Random Notes from a Crank

The Premier League season got off to a start a couple of weeks ago. I've been watching Tottenham Hotspur and Wolves matches. 

St. Louis finally got awarded a MLS franchise, which is a big deal. After the Rams left, I thought that city would have gotten MLS franchise more quickly. 

Like this columnist for the Post-Dispatch, I'm wondering what the team will be called: "MLS Is Coming, but What Will the St. Louis Team Be Called?" 

I just hope they don't go with the copycat names like FC St. Louis and St. Louis United. 

Here's are monikers I'd consider, some of which come from the video:

• St. Louis Rivermen
• St. Louis Trailblazers
• St. Louis Spirit

If they're smart, the GM will recruit well known Bosnian futbol players because St. Louis has such a large Bosnian immigrant population. 

Random Notes from a Crank

With college football on Saturday and us doing stuff on Sunday, I forgot that Luke Cage was available on Netflix this past Friday. I'm only a few episodes in, but I like it a lot. 

One of my favorite classes I had as an undergrad was Mythology. I stumbled across this article via Scientific American the other day: "Scientists Trace Society's Myths to Primordial Origins." I like the research this person is doing, but you can see these patterns just by studying world mythologies. There are four types of creation myths and two types of fertility myths. Reading Campbell's The Hero with a Thousand Faces, Frazier's The Golden Bough, and Mencken's Treatise on the Gods can do everyone a lot of good. Reading those could certainly help people from saying their religion/mythology is the "right" one. 

One of my dad's stories that he has related over the years is that when he was in Iowa and went to bar and asked the waitress for a Griesedieck, he got slapped. The company is apparently going to open a brewery sometime soon. 

I read recently that ABC is reviving The Gong Show. I look forward to that. In that same article, the author relates that both the 20,000 Pyramid and The Match Game were aired this summer, and they'll be back. How the hell did I miss those? 

A listicle about the "20 Saddest Cities" came across my FB feed, so I figured to click away. Some of my quick takeaways are the following:

• Don't move to Ohio.
• I'm surprised St. Louis and Indy are on it.
• Knoxville is supposed to be great, I'm told.
• Detroit and Buffalo are not surprising.
• Same goes for Birmingham.
• I like Louisville, and how can it be sad with easy access to such a diversity of bourbon?  
• Memphis has the second-highest violent crime rate in the nation? Wow.

Random Notes from a Crank

When Mrs. Nasty and I were in Cancun, we ventured out of the hotel premises and checked out the Mayan ruins of Tulum. When compared to Chichen Itza, one of the largest Mayan sites in the middle of the jungle, Tulum is a much smaller site, but it certainly was interesting. After our tour, we ventured back to the shopping and eating area outside the site, and in that area, there's a Quiznos, a Subway, and a Starbucks. If you know anything about Tulum, it's the ruins of a city during the last gasps of the Mayan civilization after they had used up the environment around them and finally crafted a smaller city by the coast. For all the deep thinkers out there, you can ponder about mass-market chains being close to the last vestiges of a dead civilization and what that all means. 

Mrs. Nasty and I were also talking about how we need to go on some family vacations starting next summer. With my daughter's annual dance competition, we go to some manner of resort during the summer, but we want to start seeing some sites. Here are some early ideas for future summer travels:

• Washington D.C./Virginia area (Mount Vernon, Monticello, Revolutionary War and Civil War sites
• Great Smoky Mountains
• Lake of the Ozarks
• Redwood National and State Parks
• Seattle
• Kansas City 

My son's baseball practices started yesterday. I'm working as an assistant coach again. Once again I'm living vicariously through my kids. 

My poor Cubs have lost two games in a row to the damn Cardinals. I hate the Cardinals.

I've thought of supporting a St. Louis ball club though because I've contemplated purchasing a St. Louis Browns hat. "First in Shoes. First in Booze. And Last in the American League." 

That cap would complement my Baltimore Orioles hat I have because that's what the St. Louis Browns became. 

Music Friday: "Wildflowers," "Don't Come Around Here No More," & "Running Down a Dream"

I've been listening to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers a lot this week. It started with the Greatest Hits album in the car and then moved to taking in Full Moon Fever, Wildflowers, and Damn the Torpedoes.

