Who ya gonna call?

"Human sacrifice, dogs and cats, living together...mass hysteria!"


I just got back from the flick Paranormal Activity. A pretty creepy piece of film making, if I do say so myself. Not the kind of "jump out at you with blood covered all over my body with an axe in my forehead scary" (also known as the Saw XXMLIV method). It was more of a cerebral type of scary, a "less is more" style of filming. The gist of the flick is that a young couple is being haunted (more or less) by a demon or a ghost. The guy goes and buys a high tech video camera, to record what happens during the night. What follows is a test of your nerve, as some freaky stuff goes on, giving a new definition to the phrase "things that go bump in the night". It's a very well done film, and probably one of the scarier ones I've ever seen. It's still not Event Horizon, but it's up there.

The film itself is not why I felt the need to pick up my digital pen, however. It's the subject matter of the film; paranormal activity. I was talking with my buddy Roper on the way back from the movie about whether or not he believed in that type of phenomenon. The answer that I got was pretty much the same as what mine would be:

"eehhhhhh...I dunno. Maybe?"

I think the problem is that if something like that has never happened to you, it's doubly hard to believe in it without seeing evidence. And I'm not talking about the kind of "evidence" provided by those assholes on the show "Ghost Hunters"





I'm talking about firsthand contact, with reliable video and audio evidence. And since most of that is pretty easily faked, actually being present at something like this would be the best (worst) option. If you had the choice, would you be willing to sit in a haunted house and watch shit go down, just to know the answer? Everybody I've asked has pretty much the same response. Goes something like this:


Me: you believe in ghosts? Hauntings, poltergeists, posessions? Shit like that?

Random Street Person: Get the fuck away from me, wierdo! ///hits me with taser


Ok, maybe that was not the best example. Lets try again, this time with someone that I know (and is less likely to send 1,000 volts of electricity through my neck).


Me: you believe in ghosts? Hauntings, poltergeists, posessions? Shit like that?

Person I Know: ehhhh....I guess. I don't know. I'd probably need some proof.

Me: wanna go use a Ouija board?

Person: Fuck no.

So as far as I can tell, most people probably DO believe in this kind of thing, but would rather live in blissful ignorance. I probably would like to know, but would be terrified of the answer. I know for a fact that you wont catch me anywhere near an Ouija board. You can't even get me to say "candyman" three times in a dark bathroom. And what if the answer was yes, there really are such thing as ghosts? It sure would make house buying alot harder. In addition to all the inspections, now you have to hire the midget grandma from "Poltergeist" to give the house her OK before you put an offer down.

In all seriousness, though, I'd like to hear from you guys. Do you believe in this stuff? If so, do you have sack enough to sit down with an Ouija board and put it to the test? What's your opinions? Because when there's something weird, and it don't look good...who you gonna call?

Bleeding Eardrums

Last week, I was able to hit up Alpine Valley Music Theater not once but twice. The first time was for my annual Dave Matthews Band show. Normally it is two nights, but stupid Evan and stupid Marcy just HAD to get married on night one. So I only made it to Sunday night. Great show, won't go into the details but after 70+ times seeing the band, they can still find ways to impress me. 6 Days later, I was back up there for a night with Coldplay. I've only gotten into the band quite recently, but I find their work impressive, and their most recent album is one of the more creative efforts I've had the pleasure of listening to. Here's two pics, the first is them playing "Yellow", where some workers pulled out huge yellow balloons and tossed them into the crowd during the song. The second pic is from "Lovers in Japan", off Viva la Vida, and the multi-colored confetti is cut into the shapes of butterflies. Pretty cool.




