Own Horn Tooting, 2012 Edition: The Year in Me

cover_9350105At the end of the year, one’s thoughts inevitably turn to the unstoppable march of time. And by “one,” I mean me. As 2012 draws to a close, I initially had a sense of failure (my default setting, really). Another year come and gone, and what had I done with it?

So, I took inventory of what I wrote this year, and it turns out I did a lot more than I remembered. I have little memory of writing some of these pieces, so I can now look back at them as if they were composed by someone else. For other posts, I was sure I’d written them much longer ago than this year, but timestamps don’t lie.

In short, I wrote a poop-ton of words in 2012, in a lot of different places. Not all of it was gold, of course. When you write in this kind of volume, it’s impossible to avoid mediocrity. Looking back on it in total, though, I was pleased with my batting average, and the fact that my output was a roughly even mixture of serious analysis, personal reminiscences, and goofy nonsense.

The only thing I found disappointing, really, was the fact that my online writing tailed off precipitously in the last few months of this year. But the main reason for this is because I took that time to finish my novel (for real this time). So even when I wasn’t writing for immediate public consumption, I was still writing. Before the year ends, the novel will be finally, totally complete, which is another star I can put on 2012′s ledger.

Below the jump, I’ve gathered together what I consider the best of the online writing I did in 2012, broken down by location (Around the Interwebs, at Amazin’ Avenue, and here at Scratchbomb). This is more for me than anyone else, a reminder that I shouldn’t be so morose and remember that this year I made some things I can be proud of, on top of writing a WHOLE DAMN NOVEL (*drops mic*).

I will rest on these laurels for only a minute or two, because I’m already hard at work on some great things for 2013. This includes ramped-up work on Yells For Ourselves, my scholarly fantasia about the 1999/2000 Mets. I’m also toiling away on another super awesome project I’m crazy excited about, which will be announced shortly after the new year (tease).

Everyone who read my stuff in 2012, thank you. Everyone else, there’s still room on the bandwagon.

Excelsior!

Read on! —->

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The New Quadruple-A Landscape of Writing

One thing I love about writing is that it can demonstrate someone being remarkably perceptive and oblivious all at once. To witness this phenomenon, read Stephen Marche’s latest piece for Esquire, in which he attempts to argue that we live in a “golden age” of writing. I found myself agreeing with a few of its assertions, yet also felt this agreement was negated by how much the author got wrong, chose to ignore, or could not perceive about the modern writing landscape.

In his article, Marche argues that ye olden days had plenty of bad or just plain boring writing, and I agree. He also disdains the “woe is me” attitude so pervasive among writerly types, which I believe is important. Every writer, at some point or another, firmly believed his/her beautiful art and soul were being crushed by a cruel, unfeeling world. One’s ability to produce work worth writing is directly proportional one’s ability to move beyond this narcissistic mindset. Otherwise, you spend the time you should be writing looking in the mirror, admiring your own bruises.

However, Marche’s stated aim was to show our era as a golden age for writing, and in this he fails. This is because the support for his thesis stems from how spectacularly rich authors like J.K Rowling and Tom Wolfe have become. By the same logic, you could point to J.P Morgan and John D. Rockefeller and say the Gilded Age was one of vast prosperity. It all depends on one’s notion of a Golden Age. Does that mean mountains of wealth displayed by the Morgans and Rockefellers of the world, or does it mean everyone is able to pay their bills?

Read on! —->

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Slice of Turkey 2012: Ed McMahon Sings the Glories of Thanksgiving!

Ed McMahon sings songs for swingin’ turkey eaters

Last year, I wrote series of posts under the banner of Slice Of Turkey, mostly about videos from old Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parades. One of my favorite clips I came across when searching for material for the series was of Ed McMahon hosting the 1981 parade. It featured Ed’s failed attempts to ride a rollerskating elephant and a rambling, red-faced monologue. It was 100 percent mental.

Sadly, that clip has been removed from the interwebs. I hope it shall surface some day so the world may enjoy it again. In attempting to find the same footage elsewhere, however, I stumbled across this clip from 1980, when Ed not only hosted the parade broadcast, but also belted out a turkey-infused ballad about the glories of Thanksgiving. This is a grade-A example of what the Macy’s Parade does every year: Take someone not known for being a singer and force them to belt out, Broadway style. At least Ed didn’t have to wear a Little Bo Peep costume.

In all fairness, Ed’s got some pipes on him. The song is pure treacle, however, lyrically and musically. What blows my mind is that the arrangements, the instrumentation, and the overall sound of this song is identical to songs I heard 20 years ago, and heard 10 years ago, and will undoubtedly hear again this year. That shows some real dedication to anachronism on the part of Macy’s and/or NBC. Do they keep this orchestra on ice somewhere and thaw them out every October?

