Oh, those Lions

Frustration, frustration. The Detroit Lions need a vacation. Or, a hug?

For the second straight week, Detroit shot itself in the foot with moronic penalties. Didn't the team learn its lesson after Ndamukong Suh's Thanksgiving stomp against Green Bay? The fall out from that is way worse than anyone could have imagined.

As an NFL viewer, it boggles my mind. Eleven penalties for 107 yards on Sunday night against New Orleans, a team that leaves no, not even a spec, of room for error. I'm questioning Head Coach Jim Schwartz's discipline with his players. This can't happen for a team that's fighting for its first playoff spot in 12 years.

Half, if not most, of the Lions' penalties were out of pure frustration. As NFL professionals, you must keep cool. Granted, I'm not an NFL player, and I know tension must be high, but you're paid the big bucks to act professionally. The most idiotic flag of the night came after Stefan Logan shoved a Saints player after a play in the third quarter. Logan was benched, never to return. Later, tight end Brandon Pettigrew was flagged for coming into contact with an official who was trying to stop him from laying a hand on a Saints' defensive back.

These bone-headed penalties whipped out some big, important plays that had significant impact on Sunday's game. The Saints won, 31 to 17, but it should have been way closer. If I were Schwartz right now, I'd be shitting 17 bricks. I expected him to be more pissed off than he was with his players, but he's a professional. The same can't be said for his team.

Detroit is a decent team; it has weapons –– quarterback Matthew Stafford threw for 408 yards on 31 completions on Sunday. The Lions were making plays, but many were negated by nonsense. For example, wide receiver Nate Burleson was called for offensive pass interference three times. Three times in a single game! That has to be a record. He wouldn't learn. He kept pushing his defender off.

There are disciplinary issues with the Lions. It's clear as day. It's good to be aggressive, but Detroit is trying too hard. While trying to be the "toughest" team in the NFL, its actually being the dumbest. The team isn't going to see the playoffs if it can't control its temper.
It's really aggravating to watch people kill themselves. I wonder how they feel?

Short story from years ago...

"Homestead"
By Jordan J. Michael

I wish I made tips like the waiters and waitresses. Sure, I cook, I cook damn well. I cook well enough to support a wife and two kids. I should get tips, I cook so well. I know, I’ll have the waiters and waitresses give me tips out of there tips, or something. I’m sounding a little desperate but that’s okay, right? We all get desperate sometimes. Desperate times call for desperate measures? Who said that?

Motown Steakhouse is known for famous steak, my famous steak. I’ve been the top chef here for thirty years. I practically own this place. I don’t take shit from anybody. It doesn’t matter if you’re a customer or an employee. Company’s always say that “the customer is always right.” That’s not always true. The customer can be wrong. The customer can be an asshole.

I just recently hired a new dish boy. His name is Earl. Earl’s been messing up lately. I think I have to let him go. He’s the worst dishwasher I’ve ever seen. I backed Earl into a corner.

“Hey Earl! I’m sorry but I have to fire you?” I said.

“You’re serious?” said Earl.

“Yeah, you can’t wash a dish for shit. You can wash a dish, but not fast enough. We have a lot of people eating here everyday because this place is famous. We need a fast dishwasher,” I said.

So that was it for Earl. Poor kid, he’s only sixteen. He rode his bike here everyday after school. It was an eight-mile bike ride, too. Not easy. He would have to ride eight miles back in the dark, too. That’s even worse. I fired him anyway. Motown Steakhouse needs serious employees.

Homestead Dr. is a nice road. Beautiful people live on this road. I love driving by houses slowly, especially at night. It freaks people out. Not that anyone on this road should be scared. I’ve watched my two sons grow up in this neighborhood without a threat of danger. Nothing happens here, except sunshine and smiles.

My two sons are twenty and twenty-two, respectively. Tim is twenty, Jimmy is twenty-two. They’re both in college, but its summer. They get a vacation. I never do. Tim and Jimmy love when I bring leftover’s from work. I usually do. Peggy, my wife, is so very nice. She never complains, never complains about a thing. I wouldn’t have married a woman that always bitched.