In a contemporary music scene full of vapid pop/dance music and with the growth of beard and/or hat wearin', always seeming to be harmonizin', stand-up drum thumpin', granola-chewin', overly emotive lyric employin' folk/rock/Americana music, how 'bout some good old rock-n-roll?

In a Facebook moment though --posts with pictures of cats and/or kids-- the first two songs remind me of my kids.

The first, "Wildflowers," makes me think of my daughter because she would look beautiful in a field of wildflowers although I'm not crazy about the line "Run away, find you a lover" because she already has a crush on a boy in her dance troupe. It was pretty obvious even before Mrs. Nasty told me about it. She's only eight, damn it.





The next song connects to my five-year old son, who when he heard this song in the car yesterday, exclaimed, "That's the song from We Bought a Zoo!" We've watched that movie three times this week, which isn't too large of a burden because the film has Scarlet Johansson in it.





And here's the classic "Running Down a Dream," which is a great driving song. Speaking of driving, we're headed to St. Louis this Saturday. We're staying the night, so if any of St. Louis-based readers want to do something, give me a call. I know we're taking the kids to the Zoo Saturday, and Mrs. Nasty and I hanker for Greek food.

Random Notes from a Crank

At the end of every Inside the Actor's Studio, a program that I watch on occasion, the host James Lipton ends with a gauntlet of questions he got from some French talk show host (if I remember right). One of those questions is "What is your favorite curse word and why?" I watched the program that featured Tom Hanks when it aired, and his favorite curse word was "horse shit" because, if I recall correctly, it doesn't get used enough and it's very specific. Like Hanks, if I were to pick an underrated curse word, I'd have to go with "dog shit." Lowly old dog crap is what I'd pick. In comparison to Hanks' favorite, the poo of dog is not highbrow at all. Only the wealthy have horses, right? The hoi polloi have dogs, and they shit a lot. That stuff is common. Just think of saying something like, "That proposal is dog shit." That means it not even worthy of horse shit found in stables. It's common shit. 

Recently I picked up some stuffed jalapeno peppers wrapped in bacon at the local supermarket. I won't be doing that again. The bacon was incredibly fatty, even for bacon, and the filling had a bland sausage intermixed with some manner of cream cheese. So, since my bell pepper plants and poblano pepper plant croaked because of a cold spell, I plan to get a jalapeno pepper plant and do my own stuffed peppers, but I'll be using Laughing Cow cheese shoved inside them, and I plan to wrap them in turkey bacon. Healthy choices and all that stuff.

On a TV channel (Inspiration) I had never heard of before until recently, they've been playing episodes of The Brady Bunch. I used to watch that show all the time when I was a kid, and now my kids are watching it too. What an anachronism. One of yesterday's episodes we taped was the Johnny Bravo one when the whole gang becomes a musical group. I was troubled by one episode though that has the plot line of Marcia wanting to a female "Frontier Scout" like her brother Greg. As one would imagine, the plot focuses on Greg making it extra hard for his sister to become a Frontier Scout, but Marcia perseveres. Then in a twist at the end, Marcia suddenly decides not to become a scout because that's "boy stuff," and then Marcia turns to Carol Brady and asks about checking out some "fashion magazine" since she's a girl. Luckily, I usually watch these programs with my kids. After the plot twist, I loudly stated, "That makes me mad. That's wrong" in front of my two kids. My eight-year old daughter asked why, and I went into a diatribe about sexism, about how women can and should have equal opportunities and not have to necessarily do what people consider "girly" things. She agreed and said, "Yeah, that is wrong." Stoopid sexism.

On a more humorous note, I had forgotten about how often "groovy" was used as a descriptor on that program. People are groovy. Events are groovy. All sorts of stuff is groovy. Groovalicious I tell ya.

In addition, there's the hair. Oh, the hair styles. When I went to Alabama from '98 to '02, I thought those Southern fellows had shaggy hair. But the Brady boys, especially Greg and Mr. Brady with those white dude 'fros, that male lineage is lousy with shaggy hair.