Note the line where Ed McMahon sing-tells children “don’t be afraid” about Thanksgiving. It has the exact opposite effect. “No one was afraid about Thanksgiving, Ed. Why should we be afraid? WHY SHOULD WE BE AFRAID?! TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW, ED!”

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Stew Leonard’s Red Legged Mountain Turkeys

Last summer, I attempted to relaunch my on-again, off-again podcast, Holy Goddamn! I only managed to get through two full episodes before time, tide, and the affairs of man intervened to make it impossible to do the show with any regularity. However, I did construct a bunch of dumb audio bitlets for it that made me laugh, and I didn’t want much more out of the whole thing than that.

Thanksgiving’s imminent arrival brought to mind a thread that ran through one of these episodes. If you live in the tri-state area, this is the time of year when you hear radio ads for Stew Leonard’s. These commercials feature the store’s namesake on site at the farm where he’s acquired some wonderful items for his stores just in time for this holiday season. More often than not, these items are some kind of poultry that cluck and gobble loudly, seemingly unaware of their fate.

In my version, Stew has imported tons of rare poultry (“red legged mountain turkeys”) from high atop the Colorado Rockies, just in time for the holidays! Unfortunately, Stew gets much more than he bargained for, as each subsequent commercial demonstrates.

Now you can hear all the ads strung together as one brief saga, so that they might live anew. Enjoy!

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

Download here.

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They Fought the Math, and the Math Won

I wrote this about Nate Silver four years ago, shortly after Barack Obama was elected president for the first time. Four years have dimmed a lot of the optimism and starry-eyed hope on display within it, as I think it has for many people. Still, I stand by every word of that post, especially where it pertains to Silver.

Looking back on it, what I find most amazing is how you could apply nearly everything I said about him in 2008 to this year’s election. Four years ago, Silver made electoral predictions that were mocked and downplayed by professional pundits who didn’t like the outcome they pointed to. This year, with Silver’s profile much higher, the attacks were more pronounced, but the results were the same: When you fight math, you lose.

I supported Obama with reservations. I wish he’d close Gitmo, like he promised. I wish he’d stop sending drones out to kill people–both for basic human reasons and because it creates more terrorists than it eliminates. I wish he’d do more to end our reliance on fossil fuels, and to stop a pointless and destructive “war against drugs.”

However, none of these issues would have been improved by Obama’s only viable alternative. If anything, they would have worsened, and nearly all of the tangible good Obama has done (marriage rights, affordable health care) would have been reversed. For me, it came down to this: The party that opposed Obama spent much of the campaign season trying to rationalize rape, and their presidential candidate did absolutely nothing to distance himself from fellow Republicans who did so. As the father of a daughter, as a husband, and as a human being, I do not want that party making laws, let alone appointing Supreme Court justices.

Another reason why I couldn’t bear the thought of Mitt Romney becoming president was Nate Silver, the man who spelled out Mitt Romney’s demise months in advance. Or rather, how Silver was treated by people who perceived him as The Enemy.

Read on! —->

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The Lost Art of Keeping Your Mouth Shut

It’s always okay to say nothing. That’s a concept we’ve lost in the internet age, where we rush to project our thoughts as soon as they flit across our brains. But really, it’s perfectly acceptable to keep your mouth shut once in a while.

I say this because last night, while Hurricane Sandy was unleashing its worst on the tri-state area, Jack Shafer of Slate saw fit to take to Twitter and unleash this (reverse chronology from top to bottom):

Normally, I assume most people outside the tri-state area don’t like New Yorkers, and I could care less. Provincial hatred of other cities might be the saddest, most ineffectual prejudice there is (think Springfield vs. Shelbyville) and it says more about the practitioner than his target.

However, I truly don’t understand the psyche of a person who would see what was happening to New York and choose that moment to express snide, impotent rage against the people living there. And not specific people, either, but a vague idea of those people crafted in a badly compartmentalized brain.

Fine, Shafer, you hate some mental image of New Yorkers. Congratulations. I have zero interest in changing your mind, but is it too much to ask that you wait a day to express this thought? At the exact same moment I read his first dismissive tweet, I saw a news report about two children who were killed by a falling tree up in Westchester. Excellent timing, professional journalist.

As I write this, houses are still burning out in Breezy Point. Neighborhoods in southern Queens and Brooklyn are still under 6 feet of water. Parts of Staten Island and the Bronx were hit just as bad. People have lost homes, and for the most part they’re not the kind of people who have the means to just shrug and rebuild. If that does nothing for Shafer, I can assure him the storm also hit New Jersey and Connecticut hard. Houses destroyed, whole towns flooded and possibly more if levees don’t hold out, power out for who knows how long. I don’t know if those states have been too polluted by their proximity to New York to earn his sympathy.