I know that no one in my house is asleep. We stay up so late in the summer. Motown Steakhouse never serves breakfast. I don’t have to be at work until 10am. Jimmy comes running out to me.

“Yo, dad, you got any steak tips?” says Jimmy.

“What if I did?” I said.

“I would eat them. I would eat them all, the whole fucking plate. There would be none left,” said Jimmy.

Jimmy was like that, real selfish. He rarely shared. Once, I asked if I could borrow his toothbrush on a camping trip. He said no. I mean hell, I’m his dad, and it’s just a toothbrush.

I was surprised to see the boys home. Its summer, which means their always out. Either at work or hanging out with friends. I watched a movie with the boys. Peggy was already in bed, exhausted. The movie was called Minutemen, a real shocker. This movie is based around a kidnapping, a murder, and a stolen pair of shoes. The stolen pair of shoes is the key. I passed out before it was over.

Friday’s are killer at Motown Steakhouse. We make at least a million dollars on Friday. I hate when people want their burger well done. It takes too long to cook. I wouldn’t mind if it was say, Tuesday? I threw a can of pickles at Donny. I may be fifty years old, but I can still throw a decent fastball. The pickle jar busted right next to Donny’s head.

“Are you out of your finger-licking mind, man?” said Donny.

“You know it. I go crazy on Friday’s, you know. Come on, throw something back,” I said.

He ignored me and made a grilled chicken salad.

I knew the boys would be gone, it was Friday. Peggy doesn’t mind having the house to herself. Peggy likes to walk around naked when no one is home. I called for Peggy, no answer. I called her name again, no answer. I noticed that our big screen TV was missing from the living room. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and slowly made my way upstairs. I found Peggy at the top of the stairs, naked. Her head had been hit by a blunt object. She had marks on her neck, looking as if she had been choked out. Peggy was dead, no pulse. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I get angry when I’m sad.

The boys and I hosted a nice funeral for Peggy. A lot of the family was there, dressed in all black on a humid July afternoon. One by one, paying their respects. I still couldn’t cry. Tim and Jimmy couldn’t cry either. We we’re strong individuals.

The phone was for me. I rarely get phone calls at work. If I do get a call, something is wrong. Phone calls at work are never good news.

“Dad, its Jimmy. You need to come home immediately.”

“Why? Is it that important? You guys are adults,” I said.

“Yeah, we are. However, this shit is crazy, man,” said Jimmy.

“Alright, I’m coming home, but this better be good,” I said.

Tim and Jimmy we’re laying on the floor. Peggy was sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. Peggy never smoked a cigarette in her life. She was fresh out of the coffin. I never thought the dead could rise. Apparently, I was wrong. This wasn’t a dream, it was really happening.

“Go get me another pack of smokes will ya?” said Peggy.

“Mom just came back, sat down and started smoking cigarettes. She told us to clean the house from top to bottom,” said Tim.

“Peggy, you don’t smoke?” I said.

“I do now asshole, get me another pack or I’ll put this one out in your eye socket,” said Peggy.

Peggy ripped her arm out of her socket and itched her ass. She spun her head 360 degrees.

“Isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever seen? Now, go grill me a fucking steak,” said Peggy.

Never going to go away...

What was Matt Lowe thinking on that pitch? A fastball down the middle to a dangerous hitter in the 11th inning of the World Series?
Wow.
However, lets not give all of the credit to Lowe, Texas' last-ditch reliever. St. Louis' David Freese gave that pitch a ride, to straight center, to guarantee a game seven on Friday. Before his game-winning home run, Freese tripled to the wall in the 9th inning, driving in two runs to force extra innings.
Wow. Lowe must have known Freese was hot, but he still threw him a fastball down the middle in the 11th?
Freese was raised in the St. Louis area, so he celebrated his game-winning home run as a player and as a true Cardinals fan. In his post game interview, Freese gave credit to manager Tony La Russa for preparing his team for all of its incredible comebacks this season. St. Louis got into the playoffs after being down 10 games with about a month to play, and was down to its final strike twice in game six. It was a nice gesture to La Russa, who found himself in the middle of the controversy after the Cardinals made a costly bullpen error in game four, which led to a loss.
Ladies and Gentlemen, whether the St. Louis Cardinals win the 2011 World Series or not, it will forever be known as the team that never went away.

