Remembering Robin

I may be late to the races with this one since many others are chiming in, but I’d be remiss not to offer my thoughts and feelings on the passing of the late Robin Williams. 

Normally, celebrity deaths don’t affect me at all.  I will admit to being emotional this year when the Ultimate Warrior died, mainly because he was such a huge part of my life.  In spite of his flaws, it seemed like he’d received closure on life in wrestling.

Robin Williams, however, received no such closure.  At least not the kind that you’d want for him after knowing his struggles.

Anyone who lived through the 90s has to know that Robin Williams just about owned that decade on the silver screen.  After he broke big with Good Morning, Vietnam in 1987, it was off to the races for him.  He turned out several memorable performances during that time, and for many kids, his voice and energy was a staple of their youth.

I remember very clearly going to see Hook around Christmas, and Mrs. Doubtfire years later.  In college, the first time I really hung out with my main circle of friends was when we went to see What Dreams May Come at the local movie theater.  Every girl in our circle was crying her eyes out afterwards, and with good reason.

Robin Williams had the ability to appeal to a range of emotions.  He could be goofy, juvenile, and outright silly.  But at the same time he could be earnest, heartfelt, even somber.  There wasn’t a single feeling on the spectrum he couldn’t bring out of an audience. 

And although he’s most known for his comedic roles, he wasn’t afraid to go dark.  His guest appearance on Law & Order: SVU a few years back is evidence of that.  You felt genuinely unnerved watching him on the screen, and his performance was nothing if not convincing.

I’ll openly admit to not loving everything he did.  I hated Patch Adams, I loathed Flubber, and when I saw him advertised for his most recent sitcom on NBC, I cringed.  I just remember thinking, “Man, he’s been reduced to this?  He’s so good when he wants to be!  He’s better than this.” 

And yet in spite of the recent lag in his career, I feel an unquestionable void when I think about his death.  I feel that way because even at his worst, there was no denying that Robin Williams was something special.  He had tremendous depth as an actor, and apparently as a human being.  Countless colleagues have commented on his loving nature, his warmth, and his generosity. 

Sadly, we now know that there was severe turbulence beneath that warm exterior. 

It hits hard to know that someone so seemingly warm and vibrant could harbor such troubles.  And yet it comes as little surprise.  Most comedians and comic personalities deal with inadequacy and depression at some level.  Laughter is an easy tool on the road to love, and anyone who’s made an audience laugh will tell you that there’s no greater feeling than hearing that sound. 

I’ve dealt with depression myself, and I’d be lying if I said that darker thoughts hadn’t entered my head at times.  It’s undeniably scary, but I was fortunate enough to avoid self-harm of any kind.  But I’m not naïve enough to think that just because I’m lucky, it’s easy.

It’s not easy.  And there are a lot of people right now talking about how they hope Williams’ death will increase awareness of depression and suicidal thoughts.  It might me trite to just jump on the bandwagon, but yes, there’s no question that it’s an issue.  A big one.

It’s more complicated than just a disorder, it’s not really disease, and it’s not an act of selfishness to do what he did.  It’s hard to process unless you’ve been through it.  And even then it’s hard to articulate what it feels like.  There are no easy answers, and solutions take time.

It’s an ongoing process.  I hope that in his passing, Williams revealed that we are all works in progress, we all have fears, and we all struggle.  Sometimes, some of us struggle worse than others.

I have one phrase repeating in my mind.  The infamous scene from Good Will Hunting in which Sean Maguire tells Will over and over again, “it’s not your fault.”  No matter how much Will protests, he never stops.  “It’s not your fault.”

I want to be able to say that to Robin Williams now.  I want to say that to him three days ago.  And if anyone out there is struggling on this level, please remember, it’s not your fault.  Hang in there.

Requiem For The Rock

Sometimes in life, a part of our history comes to an end, and we feel drastically affected.  Naturally, we all hit critical milestones that can result in strong emotions; graduating high school, college, losing a loved one, moving away from home, etc.  But every once in a while, something seemingly trivial comes to an end and we wind up feeling strongly about it.  It might not seem like much to others, but in our hearts, it feels like a little piece of our being was torn away.   

This is my story of one such institution.  And there is nothing trivial about it.       

On August 1, 2014, Hartford said goodbye to one of its longest running and most beloved radio stations.  WCCC, popularly known as “The Rock” in its heyday, closed its doors forever.  While the building and call letters remain, the Christian contemporary format on the 106.9 frequency indicates that the WCCC of old is dead and gone.  And fans of the station couldn’t be sadder. 

WCCC has a long and storied history, both in terms of its local impact and its status as one of the benchmark hard rock radio stations of the last 30 years.  Founded in 1959, the station switched to a progressive rock format in the 1970’s.  Eventually, it would be the first mainstream home to the most famous radio personality in history, Howard Stern.

As famously chronicled in Stern’s book and subsequent film, Private Parts, WCCC was Howard’s first foray into a major market.  He had not yet found his now-famous voice of irreverence, but it was the springboard for him to future success.  It was also where Stern met friend and colleague Fred Norris, who remains on the air with Howard to this day.  It’s no surprise then that WCCC became Howard’s syndicated home in the state of Connecticut in 1996.

In 1999, WCCC embraced an edgier format by going the road of “active rock.”  For the uninformed, that translates to more metal, hard rock, and even up-and-coming acts as compared to just blasting “All Right Now” by Free five times a day.  Hartford was a very competitive market at the time, with not one, but three rock-based stations.  In addition to The Rock 106.9, there was also 105.9 WHCN (a classic rock station), and an alternative rock station known as Radio 104. (WMRQ 104.1)  WCCC and WHCN had a long-standing rivalry dating back to the Stern days, and on-air personalities were known to bounce back and forth between the two stations.  Radio 104 competed more aggressively by countering Stern with a morning show hosted by Dee Snider of Twisted Sister.  They also promoted their own day-long festival called Radio 104 Fest, which was highly popular at the time.

But neither station was able to measure up to The Rock, neither in quality, nor in fortitude.      

WCCC was not afraid to promote guerrilla marketing tactics.  Fans posted WCCC stickers over competitive station’s stickers on street lights and stop signs.  Many concerts were rife with chants of “CCC!  CCC!”  No matter who the main promoter was.  Even DJs were unafraid to take matters into their own hands at concerts where multiple stations were present.

The Rock tapped into a renegade mindset that mirrored the product.  The music reflected a rebellious spirit by embracing the fringe mentality present in heavy metal and hard rock.  This was the station that was not only going to play a variety of Metallica songs as opposed to just “Enter Sandman,” they were also willing to play the bands that traditionally didn't get airplay.  Pantera, Tool, Korn, Slipknot, Megadeth, Iron Maiden, the list goes on and on.  Whereas mainstream Top 40 stations stopped playing Seattle grunge after Kurt Cobain’s death, CCC was still a place where you could hear Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, and even lesser known bands like Mad Season. 

If you were a fan of harder music, this was #1 on your preset dial in Connecticut. 

The veracity of WCCC’s fan base ultimately became the deciding factor in the three-way dance for supremacy.  Fans felt connected to the station personalities.  So much of this stemmed from the fact that the station was not corporately owned, and was willing to push the envelope more.  Every DJ came off as a fan first and a personality second.  At concerts, they were omnipresent, hyping the crowd, and ready and willing to meet and greet their fans.

And lo and behold, they emerged on top.  The first major shift in the landscape of the Hartford landscape came when WHCN switched formats in 2002, shifting from classic to soft rock, and now known as “The River.”  WCCC celebrated the victory by going under the pseudonym, “The Lake, 106.9.”  Later that year, Radio 104 dropped Dee Snider in favor of syndicating Tampa’s resident shock jock, Bubba the Love Sponge in an effort to more aggressively compete with Stern.  While Snider’s show never topped Howard in the ratings, it still had a loyal fan base locally.  The move was met with revile from listeners, and ratings declined.  By the fall of 2003, Radio 104 switched to a hip-hop format.  Snider himself appeared on WCCC’s “Picozzi in the Afternoon” to celebrate what was a moral victory for him, and a definitive victory for The Rock.

While WMRQ returned to its traditional alternative format in 2009, the victor had been established.  From that point on, WCCC’s popularity with fans sky-rocketed.  They continued to differentiate themselves from other radio stations by offering free shows for fans and wacky programming. 

Mike Karolyi worked the late morning/early afternoon shift, and quickly became WCCC’s stalwart DJ.  A presence at the station for 28 years, he endeared himself to fans with his memorable voice, affable personality, and extensive knowledge of all genres of rock music.  He eventually partnered with local promoter Jimmy Koplik to discuss upcoming concerts in Connecticut. 

