme song, whatever it's called, that is undoubtedly the most moving piece of music ever written for television. If that doesn't make you get all misty eyed, you gotta be made of stone, baby!"

"Okay, now if we could get to the script..."

"And my main man, Shelby Foote, with all of his poignant insights and Southern aphorisms. That man is a living legend. I've been around the block a few times, and lemme tell you: I've never seen a man who could drive home a bitter truth like Shelby Foote. He reminds me of another Southern gentleman: Coach K, baby! Never mind their late season swoon--the Blue Devils are going to the Final Four! That's right, folks, you heard it right--the Final Four is gonna be Duke, Ohio State, Florida, and Duke! I'd love to hear Shelby Foote's bracket picks."

"He's dead. Please start your reading."

"That's a tragedy. Almost as bad as Syracuse not getting a tournament bid. I had Jim Boeheim over at my house and he had a good cry while we watched 'Hoosiers'. Gene Hackman. Dennis Hopper. The quintessential sports movie. That high school basketball team coming back to win the state final, that's a Cinderella story for the ages, baby! Kinda like how the Union stormed back to defeat the South. Ulysses S. Grant, baby! Grant and General Lee coming together to turn back the evil forces of Boss Hogg..."

"There's a million things wrong with what you just said, but I'll ignore all of them if you'll just start your reading."

"Listen up--I gotta mention my good friends at Boost Mobile. Sign up now for Dickie V's Dipsy Doo Dunkeroo Bracketology Knowledge-y, and you can win tons of prizes. Hats. Shirts. Hats. More hats. It's great! All you gotta do is text them your phone number so you can be harassed with messages for the next seven years, baby..."

"If you don't start reading right now, I'm going to cut off oxygen to the sound booth."

"Okay baby, let's get rolling! Cue that weepy violin music, baby!"

"There's no music. For the love of Jesus, please read."

"*ahem* 'My darling Melissa: Words can not express my longing for you. My pen trembles when I call to mind your alabaster skin, your soft amber curls, and the warmth of your smile. Know that you are in my thoughts every waking moment of every day. And know that when I lay my head down on a hard, unforgiving Army cot, the only thing that can soften the scratch of the canvas and bring on the sweet respite of slumber is to whisper your name. I feel it wrap around me as if I were an infant being swaddled and cradled to his sleep. Oh Melissa, would that I could promise to return home soon. Would that I could promise to return at all! But that is for Providence to decide. All I can do is pray that He shall see fit to return me to your arms. If He does not, then know that we shall see one another again in the sweet by and by. And know above all, that with my last breath, with my dying words, I shall utter but one phrase and be at peace:' Coach K, baby!"

"The script doesn't say that!"

"I know! I'm bringing my own Dickie V flavor to the material! It's what the kids want!"

"Do any of you sound engineers have a taser?"

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "I Want You", Elvis Costello
Even in a catalog full of vengeful, bitter songs (Elvis once said the only emotions he understood were anger and revenge), this tune stands as particularly harsh. Blood and Chocolate was recorded more or less live in the studio, which makes it even more visceral. As the song winds down, the mics are slowly turned down on everything but the vocals, so by the end all you hear is Elvis' painful lyrics and an organ wailing off in the background. Brutal.



* "Don't Touch My Bikin", The Halobenders
When I was in high school, the only "cool" radio station whose signal I could get in my room was Vassar's. I would tape 45-90 minute chunks every now and then so I could listen to them on my walkman later, hoping to find something new and awesome I couldn't hear anywhere else.

Vassar played this song one night, and as I listened to it on the way to school, it took every bit of my strength to not totally lose it. I was not yet familiar with Calvin Johnson or the whole K Record phenomenon, so I was completely unprepared for his aggressive brand of silliness. This remains one of my favorite songs that no one else seems to remember.



* "Outlaw Pete", Bruce Springsteen
Sometimes you see Bruce Springsteen do some live tunes and you think to yourself, "Man, he's still got it!" And then you hear new songs like "Outlaw Pete" and you think to yourself, "Jesus, he is totally off his rocker." If you can get through this 8 minute tune (8 MINUTES) in one sitting, you're a stronger man than I.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

Today, on a whim, I decided to check out the Top 3 songs on the Hot 100 chart, figuring that they'd be inappropriate. Lo and behold, my instincts were right. The top three slots are currently occupied by terrible hip-hop songs with completely unoriginal beats and rhymes. Of course, lack of originality doesn't necessarily disqualify a song for walk-up purposes. But each of these songs disqualifies itself in their own special way.

1. "Right Round", Flo Rida
Let's see: Terrible beat? Check. Rhymes cribbed from every "we up in the club" song recorded in the last 10 years? Check. Hilariously wack flow despite having "flo" in your name? Check. Paraphrasing lyrics from the similarly named bad 80s song while also giving work to Katy Perry? Check. Okay, I think we're done here.

2. "Dead and Gone", T.I. featuring Justin Timberlake
If you can find any true differences between this song and "Gangster's Paradise", you've got a keener ear than I do.