I happened to mention this in the area at work the other day, and the fact that I saw Coldplay and Dave Matthews was met with some derision from Ron "where's my fucking money?" Bradbury. "Coldplay is for fags", said Ron (who is actually a good guy, just looks like Bald Bull from Super Punch Out). I'd heard this kind of abuse before, as Dave Matthews is the type of band that is either loved or reviled. I've given up on trying to defend the two bands, if you dig em; cool. If not, you can't save everybody. So I laughed it off, but it got me thinking about the last time I'd seen a band that wasn't "for fags." I used to go see rock and metal shows about once a month a few years ago, but the frequency of that has tailed off. I still see DMB at least 3 or 4 times a summer, but the System of a Downs and the Slipknots have been replaced by Coldplay and Hootie and the Blowfish. Last week I even had a chance to see Incubus, but passed it up. Am I getting old? Too old to show up at a rock show? Ugh. The thought of turning 30 and being "that guy" at a rock show scares the shit out of me.

I always wondered if I would get to the point where I wouldn't want to bother with going to live shows anymore. I really don't think that I'm at that point yet, but I'm eager to prove to myself that I can still rock out. I would have gone to Lollapalooza this year to see Tool and Jane's Addiction, but that's the night of my bachelor's party, so that's out. I think the next chance for me to be metal will be later this year when the Deftones (my second favorite band) new album drops. There will be a fall tour for sure, and I can prove to myself that I still rock. Or I'll go there, stick my fingers in my ears, and glare at all the damn kids who keep elbowing me in the side. Either way, at least I'll have an answer. And just to remind myself of how much I used to rock, I compiled a list of all the bands that I've seen live. It's a pretty solid list, if I do say so myself. Feel free to peruse and comment:


The Live Band List (alphabetized)

# indicates number of times seen

Alice in Chains: 2 (once with Layne Staley, once with the new guy)
Alien Ant Farm: 1 (Q101 show)
Audioslave: 1
Beastie Boys: 1
Beck: 1 (Farm Aid) (seriously)
Ben Harper: 3 (opening up for DMB)
Ben Kweller: 1 (opening for DMB)
Blues Traveler: 2
Breaking Benjamin: 2
Bush: 1
Cold: 1 (Q101 Jamboree)
Coldplay: 2
The Cure: 1 (Q101 Twisted Xmas)
Dave Matthews Band: 76 (in 6 different states)
Days of the New: 2
Deftones: 11 (they fucking rock live.)
Disturbed: 1
Dope: 1
Eminem: 1 (not a big rap fan, but was impressed)
Everclear: 2
Filter: 1
Foo Fighters: 2 (Dave Grohl is the fucking MAN)
The Fray: 1 (DMB Opener)
Fuel: 1
Gin Blossoms: 2
Gravity Kills: 1
Green Day: 0 (this is a crime that I need to fix)
(hed) p.e.: 5 (if you don't know them, you wouldn't like them)
Hootie and the Blowfish: 3 (best bar band ever)
Ill Nino: 2 (best Mexican metal band ever)
Incubus: 5
Jane's Addiction: 1
KoRn: 6 (5 good ones, one awful one. I have high hopes for the new album)
Limp Bizkit: 4 (Number before Fred Durst became a douche nozzle: 2)
Local H: 1
Marilyn Manson: 1
Matchbox 20: 1 (I did this for a girl)
MC Chris: 2
MC Hammer: 0 (not that I'm not trying)
Mighty Mighty Bosstones: 1
Mudvayne: 2
Nine Inch Nails: 1 (some reason, not a huge fan)
Nirvana: 0 (to my eternal regret)
OAR: 2
Orgy: 1
Our Lady Peace: 1 (should be more. love this band)
P.O.D: 1
Papa Roach: 2
Pearl Jam: 1 (but it was in Canada, so only like 0.67)
Queens of the Stone Age: 1
R.E.M: 1
Radiohead: 0 (want to, but only if they stop ignoring The Bends)
Rage Against The Machine: 3 (and the closest I've ever been to being in an actual riot)
Red Hot Chili Peppers: 3 (wow. Just wow.)
Rob Zombie: 1 (Giant fire breathing robots w/strippers= good show)
Robert Randolph and the Family Band: 3
Sevendust: 1
Silverchair:1
Slipknot: 3 (craziest band ever)
Smashing Pumpkins: 1 (meh)
Soundgarden: 1 (last show in Chicago)
Stabbing Westward: 1
Staind: 4 (used to love this band before lead singer got happy)
Static-X: 4 (KEEP DISCO EVIL)
Stephen Kellog and the Sixers: 1
Stone Temple Pilots: 4 (my second second favorite band.)
Sugar Ray: 1 (before they got gay)
System of a Down: 2 (hopefully more soon)
Tool: 1 (words don't do it justice)
U2: 1 (Giant Disco Lemon)
Velvet Revolver: 1 (Slash and Scott Weiland= Genius)
Weezer: 0 (another crime)
311: 2


