Buying gifts for the person who has doesn’t use everything

With the Christmas shopping season winding down (or yet to begin for some of us), I’m always interested in hearing what people buy for their family members of significant others.

Through the years, the CD and DVD gift became the easy, go-to buy for someone you really didn’t want to spend too much money on. Now we have iPods, which have become the go-to buy for someone you HAVE to spend a lot of money on, but have no idea where to start.

Somewhere in between that range lies my mother, who is the most difficult person to buy gifts for only because she will knowingly not use them.

Example 1: Years ago, my brother bought our step-mother a bread maker. It wasn’t a gift with any attachment, I’m guessing he saw the box at Marshall Field’s, figured it was an easy pick and bought it. Yet when my mom heard that the step-mom (who we really have no attachment to, we don’t even really have that much of an attachment to our father), was getting a bread maker, she wanted one, too.

Now, my brother and I knew my mom would never use it. But the next year, I bought her the bread maker, just to say I did. And more than five years later, it still sits about five-feet from the bedroom where it was unwrapped, still unopened.

Example 2: A few years ago, my brother bought my mom a gift certificate for an aqua massage at the Mall of America. He should have just taken his money and given it to the Salvation Army greeter. It went unredeemed.

Example 3: A deluxe Scrabble board from last Christmas that still sits unopened.

So last year, my brother and I figured that we would get my mom an iPod for when she goes on walks, with the idea that I would equip it with music. Well, until two weeks ago, it also sat unused. But this time I have to take some responsibility. I told her a few times that I would put music on it for her; she would just have to say when. Well she never said when, which I can’t blame. Why would you tell someone to do something that you don’t really understand?

See, mom isn’t exactly inclined to technology. Call her home phone and it rings forever – no answering machine. After tapes gave way to CDs, so did her apparent love of Roger Whitaker and Anne Murray because she couldn’t find their albums anymore.And if my grandmother wouldn’t have passed away several years ago, I still don’t think we would have a microwave. For several years she had 8-tracks and no 8-track player. (When I asked why, my mom said, “Well, now you know the logic that goes into a divorce.”)

I bought her a DVD player one year for Christmas so she could still watch movies, and I think that would still be in the manufacturer’s packaging had I not installed it.

So eventually I took the iPod Shuffle and equipped it with her favorite Anne Murray songs and added a few Willie Nelson cuts of my own, which she fawned over once she put on the small white ear buds and hit the play. (Okay I had to hit play and show her how to turn it on, but still.)

She thought it was the coolest thing, and that it sounded much better than her CD/clock radio she recently got for her years of service at work. She wore the headphones for the rest of the day, singing forgotten country tunes as she washed the dishes. Now, besides the fact that had I had to tell her she couldn’t listen to the headphones while driving the car, everything was smooth sailing.

The bigger question that messed with me was that she obviously enjoyed listening to music, but had pretty much stopped for several years because she didn’t follow the technological advances.

That seems crazy to me. I love music – I couldn’t just stop listening to it. I mean, every “lost on a desert island” scenario always involves a solar-powered radio of some sort. Maybe that’s why she really enjoyed the iPod, listening to her favorite songs once again. Since her boyfriend recently passed away, maybe listening to those songs again gave her some amount of peace. Whatever the reason, she seemed genuinely happy during a difficult time. This year, I even had picked out a collection of CDs to get her for Christmas, being that a 40 percent chance exists that she may actually listen to them.

Of course I can’t do that, she just told my brother to buy her music for her iPod.

Well, maybe she doesn’t remember about the bread maker?

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫

Elliot wishes everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Crazy Kwanzaa, or whatever they celebrate. Don’t forget to pass the egg nog!

Quickie: If someone’s head flies off in the TRAILER, what happens in the damn movie? (John Rambo, aka Rambo IV)

I know, you’re just as surprised as I am that Sylvester Stallone wasn’t named in the Mitchell Report. But now watch a trailer for “John Rambo,” the fourth installment of the Rambo series.

I can’t remember a trailer this extreme. I wonder if John Rambo drinks Mountain Dew or Red Bull. It’s gotta be one or the other.

What do you think?

Mitchell report leaks - Clemens apparently named in steroids probe

Parts of the Mitchell report have leaked, and the Associated Press is already saying Roger Clemens is one of the players who received steroids from Brian McNamee, a former trainer for the Yankees and Clemens. McNamee told investigators he supplied Clemens and Pettitte with steroids and that information is in the report, according to the AP.