I've been listening to The Hold Steady quite a bit recently. Today in the car I was playing the band's latest album Heaven is Whenever, and the opening track on the disc is "The Sweet Part of the City," which is song that's an homage to a certain part of Minneapolis, the band's hometown.

The song got me to thinking about the cities and towns I've lived in and their sweet parts. And these are all personal connections of course, but I thought I'd share. Heck, it's a blog. If you don't like it, get your own blog for your own solipsism.

In Waterloo, I'd have to go with my dad's stores, Virg's Foods and Independence Ave. Liquor, that he was able to start with the grace of small business loans somehow. I spent a lot of my working youth in those two establishments, learned a lot, and grew up in them. Likewise, the practice range at Byrnes has a great deal of significance to me since I at one time in my life was obsessed with golf and being the best golfer I could be, practicing till my hands started to bleed, stressing out about my swing plane, practicing my natural draw, trying to hone mindfulness (because once you get a decent swing, most of the important work in golf is done inside one's head). And the park on the outskirts of town with the concrete dinosaur my friends named "Fugly" is a place that rings of sweetness. I'll admit to a picnic there with one of my girlfriends once that led to spontaneous nookification.

And then the house at 1051 Wisconsin St. I grew up in, of course, a home my parents lived in since the early 50s. They sold it a couple of years ago and now live in an assisted living facility.

In Kirksville where I got my B.A. and M.A., the core places for me were Pickler Library and my fraternity house at 207 E. Normal, a place that was nothing close to normal. We eventually got a new house at 815 S. Davis, but for those of us who went through the chapter during a certain era, the 207 house was our house. It wasn't a pretty place. It got the job done. It worked. From people turning up the volume on our shitty living room TV with a pen because we didn't have a remote and the volume button was broken to our brilliant idea of having a band, aptly named Shaft, play on the front porch mid-afternoon on Friday right in front of Baldwin Hall when classes were in session, it was a good place to be. Now that area is plot of grass next to a parking lot for the university.

Likewise, the place where Mrs. Nasty and I first lived together as a married couple has either been wiped off the face of the Tuscaloosa landscape, or it possibly just was severely damaged. The tornado of April 27 did its diabolical work. Then there's Bryant-Denny, Morgan Hall, and our crappy GA office in Rowand Johnson.

With St. Louis, I'd have to go with my office at Meramec with my good friend. Not an aesthetically pleasing place, but I got a lot of work done there, and we laughed a lot--even wrote parts of my first major published article in that office. I still miss my neighborhood in St. Louis--Lindenwood Park and Francis Park. My daughter doesn't remember St. Louis much at all, but most summers, unless it was raining, we went for a stroller ride to either Lindenwood or Francis Park every day. Our two-bedroom home was/is tiny, but I still really like that house. We were only the third owner of that house that was built in 1939.

As for our current patch of land on Cedar Drive, I'd have to go with the Nasty backyard.  

Random Notes from a Crank

Lately, I've been thinking that I need to go back through all of my posts over the years and label them like many other blogs do, but when confronted with that many posts, it's clear I need to have some kind of regimen to do this: labeling while watching baseball or while the kids watch some silly sit-com on the Disney channel. It'll take a while, so I've already started.

For part of last week, I spent time in downtown St. Louis for a conference. Even though the Nasty family (sans El Nino) spent five years in StL, I didn't spend much time downtown. I've visited many downtowns of metro areas over the years, and St. Louis showed itself pretty well. It's not New Orleans (one of my favorite big conference destinations), but we had good weather, and the city is a heck of a lot more affordable than conferences at Disney, San Francisco, NYC, and others.

On the flip side of the positives of St. Louis, my buddy woke to find the passenger side window of his car shattered and his cell phone stolen from his car on Saturday morning. Smash and grab crime, StL style.

