Hopefully you all were duly appreciative of how awesome my top 25 songs of the last 25 years started out. (I took remarkably little shit for it, which, considering the presence of Mr. Brooks, surprised me) I have to admit I keep second-guessing some of those picks (a top 30 would have been easier) but it is what it is, and I still think I'd have made an awesome DJ at your wedding.
This next 10 should be even better than the last, so without further ado here we go.
A friend alerted me to the upcoming 25th Anniversary Issue of American Songwriter, in which they'll have a section on the best 25 songs of the last 25 years. They've apparently been conducting reader polls, contests, etc., to get everyone's feedback on what those 25 songs should be.
By now you all of you know I'm a sucker for this kind of stuff. Hell, I spent an entire summer counting down my top 100 albums of all time, and every music meme that comes my way gets an inordinate amount of attention (while I systematically ignore all the tumultuous personal stuff that's going on in our lives...but more on that another time). So as you can imagine this got me thinking...
It's a tough list. It can only include songs that came out after 1984. All the heavy hitters (Beatles, Dylan, Zeppelin, Stones, etc.) are effectively disqualified. Most of the best punk and new wave albums wouldn't count either. A huge number of the go-to songs you'd immediately think of as among the greatest don't cut it.
Let me put things in perspective for you. Michael Jackson's Thriller came out at the end of 1982. So did Duran Duran's Rio. Pyromania was in 1983, the same year the The Police broke up. None are eligible. Feel old now?
So I'm starting a meme. I'm going to publish my top 25 songs of the last 25 years, and I want you guys to do the same on your blogs (and link back to here so I know you've done it!) Let's see what a bunch of old farts like us come back with.
So to kick things off, I'm offering up #25-16 on my list, in no particular order. Next will be #15-6, and I'll end with my top 5 next week. I'm imposing a rule on myself which limits one song per artist (otherwise Appetite for Destruction would take up half the list). It's a personal list (i.e. my favorites) but factors such as success, influence, state of the world at the time, and overall song quality are all part of it. I personally can't wait to see all of yours.
What do you think so far? Are any of these on your lists? And don't get all up in my grill about omitted songs until I get through the next 15...stay tuned...
My old pal Sparky over at Dirt & Noise, knowing full-well my dangerous and unhealthy love of fictional characters at the expense of real-life people, threw down the gauntlet (or, more accurately, a Tweetlet) and challenged me to a movie meme. Since I'm now entering year three of writer's block I took her up on it.
The meme is simple: name your ten favorite movie characters. An interesting challenge, as that's not the same as your ten favorite movies. It took a lot to whittle it down to ten, and I made some hard sacrifices (Darth Vader and the centurion from Life of Brianwere the last to fall) but when I look at the final list there's not a weak link. They may not all be the most nuanced creations, but they're mine.
The Bride (Kill Bill) - For having a purpose, sticking with it, and being unstoppable in its pursuit.
The Dude (The Big Lebowski) - For abiding, and for always protecting his beverage.
Jerry Lundegaard (Fargo) - For perfectly embodying repressed emotions
The McKenzie Brothers (Strange Brew) - It's like two for one, eh. Beauty.
Blake (Glengary Glen Ross) - Because in life first prize is a Cadillac Eldorado, second prize is set of steak knives, and third prize is you're fired.
Carl Spackler (Caddyshack) - As required by law. Quotability counts double.
Long Duck Dong (Sixteen Candles) - For living the American dream.
Corky St. Clair (Waiting for Guffman) - For dreaming big, and biting his pillow.
Jules Winnfield (Pulp Fiction) - Because he sure enjoys a tasty burger, and because all he really wants to do is walk the earth, like Caine in "Kung Fu"
Gny. Sgt. Hartman (Full Metal Jacket) - For making men out of maggots.
Questions? Comments? Bueller? Bueller?
UPDATE: I've made a horrible mistake. Somehow I forgot to consider perhaps the greatest creation of modern cinema. All other characters immediately fall down one slot to make room for the king: Randall, from Clerks.
I think this whole parenting this is getting a little easier.
For the first time in years I had Cheeky to myself for a weekend. No mommy, no grandma, no overpaid nanny ducking immigration. Just me, my daughter, and a copy of Disney's Cinderella on 5-day rental, just in case a princess party broke out.
Cheeky and I have an understanding. I get to play "good cop" on days when continuous playtime and crustless grilled cheese sandwiches have pushed Oodgie way past "bad cop" to Maniac Cop (or even Maniac Cop 2 or, god forbid, Maniac Cop 3: Badge of Silence). She saves her most irrational tirades for Mommy, and as a reward Daddy will periodically feed her cookies for lunch.
Applying that arrangement to a full unsupervised weekend together can be tricky. There are elements to parenting--such as matching clothes and keeping children out of high voltage areas--that I'm not well-trained at. Whenever Oodgie leaves for more than a day there's always the risk she'll return to a house that looks like modern Chernobyl. But I've been doing this for a while now, and I've figured out the secret:
Have a plan.
Waking up in the morning and asking Cheeky, "What should we do today?" is as effective as doing calculus with a Magic 8 Ball. I could dazzle her with my favorite time-killers for a good hour, but without structure we'd both invoke kal-if-fee by noon. So I blanketed the tri-state area with phone calls and e-mail requests to anyone who I thought wanted to party with the Cheekster, and by the weekend our schedule was as choreographed as a Republican Senator visiting Iraq.
We met friends and searched for inchworms in the park. We saw the Sippy Cups with a famous local blogger. We had a Billy Idol Dance Party. (And who wouldn't want one of those?) There may or may not have been offensively overpriced cookies involved. And every night we got to bed happy and on time; she at around 8 PM, and me only after a glass of scotch and a movie Oodgie would neverwatchwith me. By Monday I figured I had the whole thing down.
That doesn't mean I'm Super Dad or anything. After all, having a plan and things going as planned are two separate things. And Cheeky never hesitated to remind me just how many minutes and seconds were left before Oodgie got home, probably because she couldn't scratch them into the wall. But for once I kinda wished we'd had a little more time.
Let's ask Cheeky:
CroutonBoy: "Sweety, did you have fun with Daddy this weekend?"
Cheeky: "Yeah."
CroutonBoy: "Was it the best time ever?"
Cheeky: "Yeah."
CroutonBoy "Do you want Mommy to go away again for a few days so we can play?"
