Yankees fans can never know pain. Not the way a Red Sox fan knows it.

Last night, you all got a sample, a taste, a cursory lick of hopelessness. Tell me, how did you like it?

Last night, you were sitting on the edges of your seats, not a fingernail left on your hand, sweating enough bullets to fill a crater, weren't you? Welcome to our world. This is how we live day in, day out, especially come October. For a moment, tell me you didn't doubt your Bronx Bombers. Look me in the eye and say you didn't begin to wonder if the "curse" would be shattered last night. If you tell me you never worried an ounce, you're not only arrogant, you're a filthy fuckin' liar.

That aside, I have nothing bad to say. I'm proud of Boston's effort considering that they are the eternal longshot. This play-off series convinced me that I will see them win the World Series before I'm gone. But to all you Yankees fans who refuse to give credit where credit is due, who simply brush it off and give thanks to your "curse," grow up. Nothing is worse than an obnoxious sports fan, regardless of who they root for. Put a sock in it.

Sure, I like rubbing it in people's faces, but 99.9% of the time, I'm content to keep our victories sacred by smiling to myself. I don't want to lose the joy since it doesn't often cross my eyes. Honestly, I wish I were the only one. I know plenty of obnoxious Red Sox fans, so don't think that I'm making the Yanks' fanbase out to be some kind of cult. Truth be told, I have plenty of close friends who're loyal to the Yanks, and hey, that's fine by me. While impulsive in my younger years, I refuse to demean myself or either team by coming to blows over a sports rivalry. In the long run, we respect one another and don't go name-calling. That's what sportsmanship is all about, and I laud it.

However, sportsmanship in general is lost on a lot of people nowadays, fans and players alike (so to answer your question, no, I don't condone Pedro Martinez's actions last week. Happy?). For the past week and change, all I've heard is "curse this" and "curse that." "1918 this" and "1986 that." "Bucky Dent this" and "Bill Buckner that." All I've seen is arrogant, conceited grins from cocky Yankees fans. You wonder why more people from Boston haven't gone B.P. (Beyond Postal) and attempted to carpet bomb Yankee Stadium. Thank God for discretion.

I'd like to think that in some alternative universe, some wonderful type of Karmageddon, these "rub it in your face" types will wind up being reborn into a family of deer 10 feet from Ted Nugent's compound. Then you will know what it's like to be singled out and intimidated. Then you'll know what it's like to hide yourself in a sports bar. Think that over the next time you attempt to condescend to a Red Sox loyalist like myself, OK?

Well, I won't be watching the World Series as neither team interests me. Sure, I'll root for the Marlins, no problem. But why waste my time watching a game that doesn't involve the team I bleed for? And yes, I bleed red. I bleed red to the end, and I'm not the only one. If nothing else, being a Sox fan has taught me humility, and how to cope with pain. But to pull one tearjerker on you, I've got a 9-year-old cousin who is no doubt crying after last night's game, and will probably be ridiculed at school today. When was the last time a 9-year-old Yankee fan had to weep? What, Giambi didn't get that million-dollar raise on his contract? Bernie Williams didn't hit the homer your way? Jeter didn't hit on your mom when he met her? Some day you'll know the pain. Some day you'll know what it means to be stripped of your pride. I guarantee it.

In closing, I'd like to reference my friend Sav. Now Sav is a tried-and-true Mets fan who, for obvious reasons, loathes the Yankees. Now, he could be petty and "1986" me to death, but he realizes there are bigger fish to fry. When I woke up and signed on this morning, his away message, on a scale of one to ten, ranked "totally awesome." And I don't think he'd mind if I shared it with you now...

"Where the hell did all these 'Yankee fans' come from? Half of you wagon-riders didnt even know Aaron Boone played for the Yanks. Now he's a hero? Please. Most of you should spend less time seeing how cute Jeter looks and hoppin' on the Yanks train and try loving the game of baseball itself. As for you true Yankee fans, that was a great game, couldn't have asked for a better series. I can't imagine what a Red Sox fan must feel like. It has been a while seen I've seen a team with that much heart. That alone made it an amazing series. You've captured the souls of New Englanders (and hopeless Mets fans) everywhere... The Sox define team unity."