The number 3 song this week is actually "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga, which I picked in my first Inappropriate Walk Up Music post. So I have to skip down to number 4, where we find:

4. "Kiss Me Through the Phone", Soulja Boy Tell 'em featuring Sammie
Aside from the cringe-worthy title, I swear I heard this beat/keyboard line combo in a Geico commercial.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

Today I present the special spoken word edition. This is technically not music, but screw it. I made these rules, and I'll bend them as I see fit. Plus, this list is comprised of spoken word pieces by musical artists. So I think it adheres to the spirit, if not the letter, of this project.

* Anything from Paul Stanley's collection of stage banter, People, Let Me Get This Off My Chest
This hit the intertubes a year or two ago, but I only recently got a chance to hear it. I shouldn't say it's Paul Stanley's per se, but a collection made by a fan (or insane completist, or dedicated ironist) that compiles the KISS frontman's best stage banter. It's every bit as stupid as you might imagine. My favorite: this clip, in which Paul delivers outlines his battle plan for the rock n' roll war on terror.

* Any hip hop album "comedy" track
Prince Paul has brought us much joy, but he's also responsible for the proliferation of Hip Hop Comedy Filler Tracks in the 90s. He was the first to do it, and millions of MCs followed his lead by recording their own mini-auditions for SNL This trend allowed even the thinnest of CDs to stretch out to a respectable 37 minutes.

For ten years or so, even the best albums were interrupted by aggressively filthy bits, or outtakes of guys screwing around in the studio while extremely high. Like four minutes of garbage when you'd much rather have that precious disc space filled up by something like music. So I like the idea of a batter picking a track off of, say, The Chronic, but instead of hearing "Dre Day", he gets one of its intensely dated, unfunny skits.

* Venom stage banter
Venom was an 80s metal band from England that dabbled in Satanic imagery. In 1986, someone thought it would be a good idea to put them and Black Flag on the same bill. Fun! Aside from providing much chuckle fodder for Henry Rollins (as detailed in Get in the Van), this tour also resulted in one of the most hilarious collections of stage banter ever.

You can get the full story (and an MP3) in WFMU's blog here, but the short version is this: a Flag roadie (Joe Cole, probably) recorded a Venom show in New Jersey, edited out all of the music, and compiled lead singer Cronos' cringe-inducing stage banter. Comedy gold--nay, comedy platinum!

This tape became so legendary in music nerd circles that it was even released as a single by Thurston Moore's Ecstatic Peace label. I'd love to see a batter stroll to the plate while Cronos screams YOU WANNA HEAR SOMETHING THAT'S GONNA KICK YOUR BALLS OFF?!

I have no idea how this escaped my notice until now. No matter. All you need to know--if you didn't know it before--is that MLB is hosting a Moniker Madness tournament on its minor league site. A field of 64 players toiling away in the minor leagues has been assembled to determine one thing: who has the most hilarious name in professional baseball?

MLB says, "the best name", but obviously in this context best = most chuckle inducing. They've conducted this tournament for the last three years. Again, I have no clue how I missed this before. But I ain't missing it this time.

Who will win: Chia-Chu Chen? Callix Crabbe? Lovesquiz Santana? Arquimedes Euclides Caminero? Insiders tell me the smart money's on Sundrendy Windster.

I know I've said before that I'd watch the Mets in an active volcano if that's where they played, but I have limits to what I'd risk to see my favorite team in person. For instance, if I don't think I'd go out to Flushing if there was a chance I'd get my head cut off.

That, apparently, is the risk run by fans of the Indios, a soccer team from Ciudad Juarez, a border town where drug-related gang violence has reached Robocop-levels of insanity. A story in yesterday's New York Times details how the city's residents have rallied around the team, despite the insane danger they face simply by leaving the house:

But the lurid headlines, the murder of the deputy police chief and the threats to decapitate the mayor [!] have not deterred soccer fans, at least on game days.

But the players are probably insulated from the such insanities. Hey, they're celebrities, right? Well...

Andrés Chitiva, a native of Colombia, was released in December, partly because he played poorly, partly because he was shaken by a menacing phone call, team officials said. "He got scared," said Francisco Ibarra Molina, the team president. "They wanted money or they would kidnap his kids."

Needless to say, these conditions make it difficult for the team to attract star players, or get a bigger stadium built. I imagine the mayor's got bigger issues on his mind than building a new arena, like not getting his head lopped off.

Would you go to any event in a city like this? Would you even live in such a place, if you had any choice?

And yet, according to the article, the Indios pretty much sell out their games, and no incidents erupt during the games. Of course, once the matches end, it's back to business as usual--which, in Juarez, means over 2000 murders in the last 14 months.

Think about that the next time you wanna complain about $15 parking fees and $7 beers.

A record label that wishes to remain nameless started a blog recently to document some truly awful demos they received over the years. This presents me with a dilemma.

On the one hand, I think you should only laugh at Big Targets. People who can take it. You know, be like The Marx Brothers and make fun of the Margaret Dumonts of the world. It's too easy to laugh at the poor slob who wants to make it big in music, but doesn't have the chops or equipment or connections to make it happen. I don't like when people put themselves on a Hip Pedestal so they can laugh at the unsophistication of others.

On the other hand, holy shit, there is some comedy gold on this site. Especially since most of the songs are delivered in a Chesapeake southern drawl that sounds like Philly Boy Roy crossed with Kenny Powers.