Picozzi’s afternoon show featured such enjoyable tropes as “Dumb Ass Wednesday” in which Rube the intern was typically subjected to some form of low-grade torture, “Ultimo Destructo Thursday” in which the staff destroyed something on the air through a variety of creative means, and the annual visits from a local witch named Moray.  Moray was dubbed “the WCCC Witch,” and popped in the studio annually to communicate with spirits using a Ouija Board.  During these visits, she purportedly communicated not only with friends and family of the on-air staff, but also notable musicians and personalities including Kurt Cobain, Dimebag Darrell of Pantera, and baseball legend Thurmon Munson. 

Slater became the popular host of the night shift, and was noted for his distinctive voice and frenetic personality.  He became famous for the he would dismiss failed callers in search of concert tickets.  The magic number was six, and if you landed anywhere between callers 1-5, you were greeted with, “CCC… Caller Number One!”  This was immediately followed by an abrupt hang-up.  Caller Number Five always received the loudest, most unintelligible send-off.  Eventually all the dismissals turned into gibberish, but it was part of his comedic appeal.

Even Craig the Porn Star became a favorite at concerts and on the air, due at least in part to a station ID that was just a guttural repetition of his nickname over and over again.  I’d try to imitate it here, but text would never do it justice.

More than the fun, WCCC became known for showcasing new bands and stripping down popular songs.  Mike Karolyi played a large part in the success of the band Staind when he played a non-single from the Family Values live album.  That single was Aaron Lewis’ acoustic duet of “Outside” featuring Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit.  The station’s investiture extended to other bands like Shinedown, Soil, and Zakk Wylde’s pet project, Black Label Society.

The station also became the conduit for unique and memorable performances at a recording studio in Hartford called Planet of Sound.  Over the years, WCCC hosted a number of bands there, conducting in-studio interviews and giving the bands the venue to strip down their best sounds and offer up acoustic renditions.  Numerous acts provided memorable performances, including Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Cold, Fuel, and notable frontmen such as Sully Erna of Godsmack, Aaron Lewis of Staind, and Ed Kowalczyk of Live.  The intimate recording space brought out something special in just about every performance.

But none as special as Zakk Wylde’s rendition of “Stillborn.”  Long famed for being Ozzy Osbourne’s lead guitarist in the late 80s and 90s, Zakk branched out on his own, eventually forming his own metal band called Black Label Society.  WCCC promoted the band at City Limits in Waterbury in the early 00s, and were never afraid to play his crunchy style of metal on the airwaves.  A veritable virtuoso, Zakk is famous for his pentatonic solos and pinch harmonics.  BLS’s first major hit came in the form of “Stillborn,” which featured supporting vocals by Ozzy himself. 

During his Planet of Sound session, Wylde was accompanied by fellow BLS axeman Nick Catanese for a number of songs along with an interview by Mike Karolyi.  Saving the best for last, the two guitarists turned a 3-minute gut punch into a haunting 7-minute epic.

It should be noted that Zakk has played“Stillborn” acoustically several other times, both for other notable hard rock stations and also for iTunes.  However, WCCC’s version stands head and shoulders above any other performances.  There’s just something about it; the echo of the strings resonates in the listener’s ears powerfully.  Every note is hit clean and without error.  And Zakk’s gravelly wail sounds tormented and anguished.

It’s a thing of beauty.

For me, as a fan, WCCC was part of my annual summer routine.  While staying with my parents during grad school, I frequently attended the concerts they promoted, typically with my friend Matt.  Once in a while, I’d venture to the Webster Theatre solo for a weeknight show in the fall or winter.  But once summer rolled around, it was concert season.  And concert season always culminated with the annual celebration of heavy metal known as OzzFest.  These all-day festivals were attended by rabid fans, and never once disappointed.  The high water mark for us as fans came in 2004, when Hartford was the first stop on the annual tour.  This was marked by Judas Priest performing their first set with Rob Halford on U.S. Soil in 12 years.  We had the opportunity to rub elbows with Zakk, members of Lacuna Coil, and Phil Anselmo of Pantera fame.  It was a night that simply could never be duplicated.

Between 2001 and 2005 I listened religiously, even when I was the victim of Slater’s merciless “Caller Number Five” banishment.  When I moved to Southern Connecticut in 2005, I listened a little less than usual.  I still tried to catch Howard in the morning on my way to work, but would eventually have to switch to K-Rock in New York when the signal got too weak.  But on my sojourns back home to see family, I always tuned in. 

Alas, in radio, nothing is permanent.

Over the years, the station took a hit financially after the economy went south in 2008.  Many of the more beloved personalities such as Stephen Wayne, Slater, and Holden Johnson departed.  But The Rock pressed on to the best of its ability until early 2013, when it was announced that the station would be switching formats from active rock to classic rock. 

I remember Matt texting me, lamenting that the Rolling Stones were being played on a station that was famous for its love of Tool.  Eventually I myself experienced the change when Cheap Trick made it into the rotation.  Groups from the 70s were suddenly the predominant flavor, and fans were not happy at all.  Online petitions and protests outside the studio (famously nicknamed “The Asylum” due to its simple stone exterior and location on Asylum Avenue in Hartford) were fevered and passionate.  I imagine many fans unconsciously felt, “Hey, Radio 104 changed back to the old format, so can WCCC.”

But despite the vitriol and even internal disagreements by station personnel, the format change was a ratings success.  Many wonder why, but the simple answer is that the Rolling Stones and Cheap Trick are more easily accessible to the casual listener than Disturbed and Stone Sour.  Moreover, Hartford had been without a classic rock station since WHCN changed formats more than 10 years prior.  The nearest outlets for that were WPLR (91.1 FM) in New Haven, and I-95 (95.1 WRKI) in Brookfield, both of which are 30 miles or more away from Hartford itself.

Alas, there was one more final blow to listeners that would leave an irreparable void in New England radio. 

Last Wednesday, it was announced that WCCC had been sold to EMF Broadcasting, and that its final day as a rock station would be Friday, August 1.  Effective 5:00 PM, the station would be the home to Christian contemporary music under the guise of “K-LOVE.”  This was the final nail in the coffin, and the saddest of ironies considering The Rock’s slogan was once “Sinners Wanted.”  The station that was at one time the home of Howard Stern would now be a bastion of “positive, encouraging” music.

To say that fans were devastated would be an understatement.

Not only was the station now destined to be a relic, but the remaining staff who had hung in there over the years were now going to be out of jobs. 

Thankfully, upper management made a classy decision by letting station veteran Mike Karolyi go out in a blaze of glory.  Between 12:00 and 5:00 PM last Friday, WCCC was The Rock of old, firing off favorite tunes that had been absent from their frequency for more than a year.  The five-hour celebration kicked off with a call from Howard Stern himself.  Howard spoke to Karolyi for nearly 20 minutes, and sang the praises of not only the station, but the city of Hartford as well.

Karolyi steered the ship on its final voyage by connecting with several members of the WCCC family, past and present.  It was the reunion and energy that fans had missed for over a year.

With nothing to do that day, I drove to Hartford and parked around the corner from the Asylum.  I had no idea that Karolyi had invited fans to come visit, so I circled the block on foot, taking a few pictures of the old building and the actual rock outside bearing the classic station logo.  At the bottom of the rock, a small note on scrap paper, boasting the old catchphrase, “Sinners Wanted!”  

I streamed the broadcast on my iPhone as I meandered back and forth, listening to the old guard reunite for one last goodbye.

At 4:45 PM, I headed back to my car and turned the radio on.  For whatever reason, I felt it was important to capture the station's final moments.  Several days later, it still hits home hard:

After the recording, I started the engine and turned the radio back on, listening to “Walk” play out the merry band of misfits into the sunset.  It was a hard pill to swallow.  As much as I wanted to be in or around the station for the swan song, I wanted to make sure I had this moment saved forever.  My own little goodbye.

As I drove home, I changed the presets on my car radio, and did a double take when changing to Radio 104 and hearing the acoustic rendition of “Stillborn.”  I had no idea that Holden Johnson had jumped ship years prior, and came to find out he played this as a tribute to his former home and friends.  A day later, I-95 also acknowledged the format changed and wished everyone luck.

But before I even got on the highway, I received a Facebook notification that my friend Darren had invited me to a group called “WCCC – The Rock Years.”  Not even thinking twice, I accepted the invite and immediately posted the video I took of my car radio. 

That was Friday afternoon.  As of this writing, my silly little video has been shared more than 600 times by both fans and former on-air talents alike.  I've received unexpected expressions of thanks from both "The Reverend" Don Steele and Mike Karolyi himself.  To say that I've been overwhelmed with the amount of activity over this would be an understatement. 

But the more I think about it, the more I can’t even say I’m surprised.  This was the level of connectivity between the fans and the station personnel.  As Karolyi mentioned, they were the fans, and there was no wall between the DJ’s and the listeners.  This type of relationship is beyond rare in radio, especially in this day and age.  Normally, on-air talent at most stations serve as vapid talking heads without authenticity.  That was never the case at 106.9.  Even after the format change, the talent always maintained a genuine connection with the fans.  It’s one of the things that made this station special. 

