Astute Observations & Thoughtful Reflections

AS USUAL, we will as a nation go overboard in mourning our latest round of celebrity passings this week. First it was James Brown, really an American tragedy in many ways in terms of the personal demons that haunted his life -- all glossed over in the fawning coverage of the first few days after he died. And really for the average music fan, maybe three or four recognizable songs, although I Feel Good, Brand New Bag, Sex Machine and Say It Loud were terrific radio songs -- back in the days when radio actually played stuff that wasn't from a rigidly controlled play list. I mean, this wasn't like a Ray Charles or Johnny Cash passing away. And color me uninformed, but how exactly did James Brown change music -- and when you've answered that riddle, then tell me what exactly does changing music even mean? You can get back to me on those...

And of course Gerald Ford, our 38th President, tucked inconspicuously between Richard Nixon and Jimmy Carter, passed away today. Unfortunately, that numerical designation is Ford's biggest executive level achievement -- if you don't count helping to "rig" the Warren Court after the JFK assassination. Ford, the Art Howe of American presidents, was more widely known as the butt of numerous Saturday Night Live skits than for anything he accomplished during his brief residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. And like Howe, he was probably a nice guy who loved his family, but Gerald Ford was also one of the most lackluster presidents in American history -- rivaling only long-forgotten failures and footnotes like William Howard Taft, George Bush Senior and one of our two unexceptional Harrison presidencies for all-time ineffectualness and sheer mediocrity (Benjamin lost the popular vote in 1888 by 100,000 votes to Grover Cleveland but won the electoral college, while grandpa William Henry famously chose not to wear an overcoat to his inauguration -- foolishly encouraging the bitter, biting cold weather to just "Bring It On" -- and then died in 1841 of pneumonia after just 30 days in office, making Ford seem like an important four-term president in comparison!) Oh yeah, Ford pardoned Tricky Dick Nixon and other Watergate culprits in September of '74, showing he had no balls right out the gate, and then almost got shot by a member of the Manson family whose nickname was "Squeaky," which I guess is cool in a creepy sorta way. And oh yeah again, he once may have told the City of New York to drop dead. (Insert yawning sound here.) His wife Betty started a clinic/halfway house for celebrity drunks and junkies. Throw in his collegiate football career at Michigan, where he played before players wore face masks & helmets, and that's all you need to know about the man. Oh yeah redux, of course we're all grateful for his service in the War of 1812. We owe that greatest generation still...

Now, I'm sure you will find obituaries more comprehensive and more reverential in tone elsewhere on the Web, but we don't play that here, at least not today.

Wikipedia somewhat soberly disputes the fact that William Henry Harrison died solely from his exposure to the elements, calling the account a misconception; but even if the story is apocryphal, it's too good not to use it here. But there is no doubt that Harrison gave the longest inauguration speech in history, at 8,445 words and almost two hours, or slightly more than double the amount of total words that George W. Bush has READ in his entire lifetime. Another fun Wikipedia fact is that doctors used opium, castor oil, Virginia snakeweed (whatever that is, although I think I copped a dime bag of it in Washington Square Park in 1979), and even actual snakes in the attempt to cure Harrison. But said treatments only made matters worse and Harrison lapsed into delirium shortly thereafter, something he also shares with Bush 43 these days, Harrison would ultimately expire of "jaundice, overwhelming septicemia" and the dreaded "lower lobe pneumonia." Now, you can probably survive a case of upper or middle lobe pneumonia and underwhelming or merely whelming regular septicemia separately, but taken together they obviously formed one deadly, president-killing combo. So it goes...