If I had to pick a favorite, it'd be this one, which the anonymous label describes as being "like a step aerobics class from hell". I would have said "like a step aerobics class from hell that just dropped acid".

So you gaffed. Big deal. I do it all the time! I gaffe more before breakfast than most people do all day.

Here's what you do. I call it the "aw shucks" defense. You just say stuff like, "aw jeez, I'm sorry!" like you're a big dumb galoot who can't even control what comes out of his mouth. Works for me all the time! It makes you sympathetic. By the time I've done, I got the president of Bolivia apologizing to me, even though I just called his country a hellish sinkhole.

Then again, I guess you have a reputation as a smart man and a skilled orator. I've never had that problem. So maybe that strategy won't work for you.

It was a good idea to gaffe on a Thursday night, though. That way, they roast you on Friday, but the weekend's about to start. By the time Monday comes all the news outlets are on to the next thing.

Me, I try to save my really big gaffes for Friday afternoons. The newspapers are already knocking off for the day by then. I spit out something really stupid around 3:30, then I can spend Saturday on the links, free of worry.

Also, March Madness--excellent time to gaffe. Nobody's watching CNN or Fox News right now. Not while they're keeping track of their brackets. I also find Super Bowl week is a good gaffing time, as is pretty much any day from late June through Labor Day.

Would it help if I made an even bigger gaffe to take the heat off you? I got a speech scheduled for a Mothers Against Drunk Driving event later today. How bout I make some real dumb old-timey Foster Brooks-type jokes about tippling? Or if I accidentally ask a mom to bring her kid on stage, even though I know her son was killed by a drunk driver?

No matter what you do, make sure you apologize. Better late than never, I say. And if you do wait a few days to apologize, you can just say you were doing it on Colored People's Time.

Oh jeez, I can't believe I said that! Oh man! I am so sorry!

See? Learn from the master, kid.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Seven Nation Army", The Flaming Lips
I'm sure there's several dozen major leaguers who walk up to the batter's box to the original White Stripes version. I'd love to see someone switch out the CDs and hear an entire stadium reverberate with Gibby Haynes-penned lines like "I'm goin to Florida/I'm gonna bowl me a perfect game/I'm goin to Florida/I'm gonna cut off both my legs..."



* "Shut Up", The Monks
This could actually be quite appropriate. Musically, it rocks pretty hard, as do most of The Monks' tunes. The inappropriateness comes from the band's image, their lyrics, their backstory, and their general outlook on life. They were all servicemen who played together in a band at their army base in Germany in the mid-60s. After their hitch ended, they stayed on in Hamburg to try and crack the same swingin' scene that birthed the Beatles. In a pique of collective madness, they renamed themselves The Monks and dressed like monks everywhere they went (even cutting their hair in tonsures). Luckily for them, Germany's just about the only country in the world where this act would fly.

The Monks made stompin' garage rock that was also darker than pretty much anything else circa-1965. It was probably as dark as anything, musically, until punk appeared 10 years later. They put out one album in Europe that was fucking incredible, then imploded from collective insanity and burnout. Here's a video to demonstrate the full extent of their crazy-tude.



* "I'd Rather Jack", The Reynold Girls
There's a Worst Song Ever thread going on at the Friends of Tom forum. FOT mike_b posted this video there, and while I can't say it's the worst song ever, I am astounded by its aggressively 1989-ish brand of pop suckitude. What makes it perfect for this post is that "I'd Rather Jack" could sort of apply to a batter (as in, I'd rather jack a home run over the center field wall), except that it's really a song about chicks who hate Fleetwood Mac and have decided to express this hatred to a Rick Astley beat.

Today I chat with Sean from Massapequa once again, as we discuss his trip to Port St. Lucie and his overall impressions of the Mets' chances this year.

First off, I'm disappointed that you didn't come to do an audio interview with me on Holy Goddamn!

Hey, I just got a brand new pre-owned Ford Escort, and I ain't takin that thing into the city. I'd ruin the shocks on all the potholes.

There's not a lot of potholes in my neighborhood.

Okay, well, between you and me, I got a coupla outstandin parkin tickets in Queens.

How many is a couple?

Thirty-seven, give or take.

So pay them and you don't have to worry about it.

What, I don't give the city enough money already?! When I'm doin a job in the city, I spend at least $5 on lunch every day. I pump capital into the local economy! I do my part!

Fine, forget it. Let's move on to the matter at hand. How was Port St. Lucie?

That's kind of a thorny subject. See, I was asked to leave Port St. Lucie--and I want this clear, I was not kicked out, I was asked to leave. But the city promised not to press charges for unnamed offenses if I didn't talk about my time in the town. All's I gotta say is, they got a strict dress code down there. If you go, make sure you bring pants.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Feather of Forgiveness", Polvo
Remember Polvo? No? Am I the only one? Okay, they were on Merge in the early 90s, and they were kinda awesome. This ditty lives in my top-ten best Fuck You Songs of all time.



* "Magic Word", Fucked Up
I played this song in Holy Goddamn! 004, and it definitely rocks. But these guys kinda scare me. The leader singer looks like a super-violent version of Tim Harrington, which is almost too frightening to contemplate.