It’s also one of the things that makes this such a massive loss.  Sadly, it’s “the new normal” in terrestrial radio.  Despite surviving the onslaught of satellite radio, traditional stations have had to compete with the popularity of streaming radio stations like Spotify and Pandora, not to mention the advent of podcasts as a popular talk medium.  Just a year before the original format change, WFNX in Boston changed formats despite being one of the driving forces behind alternative rock in the Northeastern United States in the 90s.  An attempt to live on as an internet radio station lasted less than five months, and WFNX shut its doors shortly after WCCC went classic.  In his goodbye call on Friday, Howard Stern favorably compared WCCC to other legendary rock stations like WBCN in Boston and WNEW in New York, both of which fell victim to unceremonious format changes.

The Rock was the last man standing.  And I truly wish it could have been the sole survivor to carry the flame.

Call it sentimental, but I will truly miss this station and its personalities.  Maybe it’s my time in college radio that drives my passion for the medium.  Maybe it’s the fact that the station connected in a way that no other could.  Maybe it’s just the fact that there’s so much awful music already out there, that I crave a prominent mainstream station that’s unafraid to go a different route.  Whatever the case, this is the first time in over a decade that 106.9 FM is nowhere to be found on my station presets. 

It’s honestly a void that just can’t be filled.  And as much as I miss the station I once knew, I’m not naïve enough to think that anyone will ever come close to matching what they did.

Thanks for the memories, guys.  Good luck to you all.

The Rock is dead.  Long live The Rock.

Here's One For The Ladies...

Hi ladies.  We need to talk.

I gotta tell ya gals, I've been single for a bit now.  I've tried various methods of meeting single women, and I've had more than my fair share of first dates.  In most cases, it simply boils down to a matter of chemistry (or lack thereof). 

But I've noticed some very alarming trends with a lot of you out there.  It used to be the minority.  But it seems to becoming more and more prevalent out there, and it's time to address some things with you all.

First off, disclaimer.

I consider myself a nice guy.  I appreciate family, education, honesty, and would like to think I can be funny.  I'm also insanely loyal.  Moreover, I'm not the average jerk who's just looking to get laid. 

Having said that, in spite of what I think are some pretty good qualities, a lot of you have treated me like some second-rate citizen, either before or after meeting.  I know dating is tricky, and I can understand that because of the enormous number of assholes out there, you might be a little gun shy about opening up to someone even if they do seem like a decent human being.

But that doesn't excuse you from basic human decency.  Especially if you really are dealing with a good person.  So, here are some basic tips for dealing with a nice guy.

• Be honest.  You don't have to pour your soul on the table, but don't hold your cards so close to the vest that the other person doesn't even know if you're aware of what cards you have.  I'm not saying to give yourself away at all, but if you get the impression either before or after meeting a guy that it's not gonna work out, say so.  We're adults.  Personally, I get it if there's no spark.  And I would honestly say that it's about a 50/50 break on how many times I've been on the receiving end of that talk or the initiator.  Don't drag things out.  Just be genuine.  Don't fabricate stories or make up excuses.  Just be honest.  You didn't feel a connection.  You're not ready to date again.  You've met someone else.  These are all valid.  If you're dealing with a mature man, he'll get it.  He may get bummed out (I do sometimes), but he won't try to force it.

• Keep an open mind.  I've had people cut things off before meeting.  And sometimes that's alright.  If you've talked over the phone a few times and you don't feel there's anything there, then be polite and honest.  But if you barely know this person, give it a chance.  Seriously.  I had someone pull this with me one time, and I questioned it.  She ultimately admitted she had met someone (this ties into what I said about being honest), which is a different story.  And I told her so.  But had she simply stuck to her original line, I really would have questioned it.  I wouldn't have fought her on it, but I would have made it clear that I don't get it.

• Communicate.  This one is baffling.  I don't get why some people are adverse to communicating.  We live in a society where we have thousands of ways to reach out to one another.  I get that we're busy adults.  We have careers, personal lives, interests, etc.  But it takes two seconds to send a text.  Two.  If I write you to ask how your evening is going, don't wait until the next morning to write back.  Unless you see it very late and don't want to wake me up, just write back whenever you can.  If you disregard my attempt to reach out to you for that long, you're disregarding my interest in you.  What does that say about you?  As a person, as a woman.  Women wonder why they get bad reputations sometimes.  It's shit like this, ladies.  Straight up. 

• Don't become a ghost.  Quick story.  I was supposed to meet someone for a first date.  We'd been communicating for nearly a month, and we were looking forward to it.  However, the weather was less than friendly, so we had to cancel and reschedule.  But before that could happen, this girl went dead silent.  Everything changed.  Short answers.  No affection in the communication.  And eventually, no communication.  I don't know what changed, because I didn't do anything.  And if I did, she didn't say a word to indicate that something was amiss.  Remember what I said about communication?  About being honest?  Consider this a dotted line to those bullets.  Do you want to know how you look when you suddenly just "shut off" like that?  Not good.  You look like an ice queen.  Or a coward.  Maybe even dishonest.  Before you go all monastic with the silent treatment, ask yourself if you want to look like any of those things.  You pull this stunt, and I guarantee you will have guys thinking they know exactly why you're single.

• Give and take.  This is just a rule of thumb.  It has to be balanced.  Remember that there is another person at the table with you on that first date.  That person also has interests, hopes, dreams, and stories to share.  Don't monopolize the discussion.  A few years back, I went on a first date with a girl; drinks only.  I kid you not when I tell you that this girl had more stories than Aesop.  Every story had a subplot.  Every subplot required exposition.  That exposition led to another story.  She dominated 85 percent of the conversation.  There was a point where I had to go to the bathroom.  Bad.  Cross your legs bad.  I couldn't find a way to interrupt her verbal onslaught without being a jerk.  I waited 15 minutes (I'm not exaggerating) for her to complete this never ending story (cue the song) before I could finally excuse myself.  It ranked in the top five pees I've ever taken in my life.  Look, we all have lives and tales to spin.  But don't make it all about you.  Make sure it's justly laid out and not one-sided.  Show a guy that you actually care about things like his career, his family, his interests, and you'll be more likely to become one of his interests. 

• Be sure you're ready.  This is for those of you who are coming off a recent split.  Either a long-term relationship, or a divorce.  Heartache sucks.  We all know that.  Especially if the last person was incredibly difficult.  And there's no timetable on how long it takes to get "well enough" to throw your name back in the dating hat again.  So for God's sake, take your time.  Don't force it.  Reconnect with the people in your life first and foremost; your family and friends.  Be with them, get your head on straight, and if you need professional counseling to get through the hard times, there is zero shame in that.  An objective third party helps a lot.  There are bound to be conflicting emotions of a wide variety swimming through your head and through your heart.  It's OK, really.  Take care of them before you prepare to mingle again.  Rebounds do not work.  If it's been a month after a two or three-year relationship detonated in your face, you probably shouldn't be on match.com.  Take some time and figure things out.  Then, when you're comfortable, get back out there if you see fit.  You'll be less likely to find yourself in another complicated situation, and much less likely to impact an innocent bystander just looking to meet a nice girl.

• Know what you want.  Take stock of your values.  Does religion matter to you?  Do you want a family?  Are you willing to move?  Would you change careers if necessary?  These are all valid questions that you should ask yourself.  And y'know something?  Whatever your answers may be, they're right.  It's your life.  You have every right to feel the way you do about the things you want.  Unless you're completely out there and insist on working in a traveling sideshow or something bizarre, there is no wrong answer to any of the above.  Just be aware of how those answers might affect your ability to meet and be with another person.  But know them going in so the risk of surprises and misunderstandings is minimized.  You'll avert disaster every time.  Promise. 

• Be guarded, but don't be in a shell.  Like I said, it's OK to be cautious.  Guys are jerks.  We've all been burned.  So don't go bearing your soul off the bat.  But don't keep your guard up so high that the guy you're with can't see your face.  If a guy thinks you're not willing to open up after a reasonable amount of time, he's gonna try harder to get you to open up.  Guaranteed.  Sooner or later, you have to.  Because if not, problems are going to emerge in one way, shape or form.  And if a guy thinks you're "turtling up" way too much, there's gonna come a point where he considers leaving you that way, because there's little he can do.  And if he does, I'm sorry, but it's on you.