Some more names:

Roger Clemens, Miguel Tejada, Andy Pettitte, Eric Gagne, Jason Giambi, Troy Glaus, Gary Matthews Jr., Jose Guillen, Brian Roberts, Paul Lo Duca, Barry Bonds, Gary Sheffield, Rick Ankiel. More to come later…

The Real World gets real 15 years too late, while The Hills roll artificially along

Once upon a loooooooooooong time ago, MTV played music videos. Once upon a not as long time ago, MTV created the Real World, and it was an interesting show.

They started out in New York, with the “country white girl” clashing with the “urban black guy,” no doubt creating the formula that MTV’s writers eventually pumped with more steroids than Barry Bonds and Mark McGwire did their asses.

All the sudden everyone was gorgeous. The chicks came straight from dancing on a table in CollegeTown, USA to our televisions, as did “the extremely effeminate gay roommate,” or the “quick-tempered black male,” or the “backwoods white country bumpkin.” And then eventually the creators just got lazy and threw a bunch of alcohol in the rooms (i.e.: The Las Vegas cast).

In other words, MTV got greedy.

Well, on a mostly forgettable cast this season, the recent episode teaser presents a situation where a hook-up goes invariably wrong and a condom breaks. The girl thinks she might be pregnant. The guy thinks he might have to get married.

THESE ARE REAL LIFE SITUATIONS.

These are situations that people can’t fake, that mean something to viewers. No one needs to watch the drinking patterns of a 22-year-old blond who has been handed everything she’s ever wanted. No one needs to watch a douche bag wearing a trucker hat scream about how much Jag he can slam in a night. But watching two 23 year-olds convince themselves that they should or should not have a baby that they obviously didn’t plan for is gripping television, whether you want to admit it or not.

Why doesn’t MTV broadcast the story of seven strangers, picked to live in a house, who are all trying to succeed in their careers? Maybe seven recent college grads trying to make it? Those are the types of situations MTV wanted to broadcast when they created the Real World. Instead, they’ve settled on recreating the end credits of Benny Hill into a 23-minute show.

MEANWHILE….

The Hills continues to dribble on, about as authentic as what’s under head actress Heidi Montag’s shirt. We’re led to believe that the show is entirely real, even though Heidi faux-fiancé Spencer Pratt and tagalong Brody Jenner expressed a desire to stay on camera in order to up their collective profiles. Add to the fact that several reports have surfaced that both main heroine Lauren Conrad and Montag don’t actually do anything at their TV “jobs.”

Surprisingly, Jenner makes a move on Conrad after falling out of the limelight! Really?

And then during the last episode, Conrad somehow gets a chance to go to Paris for the summer – even though Editor Lisa Love wasn’t going to allow her the chance this year! Really?

Who said the writers are on strike? They seem to be dreaming up enough soap-opera level rubbish over at MTV headquarters.

Week blog break: blame Charlie Brown

During my workday, I spend about 10 hours performing a mix of reading and writing. So when I get home, I’m not always ready to both churn out more copy and read another gaggle of pages. Usually, blogging wins out. But I’ve started reading “Schulz and Peanuts” by David Michaelis in preparation of interviewing him, so my freetime goes there.

However, I’m constantly scrawling new ideas and should be back to regular blogging by next week. Someday I hope to increase the output here, but my schedule doesn’t really allow it at the present time. I’ll explain in one of the upcoming blogs.

In the meantime, feel free to read any of the links on the right of my page. Thanks for stopping by - every visit is appreciated. I mean, if a nerd blogs in the middle of the forest and no one reads it, did he really write anything?

I’ll write a review of the book and also post the article if it all works out. Thanks again.

-E.

How I learned to stop worrying and love the Atmosphere: Sad Clown, Bad Summer No. 9 and Fall No. 10

Atmosphere has released two “Sad Clown, Bad Dub” EPs this summer, led by the strength of two cuts in particular, “Sunshine” from SCB-Summer No. 9, and SCB-Fall No. 10’s “Lyndale Avenue Owner’s Manual.” Listening to these EPs and looking at the Rolling Stone on my floor, I can’t help but think about Kid Rock, Pam Anderson, Radiohead’s new album, “In Rainbows,” and a college relationship.