* "Bitches Brew", Miles Davis
One day, Major League Baseball will allow someone to come to bat to a 17-minute jazz fusion epic. I hope I live to see that day.

Holy Goddamn! celebrates the impending baseball season! I hoped to have Sean from Massapequa in studio to discuss his trip to spring training, but he bailed for various reasons that will be discussed in his online interview later today.

Fear not! There is plenty of audio goodness in this here episode! Listen as Skip "Wheels" Slater discusses guts, John Sterling honors great moments in Yankee history, and Gary Cohen and Bob Murphy call the best friggin game ever. And also, hot music. And also, karate.

An audio quality note for those who care: the last few episodes were output at lower bit- and sample rates to reduce file size, but in my humble opinion, that resulted in them sounding like they were recorded in a shark tank. So this week, I've upped the quality back to previous levels. The file size is bigger, of course, but I think you will appreciate the difference. And if you don't appreciate it, do your own podcast. Jerk.



Holy Goddamn! 005 Setlist:

Monorchid, "X Marks the Spot: Something Dull Happened Here", Who Put Out the Fire?
Ricky and the Impressionables, "Baco Walk", Black Cherries (v/a, 2008 WFMU/Cherry Blossom Clinic Premium)
Mel Allen says play ball!
Brian Wilson, "Trying to Say to You/Baseball"
Carla Thomas, "The Next Ball Game", Saturday Night Fish Fry (v/a)
Skip "Wheels" Slater and the importance of guts
Buzzcocks, "Everybody's Happy Nowadays", Singles Going Steady
"Outside, ball four, the game is tied!"
Ted Leo, "Army Bound", Living for the Living
Elvis Costello, "King Horse", Get Happy!
Bill Murray, "It just doesn't matter!"
Mountain Goats, "Cubs in Five", Nine Black Poppies
John Sterling presents Great Days in Yankee History
"And if he ever completes his trip around the bases..."
Bill Evans, "Spring Is Here", Bill Evans at Town Hall Volume 1
Harry Caray, "Take Me Out to the Ballgame"

The Wife alerted me to the hilarious, completely unsubtle cover of today's NY Post:

C'mon, Post, you can do better than that! At least come up with some clever pun. You just stated what everyone is thinking.

I also love the irony of a paper owned by Rupert Murdoch calling anyone a greedy bastard. The term "greedy bastard" definitely applies to the clueless morons at AIG, but it should also apply to a man who owns every media outlet in the known universe.

This has to be the least imaginative Post cover since this trio:

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Fuck the Pain Away", Peaches.
This would be especially inappropriate if, as you come up to bat, they play this video on the Jumbotron.



* "The Red Telephone", Love
I went through a very rough patch in my life where I listened to Forever Changes at least once a day. In case you don't know, Forever Changes was the result of Love frontman Arthur Lee realizing in 1967 that all the hippies were full of shit and that the Summer of Love would soon spiral into violence and horror. So he freaked out and convinced himself that he was gonna die at a criminally young age. To counteract the intense depressitude of this album, I would listen to Ted Leo's The Tyrrany of Distance. This is the oral equivalent of doing a fistful of 'ludes and following it up with some crank. And it's about as healthy for you, too.

 * "Puss", Jesus Lizard
Or substitute any other Jesus Lizard song. They're all equally inappropriate, especially when accompanied by "The Tight and Shiny".

Okay, St. Patrick's Day, I call a truce. I've spent way too much time being angry at you for reasons I don't even fully understand. So I'm not going to write any more angry anti-St. Patty's Day screeds. In return, if you could make sure that my stoop doesn't have puke on it when I get home from work, then we're cool.

I inherited my resentment against the holiday from my father, who had wildly schizophrenic views on his homeland. He lived the first 10 years of his life in an Ireland that was extremely poor, extremely repressive, and just overall depressing. I think he blamed Ireland for the misery of his early years, and the issues of his later ones.

Mind you, he had a healthy amount of pride about being Irish. But he also couldn't stand a lot of phonus balonus that goes along with Oirish-American celebrations. He loved to cite historical instances of the Irish getting the shaft from world, but he also hated when Irish people would insist on the MOPE Syndrome (that they, and only they, were the Most Oppressed People Ever).

He loved to point out famous/accomplished Irishmen, and also loved to point out that a large number of them had leave Ireland to get any measure of success (or at least not be stoned to death). Conversely, he was a huge fan of English comedy in general, but when he was offered a job at Reuters, he scoffed, "I can't work for them--they're an English company." This statement was notable for its lack of sarcasm, as my father rarely said anything not sarcastic.

I've spent much of my life mimicking his stances on Ireland, St. Patty's Day, etc. But I now realize it's more of a burden than anything else. I've been to Ireland a few times, and it's nothing like what it was in his youth. In other words, I've been carrying around his resentments so they can live on somehow, even though they're resentments for a place that doesn't exist anymore.

So you wanna get shitfaced on St. Patrick's Day even if your last name is Lewandowski? Knock yourself out. I shan't take part, but who am I to keep you from destroying your liver?

I should be grateful that I'm part of an ethnic group that is so assimilated into American culture that it can totally revel in all of its unsavory stereotypes. When people joke about how the Irish are drunks and fight all the time, what do Irish people do? Laugh, usually. They know it's true, and they don't have to waste any time defending themselves, because they no longer have to fight true, institutionalized discrimination.