All right, let's get to some football. The sooner we get it over with the better. Watching the Cowboys stink it up on Christmas night was absolute torture -- well, relative torture I should say; the real thing is having to navigate your way through tourist-infested Midtown Manhattan (what, you thought I was gonna use Guantanamo Bay as a metaphor? Au contraire, Pierre.) As you know, I used to be SO down with the 'Boys, but now I'm just a whole big hurtful of down on the Dallas Cowboys, as in...
...I'm down on the Big Tuna Bill Parcells himself. First I found out that when the Eagles were 5-6 and reeling a month ago, Parcells has to play Dr. Phil and place a call to their head coach Andy Reid, consoling him on Donovan McNabb's injury. Let me see if I can tactfully convey what I said to myself when I heard about it. It was something along the lines of: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!! SINCE WHEN DO YOU CALL A RIVAL HEAD COACH IN THE MIDDLE OF A SEASON? IS THIS THE MESSAGE YOU CHOOSE TO SEND TO YOUR TEAM? Did Nixon pick up the phone to see how Ho Chi Minh was doing handling all the grief? Did Charles DeGaulle get Adolph on the wireless and ask how Eva was holding up? I'm guessing no. More to the point, did Vince Lombardi call up Tom Landry before the Ice Bowl and say, "Tom old pal, don't forget to pack your scarves and mittens, we're expecting some inclement weather up here in Green Bay, so good luck to all your fine players in the upcoming contest." Never happened. Well, how many times do I have to make the point that while war is not a game of football, the game of football is indeed a lot like war -- except in war you don't often get the opportunity to pat the other guy's butt after a good play. Sometimes, but not too often, and that's probably not a bad thing. This is one of many of modern life's barbarous contradictions. I'm just saying that it was such a wimpy, sorry-ass thing for an old school guy like Parcells to do. After the season, go over to Reid's house and play with his kids for all I care, but to try to perk up a rival coach in your very own division? No way, no how, no no no, a thousand times no.
I also question Parcells' motivational skills, given that the Eagles game was the third debacle at home this year, following the Giants loss on Monday night and then the Saints Sunday nighter two weeks ago. I've supported most of the personnel moves Parcells has made his first four years with the team, but something is very wrong with the spirit, the soul if you will, of the Dallas Cowboys -- and it can't all be laid at the swollen head of Terrell Owens, if I can mix metaphors here.

I am also still of the opinion that defensive coordinator Mike Zimmer has to go. The term coordinator here really assumes that the defense is coached and organized and schooled in the tendencies of the opposing offense. But to anyone with even a cursory knowledge of X's & O's who has watched the defense the last three weeks -- 42 points but easily could have been much more given up against the Saints, 28 versus a mediocre Falcons offense that scored 3 points against Carolina the following week, and of course 23 points and four drives of more than 77 yards by the Eagles -- there is nothing coordinated about the Cowboys on the defensive side of the ball. Nosetackle Jason Ferguson, one of the few warriors Dallas has on D, said that often the players didn't know the down and/or distance on many plays against the Eagles. Let that sink in for a minute and then tell me Zimmer should stay. But the blame goes to Parcells for retaining him when the facts say he has no experience in a 3-4 defense.

Coaching aside, I am down on the entire defense right now except for Ferguson, Akin Ayodele, Terence Newman, Aaron Glenn and of course DeMarcus Ware. The loss of LB Greg Ellis took away at least half the pass rush, and Clueless "Zip" Zimmer still drops Ware, the only pass rushing bullet left in the arsenal, back in coverage far too often. If you're an offense, you're loving that the defense is not rushing Ware; so what if he drops off into the flat, just find somewhere else to throw the ball! If he's rushing on every down like Shawn Merriman, he can wreak havoc on EVERY down.

I am past down on T.O. right now. We tried it, it didn't work, let's move on. Leaving aside all the off the field distractions, on the field he's been good but not 10 million dollars of good, not best in the league good. In short, he hasn't been great -- not with all the drops he's had and all the bad pass routes he's run, constantly going out of bounds and not leaving his QB enough room on the sideline. And he had one of two big drops on Monday, the other one was by Terry Glenn. On both plays, Romo scrambled yet threw two on the mark passes -- the one to Owens would have turned the game around, and when it went through his hands so did the Cowboys chances in the game. I know he's got some finger injuries, but if you're on the field you're gonna be held accountable.














