Well, another year has passed. Hard to believe, huh? I’d like to thank you all for killing some time with me on occasion and sharing your thoughts on the opinions expressed on this website.

Now, to proceed with the first post of the New Year, let’s raise the roof in the ’04 and kick this year off with a bang by starting a new tradition hear at Landshark Sandwich. Call it my answer to the Razzies. Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring to you…

The First Annual “Jump The Landshark” Awards!

Now I’m sure a great deal of you are familiar with the Jump The Shark phenomenon, and for those of you who aren’t, click here to visit the Jump The Shark web site. There’s plenty of information including a full listing of TV shows, discussion boards (for those of you who have enough time on your hands to both read this post and discuss who was the better Darren on Bewitched), and most importantly to you newbies, an explanation of what “Jump The Shark” is all about and where the term originated.

Now although I dubbed these as “awards,” the recipients and their crimes are far too numerous and varied to possibly concoct any sufficient categories. Therefore, all perpetrators are considered equally guilty in the eyes of the almighty tribunal (read: me), and the quality of their shameful acts are open for judgment by you, the readers. In the eyes of the Honorable Judge L.S. Sandwich, justice is blind, the leppard is def, and the criminals are dumb.

So strap on your in-line rollerblades and grab hold of that rope attached to the dune buggy, ‘cause the Landshark is hungry…

VH1. I used to enjoy watching VH1. Really. See, our cable system in Waterbury is for the birds, so I’m not as fortunate as some to be blessed with MTV2, Fuse, or VH1 Classic. Nope. I gots MTV and VH1. You all know my long disdain for MTV (which, for the record, jumped the Landshark eons ago), and now VH1 seems to be running neck and neck with its older cousin for most annoying mainstream music station. These goddamned All Access and The Fabulous Life Of… specials do absolutely nothing for me, and I pity you if they do anything for you. How are we enriched by this in any way? Why should I care about how Jennifer Lopez lives and how much money she makes? What, does VH1 think I don’t hate her enough? Do I need more hatred towards Jenny from the block? Well, maybe. Be that as it may, I don’t need to be reminded of it constantly. These half-baked “insider” programs that seem to be the norm with the network’s newly revamped image and logo bring it several notches below its former greatness. It is now akin to the type of shallow we’re used to saying on E! In the last year, the only special that I’ve enjoyed has been their All Access on primetime cartoons (for obvious reasons). Granted, I dug I Love The 80’s Strikes Back, but that doesn’t mean I can’t see this “sequel” for what it is: a shallow attempt to nab viewers who loved the first series (with good reason, I might add. Their take on the 70’s just didn’t pack the same punch). Meanwhile, my heart and soul of rock and roll has been denied great stuff like The Rock Show and Forever Wild. Hey, I know that Pantera might not push as many units as your beloved Dave Matthews, but why should you deny them air time? Pricks.

The RIAA. Hey, lets sue the people who make us money! Morons. No wonder digital music is on the rise.

Jewel. I’ve gone over this one before, but let me recap: the woman is a fairly talented singer/songwriter with a refreshing earnestness about her. Or at least she was before she fell to clichéd techno beats and saccharine-sweet hooks on her latest album. Let us also not forget the retooled, ultra-glossy, mega-skimpy Hollywood laminated image that she has now adopted. We’ve gone from a humble Eskimo girl with her guitar to a sexed up Barbie Doll getting hosed down by firemen and taking showers in her videos. Y’know, she could boast all she wants about the depth of her lyrics on the new album, but she can’t fool me. That piece of garbage has about as much depth as a kiddie pool owned by a family of midgets. Honey, don’t give me a dime and call it a dollar. This jewel is too polished for the genuine article, which would lead any gemologist to believe it’s a fake. But rather than tossing this diamond back in the rough, I’d be more inclined to put it to the test against a steamroller. Just to see how “real” it is.