That's my wish for every ethnic group: That one day you shall be able to freely give vent to the worst aspects of your character, and everyone will think it's hilarious.

If you're in the mood for some green-tinted Haterade, peep these two posts from years past:

The Calvinball of the Emerald Isle, 03.16.07

The Quare Fellows, 03.17.06

Meanwhile, as part of my peace offering to St. Patrick's Day, I offer some tunes from Hibernophile rocker Ted Leo.

"Biomusicology", The Tyrrany of Distance

"Dirty Old Town", Tell Balgeary Balgury Is Dead EP

"A Bottle of Buckie", Living for the Living

"Fairytale of New York", live on WFMU, 2007

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

Yes, it's St. Patty's Day, so that means an all-Irish offering of inappropriate tunes. Sure n' begorrah! Top o' the mornin' to ye, cleanup hitter!

* "Vengeance", The Nipple Erectors
I toyed with putting a Pogues song here, but most of their tunes are so rollicking and good-timey (even the really depressing ones) that none of them really worked for this feature. So I had to go back to Shane Macgowan's first band, The Nipple Erectors. This song is also kinda bouncy, but the lyrics are totally desperate and tortured and violent. Good ol' fashioned snotty punk rock, but just a little too angry about real-life stuff, and therefore disturbing. A perfect exemplar of Irish Alzheimer's: an exclusive ethnic condition that robs you of all your memories except your grudges.



* "Black Velvet Band" (traditional)
I'm including this song just to get something off my chest. This is a sad, disturbing murder ballad in the Irish vein. And yet, it was repurposed for use in The Wiggles as a cute song about a prince looking for his fair princess (which I know because The Baby demands to watch The Wiggles ALL THE TIME). Listen to this song and tell me if this is appropriate for a kids show. Or as walk up music, either. And tell me what would possess you to even CONSIDER using this song on a kids' show.



* "Vertigo", U2
Why is this inappropriate? Because we heard this song 12 times a day for 3 years and WE NEVER EVER NEED TO HEAR IT EVER AGAIN.

Now that college hoops will be relevant for the next two weeks or so, celebrate with this "classic" Scratchbomb article, originally published March 7, 2007.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

Today's list is comprised of Age Inappropriate Walk Up Music, dually inspired by a suggestion from The Wife and the topic of a Best Show (see below). Do you know how many "love" songs are about some old dude lusting after a teenager? A very disturbing ton, my friend, but I've chosen just three for today's offerings.

* "Let's Get It On", Marvin Gaye
The gold standard of baby-making music. I've never been able to hear it the same way, though, after I found out that Marvin Gaye wrote the song with a 17-year-old girl in mind (Marvin was 34 at the time). I guess that's legal in most jurisdictions, and maybe I'm a little old timey in this regard, but dating someone half your age is still a little skeevots in my book. And of course, the tune is entirely inappropriate as walk up music.

* "Into the Night", Benny Mardones
A one-hit wonder tune. The chorus makes it sound like typical love song treacle: "If I could fly, I'd pick you up/I'd take you into the night and show you a love/Like you've never seen, ever seen." It's made quite a bit creepier when you consider the first verse of this song: "She's just sixteen years old leave her alone, they say/Separated by fools who don't know what love is yet..." It would've been so easy to leave that line out, and just let people think it was a standard love song. Nope, this guy went out of his way to let you know that he was very specifically addressing a teenager. Creep.

* "Young Girl", Gary Puckett and the Union Gap
On a Best Show from a few years back, Tom Scharpling threw out the topic: Who is the sleaziest rocker? Callers suggested guys like Gene Simmons, G.G. Allin, etc. Tom's answer: Gary Puckett. Why? Because every nearly all of his hits are about being tempted by underage chicks. He's the lite-rock Humbert Humbert. "Young Girl" is his biggest hit and the most obvious offender, but take a listen to "This Girl Is a Woman Now" and just try not to be creeped out.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Smell Yo Dick", Riskay
Hat tip to The WhiteBoomBoom. I had not heard of this song before, but I'm glad I have. I love how it's a standard R&B-type tune, except the singer soulfully croons lines like "You know that's fucked up" and "Lemme smell yo' dick."

* "Don't Know Much", Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt
Aaron Neville's voice drives me up the effin wall. He sang the national anthem before one Mets playoff game in 2006 and I swear it took 17 minutes. The Baby has Fisher Price Little People DVD she loves to watch, and Neville sings a theme song for it that haunts my dreams.

* "Queen Bitch", David Bowie
I have yet to see Milk, so maybe I'm not qualified to judge, but how was this song the theme to it? There are much better Bowie songs to choose from to use in the soundtrack for such a biopic. "Heroes", maybe? Then again, it's technically a tribute to Lou Reed and The Velvet Undeground, so...no, still doesn't make sense for a movie about gay struggle and uplift. And it's still inappropriate for walk up music. Although if there was a player who dared come up to bat to this tune, I think he would immediately become my favorite player.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

Today, we present an all-Prince edition. I know I said I didn't want to put multiple songs by the same artist on this list. I lied. Sue me.