Phil Simms loves the Jets?

Excellent win by the New England Patriots at home on Sunday against the New York Jets. Tom Brady got astonishing run support from BenJarvus Green-Ellis, who totaled 136 yards and two touchdowns.

The final score was 30 to 21, but don't be fooled. The Jets didn't get that close. New England ran all over New York and Brady completed many passes for many yards (321), per usual.

However, I had an issue with Phil Simms' commentating during the game. It seemed like he was on the Jets' side. This is bad because NFL commentators should never, ever be biased. Call it both ways, evenly. Simms did not.

When Jets' corner back Darrelle Revis got beat by Wes Welker for a 73-yard pass play to open the third quarter, Simms praised Revis for catching Welker for the tackle. Granted, it was a nice tackle, but Revis got beat! Simms didn't have much to say about Welker's route or speed as a receiver.

Simms did say some encouraging things about the Patriots, but his endearment for the Jets far outweighed whatever he said about New England. I thought Simms was a Giants fan?

Another example of Simms' weird behavior came towards the end of the game when the Jets were trying to make it close, ultimately failing. Simms kept making specific points about what New York should do, like he was their coach. Clearly, he wanted the Jets to succeed on Sunday.

Simms, you were a great quarterback and you know your football knowledge, but please don't be biased towards one team during a broadcast.

Weird Light

OK, so, a cop car was parked across the street for an extended period of time. The officer inside said cop car was repeatably shinning a spotlight on a house across the street. This came after I saw a cop shine a flashlight around the house. I have no idea why. Was someone in the house? Am I going crazy? Yes.

The Weeknd: Thursday

After astonishing the underground music scene with the progressive soul of House of Balloons in March, The Weeknd continues to spin heads with Thursday, another free mixtape –– the second part of a trilogy. The third part is named Echoes of Silence and could come out at any moment. Abel Tesfaye, who goes by stage name The Weeknd, is only 21 years old, but way ahead of the game. He throws in everything from hip-hop to post-dubstep to everything in between and inside out.

Thursday eclipses many different moods –– happiness, hysteria, anxiety, speculation, etc. The second track, "Life Of the Party," has a sinister chorus that will melt the faces of industrial music fans. The Weeknd has the talent of sounding both mysterious and inviting at the same time. House of Balloons' lyrics were heavy on sex and drugs and Thursday has its moments. On "The Birds Part 1," Tesfaye sings, "Don't make me make you fall in love with a nigga like me" behind a rolling snare drum and squeaking guitar feedback. The song comes down with a pleasing acoustic guitar passage before "The Birds Part 2" begins with sounds of a girl crying. The song ends with sounds of yelling birds. "Gone," topping out at eight minutes, is a bass heavy track with finger snaps and a middle section of dreamy humming by Tesfaye, who goes on to sing "fuck me while I'm faded" over a narcotic beat.

There are surprises throughout. The acoustic guitar comes back with hand drums for "Rolling Stone," a pretty, emotive walk through some of Thursday's most stripped down, but best sounds. The song ends with guitar feedback and it's on to "Heaven Or Las Vegas," a fantastic finale. The track is dominated by a pulsating Rastafarian bass line, which emerges at the 1:50 mark, continuing alongside electronic flourishes.

The music hits on a high level, but The Weeknd's voice is a marvel. Tesfaye's vocal chords are laced with soul and R&B and it's hypnotic to say the least. Closing your eyes during Thursday is a smart idea, but don't fall asleep because you'll miss something meaningful.

Toro Y Moi: Underneath the Pine

The phrase "Toro y Moi" can be roughly translated as "Bull and I." Toro Y Moi is also another name for Chazwick Bundick, a South Carolina native who has become a leader in the chillwave scene. Despite the moniker; Bundick's music is no bull.