Amen, Brother Sav.

Goodnight and have a pleasant tomorrow (yes, even you Yankees fans).

On my way to work today, I was listening to Howard Stern on the radio as usual. The guest of the moment was famed hip-hop star Ludacris. Now, as you all should know, I’ve got some issues with the entire hip-hop subculture. Lemme offer you this disclaimer before you go crying “racist.” Skin color, heritage, ethnic/cultural background, that means nothing to me. I judge people by the quality of their beings. They are either good or bad, case closed.

And granted, I am not a fan of hip-hop in general. My tastes tend to lean towards the rock edge of things, but that is just a personal preference. I am, however, irritated and severely alarmed by the glorification of the hip-hop lifestyle portrayed in both song and on the screen. Welcome to the Bling Bling Revolution, as I call it.

But to get back to the point (so you can see where I’m going with this), Ludacris was on Howard Stern this morning. One of the questions Howard asked him (semi-jokingly) was if he carried a gun or not. Ludacris responded he did, but added that it was “for show.”

He carries a gun for show.

Does that bother you at all? Does that make your ears perk up? This man, who fancies himself a superstar in the hip-hop community, carries a deadly weapon, designed for the sole intent to end life, for show. When you hear a comment that proud, that smug, that blatantly ignorant, it’s really hard to disagree with even the most extreme right-wing conservatives who preach against the evils of modern music, particularly rap and it’s glorification of drugs and violence, and its degradation of women.

This is where musical preference falls by the wayside, and disdain for a subculture sets in.

Just some more fuel to the fire: I was watching Scarface a few nights ago on cable, and Ice-T was offering between-commercial commentary on what the film means to him and how it has influenced the hip-hop community.

For those of you who’ve never seen the film, lemme sum it up for ya: Cuban refugee makes it big in America by working as a lackey, killing his superior, and selling cocaine. At the height of his fortune, he is murdered my enemies. That sums it up in a nutshell.

The film does, however, offer up lavish sets, especially in the Miami clubs and Tony Montana’s palatial estate. The phrase, “The world is yours” is echoed throughout the story ad nauseum, as the only thing Tony (Al Pacino) craves is more power. He wants to rule the world, and for a time, he does. But the fast life founded on drugs and crime winds up being his undoing. I know, it sounds a bit clichéd, sure. But it’s still a marvelous picture.

The screenplay was written by Oliver Stone, who at the time was battling cocaine addiction himself. In many ways, it is a social commentary on the criminal underworld, especially as it pertains to drugs. Think of it as one big “Just Say No” campaign with piles of coke, scores of bullets, and a barrage of 182 “F-Bombs.”

However, many in the hip-hop community have taken the stylish imagery from the film and tried to model their livelihood based on that. Think about it, every time Cribs invades a rappers house, the constants are always the same: Cristal, fancy pool, flashy bedroom, and Scarface on DVD. I sincerely doubt that Ice-T or Ludacris ever took a contemporary film class, otherwise they’d be able to read between the lines and figure out that the movie preaches against the type of life they’re leading. Either that, or they just don’t care.

I’d be really curious what Oliver Stone and Brian DePalma think of how the hip-hop community has idolized Tony Montana. I’d love to conduct an interview to see just what they think of this business, ‘cause I gotta tell ya, it disgusts me. Rap used to be a serious social genre. Artists like NWA, Grandmaster Flash, and Public Enemy used the form to preach against social injustice, racism, street life, police brutality, and other topics pertinent to African-Americans at the time.