The fact that I check for Atmosphere albums at this point shouldn’t be that notable. I’m white, I love hip-hop, I’m from Minneapolis, and Atmosphere has been holding down the Minneapolis hip-hop scene for nearly 15 years.

But it wasn’t always that easy.

I’ve always respected Atmosphere, and while I enjoyed a few songs, something always held me back from really enjoying their music. There was a guy I worked with in the dorms named Tom, a laid-back guy who would play Atmosphere CDs while working the front desk. He originally saw them during a performance at his high school and followed them ever since. He would play a lot of their stuff, and it wasn’t bad at all. Grimy, dark, but introspective - I kind of dug it.

Yet around 2000, anytime a person said they liked “underground hip-hop,” they would undeniably ramble on about how they totally knew Slug personally, how their brother was best friends with his cousin and that they “totally had all the Headshots bootlegs before anyone else.”

Added to that, 90 percent of these people were females, who would say they loved Atmosphere because, quote, “Slug is just like sooooo hot.” It’s the Brandon Boyd corollary.

In 1999 and 2001, Incubus recorded two solid albums with plenty of great songs. Yet anytime those songs came on the stereo, any co-eds within earshot would eek out their best Total Request Live impression, which pretty much ruined listening to any Incubus records. (Until Incubus decided they could ruin the act of listening to Incubus albums themselves by making inconsistent recordings. But I digress.)

Even more so, there was a girlfriend I had in college, who pretty much like every female walking the planet, had a douche bag ex-boyfriend. During one of our first dates – maybe it wasn’t even a date, in college I don’t think you went on “dates,” you just hung out with each other for awhile – she remarked that her d-bag ex “loved Atmosphere.” Strike three.

During the tumultuous and ridiculous series of months that followed with that girl, I always hated Atmosphere. Even though there were songs I had previously enjoyed, and even though people were kept raving about then then-recently released “God Loves Ugly,” I wouldn’t bite.

See, when you’re young and dumb, walls seem important. You want to destroy links to any exes that a female has. You think everything will start over new, and you’ll plant your flag on her heart, and be the last to do so. Of course, that’s all bullshit at 20, because several d-bag missions have spacewalked on that emotional moon, and several more will in the future. Really loving someone means being at peace with someone’s past or just not caring about it. Still, in situations when you know stories about the ex-douches, and when you’ve been able to put a face on the name, you don’t want other things that bring up those memories.

So, I hated Atmosphere.

This is the same reason Chuck Klosterman wrote about hating Coldplay in “Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs,” and the same reason Kid Rock wipes his ass with “Radiohead” toilet paper in his “You Never Met a Motherfucker Quite Like Me” video. As Klosterman writes, Kid Rock’s affinity for hating Radiohead most likely had to do with his then-arm candy Pamela Anderson and her ex, Tommy Lee. In Lee’s autobiography, he mentions his 33rd birthday, when Pamela “cranked their favorite band, Radiohead, on the sound system.” Klosterman brilliantly infers that Pamela told Rock this, and it drove him nuts. I’d have to agree.

This is significant for two reasons: Kid Rock is currently on the cover of Rolling Stone, and Radiohead just released a new LP. In the Kid Rock profile, his relationship with Anderson weaves throughout: how Rock has moved on, how he was deceived, how he recorded a song about her on the new album. He says he’s over her, but you never really get that sense. I think there is only way anyone will ever truly know if he has moved on.

(It’s actually a brilliant article written by Austin Scaggs, which shouldn’t be a surprise since he makes his usual 200-word Smoking Section captivating each month. Very recommended.)

Several years ago, after breaking up with that girl from college, I re-listened to Atmosphere. I grabbed the albums from my brother, and save for a few tracks, I really enjoyed them. Subconsciously, I had moved on from what’s her name, but more importantly, I was able to fully enjoy songs like “Between the Lines,” “Modern Man’s Hustle,” “Trying to Find a Balance,” “Always Coming Back Home to You,” “Shhh,” and eventually “Little Man,” “Pour Me Another,” and “Say Hey There,” among several others that Atmosphere continue to release.

The beautiful thing had nothing to do with the relationship - it was a college fling that came and went – it was that I had finally discovered a quality hip-hop group, in my own backyard no less. If anything, I’m almost frustrated that I could have caused myself to miss out on so many great songs over some trivial nonsense. Listen to “Sunshine,” where Slug’s rhymes recall a hungover morning and finding the beauty within it. The albums are more than a primer for next years rumored “When Life Gives you Lemons.” Instead of reading me blab about the EPs, pick ‘em up and give em burn in your car. Underground rap has traded in turntable scratches for a piano. As much as I love hearing any DJ getting their best Premier on during the chorus, it’s a beautiful thing.