Underneath the Pine is Bundick's second album for Carpark. It's more accomplished than Causers of This, which was more murky in atmosphere. Underneath starts with a lush instrumental, "Intro Chi Chi," which conjures the spirit of the listener, getting them ready for a funky, soulful, and appealing record. The variety of skilled arrangements is what makes this document a stand out. The songs seem perfectly placed. Take "Good Hold," which starts with a chiming piano line, only to carry the piano through with live drums and sparkling electronic textures. Around the 1:35 mark, the song sounds like it's going in and out of a tunnel, reemerging just before everything fades out. "Good Hold" is a perfect set up for album closer "Elise," which presents Bundick in full band form. It would have been easy for Bundick to use a drum machine, but those types of machines have no soul and he knows that, choosing to go with live drums throughout the record. Toro Y Moi hasn't completely parted ways with the aforementioned murk, but it seems better calculated.

The sonic discoveries make this album very enjoyable. The humidity and casual pace of the songs leaves plenty of room for growth with the sounds after repeated listens. However, it only takes one full listen to figure out that there's serious skills by Bundick on display. I would suggest blasting Underneath the Pine during a warm, sunny drive thorough mystical places. Or, anytime, really. Acoustic guitar pinches, synth drones, and impeccable rhythms will perk your ears. Bundick has a thing for analog warmth, but he makes retro chick sound like it's coming from some undisclosed musical genius planet.

No More Chains

The NFL lockout must have been a strenuous affair over the last four or five months. Just look at New England Patriots' owner Robert Kraft's face (above middle) after the lockout was officially announced as "done." He's hugging Jeff Saturday of the Indianapolis Colts.

However, as a Patriots fan for many years, I do not condone a Patriot and a Colt embracing. Just within a year, the two teams were punching each other in the mouth. You would not see Peyton Manning and Tom Brady holding each other. Ever. But, Kraft's wife did pass away from cancer recently, so I guess a Colt just happened to be standing next to Kraft in that time of need.

But still. Colts hugging Patriots. Can not happen. This is the type of damage a lockout over $9 billion a year does.

That's a lot of fucking money. It's about $9 billion more than I have to my name. I need to start working for the NFL. Now.

Owners made out with a slight majority of the overall revenue –– getting 53 percent to the players' 47 percent; but the old deal was 50-50. This makes no sense. Cutting it down the middle is way more fair because these players are risking bodily harm. Owners are sitting in sky boxes, eating shrimp cocktail, and signing their names almost at will.

But, the biggest relief is just getting football back together. America wouldn't have made it through the fall without NFL football. Quickly, every NFL city would start massive revolts that consisted of roasting their mayor over fire. Gastric amounts of HD Plasma televisions would be smashed and all piled up in front of NFL headquarters. Roger Goodell would have to remain in hiding for fear of being assassinated. You think I'm crazy? This shit would happen.

I don't care if the revenue ratio was settled at 70 percent for the owners. Football would have been played. The American government did not want to deal with another terrorist attack, this time from a distraught Bills fan who was absolutely sick of having to sit through another losing season.

Hallelujah. Football is back. Armageddon averted. Go New England.

OKC vs. Dallas

This Oklahoma City Thunder versus Dallas Mavericks series has been very interesting to watch. Both teams have proven that they can score, rebound, and play excellent defense. Plus, the intensity level has been obsolete through five games.

In Game five, it's looking like the Thunder are setting themselves up to even the series at 2-2. With 3:14 left in the fourth quarter, Oklahoma is up, 99 to 91. However, Dallas is trying hard to claw back despite never leading in the game.

Dirk Nowitzki has 37 points for the Mavericks and he just hit two ridiculous fade-away jumpers to close the Thunder lead to three, 101 to 98. Shawn Marion just hit one of two free throws with 38.6 seconds left to bring the score to 101 to 99.

Nowitzki has at least 10 points in the fourth quarter of every game this series, adding another 10 in game five. What this player is doing is legendary, folks. He's only missed two free throws during the series, too.