Now, however, like most musical styles, it has degenerated. In this instance, it has degenerated to one grandiose six-figure, diamond-encrusted, fully-locked-and-loaded Cinderalla story come true for many rappers. But come on, let’s be honest, how long can those fortunes sustain before they start to wear thin on the public? Didn’t you guys see MC Hammer’s Behind The Music? The story doesn’t end pretty! Royalties will only cover so many payments on your Bentley until one is deemed an empty investment by the record company. Even half-assed overpriced clothing lines aren’t likely to keep you afloat.

Whatever the case is, these folks don’t have as rosy a future as they might like. It absolutely turns my stomach to witness such a gross abuse of money.

Or maybe all those Scarface DVD’s just got cut off halfway to the end. Yeah, that’s it. Word.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Am I the only one who finds the lack of solid guitar playing in today’s music troublesome? Anyone else in on this? Anyone at all?

I remember when the guitar heroes of generations past used to actually be quite talented. Hendrix, Clapton, Page, Beck, Rhoads, Van Halen, Satriani, Vai, Hammett, Vaughan, etc. What happened? When did we trade in Angus Young for the non-descript dude from Linkin Park? When did Yngwie Malmsteen give way to Mike Mushok from Staind? When did we forget about Michael Schenker the second we saw Wes Borland?

I don’t get it. I seriously don’t get it. The guitar has been such an integral part of contemporary music since the 60’s, when did it take a backseat to everything else? My only hope is that with the current saturation of the Nu Metal genre that good old rootsy guitar playing will return to prominence.

Now it should be duly noted that I am somewhat excluding the blues from this list. Since ’95 we’ve been graced with great blues guitarists like Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Jonny Lang, Shannon Curfman, Joe Bonamassa, Eric Gales, Derek Trucks and Doyle Bramhall II. Those guys are OK by me. They’ve got chops and they know what it’s all about. They understand good blues and what the genre requires, so they are henceforth exempt.

I’m also not referring to virtuosos or progressive rockers. Joe Satriani, Steve Vai and Dream Theater’s John Petrucci simply live to bend and break the rules of what is possible with music, and in doing so they have spawned a few generations of relatively small but fiercely loyal fans. Don’t believe me? Check out the Dream Theater Scenes From Manhattan DVD, and take note of Petrooch onstage. I guarantee you’ll have no doubts.

No, good reader, I’m talking more along the lines of hard rock. Seems that with the exception of ageless classic rockers like Aerosmith’s Joe Perry and AC/DC’s Angus Young, nearly no one is bothering to put the time into their guitar work anymore. The heavy metal scene itself, once renowned for rapid fire riffs and scaling solos has given way to thick, out of tune riffs that seem to loop over and over without much feel. Hell, as I’ve mentioned here before, I love St. Anger, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t vexed about the fact that Kirk Hammett didn’t solo. Not once. It’s disheartening to see one of the best guitarists ever forego his trademark solos.

My major curiosity pertains as to where things took a left turn. Unlike most people, I do not blame the Seattle Explosion (I can’t stand the term “grunge”) for this sudden shift. Kurt Cobain’s fretwork, while obviously simple, was still graced with the occasional solo. In an Angus Young sort of way, he gave a lot of younger guitarists hope that they, too could be in a great band, even with simple riffs and solos. Kim Thayill from Soundgarden was not afraid to solo, and did quite well with it to boot. Mike McCready and Stone Gossard of Pearl Jam still have their chops when the time is right. And Jerry Cantrell from Alice In Chains is one of the best guitarists ever. Period.

So I don’t blame the Seattle Explosion. I think a lot of things changed when Korn got in the game. Now don’t get me wrong, I dig Korn. They’re a very creative band, but the whole amalgamation of metal, rap and funk mixed in with out of tune seven-string guitars did a lot to damage the music scene. Lots of imitators popped up in their wake, all of whom are not worthy of being mentioned. But they exploded big, causing Nu Metal to grow at a lightning-quick pace on ye olde product life cycle. But with accelerated growth comes an earlier maturation point, and that’s where the market is now. The only full-on metal bands, Nu or otherwise to survive the trend have been Korn, Disturbed and Godsmack. Fine, throw in Linkin Park as well, but they’re still a new band, so there’s plenty of time for them to jump the shark like all the rest.