And listening to “Sunshine,” I can’t help but wonder if Kid Rock picked up “In Rainbows.” Here’s hoping he did.

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫
Elliot is embarrassed to say that he’s never seen Atmosphere at First Avenue, main stage or even the 7th Street Entry. This may be why he is such an avid fan of local indie rockers The Exchange and The Alarmists, to ensure himself a spot at the front of the bandwagon. You can reach him here.

Travis Henry does a great Smokey from Friday impression: Broncos running back likely faces lengthy suspension

Travis Henry apparently likes weed.

(story: http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/news/story?id=3049721)

He likes it enough to not play football for a year, he likes it enough to throw away millions of dollars, he likes it enough to lose his livelihood; he likes it enough to jeopardize the future of his, *ahem* nine children by nine different women across four states. Henry at least likes smoking more than paying child support for those children, as various judges have had to order him to pay child support for at least seven said kids.

Yes, Travis Henry is all about making intelligent decisions.

But the greater question hangs over this story like a billowing cloud of ‘erb flowing out of a Graffix bong: Why can’t people like Travis Henry learn to stop smoking marijuana?

Before someone chokes out the name Ricky Williams – who ironically enough this week was targeted by a Denver pro-marijuana group to play for the Broncos – why can’t these athletes realize that the cost of inhaling goes way beyond the cash they plunked down for their dub sack?

He signed a five-year, $22.5 million deal in the offseason with the Broncos, how much do you think he’ll see of that now? Probably less than half, if he’s extremely lucky.

I had a friend in college who smoked marijuana on the regular in high school, and also the first year of college. Then, he stopped. He didn’t miss it, he didn’t change his personality, except for that he took up running. These days he’s a veteran of several marathons. Now without sounding too anti-drug, he probably would never smoke before an upcoming race, or really ever.

“That’ll take me off my pace,” he’d say, refusing to enter the puff-puff-pass rotation.

Another friend of mine smoked pretty heavily in high school, but stopped cold turkey senior year. Hasn’t touched it since claimed he could feel himself getting more stupid.

Now if my first friend mentioned, who’s making ZERO dollars to run marathons, can have no desire to smoke, and my other friend can also avoid smoking, why can’t Travis Henry, who is making $22.5 million and has already been suspended once by the NFL – stop smoking marijuana? He knows the next suspension is a year, minimum. He also has watched the litany of players suspended this year by Commissioner Roger Goddell, who has taken a strong “no tolerance” policy toward drugs, arrests, violence and everyone’s favorite, animal fighting that involves gambling.

This is why in August I said I wouldn’t pick Henry for fantasy football. If you are over the age of 21 and you fail a drug test that you know is coming, we can infer that you smoke fairly regularly. No one starts smoking marijuana at 23 years of age. Either you did it in college and/or high school, or you didn’t. Either it follows you from there, or it doesn’t.

I’ll break this down into a hypothetical situation involving two 25-year-old friends:

Friend A has never smoked in his life.

Friend B smoked occasionally in high school and college. He hasn’t smoked now in at least a year.

If you are betting on who would fail a drug test in the next year, who are you betting on? Exactly – Friend B. And that’s why Travis Henry was a scary fantasy football pick. People don’t START smoking weed by then, and if they do it regularly by the time they hit mid 20s, they probably are going to continue sporadically.

Personally, if I needed to impair my mind and I had TWENTY FIVE MILLION DOLLARS riding on the need to NOT SMOKE ILLEGAL SUBSTANCES, I’d go upstairs and grab an ice cold case of Newcastle and get stupid.

Next time you grab a cold one, take a second and toast to all the poor fantasy football owners who just got screwed by Travis Henry.
♫ ♫ ♫ ♫
Elliot is a journalist in an Associated Press-member newsroom, yet he openly wishes that he was getting paid to write about fantasy sports, even if it was just enough to pay for parking. You can reach him here.