I am also way down on the running game and the play calling and the offensive line at times, because they go hand in hand. I thought if Julius Jones stayed healthy, and he has, he would have the monster year that someone like San Francisco's Frank Gore is having -- 1,400, 1,500, even 1,600 yards was not out of the question, even with Marion Barber taking a lot of carries. But it hasn't happened. Jones is leaving far too many yards on the field, and has inexplicably regressed since his rookie year. The play calling by offensive coordinator Tony Sporano has also sucked, showing no touch and giving the team no real identity.

I am disappointed but by no means down on Tony Romo. You knew it wasn't gonna be peaches & cream every game, so this downturn was expected. Sure, he threw two picks against the Eagles and tries to force things too much. But Dallas ran off 16 fewer plays than the Eagles, but more telling held the ball for only 23 minutes to the Eagles 37. Romo completed only 14-29, but the drops killed him; the T.O. drop and the Glenn drop would have added at least 100 yards to his stats. Romo has shown me too much in terms of leadership, confidence, ability, poise and talent to turn back now. It's most of the rest of the team that seemed to quit out there Monday night. The offense is still 5th overall in the entire NFL, and Romo trails only Peyton Manning in 3rd down conversions, although he has fallen to 6th in passer rating. Now, as far as making the Pro Bowl, it wouldn't have bothered me if Romo didn't make it this year; I was more disappointed that CB Terence Newman and TE Jason Witten were left off the squad. Even T.O. could make a case. But other than Drew Brees and Marc Bulger of the Rams (who quietly passed for over 4,000 yards, with 23 TDs and only 8 picks), it's not like anyone severely outplayed young Romo and was overlooked. You wanna bring up Chicago's Rex Grossman? Nope. Atlanta's Michael Vick? Can't see it. The Giants' very own Eli Manning? Please, I'm eating here.

All that negativity aside, we are in the playoffs, but then in all likelihood so are the 7-8 New York Football Giants. In fact, watching Dallas the last month, I know how Giants fans must have felt most of this year: Your expectations are sky high, but the team underachieves so often it leaves you down in the dumps. At least the Giants can legitimately use injuries as an excuse; unlike last year, except for the season-ending Ellis injury, Dallas has been remarkably healthy. Of course, the Giants are also Team Turmoil, which gives that franchise an unseemly taint from a fan's perspective. For Exhibit A, see Shockey, Jeremy. See also headcase, loudmouth and ass, pain in the.

So let's get another #1 receiver in here next year, improve the O-Line, add another stud pass rusher, and a safety or two if we decide to move Roy Williams to LB or some kind of monster back, because his coverage "skills" have killed us in some big spots this year. And of course we have to cut short the T.O. experiment, admit defeat, and reload. The positives include having a young QB in place, a great tight end in Jason Witten, a franchise defensive piece in Ware. But if this season has taught us anything, it's that fortunes can change in a heartbeat and turn on a dime. But first you have to show some heart. I'm not holding my breath on that one.

Let's see, what else can I bitch and moan about... Oh yeah, do you believe my cell phone bill was over 70 bucks last month. It's SUPPOSED to come in at around 35 bucks for my crappy plan at Sprint, which gives you 1,000 weekends/nights after 9:00pm minutes, but only a paltry 300 minutes for all other calls, which -- I've done the math -- comes out to an all but microscopic 15 minutes a day! I mean, I talk fast and all -- life being short and me being from New York -- but c'mon. I went over by less than an hour, and it's like 50 cents a minute penalty, so for the second month in a row I went crazy when I saw the bill. Last month I thought I learned my lesson, but now I have to be ruthless in my discipline and not initiate any unnecessary calls. So if you call 347/624-9572, make it quick and to the point, because in my case time is all too much money to mention. It makes me almost want to smashmyphone.com, which happens to be a real Website with pictures of hot young babes "trampling, crushing and smashing telephones." Pretty kinky. Go figure. Who knew...
One funny thing to note about the passing of TV writer Chris Hayward last week, the guy who helped create the Munsters, Rocky & Bullwinkle and Dudley Do-Right, among other hit shows, and who also wrote for Get Smart and Barney Miller. It turns out that laid-back Canada was not all that amused about the cartoon portrayal of a Royal Canadian Mountie as a bumbling dimwit, who was often seen riding his horse backward. A spoof of silent movie melodramas, Dudley's lot in life was to relentlessly but futilely chase the dastardly villain Snidely Whiplash -- one of the great names in all of cartoon-dom -- as well as to cheerfully repeat catchphrases like "We always get our man!" and "Have no fear, Dudley Do-Right is Here!" Kind of reminds me of a certain president... Alas, Hayward did live long enough to see his beloved Dudley Do-Right turned into an atrocious feature film starring Brendan Frazer in the title role, joining the ranks of every movie starring Brendan Frazer and all too many other movies as Films That Really Had No Business Being Made Or Shown To The Public -- or green-lighted, as they used to say in Hollywood.