Let’s be honest folks, there aren’t too many beacons of light out there for us guitar aficionados. Aside from active classic rockers like Perry, Young, Ted Nugent, Edge and Alex Lifeson, touring whores like Steve Howe, Billy Gibbons and (of course) Keith Richards, prog rockers/virtuosos like Vai, Satch and Petrooch, and the ubiquitous Kirk Hammett, how many actual guitar heroes are there anymore? Only other guys that come to mind are Tom Morello, Jerry Cantrell, Dimebag Darrell and the almighty Zakk Wylde. I mean, these are guys who, because of their axe-handling abilities have managed to inspire legions of aspiring guitarists without the brand equity of their band name. Sure, lotsa people love Godsmack (myself being one of them). But how many can actually name the lead guitarist?

See? Eh? For the record his name is Tony Rombola.

Y’know, it’s sad to see music devolving so quickly. And again, I’m talking about rock music. Screw pop and hip-hop, I don’t have a gauge on that stuff. We went from scores of breeding grounds for great bands in the 60’s (the Beatles, the Stones, the Yardbirds, the Who, Led Zep, Cream, Hendrix), 70’s (Aerosmith, AC/DC, Deep Purple, Rush, Pink Floyd) 80’s (Van Halen, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Metallica, Guns N’ Roses, Blizzard Of Ozz) and 90’s (Nirvana, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, Pearl Jam, Rage Against The Machine, Korn) to an apparent cesspool of overrated under-practiced hollow rock.

That’s not to say there’s no hope. I think there are a few budding artists out there that show signs of potential. I dig Nickelback (ballads notwithstanding) if nothing else for the fact that they sound like a good ol’ fashioned classic rock four-piece. The guitar work ain’t too shabby either. Similarly, Theory Of A Deadman bring back that rootsy feel typical of Southern Rock with some good tunes. Stone Sour mixes old school metal norms with AIC-inspired melodies, thick riffs, and “ear-delicious” solos. Even Evanescence has the occasional solo to complement Amy Lee’s amazing voice, and y’know what? They’re not too shabby. I’m also excited about the Porch Ghouls, whom Joe Perry describes as sounding like “Peter Green-era Fleetwood Mac on steroids.” If you’ve ever listened to Peter Green’s chops, you know that’s a good thing. Australia’s Jet are a nice return to classic blues-swagger guitar-infused rock n’ roll with the odd solo here or there. Also, Velvet Revolver (comprised of STP’s Scott Weiland, GNR’s Slash, Duff McKagan and Matt Sorum, and Infectious Groove’s Dave Kushner) are almost guaranteed to bring back some of the traditional fretwork standards courtesy of the man in the black hat.

And more and more, young bands are getting away from downtuning and opting for melody. That in and of itself is a step in the right direction, and who knows? The next crop of real guitar heroes might not be that far around the corner. Until that time, I don’t mind swimming, wandering aimlessly through the melodic tributaries of the mainstream. You should consider joining me sometime.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

Y'know what I can't stand? These stupid bumperstickers that say, "God Is My Co-Pilot." How ridiculous is this? If the people driving these cars were such devout Christians, they'd know that God can do pretty much anything He wants. I mean, He's Lord and Creator of all of us, as well as this pebble we call home, not to mention the entire frickin' universe. I'd say He's got a good handle on pretty much everything there is.

So why would He need a co-pilot?

Think about it, if you're a professional pilot, and you step into that cockpit and the Big Man Himself is sitting behind the controls, are you really gonna intrude? He's God for cryin' out loud!

And $10 says He'll do one of two things. He'll either A) smile at you thoughtfully, as if to say, "aww, how cute!" Y'know, kinda like when you were a naïve child trying to figure out how to tie a necktie so you could be more like dad. Or B) look at you rather indignantly and say, "Motherfucker, get your ass back in coach! I'm God! I've got this one covered, kid!"