Jay-Z: 99 Problems, new album ideas aint one… (NYT swipe)

Photo by Damon Winter/The New York Times
(EM:Here’s an article from the New York Times about Jigga getting back into the game… Again. I’m excited, dude seems hungry, and should after a so-so comeback effort with
Kingdom Come. Although there’s no way this album comes out in November — he always delays his stuff like crazy — and the name of the record will change five times. Anyways, enjoy.

http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/20/arts/music/20jayz.html?_r=
4&hp=&adxnnl=0&oref=slogin&adxnnlx=1190262656-2Znarx4r1Qo/
+dSZrxErzA&pagewanted=all

By DAVID M. HALBFINGER and JEFF LEEDS
LOS ANGELES, Sept. 19 — Jay-Z, the rap superstar and president of Def Jam Records, has quietly returned to the studio to record an album of new songs inspired by the forthcoming movie “American Gangster,” his first “concept” album and second CD in less than a year.

The album, which his label plans to release in early November, came together over the past few weeks after Jay-Z was shown the film, directed by Ridley Scott, in which Denzel Washington portrays Frank Lucas, a early 1970s Harlem heroin kingpin.

Following the underwhelming critical and commercial reception for his “Kingdom Come” CD late last year — and as Jay-Z grapples with whether to stay on in his post at Def Jam — the tie-in to a major motion picture gives him a chance to rebound strong and extend his reach to a wider audience.

At the same time, it could help Universal Pictures excite younger moviegoers, whom it will need to make money on a costly film with a troubled history. Though it’s not uncommon for films to be released alongside “inspired by” albums, it is rare for them to be recorded by a single artist, let alone by a major star who had no role in the movie.

In an hourlong telephone interview, Jay-Z, 37, who has spoken of spending his early years in Brooklyn both rapping and drug dealing, said that the movie had tremendous resonance for him and had sparked a burst of creative activity that even he found surprising. He has already recorded nine tracks, almost every one prompted by a specific scene.

“It was like I was watching the film, and putting it on pause, and giving a back story to the story,” he said.

The movie, set for a Nov. 2 release, depicts the Lucas character as an underworld Horatio Alger and an innovator who, despite keeping a low public profile, rose to such power that he was able to defy the Mafia bosses who had traditionally dominated the New York drug trade before being brought down by a special narcotics task force. (Its leader is played by Russell Crowe.) Jay-Z said he thought his fans would be struck by the image of a black man reaching such heights of success, even on the wrong side of the law, much like such ruthlessly efficient Al Pacino antiheroes as Tony Montana and Michael Corleone.

“It immediately clicked with me,” said Jay-Z, who has made passing references to gangster movies in previous recordings but has never delved so deeply into the genre. “Like ‘Scarface,’ or any one of those films, you take the good out of it, and you can see it as an inspiring film.”

A $100 million gritty period piece that largely takes place before the birth of hip-hop or many of its fans, “American Gangster” marks a sizable gamble for Universal, which fired one director, Antoine Fuqua, and scrapped the project at a cost of $30 million before restarting it with Mr. Scott in charge and with Mr. Crowe in place of Benicio del Toro. (Though they share a name, Universal Pictures and Universal Music Group, the parent of Def Jam, are no longer corporate brethren.)

Mr. Scott said he cast the rappers T. I., RZA and Common in supporting roles, hoping to appeal to a younger audience. But Brian Grazer, the film’s producer, said that Mr. Washington also pressed him more than a year ago to consider asking Jay-Z to do the film’s soundtrack.

“I just didn’t think there’d be enough for Jay-Z to do,” Mr. Grazer said, explaining that he resisted because he and Mr. Scott felt the movie required an authentic 1970s feel.

Instead Jay-Z offered to make his own album and release it in conjunction with the movie; Def Jam is also releasing the film’s official soundtrack, which features songs by Bobby Womack, the Staple Singers and Sam & Dave. Jay-Z plans to attend the film’s premiere but any cross-promotion deals have not been completed, executives said. The movie’s trailer already includes an older Jay-Z song, “Heart of the City.”

Mr. Grazer, who visited Jay-Z in the studio last week and heard seven of the new songs, said he was impressed by how the movie had “ignited all these memories of his childhood and how he grew up and the experiences he had, and the moral crossroads he had constantly in his life that were so parallel to Frank Lucas’s.”

Though Jay-Z, whose real name is Shawn Carter, said he’d never heard of Mr. Lucas while growing up in Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, he still glimpsed much of himself in Mr. Washington’s portrayal: “The way he carried himself. The way he went about things. The way he wasn’t loud, but he was very strong.”

