21st April 12
Here is a list I was scrawling on the back of a postcard on the bus ride home the other day. I was assembling this list for very important reasons related to the creation of very important cultural products:
- Zebra cakes
- Fancy cakes
- Star Crunch
- Skyline chili (frozen, canned or drive-thru)
- Mr. Gatti’s pizza
- Hostess fruit pies
- Kroger-brand fruit pies
- Little Caesars pizza
- White Castles
- Shoney’s breakfast buffet
- Totino’s Party Pizza
- Vanilla Coke
- Vanilla Cherry Coke
- Kroger-brand French Silk pies
- Steak-N-Shake steakburgers
- Jerry’s J-Boy steaks
As is often the case on the bus I ride, there was a beautiful young downtown St. Paul nonprofit worker sitting next to me. She wasn’t peering over into my lap, exactly, but she was glancing at my list, as you inevitably do when you’re in such close quarters and someone is writing big loopy script next to you. Maybe I was just imagining this, but I thought she looked a bit horrified.
It occurred to me she might have thought I was making a shopping list, and if this was a shopping list, it would be the most hilariously pathetic shopping list imaginable, especially for a grown man that is clearly in his early- to mid-30s.
I thought maybe I should explain myself, but decided against it. If she wants to think I am
hoarding filling up my pantry with Hostess fruit pies and Vanilla Coke, I guess there’s worse things for people to think.
Come to think of it, I hope she nicknamed me “Fancy Cakes” in her head, because that is a pretty good nickname. “Here comes Mr. Fancy Cakes,” she might think to herself whenever I board the bus.
3rd August 11
I was writing something the other night that required me to make up things about Revenge of the Nerds / Top Gun / E.R. actor Anthony Edwards (among other people), so I did the first thing you do when making up things about people that aren’t true but seem like they might be true, which is look up the person’s Wikipedia page. This way, you can ensure the things you’ve made up fit into the broader framework of the person’s life.
Of course, some idiot or genius had beat me to it. From the Anthony Edwards Wikipedia page:
Edwards was also one of the founding members of the bluegrass band Nickel Creek. Playing mandolin from the time of the bands formation in 1989 and leaving the band in 1994 when he was offered more work in television. When asked by Bluegrass Unlimited magazine in 2004 about leaving Nickel Creek, Edwards stated that, “The band was simply a way to pass the time, and meet lots of women.” Edwards continued: “They will do fine with out me. They have a chemistry and fan base that will carry them until at least 2007.”
“Could it be?” I shouted to my empty apartment. This had me going. But of course it’s not true. It’s too hilarious to be true. A Google search turned up nothing about Anthony Edwards and Nickel Creek at all, so it is almost certainly untrue. Someone made it up for some obscure reason (maybe it’s an inside joke, maybe they have a healthy sense of the absurd) and put it right in Anthony Edwards’ Wikipedia page. I wonder how long it’s been there. It’s brilliant. It’s so weird and inconsequential, and non-malicious, that it barely seems worth fact-checking.
Congratulations, person. Obviously, it should be removed someday, not being true and all, but anything that gets you to think “I need to be careful about not believing every dumbass thing I read on the Internet” is all right by me.
27th July 11
Dave “Baby” Cortez, “The Happy Organ.”
In those halcyon days before the Beatles, all you needed to have a hit record was two things:
- A neat idea for a melody that could serve as the basis for a two-minute song.
- A willingness to play three shows a night, three hundred nights a year, for a salary of $75 per week.
Detroit’s Dave “Baby” Cortez had both of these things, plus a truly great nickname. That makes him, in my book, one of the best. I hope that someday he goes to rock music heaven, where he can joyfully bang out this melody on a Katzenklavier made out of corrupt record executives and unscrupulous tour bookers.
Instead of cats, guys in purple suits nicknamed “Chin.”
5th November 10
I will happily admit to being sort of a soccer poseur. After being relegated out of my pops’s youth soccer league at age 10, I didn’t pay much attention to the beautiful game for a solid twenty years. It didn’t help matters that during what ought to have been my formative soccer years, I was attending a suburban crudhole filled with jerk-ass soccer players. (Although, in hindsight, the mid-’90s peroxide blonde “alternative” jerk-ass soccer player is a beautiful archetype that I feel oddly nostalgic for, as it is rapidly fading into history.) On the whole, I actually didn’t much care for soccer at all.
During this past World Cup, however, I inexplicably caught a low-grade case of football fever — something about the sounds of the vuvzelas and living in a predominately Mexican neighborhood did it. I got very excited about the whole thing. When it was all over, I actually thought, well, maybe I won’t go as far as selecting a Premiere League English football club to get behind (I don’t even know what metrics could be applied to making such a decision). But maybe, I thought, Major League Soccer could be something interesting to think about.
Until I looked at the team names. They all suck. They really suck.