Prince = awesome. However, he has more than one song that doesn't work in this context. And I think we call can agree that the man can sometimes get a tad carried away.

* "Batdance"
Most Prince hits have aged well. This hasn't. It's trapped in this very weird moment in history known as 1989. Not the 80s. Not the 90s. Neon shirts, slap bracelets, New Jack swing--it's the land that time forgot!

* "Darling Nikki"
Better known as the song that launched the PMRC. Even by Prince's standards, this song is kinda ridiculous. In what sort of hotels do chicks sit in the lobby, pleasuring themselves to a magazine? And would you happen to have the address of any of these hotels?

* "If I Was Your Girlfriend"
Gender-bending funk--what major leaguer would have a problem with that?

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

Today, we go for an all-depressing slate of tunes, based on suggestions by Cuzzin Loutie and TheWhiteBoomBoom. All of these songs have been chosen because they wouldn't inspire fear in an opposing pitcher. They would just make him sad. He might serve you up a total meatball right over the heart of the plate because he feels so bad for you.

* "The Weeping Song," Nick Cave
As I mentioned in the comments yesterday, Nick Cave is a whole fount of inappropriate. But as long as we're going for depressing, there's not much worse than a song about crying.



Runner-up for Nick Cave: "O'Malley's Bar," a ten-minute epic off of Murder Ballads wherein he kills everyone in the titular establishment. My favorite line: "And with an ashtray as big as a really fucking big brick/I split his head in half..."

* "Blaspehmous Rumours", Depeche Mode
What, you don't think people want to hear a song about deformity and suicide when they go to the ballpark?

* "The Wall", Johnny Cash
"Boy, they're mean bastards, ain't they?"
 

A while back, I shared my New Year's resolution that I would no longer listen to WFAN (other than Mets games and Steve Somers). Unfortunately, as happens with most New Year's resolutions, I've chipped away at mine until it's compromised into oblivion.

For instance, when I get in the shower in the mornings, I feel compelled to turn on the radio, and tune it to WFAN while doing so. Even though WFAN's morning show--Boomer and Carton--is god awful.

Check that: Boomer Esiaison's not bad, but lord, Craig Carton sucks hard and long. The guy was spawned in the same secret frat boy lab where they genetically engineer morning zoo radio hosts. He's got the same stupid, misogynistic, homophobic, and proudly ignorant opinions about sports--and life--that you can hear on any morning show in any city.

So why do I listen to it? I don't know. I wish I could tell you what compels me to listen to something that just makes me angry and starts my day off on a bad foot. But so help me God, I don't know.

This morning was the absolute nadir, though. As was just getting ready to leave the bathroom post-shower, Carton started talking about how he was "worried" about David Wright after watching him in the WBC.

I knew exactly what Carton was going to say: That David Wright isn't "clutch". That's been the popular Angry Mets Fan Meme ever since last September. Why? Because everyone remembers Wright not driving in one run in one particular game against the Cubs down the stretch, so therefore he's not clutch.

Mind you, all this handwringing ignores the fact that Wright's stats in "clutch" situations (loosely defined though they are) are very good over the course of his career. But the kind of people who get upset over Wright's supposed un-clutch-ness are not the types to be swayed by evidence and logic.

It also didn't help that Carton's radio-mate Mike Francesa spent the entire off-season pounding the completely baseless "Wright Ain't Clutch" point over and over again, while also begging the Mets to trade him so they could "break up the core".

(And then Francesa had the nerve to be offended when Wright didn't want to talk to him during his visit to Port St. Lucie. I was gonna say Francesa's got some chrome-plated balls, but it's more likely they're fortified with Diet Coke and Funyuns.)

Again, I know exactly what Carton's going to say. So do I turn off the shower radio and go my merry way? Of course not. I go into my bedroom, turn on the clock radio, and tune it to WFAN and hear him say exactly what I know he's going to say. Even though I know it'll just make me angry.

As I listen and seethe in my bedroom, The Wife walks in, hears that I'm listening to WFAN, and scowls at me. And I feel like a drunk who got caught sneaking a belt of vodka from a secret bottle in his sock drawer.

She reminds me of my resolution, and I give the lame retort that it was okay because Carton was talking about the Mets (even though, as I said, he wasn't exactly breaking big news). And again, I feel like the drunk who attaches more and more conditions on his teetering sobriety. "Yeah, baby, I know I said I wouldn't drink no more *hic* but see, it's okay to drink on a Tuesday cuz it is! *hic*"

Can anyone out there help me with this problem? Seriously. I recognize that I am powerless against my addiction.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Footography", Foot Patrol
My pal Mikey J alerted me to the existence of Foot Patrol a while back. They're a group fronted by talented blind multi-instrumentalist T.J. Wade. He's kinda like Stevie Wonder--if Stevie Wonder had a foot fetish and sang about it in every song he wrote. Seriously, Foot Patrol bills itself "the only foot fetish funk band in existence".

Thing is, their songs honestly rock. So I can totally imagine some baseball player hearing one of these songs and thinking it sounds good enough for his walk up song, without knowing the backstory (although Wade's lyrics leave absolutely nothing to the imagination). Don't believe me? Here's a sample:



According my friend, Foot Patrol burned down the house the time he saw them in Austin, and the crowd begged for an encore, but they had exhausted all their original material. So the band came back out and played a ridiculously good cover of Ozzy Osbourne's "Mr. Crowley". Wow.