Kiss. Another group that I’ve ranted over before. Now I agree, these guys are tried and true sellouts. And that says something since I consider the term “sellout” to be just a buzzword cooked up by hardcore wannabe non-conformists. It gives them a reason to hate a good artist that they once cheered, all because a few more people bought their last album. At any rate, Kiss are the epitome of the Great American Hype Machine. I’ve seen them live, and the show is all shtick, no substance. If I wanted to see a fireworks display featuring guys in makeup, I’d go to Ringling Bros. on the Fourth of July. But see folks, my opinion aside, Kiss really Jumped ye olde Landshark this year. How so you ask? Well for starters, the whole “Kiss Symphony” deal was hokey as hell. It’s an age old last ditch effort to sell tickets at extravagant costs, and an excuse to put out another live album. Secondly, while Peter Criss might be back in the fold, the almighty Ace Frehley, (read: the only talented member of Kiss) was replaced by the talented, yet comparatively mediocre Tommy Thayer. Sorry Tommy, but Space Ace has got your number, plain and simple. Furthermore, the self-proclaimed “hottest band in the world” have allowed themselves to surrender their precious top billing. That’s right. After years of ripping off their fans, and producing all sorts of absurd merchandise ranging from Kiss Coffins to Kiss Tampons, the egos that be have been forced to admit that they aren’t the cat’s meow. On their mega-tour with Aerosmith, Kiss found themselves in a role that they are not used to: opening act. All the pyro and fake blood in the Kiss Prop Department can’t hide the fact that the lords of the Kiss Army are standing on their last legs with a torn ACL.

California. I kept quiet for most of the recall election simply because everyone who wasn’t running took the time to voice their opinion. When they both got done and the dust settled, we were left with the highest paid actor in film history holding a major office in the U.S. Government. I can’t say this really surprises me; I’ve always felt that it would be just a matter of time before the film stars that I grew up with began to enter the political arena. I figured if Jesse Ventura could be elected governor of Minnesota, Arnold Schwarzenegger would have no trouble whatsoever bombarding his way into the hearts of California’s voting population. Now, I’d say that the whole ordeal makes a mockery out of American politics, but if history and chaos theory prove anything, longstanding politicians have been doing that for the past 40 years and change. So I’ll hold my tongue on all that business. Besides, Arnie isn’t the first celebrity to run for office, so I’ll let time and fate be the judge of his skills. The reason the Sunshine State finds its way into the winner’s circle is simply because of the fact that a recall happened to begin with. As far as I’m concerned, this sets a dangerous precedent, and it could allow for any office to be disputed with relative ease as long as someone challenges the individual in the driver’s seat. If you really wanna see our system take a nosedive in the next few years, the California recall would be a good place to begin charting the chronology of its downfall.

Kobe Bryant. Hey, if it keeps the Lakers from becoming the Yankees of the NBA, toss his ass in Oz and let the inmates have at it.

Rush Limbaugh. It’s been a long time coming, but this proves that karma exists. The biggest blowhard in the political world has finally begun to bottom out, and I, for one, couldn’t be happier. Hey Rush, while you were popping OxyContin, you should’ve haggled with your dealer for some TrimSpa.

Jason Newsted. Say what you will about St. Anger (and Jason certainly did), but there’s no denying that this guy’s career is about as dead in the water as Saddam’s chances of a fair trial. Not only did the guy contradict himself every third interview, thereby blowing his chances of reuniting with Metallica, he also apparently blew his gig with Ozzy Osbourne. How does he do it? Better yet, who cares? Good riddance to yesterday’s news.

Ben Moody. OK, your band has a ginormous single, making for a major breakthrough into the mainstream. You’re big time, groupies, tour bus, the whole nine yards. In a few years you’ll probably be headlining major tours. So what do you do? You quit the band. Well, at least that’s Ben Moody’s line of thinking, as he quit Evanescence a little over half a year following their breakthrough with “Bring Me To Life.” Y’know, personal differences aside, is it really possible to dislike someone enough to stick it out for the greater good? Hell, even the Black Crowes went over ten years before splitting up, and they friggin’ hated one another. Besides, Moody’s reportedly known lead singer Amy Lee for over ten years… what on earth could come between them this late in the game? Jesus. And to top it all off, he’s now working on material with Avril Lavigne, and posting on Evanescence’s message board. Oh, yeah, Moody. You’re shark bait.

The Dixie Chicks. Another one that I’ve covered before. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, leave the sociopolitical commentary to Tom Morello and Bono. These three just aren’t qualified to voice an opinion on the war in Iraq, or our President, and they proved that by the sheer ignorance of their comments. Look, bottom line is that if you’re gonna basically insult the President during a time of international conflict, you better be prepared to back up your comments with some good old fashioned logic. You also better be ready for some major league backlash from the media and soon-to-be former fans. I don’t necessarily agree with the knee-jerk response by the radio stations and the record-buying public, however I cannot say that I’m surprised. That seems to be the way it goes in our humdrum, fair-weather fan country. It’s a tough pill, I know. But ya gotta put your salivary glands to work and swallow that fucker if you plan on making such garish comments. And worst of all, for the love of God, don’t go back on your statements just to cover your ass. Suck it up and take the hit. You’ll be better chicks for it. Until that time, I’ll see you somewhere over the dorsal fin.