I'm pretty sure thats all of them. If I missed some let me know (Roper).

Meet the new boss.

For some reason, the Blackhawks just fired their general manager, and former Blackhawk great, Dale Tallon. I don't have all the information yet, as it seems to just be leaking out of the fortress that is the Blackhawks home office. Despite being somewhat in the dark, I gotta say I'm pretty pissed off right now. Dale Tallon may not have been the perfect GM, and I've criticized him on more than one occasion. That being said, you can't possibly argue with results, and DT single-handedly put together a team that reached the Western Conference Finals last season, arguably a few years ahead of schedule.

This is still the guy who brought Patrick Sharp here for Matt Ellison. Who got us Kris Versteeg for Brandon Bochenski. Who got us Jesus Christ Havlat for Mark Bell. Who drafted Toews, Kane, Barker, Bolland, Hjalmarsson, Seabrook, Keith, and everyone else who's going to take the ice in October. Is he Ken Holland? No, he is not. But he certainly has earned the right to see this through, and the Hawks took that away.

Dale was by no means perfect. He leaves us with a salary cap situation that is going to be messy next year when Johnny Toews, Patrick Kane, and Duncan Keith all have new contracts due. But it's not unsalvageable. The Huet signing was a bit off, but at that point what had Khabibulin done to justify his salary and #1 status? Campbell was paid his market value, and Byfuglien and Sopel's contracts were ridiculous, but once again...WESTERN CONFERENCE FINALS. If you compare some other GM's performances around the league (most notably Glen Sather, who is a complete and utter lunatic), Tallon has to rank in the top 10. And now who takes over? Stan Bowman, the son of the legendary hockey coach Scotty Bowman.

The exact same Scotty Bowman the Blackhawks hired a year ago to "advise" John Mcdonough in the ways of the hockey world. At the time, I thought it was bloody brilliant. We just stole the greatest coach the Scum Wings ever had, and now he's working for us! The more I heard about it, the worse it started to stink. After numerous reports of his daily tea with Mike Babcock (Scumwings Coach) I've completely soured on this. If your main advisor has his own son poised to assume the throne, just how objective is he going to be? I also said that though Scotty Bowman has no peer as a coach, his record as a GM was spotty at best, and we're trusting his talent evaluation? Ugh.

Now this “snafu” with the RFA signings now has to be put under the spotlight. I can’t believe I’m saying this about my hockey team, but was Tallon essentially framed by a management that needed an excuse to show him the door? This is fairly disgusting to me, and it smacks of the worst kind of disloyalty. How much longer until we 300 level season ticket holders are sent out to pasture by an organization that prices us out of the picture?

What’s next?

Right Turn

You ever just feel like getting away?


Apparently, I did. After a shitty night of training (the kind of night where every single thing out of your mouth is either stupid, wrong, or both) I got off work at 8:30. Not in the greatest of moods, I tried to garner some support for a trip to the theater to catch Bruno. Nobody seemed interested, so I went and snagged some dinner at Subway and headed home. Dejected, I sat on my couch eating my turkey breast (heh...breast) sandwich and reading. Finding myself disinterested in the reading material, I turned on the PS3 and tried to occupy myself with a little MLB 2009. 5 unearned runs by the White Sox later (weird how even the virtual White Sox are unable to complete the simplest of defensive plays) I was getting pissed off, and pretty much out of patience. Getting up, I decided I needed to get out of the house. So at 11:15 at night I headed to the gym.