I've been going to the aforementioned conference for so long that I recognize people I've seen multiple times even though I don't know them. Here's a sampling of my inner thoughts:

• "There's the guy with an eye patch."
• "Seriously lady, a beret?"
• "Wow, he's lost weight."
• "Here he comes. And watch the sucking up ensue."
• "She's supposed to be so great, but every presentation I've gone to of hers is lackluster at best." 
• "Don't notice me [I don't want to talk to him.]. Don't notice me [I don't want to talk to him.]. Just walk quietly."
• "There he is: the grizzled ex-hippy dude from California." 
• "She's really working that I'm originally from the West thang--the boots, the blouse, etc." 

I think my lawnmower is dying or perhaps even is dead. I spent most of yesterday outside. I mowed the front lawn for a short time. Then the mower sputtered out on me as I was cutting some high grass. It wouldn't start. I cleaned a filter. It wouldn't start. So I decided to whack weeds. I tried to start the lawnmower--repeatedly. It wouldn't start--repeatedly. I decided to check the spark plug. It looked nasty, so I went to Rural King and got a new one. I installed a new spark plug. It started. I cut the back yard, which is well fertilized by dog scat, on a high setting and then moved to my regular setting. I almost got the lawn done, but the lawnmower died. It wouldn't start. I threw my hat in disgust. My son laughed at me. Then I helped Mrs. Nasty and the kids weed and rake the front flower beds. The kids and I took the bags of leaves and sweet gum balls to the dump. We got back. I tried to start it again. I wouldn't start. We went for a bike ride and visited the park. We came back. I tried to start it. It wouldn't start. I finished the job with my old push and reel mower. 

Deep Thought: The grass is always greener on the other side, but that's just where the dogs shit.

One of my favorite lines from the new Todd Snider is this one from "Big Finish": "It ain't the despair that gets you. It's the hope." 

St. Louis as a Tourist

Since I took a number of different trips to Iowa this summer because of my dad's heart surgery and a family reunion of Mrs. Nasty's family in the Des Moines area, well Altoona, to partake in the fun of Adventureland, we really didn't have much of a Nasty family vacation this summer.

So we decided that this past weekend we'd head over to the St. Louis area to act like tourists even though we lived in South City for four years after one year of living in an apartment in the 'burbs.

On Friday, we drove by our old house in Lindenwood Park/St. Louis Hills area and then ate at a place we're quite familiar with, Happy Joe's Pizza Parlor, or, as we became accustomed to calling it during both pregnancies, "Angry Tim's." Mrs. Nasty and her pregnant cravings for taco pizza ... Jesus.

Of course, we had to stop at the famous Ted Drewe's. I fondly remember a summer past when I did a "tour of the concretes," trying every concrete they offer. The Dutchman doesn't disappoint.

Since one of the main attractions of the trip were complimentary tickets we had to the Raging River Waterpark in little Grafton, IL, we stayed in Alton.

As much as I'm not all that fond of swimming pools and water parks in general, I enjoyed Raging River. It's located right beside the Mississippi River right beside the Great River Road, Illinois 100, and it has good slides while not being extremely crowded. We had a beautiful day to enjoy the river as we hiked up the hill to go sliding down various tubular configurations.

One of my favorite signs I've seen in a while was the warning in the massive wave pool that states, "Wrestling, Rough Play or Foul Language Will Not Be Tolerated." I'm thinking about adapting that warning for various venues.

Later that night, we ate at The Melting Pot fondue restaurant located in the Delmar Loop. Good eats.

On Sunday morning we really went tourist by visiting the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial.

You know, "the Arch."

Yeh, we never went to it when we lived in St. Louis. I will admit that it is an impressive feat of engineering, and the museum at the base level is pretty good. It recounts the role of the Louisiana Purchase in American history and westward expansion in general.

You're high up there when you're in the Arch, but I have little desire to go into it again unless I take the kids back to really take our time at the museum. You're high up and everything, but the Arch itself didn't do much for me, especially since I have claustrophobic tendencies.

We capped off the visit before returning home by going to the City Museum, which is a freaky climbing and sliding extravaganza for kids and parents. We made the rookie mistake of not wearing athletic shoes, however. Duh!

While we had some fun seeing the "sights," the aspects I miss about St. Louis are different: friends, good German sausage at G&W, Francis and Lindenwood Park, solid wine/beer selections at grocery stores, our neighborhood, Soulard Farmer's Market, colleagues in my old department, a diversity of restaurants to chose from, musicians coming to town on a regular basis, etc.