Far be it from us here at WardensWorld to take sides in celebrity feuds, but the very public Donald Trump-Rosie O'Donnell tete-a-tete has so tapped into the national zeitgeist that it requires us all to look within ourselves and take a stand. And I choose to jump right in and declare that the Donald is an insecure, hateful sumbitch. Everything Rosie said is documented fact, everything Trump said reveals a toxic mind that is teetering on the downside of sanity. For instance, it's a fact that Trump is not a self-made man (his dad Fred Trump left Donald something like 25,000 apartment buildings when he passed away to that big luxury rental unit in the sky). Fact: the man's bad comb-over and past marital woes are legitimate comic fodder for anyone with a microphone. In addition, Miss America is an anachronism anyway, Trump is an asshole whose show is for losers, to paraphrase Trump himself, and his cracks about Rosie's weight, sexual preference and ratings are below the belt even by our by now compromised standards of celebro-fare. And the fact that Trump is allowed to promote his crap game show and hideous books as a regular guest on the Imus in the Morning show says it all about both men; you're known by the company you keep, and both Imus and Trump deserve each other.

Speaking of celebs in the news, how about that wacky chauffeur of Yoko Ono, threatening to release unflattering pictures and, even worse, embarrassing recordings? This may be the worst attempt at extortion in legal history, because aside from Walking On Thin Ice, Ono's entire music career is really one big punchline with the public already. It's sorta like a Democrat threatening to release some sound bites that will make President Bush seem unintelligent. I mean, find me some that DON'T! (Insert sound of raucous laughter here.)

Hey Jeff Skilling, you were once a smug yuppie prick at Enron who later ruined the world's seventh largest company and cheated workers out of their pensions and caused untold suffering for thousands of employees who lost their jobs, all due to your greed and fraud. So where you going? Well, it's not exactly Disneyland, but for the next 24 years and four months, we'll know where to find you -- as someone's deregulated cell bitch at a federally funded penitentiary in Minnesota. Enjoy your stay, Jeff!

I saw where George Bush asked Congress for another $99.78 billion for prosecuting the Iraq War. It seems the marketing department at the Pentagon uses the same rock-solid premise as those retailers who price crappy stuff at $9.99, lest consumers balk at paying a full $10.00 for something they didn't really want in the first place -- kind of like this debacle of a war. The Bush sales pitch had to be like one of those manic old Crazy Eddie commercials: "At Crazy Georgie's, we're practically giving this war away! For just $99.78 billion -- not $100 billion, not even $99.99 billion -- but for just slightly more than a mere 99 billion dollars, we will prolong this disastrous, disgraceful, un-winnable conflict another couple of years! Our prices are like our policies! They're IN-SA-A-A-A-ANE!!"

Tuesday Morning Quarterback

Wow! Only two games left in the 2006 football season. Another year has almost flown by. The Year of the Romo continues, however, with the first-year starter poised to make his own mark in the long, storied history of Cowboys playoff lore -- ready to take his place alongside legends like Don Meredith, Roger Staubach and Troy Aikman. Something tells me Tony Romo has that certain something -- call it intestinal fortitude -- that all the great ones had, from Bradshaw to Montana, from Elway to Favre. He gets his chance to prove it to the world on the greatest national stage in all of sports: the NFL playoffs.