• Don't be cold.  Seriously gals, do not be frosty when you're dealing with a guy.  Short, one-word texts, snarky responses, dodging questions, all of this adds up.  And all of it is unappealing.  For the love of Christ, show some warmth once in a while.  Throw in a smiley face, an exclamation point, a friendly comment.  If a month has gone by and things are going well, take initiative once in a while.  I'm not saying cook a three-course meal or something like that.  Once in a while, you be the one to say good morning.  You be the one to say "I miss you," or "have a great day."  Show a guy you care.  Show him you're interested.  Show him his efforts to get to know you and make you happy are appreciated.  It'll go a long way.

• Don't be hyper-aggressive.  This is in contract to my previous statement.  There's a happy medium here.  If you're too forward, a guy will definitely run.  I went on a first date a few years ago that was pleasant.  Attractive girl, good conversation, things were looking decent.  I go to the bathroom.  She texts me from the bar, and says, "I like you," punctuating the statement with a smiley face.  How am I supposed to react to that having spent a mere two hours in this girl's company?  It's one thing to like someone, it's another to come on too strong.  When I got back to my seat, she asked me if I got her text.  I'm not making this up.  This was just too much.  There was no second date, and I was polite, but honest in explaining why I didn't want to see her again.  You never get a second chance to make a first impression, so be careful about what you're willing to share.

• Don't be a social media crybaby.  I've seen some girls on Facebook who constantly bemoan their lot in life.  Or they post these cryptic messages about trusting other people, or how happy they are, etc., etc., ad infinitum.  Girls, here's a tip: keep your private stuff private.  If you're not willing to spill your guts to a total stranger, don't spill them all over social media, either.  Say you meet a nice dude.  You go out a few times and become Facebook friends.  If he sees you're forever posting this kinda stuff, he's going to start wondering two things: 1. How stable is this girl?  And 2. How long before I become the subject of one of these posts?  You're only as good as how you're willing to portray yourself.  So don't pin the blame on everyone else and don't go sounding off like that every other day.  Massive turn-off.

• Be mindful of how you represent yourself.  Selfies.  Gang signs.  Duck faces.  Red Solo cups.  Scantily clad photos.  If your match.com profile or Facebook page has nothing but the above images plastered all over the place, it is a turn-off for a nice guy.  Maybe you'll attract some juiced up meathead with a million dollar body and a ten cent mind who's just looking for something quick and easy.  If that's what you want, fine, I guess.  But if you're serious about attracting a nice guy with values and ethics, think twice before you post all those pics from your Vegas trip with the girls.  And if every pic is taken from an upward angle looking straight down at your well-displayed cleavage, guys are gonna make assumptions.  Just or not, they will.  Oh, and please smile.  A permanent puss is such a turn-off, no matter how "sexy" you think it looks.  (And if you're wondering why I put that in quotation marks, just stop reading right now.)

• Be mindful of the fact you're dealing with another person.  This is the golden rule, plain and simple.  Unless a guy proves himself to be an outright piece of garbage, don't treat him like an afterthought.  For that matter, don't treat any decent human being like an afterthought.  Karma exists.  It'll come around and bite you in the ass sooner or later.  Here's a little tip about nice guys: they have hearts.  Some are sensitive.  Don't treat him any differently than you would like to be treated, no matter what the situation.

And if you really want to know what a nice guy is looking for, I'll tell you.

A warm personality.  Strength.  An open mind.  A love of family.  A sense of humor.  Self-respect.  Dignity.  Honesty.  Loyalty.  The willingness to compromise.  And maybe a dash of affection from time to time. 

If I'm looking at a match.com profile, I take notice of a girl who smiles.  Maybe she posts some pictures of her and her girlfriends, but there are also shots of her with her family.  Parents, nieces, nephews, hell, even pets.  I like it if she has more than a paragraph written about herself and what she's looking for.  I like it if she's a little goofy in some of her pics; no one wants someone to take themselves too seriously.  These are the facts.

Remember gals, it's a big world out there, and there are lots of fish in the sea.  But despite the metaphor, that doesn't mean you should treat them as a fisherman would by gutting them or throwing them aside if they don't fit the bill.  Treat a man with respect, and he will respect you, even if it doesn't work out. 

When in doubt, ask yourself, "how would I want to be treated?"  Be fair, be genuine, and don't play games.  Because when you fail to meet any of the above bullets, you're officially doing just that, whether you realize it or not.  It doesn't look good, ladies.  Never. 

And before you go trampling us with that one big unified chorus of "Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)," hold back on your battle cry and remember that a guy will gladly put a ring on it if he feels you're the right match for him.  Trust me.  I'm all for feminist beliefs and empowering women, but that does not equate to diminishing men. 

So please, be thoughtful.  Show us you deserve to be cared for, and wooed, and above all else, loved.  Because many of you do.  But if you put the wrong message out there, it's going to be a while before your single days are a thing of the past.  And I'm sorry, but that's no fault of mine.

One Nation, Under The Gun...

I try to add a sense of acerbic humor to my entries here.  I try to temper my opinions with a little bit of rough laughter in hopes of making this a more engaging read, and also lightening the mood a little bit.

This is not going to be one of those entries.

One day short of the one-year anniversary of the Sandy Hook shooting in my native Connecticut, and a mere eight miles away from Columbine High School in Littleton, CO, the news pages were again graced with the sad, senseless news that another school in our country fell victim to a shooting.

It doesn't matter to me that there was only one innocent shot as opposed to the 26 who perished in Newtown.  There is no way to quantify these incidents.  There's no scale to "measure" tragedy.  It's tragic.  It's senseless, painful, and heart-breaking.

I'm not going to get into a debate about gun control here.  Let me say that.  I have heard impassioned arguments from both sides of that argument, and I can see reason to both sides.  I've read heated Facebook posts which I swear could have led to fisticuffs and broken friendships.  Not only that, I don't know all the fine points about this issue, so I'm not even going to pretend to be an expert. 

This is not a political statement.  This is a musing about the world in which we live.

I heard a newscaster yesterday compare this situation to Columbine, saying the two were not similar in that minformation was quickly dissiminated regarding the Arapahoe shooter, whereas Columbine was more chaotic.  I respectfully disagree.  They were similar enough for my tastes.  One unstable individual with a gun with the intent to hurt innocent people in an educational institution.

I want this to end.  I want to never hear about this again, in any city, in any state throughout this country.  I hope and pray I never have to endure watching another reporter interviewing shaken students and parents mere hours after their world was violated in such a heartless, mindless way. 

I'm not a parent, but I hope to be one day.  And I can't even begin to fathom what this kind of situation does to one with children.  Even if you're miles away from where the story breaks.  How can you feel comfortable sending your kids to school?  How can you feel OK leaving them alone for eight hours a day or more?  How do you ever stop being scared?

And as someone who lived through it, how do you recover?  How do you move on and sleep comfortably at night? 

I didn't know anyone affected by Sandy Hook personally.  What I know is how I felt when I heard the news.  Driving back to work from my lunch break, I had the radio on a local AM station to hear the latest.  I remember somber, serious voices reporting the news.  I remember feeling violated that this happened practically in my backyard. 

And I remember crying.

And it's not just our schools.  Ever since April 20, 1999, public shootings throughout our nation have become all too prevelent.  Don't believe me?  Ask Gabby Giffords.  Or the folks in Aurora, CO who just wanted to catch a midnight showing of that hip new Batman movie. 

If it's not a problem, then why do I know the names Eric Harris, Dylan Klebold, Seung-Hui Cho, Jared Lee Loughner, James Eagan Holmes, and Adam Lanza?  How sad is it that I only needed Wikipedia to jog my memory on less than half of those names? 

I don't know what the answer is.  I don't know if there is a way to succinctly, accurately address this trend.  But we have to admit that it is a trend.

We fixate on stupid stuff in this country.  We focus on Miley's twerking, Kanye and Kim's racy new video, how awful Homeland has become, and Bob Barker turning 90 years old.  Hell, I'll admit probably 90 percent of the stuff that I've written about on this blog is beyond trivial. 

This is serious.  If it's not already an epidemic, it will be if we don't start having serious, sensible, and above all else bipartisan dialogue about what needs to prevent these kind of incidents from happening again. 

I remember a story about a student who attended Virginia Tech during that shooting who was actually a graduate of Columbine High School and lived through that tragedy.  Think about that.  One girl had to endure two shootings that left people dead in the double-digits.  What are the odds?

In this country, not that bad, apparently.

I'm not saying it's easy.  It's not.  But it's important.  I hope we wake up soon.

So Much For Retirement...

Now I am well aware it has been nearly four years since I wrote in this damn thing.  And in all honesty, while that annoying thing called "life" has taken precedent in that time over writing and expressing my opinion, this blog has never been far from my heart.  I still visit it every once in a while and look back on my old posts, pleasantly reminiscing about what an angry young man I could be at times.

In truth, it takes a lot to piss me off these days.  You could say I've mellowed quite a bit.
But sometimes, dude's gotta rant.  This is one of those times.  Strap in...