I don't aim to be one of those guys who whines about living in a small town because I actually like living in a small community. However, unlike when I lived in Kirksville, Missouri, it's nice to have an easy drive to larger cities that can offer a lot: St. Louis and Indianapolis.

I Thought It Was a St. Louis Thing

For Father's Day yesterday, one of my presents was a washers set, the mass produced type pictured above. Mrs. Nasty and the kids got the set from our local Rural King

For those of you who aren't familiar with the game, it's a variation on horseshoes except players use large washers and square boxes with part of pvc tubing in the middle of the boxes. You set the boxes twenty feet apart and toss the washers to their destination. A washer that goes into the tube scores three points, and a washer that goes into the box outside the tube scores one point.

I was first introduced to the game at a party maybe during my sophomore year in college. I don't recall exactly, but it was somewhere in that time period. Since where I went to undergraduate was/is lousy with all kinds of folks from the St. Louis area, I assumed washers was a St. Louis thing, a game born of the working class in South City, a game played outside in the small backyards of the city where Busch and Bud flow freely and alleged pork "steaks" are grilled.

As a side note, I'm surprised South City does not have its own Wikipedia entry and I have to link a "Neighborhoods of St. Louis" page instead.

Maybe I'm mistaken in assuming that it's a St. Louis thing since the International Association of Washer Players in based in Birmingham, Alabama. Then again, when I lived in Alabama, I never saw anyone play washers, and after reading up on their version of the game, it's not the washers game I'm familiar with. I'm used to seeing homemade boxes for the game, not pits.

For example, when we played washers at my fraternity house, we used someone's homemade boxes, and if you wanted to play a game involving pits, you went to the back edge of the backyard for horseshoes.

Regardless, we played a game yesterday, and the Hannah and I were victorious over Mrs. Nasty and Quinn. It was fun and brought back memories. I'm certainly rusty though. I need to get some practice in before late April for the 40th Roseball in Kirksville.

Even though they're a mass produced deal, the boxes seem pretty sturdy. I guess if they do break down, I can always follow the instructions on YouTube for "How to Build a Washers Game."

Music Friday: "Angels and Acrobats" & "Set Your House in Order"

If you read Tuesday's post, you might have anticipated this happening: I'm drunk on Amanda Shires.

After reading more about her via the InterWebs, I downloaded her most recent album, West Cross Timbers. I liked it so much that I moved on to acquiring her earlier album, Being Brave.

Being Brave is interesting in that it mixes songs where she sings with simple instrumentals. On the instrumentals it's usually her playing the fiddle accompanied by either a banjo or guitar. The instrumentals remind of being at McGurk's in St. Louis, so heads-up, Fozzie.

Below is "Angels and Acrobats" from West Cross Timbers.



And a more uptempo number is the traditional gospel song, "Set Your House in Order."



I'd like to get me one of those "Holy Ghost guns." One of them could be quite useful.

Her new album, Carrying Lightning, comes out May 3.

Random Thoughts on Music

I was listening to Blind Melon's debut album today, and like other albums and songs out there, certain songs or bands rekindle memories.

When listening to Blind Melon, I recall the Gin Mill, its parties, Anchorman, and brotherhood. "Tones of Home" reminds me of Roy.

Songs from Gun 'n Roses provide multiple memories: "Paradise City" (theme for senior year homecoming), "Patience" (living with Chuck), and of course "Welcome to the Jungle." 

Camper Van Beethoven, R.E.M., and The Replacements remind me of high school. I listened to them a lot.

The Kudzu Kings & Blue Mountain recall Oxford, Mississippi in all of its splendor.

The Drive-By Truckers are quintessential Alabama--"Never Gonna Change."

The Gourds' version of "Gin & Juice" brings back a memory of when I was listening to the song at a stop light on Bryant Drive in Tuscaloosa and I noticed two frat boys in a 4Runner next to me smoking a huge Bob Marley joint. 