They all sound like third-rate expansion WNBA teams. “San Jose Earthquakes”? “Colorado Rapids”? What the shit is “Colorado Rapids” supposed to mean? That doesn’t even sound like a sports team. It sounds like a town off the interstate where your car breaks down and you buy a Slim Jim in the gas station while the tow truck comes from three towns over and some redneck makes fun of your shirt and you buy one of those newspapers that’s all personals ads for truck-drivers and prison inmates. Not very inspiring.
There is, in my limited experience, a poetry to football club names. They’re not named for vaguely threatening singular nouns or natural disasters. They are named for neighborhoods, and places of employment, and defunct athletic clubs, and weird inside jokes from the 19th Century. They are at least a dozen teams in London, and not one of them has the word “London” in their name. It’s Crystal Palace F.C., Chelsea, Arsenal, Fulham, Tottenham Hotspur, Leyton Orient.
So to that end, I’ve taken the liberty of renaming each of the MLS teams to more closely conform with my own expectations for what a soccer team’s name should sound like. Please enjoy.
Chicago Fire » Bridgeview Town FC
The stadium’s not even in Chicago proper. Which is fine, but the fact that’s a dumb pun on top of that makes it inexcusable. Show some pride for little Bridgeview. An alternative would be naming for the long-gone White City, from the 1893 Columbian Exposition, but White City FC sounds a little racist.
Columbus Crew » Linden South End FC
The “Columbus Crew” sounds like a gang of jocks that come down from OSU and crash your little sister’s graduation party. Again, naming the club for the city neighborhood it’s located in makes a much stronger statement.
D.C. United » Columbia FC
Nice try, guys, but “United” should only apply to a team that is formed when two hated rivals finally put aside their differences and join forces. Until the D.C. club merges with the Arlington Avvalanchez or whatever, “Columbia FC” should do it.
Kansas City Wizards » Village West Rangers FC
There is no reason to drag wizards into this whole thing. Apparently they’re building these guys a new stadium in a mixed-use development near the Speedway called “Village West.” Sounds good to me. Plus, maybe “rangers” kind of sounds like something with cows. You know, like stockyards, or that kind of thing. I don’t know.
New England Revolution » Lexington & Concord FC
Why fart around with vague historical references? Just go for it, dudes.
New York Red Bulls » Brooklyn Celtic
“But Andy, the team’s not in Brooklyn.” No, you’re right: it’s in New Jersey. But come on, teams that play in New Jersey get to call themselves “New York” all the damned time. It’s absurd, but it’s life. “Brooklyn Celtic” was a respected American soccer team from back in the bad old days, when American soccer teams had better names. So Brooklyn can have a team that plays in New Jersey. That’s fine.
Philadelphia Union » Chester FC
Again: not in Philadelphia. It’s in Chester. We’ll just use that.
Toronto FC » Dufferin Gate FC
Actually, I guess “Toronto FC” is hard to argue with. Or maybe “Toronto City FC.” But it looks like the team plays at a stadium at Exhibition Place, which was once the site of a 19th Century structure called “Dufferin Gate.” I like the sound of that. Let’s go with it.
C.D. Chivas USA » C.D. Chivas USA
This one generally seems reasonable.
Colorado Rapids » Commerce City FC
Another one where the name of the suburb the club’s actually located in has a better name than the major city it supposedly represents. Though I’ve heard Commerce City is pretty crappy.
FC Dallas » Tree City FC
This club is based not in Dallas proper, but in Frisco, Texas. Listen to this gem from Wikipedia about the city of Frisco: “Since 2003, Frisco has received the designation ‘Tree City USA’ by the National Arbor Day Foundation.” That’s outstanding!
Houston Dynamo » Dynamo Houston FC
Apparently “Dynamo” is also the name that all the KGB- and Stasi-backed football clubs in the old Soviet bloc had, but why not, let’s just keep it anyway. Maybe switch the two words around.
Los Angeles Galaxy » Carson South Bay FC
Teams in huge cities shouldn’t be named for the whole city. It’s too expansive. Just a small part of it. Since the club doesn’t play in LA proper but in nearby Carson, I think this geographic designation is more specific and more appropriate.
Real Salt Lake » Salt Lake County FC
Using the Spanish term “real” — which means “royal” — is just ridiculously pretentious. This is the equivalent of a naming the shittiest cookie-cutter suburban apartment development “Le Royale Oakes Apartments at Wyndmere.” Again, “City” is already in the god-damned name, so we could just do “Salt Lake City FC.” That said, I like the “county” designation, and we need at least one team with “county” in the name. You’re it, Salt Lake.
Seattle Sounders FC » Seattle Occidental FC
Again, let’s go with a neighborhood. Seattle is a city of neighborhoods. This should be easy. Actually, now that I look at it, the team plays in kind of a downtown-nowhere arena, and “Central Business District FC” isn’t so inspiring. However, it’s located at 800 Occidental Avenue. Great name! “West,” get it? Totally mythical.
San Jose Earthquakes » ???
I give up. You think of something.