* "Nothing Left Inside", Black Flag
I wanted to pick something from My War/Slip It In-era Flag, but a most of it is super-aggressive and might actually work as walk-up music. Except for this song. A lot like the PiL tune I picked earlier, I think it would just make everyone in the stadium feel wrong and uncomfortable. And fear for their lives.



* "The Blood", The Cure
I guess most Cure songs would be inappropriate. But you have to give special consideration to a Spanish-themed anti-Christian song. True story: Once upon a time, when I was a Jehovah's Witness, all the other teens I knew in the congregation loved The Cure. Figure out that one, if you dare.

If you didn't get a chance to listen to The Best Show's second and final Pledge Marathon Night, first of all SHAME ON YOU. But hey, maybe your kid was sick or your dog was on fire or something. So if you didn't get to listen to it, Stereogum has an excellent play-by-play for you. And no one says you can't listen to the show from The Best Show Archives, or subscribe to The Best Show podcast, ya know.

For those of you who did listen, but would like visual evidence to accompany your fahntasies, Stereogum has plenty of pics from the event. Here's one of my faves: Tom Scharpling in his stellar Judge Smails outfit, with co-host Therese, John Hodgman looking strangely servile, Paul F Tompkins in a Napoleon pose, AP Mike appearing not nearly as creepy as I expected him to, and just in the background you can also see Aimee Mann, Ted Leo and Terre T in their FOT sailor hats.

Human Giant-er Paul Scheer alerted me (and the rest of the world, via his Twitter page) to the existence of the Michael Jackson Auction Catalog. Yes, the King of Pop is auctioning off some of his most priceless memorabilia--although he seems to have had no problem pricing them anyway.

Yes, poking fun at Michael Jackson is as easy as shooting monkeys in a barrel while taking candy from a baby. And yes, making fun of him is a totally hack go-to move for bad comedians everywhere. But take a look at the catalog. Go ahead, just take a look. Then tell me this is not something screaming to be ridiculed.

And it starts before you even see any items, because MJ (or his tech peeps) have insisted on putting the catalog into an unnecessarily complicated Flash interface, where you "turn" the pages on screen with a double click--and it's accompanied by an audio file of a page turning. I feel like I'm really reading a book!

Then come the auction items. Pages 1 through 70 are pretty much all video games. Then, the fun starts. I recommend page 73, which features Item #805: a lifesize statue of Michael Jackson as Batman. I wish I was kidding about that.

The rest of the catalog features many, many mind-blowing artifacts, too many to single out in this space. Surely most of them have spent some time known as "People's Exhibit X". So flip through it when you have a chance. But make sure there's a shower nearby; you'll wanna take one when you're done.

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Swanee", Al Jolson
Weirdly old-timey or borderline racist, depending on your POV. I'd love to hear an old scratchy 78 played out of a modern PA system. The crackles and pops would sound pristine!

* "Cherry Bomb", The Runaways
Kick-ass tune, BUT more of a kick-ass tune for kick-ass chicks. Until kick-ass chicks break into the major leagues, it remains inappropriate.

* "Freaxxx", brokeNCYDE
Inappropriate in any context.

Moments after I boarded the bus this morning, the driver picked up the intercom to make this announcement.

"HEY! There's a fire at Flushing and [garbled]. We gonna be rerouted down Metroplitan. You need to get off somewhere along the rerouted route, YOU LET ME KNOW, OKAY?! Don't be yellin and screamin at me!"

Five blocks later, she made the same announcement, almost verbatim. Not a single head moved, either time.

I like the fact that the primary goal of her announcement was not to give us a heads-up that the bus was being rerouted, or that THERE'S A FIRE IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD, but to not hassle her because of either of these facts. And that no one seemed to notice or care anyway.

♪ It's a hell of town... ♪

As I alerted this readership last week, the WFMU Pledge Marathon is afoot. So pledge today!

Or pledge tonight, during The Best Show on WFMU. Ted Leo and Aimee Mann will be in studio, playing songs for pledges. Paul F. Tompkins and John Hodgman will be there to provide hilarity. And a pledge of $75 gets you a brand-new pledge-exclusive Scharpling & Wurster CD. Wow! A bargain at twice the price!

But not only that! That same $75 pledge earns you another pledge exclusive: an all-star tribute to the Paul & Linda McCartney album RAM, with songs covered by such esteemed artists as the two titans mentioned above, plus Death Cab for Cutie, Times New Viking, Portastatic, and many more.

What else do you get? Much much much much more! Actually, just a totebag, near as I can tell. But that can be much much much much more, depending on what you intend to use it for.

Actually, you get the satisfaction of knowing you helped one of the funniest radio programs of all time and one of the few radio stations in the NYC area worth listening to. So if you give no other monies to charity this year--and you know you won't!--give to this!

I appreciate your candor, but you forgot one important thing: WHAT ARE YOU WARNING ME ABOUT?!