There's a cancer that has been plaguing pop culture all year long.  It's been poisoning my eyes, ears, and permeating my fucking soul.

Miley Cyrus. 

It's been ages since an entertainer infuriated me to this level.  No matter where I turned, there she was this year.  Ready to shamelessly self-promote her "adulthood."  And from the end of August on, it seemed like this bitch was completely unavoidable.  Not only was she all over the damn place, but every media outlet with a pot to piss in was all too ready to report about her every move.  Her "twerking" (for fuck's sake, that's not really twerking), her media appearances and performances, her controversial music videos.

Enough.

Dear members of the mainstream media, I know it's your job to report the news, and that is sometimes a subjective thing.  We as human beings in the 21st century are drawn to controversy like a moth to a flame.  We love it.  We get hard thinking about it.  But there reaches a point where it's overkill.  We passed that point two months ago.  Time to stop.

Speaking of time (how's that for a segue, kids?), I found out today that Time magazine nominated Miley Cyrus as one of their candidates for Person of the Year.

Let that sink in.

Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.  Barack Obama.  Pope Francis.  Gay rights activist Edith Windsor.  Miley goddamned Cyrus.

I won't pretend to know much about the current sociopolitical landscape these days.  I'm not gonna try to make like I intimately know the works and efforts of any of the names listed above.  (Although some are certainly more prominent than others)  But to even consider listing her name with these others is criminal.  I don't care that she didn't win.  She was nominated.  She didn't even get nominated for a Grammy (rightfully so), but you're gonna consider her a contender?  Don't you people realize you are validating her? 

Enough.

Has she fought for gay rights?  Has she tried to amend the reputation of the Catholic church?  Has she attempted to make changes in health care? (For better or for worse.)

No.  None of the above.  Not even close.  She's gone onstage with her horrible tattoos, her Tinkerbell haircut, and she's winked, stuck out her tongue, and wiggled her sorry excuse for a posterior back and forth while attempting to sing.

OK, let me backtrack a bit... I'll retract the "attempting to sing" comment.  If pop music has proven anything over the last four decades, it's that talent is optional.  Sure, sometimes you get a genuine entertainer out of the fold like a Justin Timberlake.  But by and large, it's a mixed bag.  For every ultra-successful JT, there's a pitiful reject from 98 Degrees we used to think had a decent singing voice.  So let us immediately put talent aside.  How sad is that?

With that said, let's get a few things out of the way right now.

1. I didn't used to have a problem with this child.  Back in her days as Hannah Montana, I knew she existed, but could care less how popular she was.  It was music for kids, and it was what it needed to be for that demographic.  Upbeat, bubbly, and cute.  No harm, no foul.  But...

2. This attempt to be "adult" is as transparent as her wardrobe.  Trying to pass off her attention-grabbing performance at the MTV VMA's as artistry, or a call to adulthood is laughable.  Say what you will about Lady Gaga and her appearance.  The woman is A) talented and B) genuinely artistic.  There's always a method to the madness.  What Miley did was simply an attempt to get everyone's attention and say "look at me."  Stupid ass us, we gave her just what she wanted, and she hasn't turned back since.  Because in that time, we've been exposed to...

3. Her tongue.  Bitch, stop it.  Gene Simmons's tongue doesn't see the light of day in a single KISS concert as much as yours does in a single TV performance.  It's not attractive.  It looks ghastly.  Stop it.  Now.  Along with...

4. The "twerking."  It's not legitimate twerking.  It's sad that I even know what constitutes "legitimate twerking."  This is really just a sorry wiggle of a sorry ass.  Oh, by the way...

5. You don't have a knockout body, so stop showing it.  I'm not trying to be chauvinistic here, but I know an attractive feminine form when I see one.  This is what drew people to Britney Spears back in her earliest days.  Girl had a bod.  Miley does not.  She doesn't have a great ass.  She's fit, for sure, but there are far better looking female bodies out there, in music, and in other forms of entertainment.  Hey, y'know what else many people have that's better than what you have?

6. Tattoos.  I don't have a problem with ink in general.  I don't own any, but if you do, go for it.  But by God, these are some of the worst tattoos I've ever seen.  What kind of idiot gets "ROLLING" tattooed on the bottom of one foot, and "$TONE" on the bottom of the other?  And for the record, this is one of the most unforgivably ugly pictures I have ever seen in my life.  (Incidentally, why is this "outrageous?"  Disgusting, yes.  Stupid, of course.  Outrageous?  Not so much)  Nothing says "sexy" like a closeup of the browning bottom of someone's feet.  Yeah, that's what gets me going.  But here's the thing that really bothers me...

7. The drugs.  Miley-poo clearly has no problem lighting a joint in public.  (By the way, how calculated was that?  I'll say this much, as scummy as this broad is, she knows how to market herself.  Don't think for a second that anything she does is "just because."  Everything is to generate a buzz.)  But she also doesn't mind endorsing the use of psychedelic drugs.  This legitimately upsets me.  Miley's fan base is mostly comprised of 20-something girls, maybe even younger.  This is a highly impressionable age.  My dad's goddaughter is a freshman in college, and I know she digs Miley.  But it concerns the ever-loving shit out of me when I read something like this, because while she is assuredly a smart girl, anyone can be susceptible to the ringing endorsements of figures in pop culture.  And while this is the most egregious item on this list, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention...

8. The giant kitten.  What the shit?

Look, I'm not even going to pretend that I dig on modern music.  I can't turn on the radio without hearing the same song eighteen times over.  And it's always a shitty song.  It's almost never listenable by my standards.  And it pretty much always makes me angry.  You know what two albums have been on endless rotation for me since the end of August?  No joke.  "Master of Puppets" and "Reign in Blood."  Yup.  The two greatest thrash albums of all time, both of which are 27 years old.  They have become my "go-to" albums in 2013.  And it's not just Miley that singes my ass.  Every time I hear that goddamned "Roar" song, I immediately want to stab my radio repeatedly.  So I'm not gonna say that she is the sole offender of awful music in this day and age.

But she is certainly the most visible.  And the most shameless.  And the most widely covered. 

And by far, the least respectable. 

You have musicians out there who, regardless of talent or merit, have been vocal advocates for gay rights or anti-bullying campaigns.  Then you have cats like Bono who champion every cause under the sun and work to genuinely raise awareness.  What has Miley Cyrus done in 2013 for anyone other than herself?  Seriously.  Everything she has done has been with the intent to raise her own stock and line her own pockets.

Enough.

Y'know what I want for Christmas?  Santa, I hope you're listening.  I've been very good this year.  I've given to the homeless, I've moved furniture for people, I even gave my favorite dog some meat from my plate.  I think I deserve something nice, since I never ask for much these days.

I want a time machine.  That's right.  I don't care if it's a phone booth or a DeLorean.  It could even be a cardboard box like in "Calvin & Hobbes."  I'll squeeze in.

Why?  Because I want to save the world from this cancer.  I want to go back in time and prevent Billy Ray Cyrus from procreating.  Oh, I'll let him keep his life.  Maybe I'll even be magnanimous and perform a chemical castration as opposed to using a tetanus-infused penknife.  But he cannot breed.  He cannot.  I won't allow it.  For the sake of all mankind, his achey-breaky ass must not be allowed to have children.

Once again, proof positive we should have listened to Bill Hicks.   That cat was onto something.  For that matter, so were the cats at South Park.

And y'know what?  Shame on Billy Ray.  Shame on him for allowing his daughter to sink this low.  Shame on him for even letting his daughter get into entertainment in the first place.  He should have known better.  He should have heard enough of the cautionary tales to know what was possible. 

I hope he's happy.

I hope he's happy that his precious little girl is now the most visible female in the public eye.  I hope he's happy that her every little move is scrutinized, analyzed, and dissected to the point of absurdity in the third degree.  I hope he's happy that for as much money as she earns the Cyrus clan, she is widely criticized and reviled by pundits across the board.  And above all else, I hope he's happy that she's handling her fame so poorly. 

I hope he's happy, 'cause I'm not. 

I'm not happy that a dimwitted little trollup who proudly sings about partying, drugs, and being a cocktease is getting more notoriety than women like Malala Yousafzai.  I'm not happy that this insipid little tart is still grabbing headlines mere days after the passing of Nelson Mandela.  I'm not happy that this child has made a name for herself in the name of being sexy when she is, in fact, anything but. 

I made a comment on Facebook a few days ago about how I was happy that Miley Cyrus wasn't nominated for a single Grammy Award.  I don't normally agree with conventional definitions of what makes "good" music.  In fact, I'm still resentful over Jethro Tull topping Metallica in 1989 for "Best Metal Performance."  But I'll say this: the Grammy's made the right call.  There is nothing special about Miley's music.  More than that, we should not give her any further attention.  She's gotten more than enough. 