Romo, at 98.4, still sits at number two in the overall NFL passer rating, the mysterious/complicated metric that grades quarterbacks based on things like percentage of completions per attempt, average yards gained per attempt, percentage of touchdown passes per attempt, and percentage of interceptions per attempt -- but now he trails Peyton Manning's 99.0, who threw for 4 TDs last night versus the Bengals.

J.P. Losman of the Bills, much maligned during his struggles earlier this year, has quietly put together a solid season, much like Buffalo itself, which stands at 7-7. He's got 17 TDs against only 10 picks, good enough for an 88.5 rating, ninth in the league and ahead of such "luminaries" as Tom Brady, Steve McNair and Matt Hasselback. If you recall, Dallas made a trade with Buffalo three years ago that allowed them to take Losman, with the Cowboys giving up their first rounder and then selecting Julius Jones in the second round. The following year Dallas picked DeMarcus Ware and Marcus Spears with their first round picks, two cornerstones of their defense. It's turned into one of those rare draft day trades that benefited both clubs.

Speaking of quarterbacks, is there any player whose stock has fallen faster than Carolina's Jake Delhomme. Many media outlets were falling over themselves in September picking the Panthers to go to the Super Bowl, including Sports Illustrated. And many were basing their decision on Delhomme's leadership ability and experience, but even before he got hurt a few weeks ago he disappointed many in the organization -- such that rumors have begun to spread that Carolina will make a huge pitch to move up in the draft and nab Notre Dame's Brady Quinn with the first pick. It makes sense, because Delhomme is no spring chicken anymore and will be 32 by the time next season rolls around.

Our old friend Quincy Carter, the former QB of the Cowboys who led Dallas to their last playoff appearance in '03, was at it again, getting busted over the weekend for marijuana possession and causing a disturbance at his girlfriend's apartment. Despite playing with a Cowboys club that had far less talent than the current one, Carter piloted Dallas to a surprising 10-6 record that year (Parcells' first with the Cowboys), then the following year helped the Jets win two out of his three starts. Just as suddenly he was out of football following rumors of a failed drug test, and couldn't even make a Canadian Football League squad last year. I still think Carter had the talent to make it in the NFL, but obviously personal issues prevented him from maximizing his potential. I guess this means all those Carter rookie cards I bought in 2001 are not gonna be collector's items after all. Oh well...

Has a player ever made more of an impact in the return game than Chicago Bears rookie DB Devin Hester out of Miami? Including punts and kickoffs -- and who can forget that for-the-ages 108-yard return of a missed field goal against the Giants? -- Hester has an incredible six scores on returns this season, with a remarkable two 90-plus kickoff returns in one game against the Rams. There has never been an easier choice for Pro Bowl return specialist than Hester. I think they will start calling all return touchdowns "Hesters" if this keeps up.

No matter what happens in the postseason, I do not see Terrell Owens returning to the Cowboys next year, not if Bill Parcells decides to return for a fifth season with Dallas. On the field he's been everything everyone expected; the problem is, off the field he's been everything everyone expected. And that's not good for anyone.

Hey Jeremy Shockey, are the Giants still playing Giants football? Shockey said if the Giants play "Giants football," whatever that is, nobody can beat them. Well, I guess they play it only half the time, because they stand at a mediocre 7-7. And they can't use their injuries as an excuse -- everyone has them this time of year -- because the Eagles just came into their place and beat them with a backup QB. I didn't hear the Giants offering to give back any of their cheap wins last year when they faced monuments to mediocrity like backup QBs Mike McMahon of Philly and Cody Pickett of the 49ers and of course this year got a cheap win against Carolina with the putrid Chris Weinke behind center. (I just checked and McMahon and Pickett are rightly out of the fucking league now.) Your excuses are your own, as Al Pacino so rightly put it in Glengarry Glenn Ross. That's a good place as any to stop, so I will.