Nowitzki is heading to the line with 6.4 seconds left, down two points. Well, he iced both –– tie game at 101 to 101. Kevin Durant tries to put up a shot for the Thunder with two seconds left, but it's blocked and Jason Kidd makes a smart play for Dallas and calls timeout. The Mavericks have 0.7 seconds to win the game. Last shot is off the mark and this game is going to overtime.

The game should have never gone to overtime, but Oklahoma let down and allowed Dallas to slither right back into the contest.

The Mavericks grab its first lead of the game, 103 to 101, after Nowitzki makes two more free throws. A three by Russell Westbrook rims out for Oklahoma, and the score is 105 to 103, Dallas ahead. Serge Ibaka drains a jumper for the Thunder, tying the game at 105 to 105. The intensity I mentioned earlier is still there. I doubt it'll go anywhere. What a fun series.

Now, there's 1:05 left remaining in overtime. The ball should be in Durant's or Nowitzki's hands. After a Thunder turnover, Nowitzki fakes and kicks a pass out to Jason Kidd, who knocks down a huge three-pointer with 40.3 seconds left. Westbrook attacks the rim quickly, but the shot is no good. Oklahoma has to foul and hope for good luck, down 109 to 105 with 13 seconds left.

The Thunder faithful are stunned. You could probably hear a pin drop in the building. Some fans are heading to the exits? Durant tries a three, but misses. Dallas wins, 112 to 105.

Oklahoma have no one to blame but themselves for not closing the game out. With six minutes left, the Thunder led, 99 to 84. It looked like the team had control of the series, but then the wheels came off. This is unbelievable. Hats off to Dallas for never quitting.

Now, the Mavericks control the series, up 3-1, but don't count the Thunder out. The intensity of this series is way too high for that.

Young Widows: In and Out of Youth and Lightness

Young Widows isn't a band who stays in the same place for too long and this is clearly evident on In and Out of Youth and Lightness, its third proper full length and second with Temporary Residence. The band has hinted at dark mellowness in the past, for example 2008's "The Guitar" from Old Wounds, but now the dark doom is here to stay for an entire album's worth. Almost every Young Widows review of the past mentioned The Jesus Lizard and the influence is still there, maybe just a little bit. Check the sway of chords and twang of "In and Out of Lightness" for proof.

While analyzing Youth and Lightness, I found myself going back to Old Wounds, just to make sure that Young Widows is the same band. Well, they are and they aren't. Same individuals, but many things have changed; Evan Patterson has a Nick Cave like drawl, no more metal bashing, and only a few rousing moments ("Future Heart, "White Golden Rings). The rest is steady mood and intricate guitar work from Patterson, who has now solidified himself as the master of his own eerie domain. That's one thing that hasn't changed: Patterson's progression and range as a guitarist –– it's hair raising stuff. On "Right In the End," Patterson throws in some friendly acoustic Americana for the album's shortest track at three minutes. This band is from Louisville and recorded with Kevin Ratterman (My Morning Jacket) in an old funeral home.

At nine tracks and 48 minutes, Youth and Lightness is by far the longest Young Widows record to date. Six tracks go past five minutes, but this hypnotic music never gets boring in length. Patterson may get the most attention for his precise axe work, but Nick Thieneman (bass, backing vocals) and Jeremy McMonigle (drum kit, tambourine, sleigh bells, piano, anvil, triangle) provide a very steady and chunky rhythm section, coming through with perfect fills. "White Golden Rings" lets loose for a thunderous chorus, but still not up to older standards for the band. McMonigle starts final track "In and Out of Youth" with a piano, setting up for an atmospheric climax.

Patterson ends the album by saying, "These wild dreams are done." Maybe Young Widows left its spiraling wildness behind, growing into a more mature self. The dark, swaying mood proves that much. Past Young Widows fans, like myself, will find themselves waiting for that huge metallic explosion on Youth and Lightness, but it'll never come. When the band almost seems to loose its shit, the music plateaus, burning into a dark haze. Don't sleep on this one.