Radio104 and ClearChannel Entertainment. Some of you non-Connecticians might find yourselves befuddled by this inclusion, so let me paint the picture for you with disgust as my water colors and frustration as my easel: Radio104 was a popular modern rock radio station based out of Hartford, CT. Since 1999, the station’s main claim to fame was its morning program, featuring Dee Snider. Yes, Dee Snider of Twisted Sister fame. Yes, “We’re-Not-Gonna-Take-It-Shove-It-Up-Tipper-Gore’s-Ass” Dee Snider. Say what you will about the band, but the show was pretty solid, and a nice alternative to Howard Stern for those who might be faint of heart. Anyway, last September, Radio104, which operates under the ClearChannel corporate flagship, pulled the plug on Dee Snider Radio, and replaced it with Bubba the Love Sponge. For those of you who don’t know the name, consider yourselves lucky. Bubba is a flash-in-the-pan Tampa Bay morning DJ who fancies himself the ultimate contender to Howard Stern’s on-air throne. Truth be told, the Love Sponge is just a two-bit Stern rip-off whose taken everything Howie has done and turned it into a gross parody. Consider his show “Redneck Radio” at its worst. Now ClearChannel decided that it’d be a good idea to syndicate Bubba’s show nationwide, and felt that the Hartford area, the long-forgotten hub of New England, would be a great place to start. See, Stern doesn’t air in Tampa Bay, so Bubba’s argument for years has been that Stern is too scared to go up against the Love Sponge. While that claim might have more holes than my dad’s socks, it was enough to convince ClearChannel to give it a go. So in September of ’02, Bubba the Love Sponge hit the airwaves, and the backlash was palpable. Online petitions and Anti-Bubba websites began popping up, and Radio104, despite no apparent change in its musical programming, lost a significant percentage of listeners. In fact, it got so bad that last month, ClearChannel not only dropped Bubba, but completely reworked the format. Once a decent rock station, Radio104 is now the latest in a long line of generic hip-hop stations to surface. The worst crime of all is the fact that there are no longer any DJs spinning discs live. How do I know this? Because the station proudly advertises this fact. The station’s playlist is one big computer program chuck full of the latest jams to blaze (my apologies for including the terms “jams” and “blaze” in the same sentence, but it needed to be done to get the message across). So after alienating its fans and changing the station format, ClearChannel has proven that it cares nothing for its listeners or its employees. Profits are what drive this giant, and that is the sort of mindset that endangers truly great radio. These guys jumped so high, I’m still waiting for them to touch down.

Madonna. For all of her so-called creativity and musical genius, Madonna sure ate it this year. Here’s hoping she’s as good at reinventing herself as all the critics say she is, because after the ’03, she desperately needs an injection of something fresh and lively. You wanna talk about a superstar that’s fallen, Madonna could very well be to 2003 what Michael Jackson was to 2002. That is to say she fucked up royally, and she might not be able to fully recover from her trips. She did so many cartwheels over the Landshark, that the chronology of her jumps is something of a blur to me, but at least we can hit on the big topics. She released Swept Away, which was a critical and financial disaster. Rather than sweeping audiences away, the picture swept the Razzies, AKA the Anti-Oscars. I don’t know a single person who made an attempt to see this gem, but from what I understand it was so bad that Mystery Science Theater 3000 could’ve released a sequel to it’s one and only feature film by slamming the Material Opus. Moreover, Madonna’s latest album, American Life got the shaft from critics and fans. Wow. Even that one floored me. I mean, I’m not a huge fan, but I know the lady has some talent. Regardless, after shooting a controversial video which featured her dropping a grenade in the lap of a George Dubya lookalike, Madonna allowed the clip to be edited, and stated that the intended message was misconstrued amongst patriotic fervor during the Iraqi conflict. Y’know, I really wonder what kind of dictionary celebrities follow, because their comments and messages always seem to get misunderstood by the general public. Maybe Hollywood really does have a language of its own, because I sure as shit can’t imagine that 99% of the American public can get the same message wrong. Let’s also not forget the tepid Gap commercial with Missy Elliott. While there was nothing particularly offensive about the ad, there was also no point for it. It just seemed like a 45-second time killer with no real focus. Disagree with me? How come it’s only been a couple months, and the ad is nowhere to be seen anymore? Case closed. And let us not forget the “controversial” open-mouth kiss with Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera at the MTV Video Music Awards. Y’know, if the only way you can generate publicity for yourself is to consistently spawn controversy, then you’d better reconsider labeling yourself an artist. When that happens, my internal B.S. Detector goes off, and it triggers a murderous churning of the stomach, which then manifests itself into the rants that you read. But truth be told, I’d rather a star be honest than provide me with blog fodder. I would much rather that I didn’t have to write these columns at all. Just for once I wish a celebrity would come out and openly admit, “Yes, I am insulting the intelligence of people everywhere.” Believe it or not, I’d gain more respect for them if they did. And right now, Madonna is sitting pretty atop the list of capital offenders. Soak it up, Material Hack, ‘cause it’s hard to get back on your feet after you’ve jumped over the Landshark as many times as you have.