Over the weekend, I saw (most of) Idiocracy, Mike Judge's last doomed film. It has yet to achieve the cable/DVD cult status afforded to Office Space, mostly because it's not nearly as funny. But the movie does a good job of fleshing out the universe contained in its premise: what happens when all the smart people in the world stop breeding, and the planet becomes overrun with morons?

The little cultural touches of the universe work better than the actual plot and characters. In the world of Idiocracy, the most popular TV show is called "Ow! My Balls!", the president is a machine gun-weilding "smackdown champion", and a film called Ass won 8 Academy Awards

Conspicuously absent from the film is what music would be like in this world. Dumb is much harder to achieve on purpose in music than in other media. In fact, I can't think of too many people who have tried to capture the essence of Dumb in music and succeeded, other than Spinal Tap. Apart from "Big Bottom" and other Tap tunes, actual Dumb music made by actual Dumb people beats out manufactured Dumb Music by a mile.

But I think I found the soundtrack to a world filled with people with IQs of 60 (found = saw it posted to several message boards I frequent). This song is perfect for the world of Idiocracy--it's violent, emotionally stunted, sexually ignorant, aggressively misogynistic, and idiotic. I mean, truly, deeply idiotic.

I wanted to say "unapologetically idiotic", but the people who made this song/video would be unable to apologize for their idiocy because they haven't the slightest clue how idiotic they are. When I first saw this video, I thought it might be a put-on. But after a minute or so, as I fought the urge to vomit, I realized that only truly shallow morons could make music this moronic.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you the absolutely worst song I've ever heard in my life, by the worst group in the universe: brokeNCYDE. And don't think too hard about how these mind-corpses are already on tour and playing IRVING PLAZA TONIGHT and probably making huge bank, because if you dwell on that horrifying factoid too long, you'll wanna kill yourself. I know I do!

For previous Inappropriate Walk Up Music posts, click here.

Every day until Opening Day, Scratchbomb presents three tunes that are completely, unequivocally inappropriate for use as major league walk-up music.

These are not necessarily bad songs--although that certainly helps. They are merely songs that don't evoke the fear and dread one traditionally associates with the walk-up song. In fact, they evoke the exact opposite.

Imagine yourself in the on-deck circle. Bottom of the 9th. Down by one. Man on second, two out. You hear the PA system blare, The centerfielder, number 20... The crowd roars at the sound of your name. And as you stroll to the batter's box, you are greeted with the strains of one of these songs:

* "Brass in Pocket," The Pretenders
As suggested by Cuzzin Loutie. I like The Pretenders, I like Chrissie Hynde, and I like this song. But now I see a batter coming up to the plate as Chrissie sings, "I'm special...so special..I gotta have all of your...attention... give it to me." That mental image makes me cringe. Totally inappropriate as walk up music. Except for A-Rod.

* "Lucky Man", Emerson Lake and Palmer
As suggested by TheWhiteBoomBoom. I imagine the batter making unreasonable demands of the crowd, kinda like with the Bright Eyes song I mentioned here a few days ago. But in this case, I picture some batter who's really into prog rock, and he makes everyone in the stadium be quiet during the endless synth solo.

* "That Smell", Lynyrd Skynyrd
Even for the low standards I ascribe to Skynyrd, this is an awful song. Every time I hear it, I think to myself, "Seriously, someone wrote a song with a chorus that goes "ooooh, that smell"?!

* The secret to clean coal technology is tattooed on Thomas Jefferson's bones. Can Nic Cage and a ragtag group of misfits rescue his corpse from the evil clutches of Greenpeace?

* Nic Cage is Wrecker Jones, the undead descendant of Genghis Khan. Can he defeat the Werewolf Pancho Villa in time to save his village?

* Nic Cage is a government-trained super-assassin with one mission: go back in time and kill Helen Keller.

* An underground kickboxing tournament is held by an international terrorist organization to determine the champion of the universe. Little do they know that ex-Marine Nic Cage has come to break up the organization's little party--and marry its leader.

* Nic Cage stars as some comic book character who hasn't been done yet.

* Accomplished jazz composer and bandleader by day, street vigilante by night. Nic Cage is: Duke Killington!

* A former matinee idol seems to make horrible movie after horrible movie with no quality control over his career choices at all. Little does the public know, Nic Cage has discovered the secret to eternal life hidden in pieces across some of the worst scripts ever written. So when the rest of he world dies off one by one, only he shall be standing. AND THEY ALL LAUGHED!

Baseball is America's game! It doesn't belong to the Italians or the Cubans or the Koreans or the Japanese. Especially not the Japanese! The very thought of them playing our game makes me sick to my stomach!

And the Dutch! God, I hate the Dutch! I hate tulips! I hate land below sea level! Screw them and their stupid wooden shoes! Those guys wear wooden shoes, right?

I feel so strongly about this, I'm gonna use my time machine. Oh yeah, I have a time machine. You get a free time machine whenever you're inducted into the Hall of Fame.

You know who invented it? Don Drysdale. Not only are Dodgers the best team in the world, but they've broken the time/space continuum!

Anyway, I'm gonna use my time machine and get ridda every player I ever had who wasn't American. Fernando Valenzuela, get lost! I know you won me a World Series in 1981, but I don't care. Get American or get off my team!

Davey Lopes, cornerston