Who are you to think that you’re of a similar caliber as the Good Lord? You arrogant prick. You oughta be run off the road just for insinuating such a thing.

I’d do that myself, but I’m not gonna. I’m relatively certain God’s already got your number. And He’s gonna be mighty pissed that you think of yourself that highly.

My advice to you: bend over and say your prayers.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.

First off, I gotta pay my respects to one of the central focuses of my last post, the Man in Black himself, Mr. Johnny Cash. I think we all knew he wasn’t long for this world, but that cannot take away from his contributions. He’ll be missed.

Now, onto the matters at hand…

Have you noticed that everyone has their own talk show now? Seriously. Dear reader, I think it’s only a matter of time before you and I have our own talk shows. All we need to do is have a five-minute cameo in a moderately popular film in which we steal the scene. We’ll catch the eye of some half-wit producer from some lackluster cable station, and within a matter of seconds we’ll be signing a contract for our own talk show.

Can you smell the excitement? ‘Cause I can’t.

Folks, who wants a talk show? Seriously, are they even entertaining anymore? Save the almighty holy trinity of late night hosts (Letterman, O’Brien, Leno), the talk show is a dead art form, case closed. And even I have to admit that none of those guys are as funny as they were 5-10 years ago.

OK, let’s clear something up first. There are two divisions of the modern talk show. The first is entertainment-based. That is to say, shows that focus around celebrities, television, film, music, and various newsmakers. The second is shock-based. These are focused on trashy people in clothes that are way too tight bitching about how their mom slept with their boyfriend while neglecting their 900-pound obese brother and his 7-year-old out of control daughter who beat up the handicapped kid with the bizarre skin disorder at school.

I’m focusing on the former, not the latter. Stay with me here and please bear right at the fork in the road, lest ye want to be knee-deep in Mauryworld. What the hell kinda name is “Maury,” anyway? If you really hate your child, name him or her “Maury.” Heck, my mother named one of her garden gnomes “Maury” once, and a week into his stay at El Casa de Rico, he had an unfortunate encounter with a ball peen hammer. Sad, really. Moving along…

Now these talk shows can, based on their nature, be aired at almost any given point during the day. Early morning, mid-day, late afternoon, late night, late late night, hell, there’s a talk show for every meal of the day including in-between snackfests. But why? Do we really obsess over watching these shows so much?

An aside, in an upcoming post I will list the ten best programs on TV and why. Back to this post, already in progress.

I mean, look at some of the hosts. These are not superstars with major talents a la Letterman or O’Brien, let alone the almighty Carson. These are Hollywood Squares alumni who are too big for their britches.

I mean, does Caroline Rhea need a show? What gives her the right to take over Rosie O’Donnell’s spot? Not that I ever felt Rosie was anything special, but Caroline Rhea is a supporting cast member on Sabrina The Teenage Witch. Hardly what I’d call a barnburner of a television show. Or Jesse Ventura? Jesse, good wrestler, better commentator, quasi-joke of an actor, questionable governor, lets keep your resume limited to those items alone, OK? Or what about Wayne Brady? He’s the guy who improvises songs on the spot on Whose Line Is It Anyway? He’s a good-looking cat with a decent singing voice. But he is not as funny as Ryan Stiles or Colin Quinn, period. Hell, the fucking 7-Up guy has his own show! Orlando Jordan hasn’t even had a hit movie yet! Let’s see, The Time Machine, Evolution, and that horrible horrible film with Eddie Griffin. Oh, yeah. This guy is a superstar in every sense of the word. Hocking soda will only get you so far. Hell, I’m sure if Clara Peller hadn’t been so old during her “where’s the beef” days, she’d have wound up with her own talk show.

And now we’ve got Sharon Osbourne. Now Sharon, I give her credit for A) getting her husband straightened out, and B) being a savvy businesswoman. But the entire Osbourne clan has given into every Hollywood tabloid cliché possible. With the exception of Ozzy himself (who is too loveably brain dead to know otherwise), not a one of them is innocent. Heck, if I ever get together in a band and want it to be a big hit, all I’ll do is date Kelly Osbourne. Hey, sometimes a man has to get his hands dirty. Whatever pushes units, right?