Workin' It

I have grown accustomed to the unsympathetic vagaries of life as a freelancer. I have learned to focus on the positive and remain upbeat in terms of job prospects. Because the god's honest truth, as my dad really did used to say, is if I don't remain positive, no one will do it for me.

Today marks the 8th day in a row at LT, which has been very steady for me since late June, with the only significant gaps coming on those weeks where there are holidays, such as Thanksgiving and of course now with Christmas coming up, this week and next look like short weeks at LT. I just talked to my supervisor here and ironed out this week's schedule. It worked out pretty good, with my working today (Monday) & Tuesday at LT, then the catering gig on Wednesday afternoon/evening, then it's back at LT Thursday; Friday is shaping up as an off day right now, but something could still pop up, provided I remain positive and send out the proper morphic resonance. (Imagine relevant link here.) With no sick days, no vacation time, and few if any benefits to speak of, you have to stay mentally tough as a freelancer. As no less an authority than Stephen Crane put it: "Of all human lots for a person of sensibility, that of an obscure free lance in literature or journalism is, I think, the most discouraging."

Finally, I can report some much-needed catering work on the horizon, which will go a long way toward filling in the gaps I just spoke of. There's a school party this Wednesday, with the possibility of a private party at someone's ostentatiously spacious Upper East Side apartment this Friday. Get to see how the other half lives, although by half I more accurately mean the very top upper percentile in terms of household income, socio-economic status, educational attainment and other fairly reliable indicators of demonstrable wealth.

Late Friday here at LT I got a call from K. at A. As soon as I saw the incoming digits on the LCD screen of my cell phone, I was hoping it was news from DC. If you recall from a recent post, A. sent them my sparklingly impressive resume for a long-term proofreader assignment. But alas, it was for a one-day assignment on Monday (today) for an ad agency. As I was already booked for today and manana at LT, I had to turn it down, as much as I would have liked to add a new client to my small rotation I have built up over the last, oh, 6 or 7 months. K. said we probably wouldn't hear anything definitive from DC until post-2006/early '07.

I never mentioned how great the Xmas celebration was a few weeks ago. My freelance agency held it at a small restaurant called Sala One Nine, appropriately enough located on West 19th Street. In addition to the always-welcome open bar situation, and some handy appetizers (nice to be on the other side of a catered event for a change), I mingled with not only my fellow freelance talent, but also some of the clients and A. staff, both present and former, including K., A. and Kr. M. and C and a few others from LT made the scene, and it was here that K. first approached me about the DC opportunity. So it was good that I made the scene, or who knows -- K. might have seen fit to go with another proofreader. Life is a series of coincidences, as anyone who has followed my career arc can attest to. Something like that. I reluctantly left Sala One Nine shortly after the bar cruelly turned back into a pay-cash situation, after one $6 Heineken too many.

My own burgeoning freelance business, you know, the one for which I printed up some business cards, is still stuck firmly in the fledgling phase. I actually did get one call from someone, a guy in Astoria named Tupac who had a thick Spanish accent and wanted me to help him with an ad campaign for his vitamins/supplements business. We set up a meeting at Mike's Diner for coffee; on the phone he said he'd be the guy with the bald head, but of course when I got to Mike's and looked around, none of the 10 or so diners matched that description. Just when I was about to approach the least-hairiest diner, in walked a smiling guy in a suit whose shiny scalp, sure enough, was indeed remarkably bereft of even a single follicle. He turned out to be a very nice guy, but it just wasn't a good match and I had to turn him down. I could have probably strung him along and soaked him for a few hundred dollars, but that would have been a bad karmic choice. That was the only call I received so far, after dropping off around 20 cards in various strategic Astoria locales. But I ran out of cards a few weeks ago and need to get another couple dozen printed up. (I just did a Google search for Eagle Eye Proofreading and discovered that at least two other businesses have used that alliterative moniker for their own. This of course means war!)