Echoing the “stop snitchin’ ” campaign among some hip-hop fans and artists, however, Jay-Z hastened to dissociate himself from Mr. Lucas’s decision to cooperate with the authorities to get a more lenient sentence.

“Me, I believe you choose your path and you walk your path, and whatever happens you got to accept it,” Jay-Z said.

In “No Hook,” a song on the new album, he says:

Please don’t compare me to other rappers. Compare me to trappers.

I’m more Frank Lucas than Ludacris. And Lude is my dude, I ain’t trying to dis.

Just like Frank Lucas is cool, but I ain’t tryin’ to snitch.

I’m-a follow the rules, no matter how much time I’m-a get.

I’m-a live and die with the decisions that I’m-a pick.

Jay-Z’s new album is certain to punctuate what had been a year of relatively slow sales for Def Jam until the huge chart debut this week of Kanye West’s CD “Graduation.” Jay-Z is said to be mulling whether to extend his three-year employment contract, return to recording and touring full time or explore other options. In the interview he deflected questions about his future. “I would love to work it out” and stay at Def Jam, he said, but he added that he was wavering and would do some “soul-searching” after finishing the album.

His decision to record “American Gangster” is a surprise, given that his last album was released less than a year ago. “Kingdom Come” sold about 1.5 million copies, his lowest figure for a full studio album since 1997. And its elaborate marketing campaign, including alliances with Budweiser and ESPN, prompted some suggestions that Jay-Z’s branching-out into other business endeavors, and taste for the jet-setting life, had begun to undermine his street credibility.

He made no apologies for his transformation into a global brand. “Jay doesn’t live in Brooklyn any more,” he said. Rather, he ventured that “Kingdom Come” was a little too “sophisticated” for some listeners. “American Gangster,” he said, would be a return to a tougher, more unflinching view of street life.

“Watching that film, it brought back all these memories,” he said. “It took me back to those emotions.”

Illustrating his point, he launched again into “No Hook”: “ ‘Poor me, Dad was gone, finally got my Dad back, liver bad, he wouldn’t live long, it snatched my Dad back.’ ”

He added that the song “takes you through this journey — his journey, my journey — so many people’s journey that come from the areas that we come from.”

Throughout the interview Jay-Z sounded almost jubilant talking about his creative process, and he repeatedly interrupted himself to try out his latest rhymes:

“ ‘Mindstate of a gangster from the 40’s, meet business mind of Motown’s Berry Gordy,’ ” he rapped from “Pray,” another new song.

“How crazy is that?” he said giddily.

And, in another rap:

This is the genesis of a nemesis

Mother America’s not witnessed since

the Harlem Renaissance

birthed black businesses.

“I’m not even joking with you,” he said, laughing. “It’s out-of-body experiences at this point.”

Your song should be longer than the Love Connection commercial break

Ever become totally addicted to a song that’s about two minutes long? Punk fans know what I mean, but they probably don’t understand my issue with that.

I’ve recently stumbled upon “Milf” by 88 Keys and Bilal, which is the best R&B song I’ve heard in awhile.

(Sidenote: If you don’t know anything about Bilal, check out 1st Born Second, a classic soul record from 2001. And to be honest, I can’t believe it’s been that long. Damn. Here is a link to Bilal and 88 Keys putting the song together: http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&
amp;videoid=1712049519 and here is some other work from him: http://www.myspace.com/locksmithmusic)

But moreover, this begs the question about the two-minute song. Why do songwriters and producers do this? There are several great songs that end about two minutes too short, and for no damned reason. They could pull a Herman’s Hermits – “Second verse, same as first – in these songs and no one would notice. No one wants a bloated six minutes, you want a relevant song, you still want that edge that the music contained when you loved it. I’m only looking for a happy medium somewhere between the two minutes of every pop-punk song and the 23 minutes of “Dark Star.”

When I buy a CD, I love looking at the end time and seeing a 74:03, or something like D’Angelo’s Voodoo that came in at near 80 minutes. But I don’t want a bunch of skits or filler songs thrown in that detract from the experience of the album. I want a cohesive record that I identify with.

I complied a brief list of songs that deserved at least another bridge, chorus or verse, with disqualifications levied on punk songs (every song in the genre is shorter than a sneeze), and bands recording music during times when 3:05 was an acceptable amount, leaving most Beatles songs off of this list even though there are about 15 that could and need to be about 30 seconds to 45 seconds longer.)