Hitting the lap pool, I swam for about 45 minutes, trying to get un-pissed off. Swimming seemed to help a little bit, and sitting in the hot tub was even more helpful. I showered and started to head for home. Remembering we were almost out of a few grocery items, I stopped into Woodman's and picked up what I needed (24-hour places of business are awesome). On my way out, the PA system was playing a song that I'd not heard in a LONG time. Shiny Happy People by R.E.M. Being that this is one of those songs that will stick in your brain if you don't play it out, I found it on the iPod and let it rip.

The strangest thing happened. Driving back from Woodman's to my place takes about 2 minutes, not enough time to finish the song. So I cruised right by the entrance to my subdivision and turned left off of Oak street to Randall Road. And I turned the music up, and sang along. All of a sudden I wasn't a 30-year old ATC trainee that's about to get married. I was 16 again, and I just got my licence. It was fucking GREAT. The song ended, and another one of my favs from Out of Time popped on, ironically titled Radio Song. Now I'm in Batavia, just cruising along Randall singing along with Mike Stipe and KRS-One (Damn that radio song...hey hey hey!). OK, maybe now I should head back...but wait, Losing My Religion is on...I cant head back yet! Me In Honey! Texarcana! Now I'm in St. Charles, turning left on Rt. 64 heading west. Switch albums to Automatic For the People and head for The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite. Then it's on to Man on the Moon, and Find The River, singing along at the top of my lungs and pounding out the beat on the steering wheel.

Now I've reached Rt. 47, and I feel like some more high school music. What does the randomizer have in store for me? The Goo Goo Dolls, apparently. I'd almost forgotten how much I loved the song Big Machine. Keep on driving! Now it's on to Hootie and the Blowfish. Only Wanna Be With You! Time to head South on 47 and keep the tunes going. I drive all the way to Route 30 in Sugar Grove, then head for I-88. I take I-88 to Farnsworth and get off there, turning onto Butterfield road just as Sad Caper hits the radio. Now it's time for some Our Lady Peace...good solid Canadian Rock Music. Keep on singing along, drumming out the tunes on the wheel, and...oh shit. Did I just get pulled over?

I probably should have seen this coming, being that it's now 2 in the morning and I'm driving with both my windows down with the stereo on full. I'm also grooving to the tunes a bit to heavily, which may or may not be causing me to swerve slightly whilst driving. Anyways, the cop walks up and asks the standard questions: Licence and registration? Check. Know why I pulled you over? Yeah, I have a pretty good idea. You been drinkin tonight son? Nope, not a drop. You willing to take a Breathalyzer? Sure thing.

I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised, being that I had been in chlorine-infested pool water an hour previously. With my bloodshot eyes and crazy hair I must have looked stoned out of my gourd. Also, my night vision goes to shit when I don't wear my glasses. I nearly hit a deer, a raccoon, a stork, and what appeared to be a monkey in a tuxedo pushing a wheelbarrow. I could be wrong about that last one. Anyways, the cop must have found my story pretty amusing, and my gym bag and groceries in the back corroborated my story. He let me go, telling me to head home. So I headed home, back on R.E.M. again. Electrolyte is one of the more beautiful songs that I've ever heard, and that's what I ended my trip tonight with. I started the drive sullen and grumpy, and ended it with a clear mind and a happy soul. Music really is the greatest.




In case you were wondering, here was my playlist for the mini-road trip:

R.E.M.