Pissed Jeans: Hope for Men

Oh man, my roommate loved Pissed Jeans. He kind of gave this ugly stare, disgusted. “It’s just a lot of noise,” he says. But that's why this band is so awesome. Now, on their second album, Hope for Men, the band has found its sound. The separation is superior, with most of Matt Korvette’s vocal, while moaned, sounding audible. The lyrics are worth picking up, like “Bad Wind”, a song about wind blowing through a town, wiping everything away. All the frenzied noise stops for “Scrapbooking,” giving Korvette time to struggle through old pictures. It’s quite haunting, piano and all.

Pissed Jeans is an ugly, hostile band and they throw drunk mêlées for shows (witnessed) that will leave you deaf for two days. Not in a bad way. “I’ve Still Got You (Ice Cream)” is a song about ice cream and how it makes problems seem easier. The band locks into grooves at many points, but none better than “Fantasy World,” rolling through hills of smog to get to this huge party room filled with booze and grape juice. The wall is completely torn down. I love the live sound of the record and also the added experimenting of “Scrapbooking” and “The Jogger,” which is all feedback while Korvette lists off stereotypes of people that make the “not so rich majority” of the world feel smaller.

Hope for Men is brilliant because the common working person can relate. I know I do. I like ice cream, beer, wind, pizza, and kicking the shit out of my drum set. Pissed Jeans makes taking out some stress a part-time job. I wonder how far they can take this.

M.I.A. "Kala"

There are a lot of questions about who M.I.A. is as a person (real name Mathangi), but no questions about her music. It just depends on how Maya would like to move you. Particularly, on her second album, Kala, those moves are all going in different directions. Take “20 Dollar,” which begins with the most atmospheric opening heard in a few years on record, only to keep the song lurching until crazy synths come through and wipe the floor clean. Maya samples “Where Is My Mind?” from the Pixies and I’m wondering, where the fuck is my mind? That’s the peak of the album.

It only takes a few tracks of Kala to make a clear point. This is some serious instrumentation; forget her political views. The real sparks glow on “Paper Planes,” a song featured in stoner-dude flick Pineapple Express. All Maya wants to do is get high and “take your money”, but being high does make this album a little better than it already is. Props to The Clash for letting her sample “Straight to Hell” –– wonder what they think about it.

“XR2” is a horn contest gone right, where everyone is a true winner. Half-baked agit-pop for sure –– like this magnificent album. Kala goes out with a cool burn with Timbland helping on the knobs for “Come Around.” Maya reminds us that “the beat goes on,” but you’ll wish that it never had to stop. M.I.A. has dealt with a lot of scrutiny, but she’s building some sort of musical revolution. We should all spin this record at once and, strangely march in circles.

Unwound: The Future of What

There are punk bands, and then there are punk bands that think outside the box. Unwound was the later, a band that pushed its ideas to an extreme, breaking any mold that was thought possible.
The Future of What, Unwound's third full length release (but really it's fourth album) for Kill Rock Stars is a blanket of tuneful noise. Most of the tracks stay around three minutes or less, except for a few epic curve balls ("Descension," Disappoint," and "Swan"). It's a record that can't be taken lightly.
Guitarist/vocalist Justin Trosper starts Future off by asking, "Where's your energy?" in "New Energy," a blast of a song that is pure jolt. Nothing goes quietly from there on out. Unwound is loud and full of steel, but wavers enough to keep the mind wandering. Even though Trosper and his infectious guitar deserve much attention, Sara Lund (drums) and Vern Rumsey (bass) carry the weight of all 13 songs.
The furious pace of Future slows a bit with "Re-Enact the Crime" and "Equally Stupid," which might be the best one-two punch of the album. You can actually hear the blues bleed out of each song. It's a welcome turn. The first side ends with "Descension," a floating island of drone that will infect goosebumps on the arms.
Unwound goes back to the punk blasts on the second side, three to be exact, until melting into more drone rhythms to close out Future. "Dissappoint" and "Swan" might leave you sunk into your couch, but how? Unwound had you pacing around the room just a few songs before. "Swan," an eight-minute closer, locks on to a breakneck choral coast that never seems to end.
Don't worry, you won't want it to.