I sincerely hope in 2014, we move on.  I hope we forget about Miley's nonsense, as we have with so many other prominent media whores.  And look, we know the climax is coming.  It's a matter of time before she hits the wall and has some kind of public meltdown. 

Don't acknowledge it.  Don't sensationalize it.  Don't feel sorry for her, because she will have brought it all upon herself.  And if she really is an adult, she will have to deal with it like an adult.  Plain and simple.

Just let her go.  Let her become a distant, unpleasant memory.  Let her slip into the deepest recesses of our collective mind.  Let her go out not like a wrecking ball, but like the crying kitten she is. 

And if you like her, soak it up while she's still around.  'Cause it's gonna be a very ugly wreck.

The Remnants of "Rolling"

Back last winter, nearly a full year ago, I tried to take a more "serious" approach to my critiques and observations of our culture. I loved what I did on Landshark but felt more thoughtful insights would require a newer venue.

Hence was born "Rolling with Culture."

Here's how I came up with the name:

To define the blog, let's look at the second component: culture.

Merriam-Webster defines culture as, "the integrated pattern of human knowledge, belief, and behavior that depends upon the capacity for learning and transmitting knowledge to succeeding generations b: the customary beliefs, social forms, and material traits of a racial, religious, or social group ; also : the characteristic features of everyday existence (as diversions or a way of life) shared by people in a place or time c: the set of shared attitudes, values, goals, and practices that characterizes an institution or organization d: the set of values, conventions, or social practices associated with a particular field, activity, or societal characteristic ."

Head spinning yet? Just think of the magnitude that has with regard to America.

OK, so how about rolling? I'm going to have to take a step back and explain this one outside the dictionary pages.

See, "rolling" in this sense refers to the art of sparring in ground-based martial arts like Jiu-Jitsu and Sambo. I'm a follower of MMA (mixed martial arts) and began studying Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu late last year.

To spar with someone, in a combat sport, means to simulate fighting for the purposes of training and practice. Notice this is a "simulated" fight rather than a real one. I don't suggest we actually fight our culture, but to understand its quirks and idiosyncrasies, is it imperative to wrap our hands around it and figure out what it's made of. And, unlike stand-up martial arts like boxing or Muay Thai, when you fight for real, you tend to end up on the ground.

Rolling.

However, one term that does retain relevance from stand-up is "rolling with the punches" from the world of boxing, which refers to the practice of stepping back or to the side as you are being attacked so as not to absorb the full impact.

Additionally, there is all the slang version of the term, "let's roll." Let's tackle this. Let's roll with this culture and figure it out. Or, let's get friendly and "roll with the crew." Let's roll with this culture and have a good time.

It's a multilateral term that fits perfectly.

However, it quickly became clear that certain narrow minds were not going away quietly, and there would be a need to continue to vent in my long-standing forum on this blog. Soon, RwC became a distant memory.

When I log in to Blogger, I see absolutely zero need to have multiple blogs. I think I considered Landshark's eclectic nature to be eratic, which was, of course, silly. So I'm back here and have been for a while. But I can't just throw away what I wrote. So before I delete RwC from the books, here are my two only legitimate posts. Be forewarned, this is a long'n. Enjoy.

American Drive, Part 1 (published 2/18/09)

One of our most primal traits as Americans is the need for success in our lives. Whether it's as simple as reaching for the proverbial brass ring or as intricate and daunting as climbing the corporate ladder, there are dozens of metaphors for the notion of striving to be the best.

And everyone has something they yearn to excel at. Whether it's in a professional or personal sense, we are brought up with the notion of goals, sacrifice and determination. These are some our most essential values.

We are taught the value of hard work, the challenges that come with it and the benefits to be reaped. However, what becomes of us when drive trumps our personal lives? Does it evolve into obsession? Or something more?

Growing up, I was not a massive fan of most professional sports. I did, however, develop a love for combat sports like boxing and even the flashy world of professional wrestling. Learning more about the lifestyle of these competitors (particularly in wrestling), it really struck me the lengths they were willing to go to just for their dream.

A dream begot the life. Life begot the pain.

Recently, I took in a viewing of The Wrestler with Mickey Rourke. I have to say, I don't normally get moved by even the most emotional of films. But in this case, I walked out of the theater feeling absolutely drained. Watching the main character's journey was exhausting. The film did such a great job of blurring lines between positive and negative traits, there was no real way to call Rourke's character a protagonist or an antagonist. One thing that remained constant in his character was the overwhelming drive to perform and excel, even though he was well past his prime and his "passion" infringes on his health and relationships.

Professional wrestling offers a unique metaphor for the practice of pushing one's self to the limit. As a new student of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu myself, and a die hard fan of mixed martial arts, I know what it means to push yourself beyond the limit. I've found myself going to the gym twice daily before hitting the academy to train for what becomes a very grueling 90 minutes after multiple bouts of physical activity.

But this drive not only permeates the realm of combat sports. Conventional athletics are also subject to this level of intensity, along with professional goals. Many of us reach for the "brass ring" even when we're inches from falling off the horse.

Where does it come from? And how does it manifest itself? I'll examine these qualities in my next entry.

American Drive, Part 2 (Published 3/23/09)

In my previous post, I detailed the qualities of intense drive and determination exhibited by Americans in our everyday lives. Whether it comes in the form of climbing corporate ladders, going the extra mile or simply pushing one beyond his or her means, there are many of us who stand accused of going to lengths greater than our reach.

Are these really American values? Is this merely obsession masked under the guise of something called "passion?" I have to wonder.

It definitely seems that the concept of growth and progress is ingrained in our culture. Just look at how our technology has evolved over the last five years alone. We went from a hardwired society of cable modems and PDA's to being completely unplugged, jacked into our iPhones and BlackBerry's nationwide.

We try to instill this very same hyper-evolution within ourselves, and there is no way to mask it. We have been taught from an early age the importance of going beyond our means.

Exhausted on the baseball diamond? Suck it up, no pain, no gain. Tired after a long work week? Gotta tough it out, those extra hours will pay off. We are taught the benefits of having a good work ethic, and told sometimes, you just have to give it a little extra. But how much extra do we have to give? What will be the ultimate expense?

Last year, a documentary was released entitled Bigger, Stronger, Faster*, which covered the topic of steroid use in professional sports from the perspective of a former powerlifter tempted by its physican gains. I highly recommend watching this for anyone with an interest in sports, bodybuilding or American values in general.

In the film, director Chris Bell details his youth growing up as a fan of professional wrestling, bodybuilding and action films. With heroes like Hulk Hogan, Arnold Schwarzennegger and Sylvester Stallone, the bar was set for Bell and his brothers to go all out in hopes of attaining their individual dreams. As they grew and matured, each of them wound up experimenting with steroids, something the aforementioned heroes themselves stand guilty of. Bell examines the history of anabolic steroids in sports from an objective point of view, offering interesting examples of bodily modifications in sports and medicines that offer arguably similar benefits that are still perfectly legal. He also wrestles with his own morals on the topic, standing clearly conflicted on whether he should take them again while his own brothers are both open about their steroid use.

The opening montage of the film does ring particularly strong of patriotic propaganda... Hulk Hogan defeating the Iron Sheik to the tune of "Real American," Sylvester Stallone as Rocky Balboa draped in the American flag, even Ronald Reagan referencing Rambo in a speech on Iran during his presidency.

Some of the cases Bell observes are quite startling, illustrating just how far some are willing to go to achieve and excel. In the case of his own brothers, they are both caught lying about their drug use to their parents; one even goes so far as to state he'll probably go back on steroids after agreeing with his wife to stop.

Sadly, Bell's older brother Mike died late last year at the age of 37. It is difficult to not draw conclusions on his cause of death even though it has not been publicized to the media.

But the Bell brothers serve as an interesting case study as to what these values can do when not properly tempered. Yes, it helps to go the extra mile when called to do so and yes, it can reap benefits. However, going too hard or willingly putting oneself at risk are dangerous biproducts of this mentality. It is something that needs to be observed, acknowledged and challenged.

Our goals should not come at the expense of our livelihoods, nor should they infringe on the lives of those we care about. The moment our passions or wills supercede our well-being is the moment we lose control.

No brass ring is worth that sacrifice, and no value or ideology should view such disregard as noble.

Decade of Attrition

What a mindfuck of a year. Starting out with such promise and becoming so freakishly unpredictable and complicated.

Stimulus packages, health care clusterfucks, celebrity deaths by the half-ton, rude dipsticks, lying pundits, racism, bigotry and Tiger Woods. Top it all off with last week’s terrorist attempt and we are clawing to have this year over with. Thank God for The Hangover or else this year would be a total waste.