And Jay Farrar's "Cahokian" and "Feel Free" remind me of St. Louis because of the references.

Uh-Oh

The article linked HERE indicates that talks between A-B and InBev have apparently become "friendly."

And the article also relates that St. Louis would still remain the North American headquarters (but for how long?), but they're going to oust some board members.

As much as I usually don't drink A-B products that often (if I'm going to drink an industrial brew, I'm more likely to quaff Old Style, PBR, Schlitz, or Miller High Life), I hope the takeover, if it happens, doesn't hurt St. Louis economically.

But I'm sure St. Louis no longer being the international home of A-B will take its psychological toll. 

Changes in Attitude

We've lived in Charleston for a year now, and we've adapted to life in a small town again.

Charleston, Illinois is no Oxford, Mississippi or Tuscaloosa, Alabama (great college towns), but it'll work.

Anyway, Diana and I were talking about this the other day, and my attitude about driving places has drastically changed. During the school year, after I drop the kids off at day care, I walk to work. But the days I somewhat dread are the days when I have to take Hannah to dance or gymnastics over in Mattoon. I don't like driving that far.

Mattoon is approximately ten miles away.

So my dreaded driving to Mattoon in our sun-bleached '95 Escort equals my daily commute that I had in St. Louis when I lived in Southwest City and drove out to Kirkwood every day.

I usually think to myself, "Oh, man, I have to drive all the way over to Mattoon yet again." 

Attitudes and perceptions have changed, my friends.

Hankering

Since I have three major options (County Market, Save-A-Lot, and Wal-Mart) for getting foodstuffs in this little 'burg, the array of sausages is not good.

It's not good at all.

I pine for a good salsiccia from the Hill. I especially want to get some excellent sausages from K&W (the "German butcher") off Kingshighway  such as knockwurst, Grant's Farm bratwurst, and weiswurst. 

It's grilling season, people, and I envy you chumps in St. Louis. 

Speaking of St. Louis...

Here are two song lyrics by Jay Farrar to ponder:

"Cahokian"
I will wait for you in the green, green spaces,
Wearing our post-industrial faces.
Side by side sit the trashpile twin
And the eleventh century ceremonial center
Of the Misissippian.
With the calender of the sun,
A people undone.

Ceremonial mounds in the backyards and towns,
That's the way it turned out.
A city built up on the other great mound torn down,
That's the way it happened.
A culture on the run,
They vanished in the sun,
The Mississippian.

Forward and on we go,
Building our mounds out of control,
Full of our finest throwaway things.
The new Mississippians,
Under a smog-choked sun,
Waiting to be undone.


"Feel Free"
Take the bridge over nothing
To where it's cooling down
In the sainted ville where everybody's working.
Look away from the dyed-in-the-wool,
Turn up the non-profit radio, and let it all sink in.
Getting by on the status quo,
Worse before but there's still a hard road to go.

Breathe in all the diesel fumes,
Admire the concrete landscaping,
And doesn't it feel free?

The world is gonna burn up four million years from now
If it doesn't happen anytime soon.
Cruel and unusual all around.
Window of opportunity to uplift the spin that's down.
Cropping up and digging in,
The final plateau no longer seems like a burden

Breathe in all the diesel fumes,
Admire the concrete landscaping,
And doesn't it feel free?

Lists about St. Louis

We moved from South City in June to humble Charleston, Illinois, and I enjoyed my five years in St. Louis. So I thought I'd offer a list of what I miss and don't miss about St. Louis.

What I miss:
Soulard Market
Lindenwood Park and Francis Park (the latter Hannah always described as "the mermaid park")
K&W Sausage Company (aka "the German butcher")
Extensive beer selections at supermarkets
Good Italian restaurants
The new doughnut shop--Eddie's--on Kingshighway, south of Chippewa
Fraternity cronies
Our little home on Plainview Avenue

What I don't miss:
Traffic
The "Where'd you go to high school at?" mentality
The self-appointed best baseball fans in America
The idea that pork "steak" is good
St. Louis style pizza
St. Louisians' unnecessary use of prepositions (see high school question)

Limbo:
The Dialect ("highway farty" etc.)