Never heard back from metro, the free daily paper where I sent that freelance column a few weeks ago. I stupidly waited a week before sending it off, and due to the timely nature of the material, that probably cost me any chance of publication. I'm working on a few more pieces now that hopefully will meet a better fate. There are fewer and fewer outlets for freelance pieces, although I am aiming high and hope to send off something to Newsweek's My Turn column, as well as a few others I have targeted. As always, you will be among the first to know.

In blog-related developments, I have now been at this for almost a year, having started WardensWorld in late January of '06, while in the deepest throes of unemployment-related ennui. (Incidentally, the word ennui -- meaning listlessness & dissatisfaction -- comes from the Latin in odio, which translates to "in hate." I like that, because that's just how I was feeling then...) This blog has been the recipient of over 5,500 hits/clicks, good enough to earn me $10.74 in Total Earnings. Now, Google/AdSense policy is not to release such blogger earnings until they total $100. At the rate I am proceeding, that money will be in my grubby hands right around 2015 or so. That's really gonna come in handy for my 55th birthday celebration. Drinks are on the house!

Also, my friend E., a fellow copy editor who I worked with at the Wall Street Transcript and who runs her own fine Weblog titled Weenie Enema, gave me a nice writeup last week in her December 11th post, A Blogroll Update Of Sorts. There I am, leading off, and for that I thank her. Now, we don't always agree on politics -- okay, we NEVER agree on politics -- but there's no denying her pop culture acumen and humorously original take on things. If I could figure out how to leave a link, I would do so, but just do a Google Search or go to www.weenieenema.blogspot.com. She's also a Mets fan, for which she has my enduring sympathy, and still works at TWST, for which she has my eternal commiseration, to the power of 10. But I keed, I keed...

That's More Like It ... Except For The Spitting Part

The Cowboys clinched their first playoff berth since 2003 with a hard-fought, back and forth win over Atlanta Saturday night, 38-28, and the rest of the weekend's slate of games seemed to break just right for Dallas, as the overall #2 seed and their first division title since 1998 are theirs for the taking with a win over the Philadelphia on Christmas night. The road win gives Dallas their best away record since they went 6-2 in 1995, their last Super Bowl year.

QB Tony Romo went an efficient 22-29 passing with 2 TDs and a first half interception, catapulting him to second overall in the NFL in passer rating, his 98.4 trailing only Carson Palmer's 98.7 for the top spot. Terrell "The Llama" Owens caught both of Romo's TD tosses, and WR Terry Glenn and TE Jason Witten each hauled in 5 passes. Romo is now 6-2 as a starter. The season would have been considered a success even if Dallas didn't make the playoffs but were able to break in a new QB, the big picture outlook is bright for Dallas as it enters the postseason with a chance for an all-important first round bye. That's because old rivals Washington went in and totally shut down the nation's darlings -- the prematurely anointed New Orleans Saints -- holding Drew Brees without a TD and RB Reggie Bush to 33 yards of total offense. In New York, Philadelphia spanked the reeling Giants, 36-22, setting up what is essentially a showdown for the NFC East title in Dallas on Christmas night. A win gives Dallas its first division crown since 1998, with the overall #2 NFC seed still up for grabs. And in rainy Seattle on Thursday night, the 49ers shockingly exploded for 21 fourth quarter points to upend the Seahawks, sending the defending NFC champs to a mediocre 8-6 record. You would have made a lot of money and won a lot of fantasy leagues if you had Frank Gore as your RB, because the unheralded Miami product is first in the NFC and third in the entire NFL with 1,491 yards rushing after 14 games.
Talk about coming out of nowhere...

Anyway, the Cowboys-Falcons game was tied at 21-all at halftime, thanks to Michael Vick's 3 first half TD passes; Vick would finish with 4 TDs in the game -- giving opposing QBs an astounding 9 TDs in the last two games versus Mike Zimmer's suddenly porous pass defense (Drew Brees threw 5 TDs in last week's game). But Tony Romo led the Cowboys to 17 straight unanswered points in the second half, including a late 11-play drive that finally put the game out of reach. On that game-winning drive, which started with just under 9 minutes remaining, Romo had 5 straight completions.