Tragedy isn’t a contest. When something bad happens, there’s zero point in trying to determine if this Bad Thing is better or worse than the last Bad Thing. There’s no award given out for Best Reaction to Horror to the people involved. In any disaster, there are heroes and there are crappy people, because there are humans. Actual humans. Try to remember that when you’re sitting at a keyboard.

A tweet Shafer wrote later (the last one he wrote, at this moment) indicated he was without power in the DC suburbs. So maybe he didn’t see all the images of destruction that I’ve seen in the last 24 hours. That’s still no excuse for his reaction. As a journalist, Shafer should know that if you don’t have all the facts, you can always keep your stupid mouth shut. The internet will manage to go on without your uninformed, hateful garbage, I promise you.

Different people react to tragedy differently. Some feel compelled to help, others joke to deal with their terror. If your reaction is to sneer at the people who are in harm’s way, I feel sorry for you, and anyone who may be in your life.

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The Devil You Know and the Moral Buffet

I’ve been religious at some times in my life, and not religious in others. I’ve believed in God, not believed in God, and occupied several intermediate spots in between those two poles. So I feel that I can understand beliefs that motivate statements like that of Richard Mourdock, who called a hypothetical pregnancy resulting from rape “a gift from god.” I also feel I can denounce them regardless.

Mourdock’s statement touched a nerve in a campaign season that’s seen many candidates (all of them men) chomping at the bit to address the subject of rape for some reason. It also points to a big divide in our country when it comes to people’s notions about The Man Upstairs.

Very few Americans are full-fledged atheists; that’s a leap not many of us are comfortable making. But most of us aren’t super-religious, either. Most of us believe in God in a “sure, why not?” way that makes few demands of our time, because passive faith is a lot easier than active agnosticism. However, we also don’t enjoy the concept of a micromanaging God that directs and influences every single event in our daily lives. We like the idea of a God that made everything and has a cool crash pad ready for us when this life is over, but he’s not gonna give us a big plastic hassle about what we do day to day, man.

But, there are a significant number of people in this country who do believe in a hands-on God, one that takes an active role in our existence. This brings up the thorny issue of why such a God allows bad things to happen, over and over and over again.

Read on! —->

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Talks Given at the 2012 Symbrosium

The 17 Steps to Proper Cargo Shorts Care and Maintenance

Bro, I Am DEAD Serious, Bro
How to convince your bros that this shit you just saw ACTUALLY happened.

Dude, You Hit That?
PowerPoint presentation on exactly who we hit in the last calendar year

That Time We Got Fuckin’ HAMMERED
Tony reports on that time that was, oh man, you had to be there

Whattaya Bench?
Come on up to the stage, do some reps, show me what you got

The Fuck You Lookin’ At?!
The best techniques for dealing with assholes who got some kinda problem

3-Hour Lunch Break at T.J.’s
2-for-1 jello shots and bro-jitos ’til 5pm

Bill’s Girlfriend: Boner Killer or Plow Town?
Panel discussion. Bill’s girlfriend’s ballbusting will be weighed against the merits of her rack

The Affects of Keynesian Economic Theory on the Acquisition of Sweet Rides

Marketing and Sales: The Only Jobs?
Yes

Special Appearance by That Guy from the Dealership Who Hooked Joey Up

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Feel the Heat: Upcoming Chef/Band Cookbook Collaborations

In a world wracked by war, strife, and uncertainty, we recently received the heart-warming news that flame-bedecked celebrity chef Guy Fieri was working on a cookbook with Smash Mouth, which is technically a rock band. However, this sure future James Beard Award winner is but one of several forthcoming cookbooks that will feature collaborations between your favorite celebrity chefs and bands. Now that you’ve unquestioningly accepted this premise, here are but a few examples of these culinary publications.

Read on! —->

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“Classic” Scratchbomb: Variety Chronicles Frank Sinatra’s Failed Biker Movie

A few years ago, I put together a series of posts on Frank Sinatra’s failed attempt to make a biker movie, as chronicled by Variety magazine. You see, Ol’ Blue Eyes had seen his daughter Nancy in The Wild Angels and decided to give the biker movie genre a try with all his Rat Pack buddies. The results were not good. You may not remember this because it was a long time ago, and because I completely made it up to amuse myself.

For some reason, these posts recently crawled out from the deep recesses of my mind. It occurred to me that I’d done them so long ago, virtually no one had seen them the first time, and I thought they shouldn’t lay dormant and unseen. They deserved to be seen by barely anybody, at least! So now I present to you this post that collects all the Frank/Hells Angels stuff together in one place. If you missed them the first time around, here’s your chance to miss them all over again!

Read on! —->

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