Shiny Happy People
Radio Song
Me In Honey
Losing My Religion
Texarcana
Sidewinder Sleeps Tonight
Man on the Moon
Find the River
Electrolyte

GooGoo Dolls:
Big Machine

Hootie and the Blowfish:

Only Wanna Be With You
Runnin' With An Angel (best non-relased Hootie song...awesome)
Drowning
Time
Hold My Hand
Sad Caper
Earth Stops Cold At Dawn

Dots (part two)

So it's been awhile since my last update about my foray into the world of Air Traffic Control. From that time there has been good news and bad news. Just like everything else in the world, the bad news comes first: I'm still a retard trainee, and will be probably through the end of the year. It's just the way that it goes. What does that mean? More snide comments about my mental acuity. More mistakes that make ME question my mental acuity. More days that make you feel like sticking your hand into a plugged-in blender while sitting in a full bathtub. A change in days off that means working on the weekends, and seeing less of The Woman.

Bummer, huh?

As for the good news, I have gotten checked out at 2 sectors (out of a possible 5), one of which might be the most difficult one in the area. I gotta say, passing that first check ride was an awesome feeling. Gave me a glimmer of hope that this just might be the job for me. I sure hope it is, because it's badass. Another bonus is my first raise. Sweet payola. I'm not going to get into what I get paid, because that's a whole nother bitchfest. Needless to say that with a wedding in Las Vegas rapidly approaching, every little bit helps. It's definitely a motivator to get checked out as fast as I can. Here's hoping NATCA can fix the contract and get me on a pay scale the same level as everyone else.

After being checked out on the two "high" sectors in my area (with altitude limits starting at 24,000 feet all the way up to Jesus), I've been sent down to the low altitudes. The first of which is centered over Dubuque, Iowa (for clarity's sake, hereafter referred to as DBQ). Apparently, there are still people out there who have a burning desire to fly to DBQ to take a gander at the miles and miles of nothing. DBQ is alot like Grand Forks, except no blackjack in the bars and a greater distance away from Canada. I've gone from talking to professional pilots who (most of the time) listen to your instructions and (most of the time) comply with them. Down at DBQ, you get alot of Weekend Warrior types who completed their private pilot's exam by watching an 8mm documentary of WW II Japanese kamikaze pilots and taking a ScanTron test with half the holes already filled in. It's pretty entertaining listening to them do the kind of shit that I used to when I was getting my license. And I did some shit that made my flight instructor's head spin.

So needless to say it's a brand new learning experience. Just when I thought I had it all figured out with the high altitudes, DBQ backhands me in the junk. And on top of that, it's springtime. Which means you could be working a perfectly peaceful sector and then oh my god there are thunderstorms everywhere and everybody wants to deviate and DBQ tower is calling for releases and I just got put into the hold and Sue hates me and she's on my D-side and HOLY SHIT IS THAT A TORNADO????? This crap is gonna make me age faster than the dude who drank out of the wrong grail in the 3rd Indiana Jones flick.

But hey, it could be worse. I could be working for GM.

Left Behind

I lost my oldest friend last night.


My cat, Joe Montana Jonathan went to sleep last night and didn't wake up. I've been afraid of this day for a good five years now. Outdoor cats like Joe average about 8 years of life. Joe was 15, which I believe in Human Years is about 88. A few days ago, Joe had some trouble breathing so my parents took him to the veterinary emergency room in St. Charles. After some tests, they determined that he had feline congestive heart failure, and it was pretty much only a matter of time before it gave out. We went for a 2nd opinion on Tuesday, and it was determined that with some medication, Joe would be good for at least a few more months. He seemed better, happier than he had been in weeks. My parents took him home, and Bri and I went over to DJ's to watch American Idol that night. Joe played with me, sat with me, and attempted to steal my dinner. As I left that night, Joe walked out the front door with me as he had done so many times before. He sat on the porch, watched me get in my car and drive away. It was the last time I saw him.