So there you have it. My, this has been therapeutic. Think I’ll go treat myself to a Frosty at Wendy’s. In the meantime, you’d best get back to sleeping off your hangover you helpless drunk. For shame.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant New Year.

Ahh, music. Is there anything finer? Well, not if it’s done right. Here are the musical highlights of the ’03.

Top Ten Albums (in no particular order):
1 – Evanescence - Fallen
2 – Dream Theater - Train Of Thought
3 – Black Label Society - The Blessed Hellride
4 – Porch Ghouls - Bluff City Ruckus
5 – Jeff Beck - Jeff
6 – Johnny Cash - American IV: The Man Comes Around
7 – Jet - Get Born
8 – Shinedown - Leave A Whisper
9 – A Perfect Circle - Thirteenth Step
10 – Thursday - War All The Time

And now, ten artists whose new albums I am eagerly anticipating for the ’04:

Aerosmith
AC/DC
Black Label Society
Velvet Revolver
Damageplan
Soil
Godsmack
Dropbox
Rob Zombie
Monster Magnet

Vocalist of the Year – (three-way tie) Amy Lee of Evanescence, Maynard James Keenan of A Perfect Circle, and Brent Smith of Shinedown. Projected winner for ’04: Steven Tyler of Aersomith. Anything less would be uncivilized!

Guitarist of the Year – (tie) Zakk Wylde of Black Label Society and Ozzy Osbourne, and John Petrucci of Dream Theater. Projected winner for ’04: Another tie… Zakk again, and Dimebag Darrell of Damageplan.

Bassist of the Year – Jeordie White of A Perfect Circle. Projected winner for ’04: Too early to tell. Possibly Duff McKagan.

Drummer of the Year – Mike Portnoy of Dream Theater. Projected winner for ’04: Possibly Matt Sorum.

Dick of the Year – Fred Durst.

Hypocrite of the Year – Jason Newsted.

Moron of the Year – Ben Moody.

Lastly, Rest In Peace…

June Carter Cash
Johnny Cash
Howie Epstein
Michael Kamen
Maurice Gibb
Ty Longley
Herbie Mann
Robert Palmer
Noel Redding
Compay Segundo
Barry White
Warren Zevon

And now, stay tuned for the First Annual Jump the Landshark Awards!

Dear reader, 'tis the season to be jolly. Now I might come off as Captain Jerky quite often... But I definitely am imbued with the holiday spirit these days. Oh, yes, even I, the brooding, cranky, illegitimate spawn of George Carlin and Dennis Miller (neither one will claim me, and I can't say that I blame them), can see the beauty in life around this time of year.

In fact, I've even gone so far as to extend my holiday shopping list to some of my least favorite people in the world. Oh, they might not know it's from me, but they will never forget the rock thrown through their window with the gift attached...

But here's the catch, see... For the holidays, we always ask for what we want. How often do we ask for what we need? And believe me, the individuals in question are in need of my help.

So, without further ado... a list of what these genetic defectives desperately need for the holidays!

Paris Hilton - Some class and refinement.

Saddam Hussein - A mustache and beard trimmer, a long, hot bath, and of course, a very happy reunion with his sons for the holidays.

Michael Jackson - The coldest, darkest, dingiest cell possible, and the very deep affection of a very lonely 300 lb. cellmate named Rufus. He always wanted to be a child again, now he can know how every kid he has sleep over must feel like.

Lee Boyd Malvo - The wettest sponge possible when he goes to the chair.

TV Execs and Writers everywhere - A Clockwork Orange-inspired viewing of every reality show they’ve ever green-lighted, certain to leave a nasty taste in their brains.

The Clan McMahon - A competent, reasonable booking team that they'll actually listen to.

Ben Moody - A pair of kneepads for when he comes crawling back, begging Amy Lee to rejoin Evanescence.

Paul Stanley - A chest wax.

Gene Simmons - A tongue wax.

Eddie Murphy - A screenplay that doesn't suck and actually showcases his talent.

Scott Weiland - Sobriety. Not that he'd know what to do with it.

Ben Affleck - A good divorce attorney.

Jennifer Lopez - A bad divorce attorney.

Chris Benoit - Some respect and recognition.

Angie Harmon - A much better nose job.