But it’s not just the year. Time recently ran a piece on this being the decade from hell. I’m inclined to agree. Think about it. The 2000 Election fiasco, 9/11, Afghanistan, Iraq, North Korea, Katrina, Bush, Cheney, the housing collapse, Bernie Madoff, Virginia Tech, the tsunami, the recession, the fall of the American auto manufacturer… Jesus. This decade took a lot of harsh turns and didn’t care much what damage was done.

I, for one, am happy to be done with it.

I think many people are.

I also think there’s a lot to be said for resiliency. There’s a lot more people who could have gone down in the last ten years, and I firmly believe there are a lot of people who, in spite of the hard times, wanted to give in or had their backs up against the wall.

But somehow, we’re still standing.

I’ll say this much, humans are stubborn animals. ‘Cause if the 2000’s couldn’t take us out, I don’t know what possibly could.

Time to let it all go… so let’s do this.

Town Hall Lynch Mobs: America's Getting Ugly (and here's why)

Recently, there have been a number of town hall forums to discuss and debate questions and concerns surrounding President Obama's recent push for health care reform. In the midst of legitimate dialogue, there has been an ugly, paranoid and feverish undertone the likes of which I've only seen in the movies.

We've had a woman sobbing about how she wants her country back. There have been the usual catcalls and accusations of our President being a socialist, even a communist. There have been claims by protesters of being "proud right wing terrorists" that were echoed and applauded by the hosts. There have even been people toting semi-automatic weapons out in the open, falling back on their Second Amendment rights. Then we have a congresswoman referencing the "Great White Hope," an allusion to the famous quest for a Caucasian boxer to dethrone Jack Johnson in the early 1900's. Top it all off with a Republican House Member shouting at the Commander-in-Chief last week, calling him a liar. Not to mention the genius who was sitting in the crowd wit ha sign around his neck reading, "What Bill?"

Enough.

Look, while I voted for Obama, I've been concerned about his handling of health care reform. I thought it could've been stronger prior to last night's make-or-break joint session, but to be honest the ongoing tone at these pre-arranged, preconceived town hall meetings has been leaving a bad taste in my mouth.

And the Republican party has been making me fucking sick.

The use of fear mongering and scare tactics to try and hold onto whatever antiquated beliefs they have is bad enough in and of itself. But to use such outlandish methods as what's been mentioned above is just about unforgivable. More significantly, it smacks of racism in the first degree.

I knew from the onset of Obama's election that sooner or later, the issue would arise, but I had hoped it wouldn't be this soon in the game. That said, I can't say I'm surprised. What the GOP is doing right now is catering to that latent ugliness that does unfortunately exist in some Americans. There's nothing to do to curb that belief in them; it's something they won't easily let go of.

But that said, what they (the Republican party) are doing right now is letting the masses know that it's OK to bring your bigotry to the forefront. It's the equivalent of saying, "Hey, we won't judge you for your narrow-minded beliefs. We accept your state of mind and welcome you into the fray." If the GOP weren't hosting stacked town halls, you wouldn't have people proudly calling themselves terrorists or brandishing weapons. I don't care what you say, it's not OK.

Y'know, I'll be honest... I'm not one for partisanship, I really do try to look at things as objectively as possible. But with that being said, I hope Joe Wilson's outburst buries the party for another four years. If they're that willing to sink to underhanded means and pettiness to make their point, they don't deserve to be in power. Not in this country or anywhere.

It's time for them to give up the Borg mentality of one collective and start getting moderate. Encouraging the bigots and degenerates of America to put their hate on display is criminal. To top it all off, the overwhelming majority of their arguments have been debunked on multiple occasions. From fake birth certificates to allusions of death panels, the eagerness to spike the public punch with false information is alarming to say the least. I hate to admit it, but they weren't this abusive when they were in power for eight years.

The "O" in "GOP" stands for "Old." That may be true in terms of their beliefs, but there's nothing "grand" about where this party is going. It's disturbing, disgusting and detrimental to the well-being of our country. I have to wonder if they really have considered their long-term health, or if they are that daft to the concept of progression. Whatever the case is, I personally am praying for the lot of them to be muzzled. That goes for the pundits, too.

If people are that insistent on spewing such outlandish hatred, they deserve more than censure. They deserve to have all their rights revoked.

The RX Crux: When Will The Other Shoe Drop?

More than a month after the untimely death of Michael Jackson, the skeletons moonwalking in the closet are now slowly emerging and uniting to perform the entire ensemble dance routine from "Thriller." This is hardly surprising given the unusual nature of Jackson's life, especially over the last fifteen years. Everything from the true identity of his kids' biological parents to the long-hidden video of his 1984 Pepsi commercial accident to recent word about a possible secret son have been tossed around every major media outlet and medium imaginable.

One recurrent topic, unsurprisingly enough, has been that of Jackson's health. The aforementioned accident during the filming of a Pepsi commercial left Jackson with second and third degree burns to his scalp and face, purportedly igniting (no pun intended) his long-running addiction to prescription medication.

I'm waiting for precedents to be set, especially with the news revealed today that Jackson's in-house doctor prescribed him the drugs believed to kill him. When you think about it, this story could transcend just another iconic footnote in pop culture history and genuinely become a major catalyst for change. One would hope.

Over the weekend, I was with some friends and struck up a conversation about steroid use. Obviously it's been all the talk in the realm of baseball for a number of years. Just last week, MMA fighter Josh Barnett was suspended from an upcoming superfight with consensus number-one ranked heavyweight Fedor Emelienenko after testing positive for a banned substance; namely a metabolite (2a-methyl-5a-androstan- 3a-ol-17-one) of the anabolic steroid Drostanolone.) With baseball already being a known realm for steroid abuse and this being Barnett's second offense in seven years, we postulated about how deep this could run. Eventually, the conversation transitioned quickly to what would possibly happen if NFL players were ever implicated in illegal substance. Almost immediately, all parties conceded that while steroids may be present in professional football, there is likely an even greater dependence on prescription painkillers.

I firmly believe that while PED's aren't exactly good for one's long-term health, painkillers are probably even more detrimental when taken in excess. Think about it... it's no secret that professional wrestling has laid an unfortunate claim to multiple deaths before the age of 50. And yes, in many cases, the departed were known to use PED's. However, one topic often glossed over is the presence of painkillers in the equation. Given the incredibly physical nature of their business, many wrestlers rely heavily on painkillers to numb their bodies in hopes of coping with their grueling schedules. This combination takes a toll on their hearts, ultimately resulting in massive health problems.

The thing is, whether you're a wrestler, a pro athlete or the King of Pop, if you have the right balance of fame and resources, you too can have your on live-in or on-call doctor whenever you need to feel better.

With all the history we have in this nation about the very public "war on drugs," you would think some kind of legislation would come forward to regulate painkillers a little more. These drugs are far more dangerous than the average joint, I don't care how you try to justify it. In fact, when it comes to dealing with pain, pot is probably safer than these pills. I don't even know why I wrote "probably."

Look, it's clear that when you have easy access to these prescrips, it's not hard to develop a chemical or psychological dependence on them. In fact, you need look no further than the average college campus to get a feel for how prevalent they can be. In a day and age where Adderall can be taken down like a bag of Skittles to get through finals week, do you really think it's difficult to get a hold of Percosets or Vicodin? And that is just the tip of the iceberg.

Don't believe these drugs are that severe? Think Jackson was just too accustomed to living to the excess? Chalk up all those wrestler deaths to their just being roid monkeys? Two words: Heath Ledger.

Ledger died when he was just 28 years old. For perspective, I'm 28 now. It was attributed to a bad combination of multiple prescription meds after resulting in sleep deprivation and depression from getting a little too "into" his role as the Joker.

So the question is, what's it gonna take? We live in a prescription-happy culture. Whatever your stance may be on health care, the way it stands now is that too many of our physicians are simply too quick to whip out their ballpoint and write a solution to be cashed in at the local Walgreens. That goes for many psychologists, too. We're a nation predicated on instant gratification in the 21st century. We want it fixed and we want it now. Doesn't matter whether it's our carburetor or our psyche.

I could get into a whole "chicken-and-egg" examination of this paradox and where it began. However, the key thing is what can possibly be done now to rectify the problem.

We've spent so much damn time trying to regulate drug cartels and dealers on the street, maybe it's time to govern these doctors a little more closely. Not everyone has a Michael Jackson-sized payroll to have a live-in doc. However, if people want it or think they need it, they'll go to great lengths to get it. History has proven that.

If there is one possible silver lining in Jackson's shocking death, perhaps it could be in the potential for a precedent being set against pill-pushing. It's just too bad it takes the loss of a public figure of incomparable magnitude to even initiate the dialogue.

The Winner, and NEW Political Extramarital Affair Heavyweight Champion of the Wo-o-o-o-o-orld...

Now when I brought back the blog, I initially commented I wouldn't be doing tags. However, I feel this situation demands--nay, requires--a tag. One that I will use for the most appropriate stories, which, tragically, happen more than we know or would care to acknowledge:

"You can't make this shit up."