It seemed ages ago when I first got Joe, and right from the beginning I knew that he was a bit "off". Most cats have a tendency to be somewhat aloof, not really caring if you were alive or dead just as long as the food dish was filled. Joe was different. When I first held him, he scrambled out of my arms and up onto my shoulders. He then just stood there, proclaiming to everyone that "this one is mine." Nothing would prove that wrong, as I would do anything for him. And he knew it. He ran the house. If he wanted to go outside and you were watching tv, he would walk up to whatever furniture you were sitting on, look you right in the eye, and start scratching the shit out of it. You would yell "goddamnit Joe!" and jump up. The instant your ass left the seat, he would turn around and run to the back door and look at you as if saying "this would have been alot easier if you would have just let me out in the first place". He used to drive my dad nuts. DJ would be sitting there watching the weather channel and Joe would begin his "I want out" routine. It then became a test of wills. DJ didn't want him to win, and Joe would NOT lose. So DJ would try to ignore him, and Joe would just keep on scratching. This would go on for minutes at a time. And EVERY time, DJ lost. There was just no winning...looking at the furniture is proof of that.

Just going back, thinking about Joe brings a smile to my face. I remember when everybody started coming over to watch Monday Night Raw. Dain used to smoke during the commercials, and Joe would go out with him. Kind of a "smoking buddy". Dain would get up, and say "Time for a smoke, Joe." And Joe (no matter what he was doing) would hop up and follow Dain-O to the porch. After burning one, they both would head back inside to watch the next match. Or when Roper came over, and didn't pay enough attention to him. Later on that night, Roper's coat smelled distinctly of cat urine. Joe also hated arguing. There was this one time when my dad and I were yelling at each other about something. We were in his office shouting, when Joe jumped up on the desk between us and began yowling as loud as he could. When that didn't work, he turned to the person nearest to him (me, of course) and swiped a 4-inch gash in my arm. Both my dad and I turned and looked at him, then burst out laughing. How could you be angry at him for that?

And speaking of being angry, nobody could hold a grudge like Joe. Whoever drew the short straw for taking him to the vet paid for it weeks afterword. Dirty looks and cold shoulders were on the menu for you. Oddly enough, I got it the worst. Or the time we went on vacation for two weeks and left Joe with Trevor. Joe put up with it for a week, then apparently decided "fuck this, I'm out". He took off and disappeared for the remaining week. When we got back, we all felt horrible for leaving him like that. Two days later we got a call from a family about a block up the road. Joe had apparently been sitting on their porch, waiting for someone to show. When they did, he walked in their house and got fed. Then we got the phone call, and a look from him that said: "that'll teach you."

There really isn't enough space for all the Joe stories out there. Sitting here, I can barely see the screen through my tears, but I'm smiling the whole time remembering. Dave Matthews said something after Leroi Moore died, and it stuck with me ever since.

"It's easier to leave then be left behind"

Nothing could be truer. My life is a little more empty, a little less fun now that Joe is gone. I loved him so much, and was loved in return. He demanded your love, but somehow made it wonderful to give it to him. I will miss him forever. I love you, Joe.

The Downward Spiral.

Here's how I feel about the play of the Blackhawks Big Summer Free Agent Signing, Christobal Huet:

The Hawks better get their act together, otherwise they are going to At Best: find themselves in the 7 or 8 seed in the playoffs, resulting in a first round exit against Detroit or San Jose. Or At Worst: packing their shit in the lockers for the summer and hitting the links.

It's not just one thing brining down the team (although goaltending is tops on the list), it's a bunch of little things. Team defense is falling apart, Brian Campbell is fighting the puck like a Roman gladiator, Duncan Keith is tired, Pat Sharp is hurt, Matt Walker is an ass, etc. It's the time of the season where you have to win every battle, earn every goal, and play each game like it's your last. The Hawks are a young team, with only a handfull of players ever experiencing the post season. This is where (to quote Hawk Harrelson, which I hate to do) you need to "sinch er up, and hunker down." The next few weeks will show just how tough this Hawks team is. I truly hope they are up to the challenge, because I'm tired of the Scum fans and the Shorks fans (sorry Bri) getting all the excitement. This team is good enough to make some noise in the playoffs, but they are gonna have to fight to get there.

Otherwise it's baseball time for me.