Ta-dah:

Andre 3000 f/Norah Jones – Take off your cool (2:37)
John Mayer – I’m Gonna Find Another You (2:43)
Alice in Chains – Them Bones (2:29)
The Beatles – Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown) (2:03)
Green Day – She (2:14, I’m breaking my own rule about putting punk on here because they’ve really tried to become U2-lite. And if they want to save the fucking manatees or whatever cause they are taking up, then Green Day can go back and add another verse to She – that isn’t politically motivated – when they make a 15-year anniversary edition. I believe Green Day owes us that.)
Def Squad – Y’all N***as Aint Ready (2:43, A ridiculous beat, but seriously, don’t put the “N” word in the title. Us crackers like singing along, too. Instead, we just threw someone’s name in there and sang it the same way.)
Red Hot Chili Peppers – Porcelain (2:43)
Them (Van Morrison) – Baby Please Don’t Go (2:42, Yes I realize this is a cover.)
Nice and Smooth – Sometimes I Rhyme Slow (2:4
Weezer – Suzanne (2:45)
Foo Fighters – Hell (1:57)
Method Man and Redman – Da Rockwilder (2:16)
White Stripes – We’re Going to be Friends (2:22)
Neil Young – Heart of Gold (3:06)
Faith No More – Easy (3:06, Lionel gave the Commodores a full minute more.)
Kanye West f/Common – My Way Home (1:43)
Red Hot Chili Peppers – Pretty Little Ditty (3:07, Listed not for length but for being an instrumental and totally abandoning a killer grove. Later, their friends named Crazy Town took a loop of it and gave us “Butterfly.” And that song is fucking horrible, if not for containing the phrase “Girl you and me like Sid and Nancy.” In a love song? Really? Sid killed Nancy. What a sentiment.)

And with that, I’ll keep this blog short and sweet. What are some that come to your mind?
♫ ♫ ♫ ♫
Elliot is listening to the new will.i.am album, but he’s really not even sure why.

If I Did It: The Confession of a Fantasy Football Mastermind

The various superstars of The Departed™ assemble during a recent team outing to Calhoun Square in Minneapolis.

By the time Peyton Manning hit a streaking Reggie Wayne in stride to pass for his third touchdown in the NFL season opener, I was already dancing in the middle of the room, high-fiving a friend of mine – who owns Wayne and isn’t playing me this week – and envisioning what might be a great fantasy football season.

Yes, I’m going to tell you about fantasy football, in fact, about my fantasy football team. I know you don’t care, I know you shouldn’t care, but I know you’ll probably keep reading because you are American and you love fantasy football as much you enjoy watching Internet pornography and drinking Starbucks.

Anyways, the start of the year was such a different scene from last year – when I sat curled up in my basement, waiting for both Daunte Culpepper’s return to becoming a MVP candidate (which never came) and Rex Grossman’s ineptitude to ultimately destroy my season (which happened the second week of the playoffs).

Now, Peyton shouldput up those types of numbers, as he is my leader, my ace in the hole, my first round pick. So the celebration wasn’t for my great fantasy acumen to lock up the unanimously labeled best quarterback around – anyone that can pronounce p’s and m’s can do that – it was a celebration of NOT having to start half-talents such as Rex Grossman or David Garrard.

For the two females who have stumbled across this page and are looking for the clothes at elliotmann.com, I’ll simplify what I’m talking about. If you were Lauren Conrad from The Hills, you would be so sick of losers like Brody Jenner and Jason Wahler that you would find a really great boyfriend who isn’t just trying to have sex with you to further his fledging career, right? Right? Okay, bad example. But now you know what I mean. The void of a credible quarterback in my past - or a boyfriend who knows how to shave more than every fourth day in Lauren’s past - makes finding one that much more noticeable.

I’ve been playing fantasy football since 1991, when I was in fourth grade, and Barry Sanders rushed for 220 yards and four TDs in one game against my hometown Minnesota Vikings. Sanders and a then little known wide receiver Andre Rison led my team to a second-place finish. I’ve been playing fantasy football ever since.