Seriously, as if Eliot Spitzer didn't set the bar high enough by having an elicit affair with a bloody call girl... and as if John Edwards didn't top him by having an affair during his presidential bid in lieu of his wife's heroic cancer recovery story... this is just... I have no words.

I really do believe power goes to people's heads. Especially in politics. What's shocking is just how severely it impairs their better judgment.

South Carolina Governor Mark Sanford took an unannounced weekend trip. Without telling anyone. Over Father's Day weekend.

Then when he resurfaces, he states he went hiking. In the Appalachians. On "National Hike Naked" Day.

Where to begin?

First off, as the single most visible political figure in your state, how did you think you could saunter off to South America in secret without your absence being noticed? I mean, I know Governors get Sunday off... but this is absurd to no end.

Moreover, in the spirit of preserving the illusion of your blissful marriage, couldn't you pick a better weekend to knock Argentinian boots? Seriously guy, Father's Day weekend. You have two sons. Couldn't you at least attempt to keep up appearances?

I think that's what really stuns me... the outright disregard for covering his tracks. If you're gonna be unfaithful as a public figure, at least take the proper preventive measures to ensure no one gets wise. This dude just threw all caution to the wind.

I once thought Bill Clinton could never be topped in this category, for the simple fact that he got caught three times. How do you not learn after fucking up twice?

But in this instance, it's the quality and not quantity that puts Sanford over the top.

So there you have it. A new standard in gross stupidity. Of course it comes courtesy of your friendly neighborhood governor. I hope the people in Argentina are nice 'cause it's going to be a good long time before this cat is received warmly by his fellow Americans.

The Revolution will not be Televised... But it will be Tweeted.

Following the current revolution and riots in Iran has been an intriguing study in the true impact of the Internet in the 21st century.

When this strange, intangible phenomenon became mainstream in the mid 90's, capturing everything in sight (or "in site" as it were) and prefacing the world with the now-familiar "www," I don't think anyone really anticipated the impact it could have.

In a little over a decade it has gone from a time killer used largely for pornographic delight and illegal downloading to a viable source of information.

And truth.

The exposure of the Iranian predicament is evident of that shift. The Internet has become far more sophisticated, evolving impressively along with its most popular "children." The most benignly intended websites such as Twitter and Facebook are now vessels of information we would probably not know otherwise.

I remember last year when riots broke out in Athens over the accidental killing of a teenage boy by an armed police officer. This was a front page staple for many weeks on major news sites. However, it did not receive the same degree of coverage as the economy or the election fallout. I had it on good authority from a friend living in Athens that what we were seeing in the states was merely a fraction of what was going on.

Fast forward a little over six months later. As mentioned in a prior post, Twitter has taken off at a lightning-fast pace, and Facebook has sought to keep up with the site's novel approach to sharing information. Now in light of Iran's recent presidential election and what is being termed as "The Green Revolution," images and video of the protests are being circulated against the will of the Iranian government.

Meanwhile, the U.S. government requested Twitter suspend scheduled network maintenance so as not to impede the flow of information.

This is incredible on so many levels. It's almost as though the Internet itself has become the answer to Orwell's hypothetical "Big Brother." It may not be that far off... it's often been said that you can try and delete a site, an image, a video from the web. But if it's been posted somewhere online, it will always have a life.

And an audience.

The technological revolution has broken ground on a global scale by spreading infectious truth about an actual revolution. We have come full circle; I believe for the better.

Now that is how you bring about change.

Enter the Blago-sphere

Rod Blagojevich has to be the dumbest crooked politician ever. And the greediest. At least in the 21st century, and certainly in my lifetime.

For starters, I cannot believe the guy actually thought it was feasible to sell Illinois Senator's position left by President Obama. In this day and age of communication and simple traceability, I struggle to fathom how a man like Rod can walk around with balls that big.

Then to deny any and all allegations, profess innocence and cry "witch hunt" is not only laughable, it's embarrassing. His conduct hasn't even been anything remotely close to amusing. It's been downright painful to watch, the type of crash TV even the most obsessed reality fan could fathom.

Speaking of which, as if this sordid affair weren't already enough to scrape the bottom of the saltiest barrel, it's almost fitting that Blago would volunteer for that "I'm A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here" show. I should make it crystal clear that I watch zero reality TV beyond "The Ultimate Fighter." Even then I typically fast forward right to the fights. But the point is, how could you so willingly degrade yourself that much?

Not for nothing, this man was a prominent politician prior to his scandal. Sure, he wasn't high profile on a national level, but he didn't have to be. He held a public office, which is something I've always believes needs to be properly respected and revered by the person laying claim to the title.

There's a saying I've always held dear, whether it's in reference to a prize fighter, a CEO or even a politician: "The title doesn't make the man, the man makes the title."

When you accept a title, especially one so public, you need to uphold the value that comes with it. Respect is earned, not given. And disrespect to a title is pretty damn shameful.

Which is why B-Rod's latest endeavor--starring as himself in a Second City comedy show based on his fall from gubernatorial grace--really crystallizes what a sorry excuse for a person he is. This guy clearly is a leech, plain and simple. It doesn't matter whether he's whoring the Senator's seat or whoring himself for whoring the Senator's seat. A whore is a whore is a whore.

And no amount of lacy lingerie and cheap perfume is enough to salvage his reputation. Or his sorry-ass haircut.

Seriously, people like this should just go away. I've never grasped how people are able to stomach these antics, whether it's a Hilton, a girl next door or the subject in question. We shouldn't enable these people to poison pop culture. And the drivers behind the entertainment shouldn't provide them the venue.

The only differences between this act of sickening self-promotion and O.J. Simpson's failed memoir If I Did It are that Rod didn't kill anyone, and O.J.'s attempt to shine the spotlight on himself never saw the light of day.

That doesn't make me feel particularly better about either fact.

I Don't Care What You Did Last Summer... or This Summer... or an Hour Ago... or...

Twitter has taken off like a wildfire, hasn't it? And it's funny to see Facebook trying to mimic some of that popularity via its status updates. But I gotta say, I've noticed a disturbing trend for my update-happy colleagues.

Guys, let me serve public notice right now: I don't need to know your every move. I'm not the FBI, nor am I the federalis. I'm not a sadistic T-800 sent back in time to hunt you down only to spawn some crappy sequels from the year 2000 on.

I like Twitter, I appreciate the concept and see its usefulness. It's especially interesting to see how big companies, sports teams, news networks and even athletes on what's going on. Bill Simmons of ESPN has commented on how revolutionary this could be regarding the sports world, and I agree. There's oodles of potential with this site. Facebook has obviously caught wind of it, and, like MySpace before it, has tried to capitalize on that appeal.

However, Simmons has also provided resistance to Twitter, which is understandable. He did not want it to become one of these "frequent personal update" motives, such as, "I'm walking my dog," or, "Grabbing a skinny mochaccino at the Starbucks on Main." He did see the potential for one-liners, though. And I like that. A way to entertain/engage/inform his readers and fans... just a way to be creative.

But there are some who take the former road to new levels of extremism. This is what originally left me leery of the website. I have a handful of friends who do nothing but offer personal updates with these sites. And it gets to be overwhelming at times.

More than that, it tends to be obnoxious.

There is a certain self-importance that comes with always putting the focus on oneself, and I fear Twitter and Facebook are only serving to augment that egocentric theme.

Now granted, I'm as guilty as anyone of offering the occasional window into the life of Rick, but I try to limit it. I also try to put a humorous spin on things that are happening to me. Sometimes I succeed.

What really kickstarted this for me was a pair of trips about three weeks ago to New Orleans and Washington DC that saw me observing more than usual. Little things that I just felt the need to tweet about by text. It was actually an interesting experience, and that's where I saw the potential for this site. Well, at least for me.

Truth be told, it inspired me to climb back on the fin-adorned soapbox know as Landshark Sandwich and return to commentating (as opposed to commenting) on social trends, quirks, absurdities and curiosities. So I can't be completely against the site.

But that said, all things need to be in moderation. Daily updates that would put CNN's news ticker to shame are unnecessary and heavy-handed. If it's something like a promotion or a new car, then yes, by all means celebrate and tweet to your heart's content. You deserve to inform your friends, you have the right to and it's justifiable.

But if you feel the need to provide information every hour on the hour about your daily fiber intake or the magical musings of The Secret, spare us all. Please.

Some may enjoy such mundane self-glorification, but most of us will roll our eyes and mutter about what an annoyingly arrogant prick you are.

One thing I have learned in life is that certain accomplishments warrant announcement and pride. Others simply deserve the quiet appreciation for your personal growth, and that's greater than any cyber-pat on the back you get.

Please, tweet with caution. The 11th Commandment was really "Keep thy business to thyself."