Steve Cojocaru -Membership in the Steven Tyler Look-alike Fan Club, two broken wrists (so he can't type), and a ball gag spot-welded to his teeth.

Jessica Simpson - A deep-sea diving excursion to find out exactly what tuna really is. Just don't let her in on the fact that she'll be wearing cement flippers...

Ozzy Osbourne - A little peace and quiet, and a new group of friends that won't tug him every which way into the limelight.

Jason Newsted - A gig even he can't possibly blow.

Trey Parker and Matt Stone - The Nobel Peace Prize.

Anna Nicole Smith - A massive tapeworm.

Old Navy - Some celebrity spokespeople that aren't right off the B-list.

HBO - A swift kick in the nads for not getting the fifth season of The Sopranos out sooner.

The Queer Eye guys - Vaseline and some discretion.

Kobe Bryant - ...Well actually, if he gets convicted, he'll be getting what he deserves.

Natalie Maines - Some military and/or political experience, so if she ever opens her mouth again, she'll at least know what she's talking about.

Britney Spears - Anything she wants provided she stops calling me so much.

My boss - Some computer know-how and the ability to give me tasks without taking 20 minutes to explain.

My other boss - A cool head and a bag of weed. If anyone needs to relax, it's him.

Your mom - Crabs.

Goodnight and have a pleasant Christmas.

I’m sick of hearing about Paris Hilton. All others in the room who share this irritation, kindly raise your hands high.

As you probably know, I’ve ripped on celebrities many times in the past, and it’s not likely I’ll be stopping anytime soon, especially when wastes of skin like Paris Hilton are making the regular rounds on my front page, and taking up valuable space in my e-mail inbox.

So she made a sex tape. Big friggin’ whoop, who in Hollywood hasn’t these days? I’m sure even Bea Arthur made a sex tape with Ellen DeGeneres at some point.

I’ll take a five minute break while you go shower up to cleanse your mind of that image.

Back yet? Good. Bea and Ellen in the shower!

I’ll wait again. Sorry, but you didn’t scrub hard enough, skippy.

OK, no more references of the sort for the rest of this post. Honest injun.

So yeah, Paris made a sex tape, and now it’s found its way to the media’s grubby, sticky little hands. Well color me curmudgeony, but why should we give two shits about Paris Hilton’s little home video? For that matter, why should we give one shit about Paris Hilton to begin with? Has she done anything worth acknowledging lately? How about ever? I’m not keepin’ score or nothin’, but c’mon folks, this girl and her ‘ittle sister are about as useless as useless gets.

”How useless are they?"

Glad you asked…

They’re about as useless as a nicotine patch is to Denis Leary.

They’re about as useless as a young, beautiful, single woman in Michael Jackson’s bedroom.

They’re about as useless as a turn signal to a New Jersey motorist.

They’re about as useless as an AA meeting to Scott Weiland.

They’re about as useless as another Beastmaster movie.

Now that’s fuckin’ useless, kiddies.

So far, to my knowledge, the only thing these two kittens do is show up at parties, dance, drink, and make fools out of themselves. Should we really be giving them all this attention if that’s all they’re known for? Paris, Nikki, you’re cute, but call me up when you find a cure for the clap. Given your sex lives (what else would you expect from a couple of chicks named after a hotel?), I certainly hope you’re hard at work trying to crack that Rosetta.

But the news coverage on E! News Daily and Access Hollywood isn’t what gets me. That’s why God invented the remote control… for switching to Law & Order reruns on TNT. No, what gets me is every day I check my e-mail, I have some article of correspondence mentioning Ms. Hilton’s escapade courtesy of some anonymous snapperhead that is likely to buy me a virus and/or a subscription to the best of Girls Gone Wild! The Bestiality Edition.

And if there’s one thing I hate, it’s spam.

So Paris, if you’re readin’ this, and I hope to God you are… I, and every other sane, reasonable, decent human being that’s schleppin’ this pebble are really, really, really of hearing about you on an hourly basis.

However, I am a big supporter of the way you’re handling this. I really appreciate the fact that you’re laying low, as do we all. In fact, I’d like to recommend that you continue employing this practice well after this mess blows over.

And while you’re at it, please recommend your brilliant PR strategy to Michael Jackson, Pamela Anderson, Liza Minelli, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Fred Durst, and those Queer Eye For The Straight Guy blokes. In fact, have your wealthy parents buy an island and take them all with you. An island far away from cameras, televisions, and computers. Far away from us… nay, me!

*Sigh*

Why can’t Soleil Moon Frye make a sex tape? I wouldn’t mind her being overexposed.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant December.