I won the league I organized many years thereafter, including back-to-back-to-back wins in the last three years of high school. Yeah, those are Tom Emanski numbers ─ where’s my late-night informerical? ─ but as of late I’ve been unable to get over the hump. After a third-place finish three years ago, a fifth place finish two years ago and a fourth-place finish last year (after tying for first during the regular season), I need to get back to my championship roots.

That’s why this year I decided to develop a plan that would catapult me back to the top of the championship mountain. That plan starts with Peyton Manning.

We employed an auction draft this year ─ where instead of picking players you use a $100 salary cap to bid on players which turned out surprising well because everyone really went back to the drawing board and crafted a unique strategy. Actually, that’s a lie – everyone played how the bet during Texas Hold ‘Em. As a girlfriend of one of our players later remarked, “Let me guess, Friend A bid up everyone for spite, and Friend B didn’t bid at all because of spite.” (And yes, remarked. She wasn’t at the draft. Fantasy Football drafts are like bachelor parties, don’t bring your girlfriend. They don’t bring you to mani/pedi day do they?)

But she couldn’t have been more right. A friend of ours we’ve dubbed “Texas Fold ‘Em” for his ability to drop any hand unless he’s holding a guaranteed winner, refused to bid on players he didn’t want. He refused to bid on players he didwant. He ended up with money leftover, which is about the worst thing you can do, this side of putting all of your money being Michael Vick, or Joey Harrington.

Luckily, my plan didn’t involve Joey Harrington. But it did include grabbing Steve Smith, who scored three TDs on Sunday. Two weeks into the season, and my team is already riding on all cylinders. A more pessimistic person would say I’ve shot my load too early and the only way to go is down. I would rather keep with the thinking that perfection isn’t out of the question. Nothing in real life is perfect, but need I remind you, these are real stories of fake teams. Perfection is realistic until your team shits the bed. After all of my grandstanding, I’m guessing that will be week 3.

But in this week’s matchup, The Departed ™ (my squad of champions) destroyed my brother’s team, The Coalition of the Willing, Which brings us to the best part of fantasy football: bragging rights. At this point, I’ve got little to brag about, I’m a single 25-year-old who moved backhome after pursuing a career that I went to college for. That’s right, I went to college for four years to make lessmoney than I was during my summers away from school. Thinking of such an inept formula can’t help but remind of former NBA slogans…

Higher learning and the newspaper industry: I Love This Game!

Anyways, fantasy football gives your pathetic life a step on everyone else. Well only anyone else that plays in your league. Co-workers and coeds at the local drinking spot won’t be as impressed. Can’t identify? Think about the last time someone told you about someone’s fucking golf round… Get it yet?

No, we don’t care that you almost bogeyed the 15th hole on a course I’ve never played or will never see. I don’t care if you almost got a hole- in-one on my mother – I hate golf and I don’t want to hear about how you made everyone be quiet so you could miss a 7-foot putt and then throw your $80 putter. Really, unless it hit one of the caddies, I don’t care about your golf game. And to the guy that does this to people in his office that don’t play fantasy football: the people you are listening don’t care and actually went BACK to working. You made a person who yearns for the part of the week where they can stay away from their job for 48 hours, and you caused them to flip that desire. Marinate on that.

Repeat, regular people aren’t impressed. Or so I’ve heard. I obviously wouldn’t be the one bragging about how Lamont Jordan has been a ridiculously stable fantasy option despite getting picked in the last round of pretty much every draft. Which again, is a huge lie. I’m the asshole? Yeah, I’m the asshole. I’m talking about the bogey on the 18th hole, and I would never eat here.

To recap, you can talk about fantasy with people who play fantasy. Anyone at this age who isn’t playing FF, already made the conscious decision against doing so. Heed this advice.

But if it’s a person who does play? You’re in luck. You’ve got another nerd in the cave. Just be sure to tell ‘em how much better your league is than his.

The Departed™ Starting Lineup
QB - Peyton Manning - IND
RB - Willie Parker - PIT
RB - Lamont Jordan - OAK
WR - S. Smith - CAR
WR - J. Walker - DEN
TE - K. Winslow - CLE
K - S. Gostkowski - NE
DEF- COLTS

♫ ♫ ♫ ♫
Elliot is bitter, it’s true. But sometimes that’s the taste of success. And he was totally lying about the hole-in-one thing on his mother. He’ll put a javelin through your eye if you try that. HE appreciates everyone who comes by the site and encourages all to leave him a comment about how pissed off they are that they just wasted their lunch break. Reach him here.