So what is gonna separate Sharon’s show from anyone else’s? Probably nothing. Is she gonna put her own spin on things? Most likely. Will she cuss like a sailor? Undoubtedly. Will it be fresh and innovative? Hardly. Eventually, it will fall to every other tired cliché imaginable. I think this is why I hate television so much. There’s barely anything on that I haven’t already seen in some shape or form. And I’m not talking reruns, I’m talking cleverness, good writing, good characters, good hosts, etc. I feel truly sorry for Jimmy Kimmel, as I find the man truly funny. He is unfortunately handcuffed by the brass at ABC for his brand of comedy. A shame, really, ‘cause he’s got potential to be the next big thing in late night. If only he could’ve landed a gig at HBO.

Hell, word has it that Britney Spears and Jennifer Lopez are in talks for their own talk shows. Folks, these two “supertalents” have gone from useless singers to useless actresses to soon-to-be useless talk show hostesses in a matter of four years. Granted, now that these two gems are no longer engaged or don’t have any hot 40-year-old women to make out with, they probably have a lot of free time on their hands.

Look, lemme sum it up for you nicely folks. Any day that Michael Essany, a 20-something no-name from Buttfuck, Generica USA can land an hour-long show on E!, it sets a dangerous precedent.

Anyone can get their own talk show. Anyone.

So with that in mind, I present to you a list of five individuals whom I would like to see host a talk show in the near future.

Kevin Smith. Aside from being wonderfully crass, the man is also brutally honest. You need look no further than Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back or the ill-fated Clerks cartoon to know that he pulls no punches, and has it in for celebrities. Not even his pal Ben Affleck is safe at all times. Moreover, the man is painfully intelligent, which would provide for a spectacularly enlightening show. His biting witticisms are off the cuff and hilarious.

Lewis Black. Saw the man live once, nearly ruptured my spleen laughing. I swear, you wanna talk about a guy who hates everyone, Lewis is that guy. No one is safe, period. Not Starbucks, not the president, not celebrities, not your mom. Just have an ample supply of black coffee and cigarettes on hand for the host of the moment. He’ll fly through ‘em.

Zakk Wylde. Zakk is completely unfiltered with no apologies whatsoever. Half the show would be him chugging beer, shredding on the “buzzsaw” and chugging more beer. Throw in the occasional live performance by the in-house band, Zakk’s own Black Label Society. Frequent guests would be Dimebag Darrell, Jerry Cantrell, Mike Piazza and Rob Zombie. If that’s not a winning combination, I don’t know what is. Hell, Fuse would eat that shit up and ask for seconds.

Henry Rollins. I think few things would be as entertaining as watching Henry Rollins psychologically dismantle half-hearted, weak-minded guests on a daily basis. I mean, c’mon. Can’t you just picture the man decimating Jewel for her recent “efforts” in the music business? Or maybe having an arm-wrestling match with Glenn Danzig. This thing’s got money written all over it.

George Carlin. If you really need me to explain this one, I don’t want you visiting this site again. Ever. The man is comedy’s answer to God, understand? Not only is he one of the longest active comedians around, but he’s also the funniest. Period. He says the things that no one else is willing to, and for that reason alone, I laud the man. Television is just aching for a dose of Carlin.

Until the time that any or all of those guys get their own shows, I don’t feel like I’m missing much by working in the morning or going to bed early at night. If I’m to be entertained, I first must be impressed, and quite frankly, the average talk show just doesn’t cut it anymore. Think of this as my “Dr. Phil” dose of advice to the industry: stop looking for the next pseudo-celebrity to be a talk show host and just stick with what works. Trust me, ratings will follow. If you build it, they will come. Case closed.

Goodnight, and have a pleasant tomorrow.