The game was televised only on the NFL Network, but thankfully was broadcast on radio in the New York area, thus saving me from spending 30 or 40 bucks on 3 or 4 Heinekens and a Chicken sandwich at McCann's, the local Astoria sports bar. Instead I made some of my soon to be patented olive oil French fries in my local kitchen and cranked up the volume on the three radios where I had the game on. For Dallas, this was a case of the good, the bad and the ugly for Dallas -- but in this year's NFL it's better to win ugly than lose pretty. The good was how Tony Romo bounced back from his worst game of the year, going 22-29 for 278 yards, making his record 6-2 in games as a starter; oddly, it was his second 22-29 game in four weeks, a weird statistical anomaly.

Also positive was RB Marion Barber's continuing spectacular running and all-around skill display, gaining 69 yards on only 11 carries -- causing many in Cowboy nation to call for him to start over Julius Jones. Another 2 rushing TDs gives Barber 13 for the year, along with 2 more receiving, making him a mini LaDainian Tomlinson (the San Diego RB who now has a flagrantly ridiculous 31 TDs for the season and is performing on a whole other level in 2006 -- one not reserved for mere mortals). As Bill Parcells colorfully put it when describing Barber, "Marion ran real tough. He was honking his horn pretty good."

And "Ware" would the Cowboys' defense be without LB DeMarcus "Every" Ware, in on another sack, but more importantly showed how good he is in coverage, picking off an under-thrown flat pass by Michael Vick and then dashing 41 yards for the pick-six, finding the end zone for the second time this season. He has been holding the defense together with his inspired play after Greg Ellis went down for the season. Rookie LB Bobby Carpenter, a first-round pick, finally made his first real contribution. Carpenter was used mostly as a spy to shadow Michael Vick, and he finished with 1.5 sacks.

The bad news for Dallas centers around their poor pass defense in the last few weeks. CB Anthony Henry has been sloppy in coverage and lackluster in his tackling, giving opponents something to exploit away from the solid Terence Newman, who has turned into one of the game's legitimate shutdown corners. And SS Roy Williams continues to struggle in deep coverage, with an increasing number of fans favoring converting him to a front seven position. And despite four sacks against Atlanta, the pass rush is still not scaring up enough pressure, which will be vital in the next few games and later in the playoff run.

The ugly? As if you had to ask, Terrell Owens once again had to draw attention away from all the positives produced by the Cowboys' gritty, gut-check win, childishly spitting on Falcons' CB DeAngelo Hall, then even more foolishly admitting to the craven, disgusting act in postgame comments. That's what's known as Dumb & Dumber. You never open your mouth unless you know what the shot is. That said, Owens -- on the field -- is "quietly" but not silently having a monster year, with 77 receptions for 1,040 yards, and his two TDs give him 11 for the year, which leads the NFL. But there's always the emotional baggage that goes along with it.

Notes: The Cowboys have found something in rookie return man Miles Austin. The rookie from tiny Monmouth College in New Jersey has given Dallas an important edge in field position over the last 3 or games, consistently returning kickoffs past the 30. With a long of only 37 yards, he still qualifies for 6th in the League in return average at 25.9, and is a force on kickoff coverage as well ... Kevin Kiley, the color man on the radio broadcast, turned in the best game call I've heard all year, putting most of the ex-players who usually man that post to shame; it was literally like having a coach break the game down. In one instance he explained the differences between the 4-3 versus 3-4 defense in understandable terms. Unfortunately he was paired with Joel Myers, all too often proving himself to be a true horse's hind quarters -- an all too common characteristic of most play-by-play men .. Overall, the best radio team is Dave Sims and Bob Trumpy. Sims has come a long way since his early days as talk show host on WFAN, while Trumpy is the ex-Bengals TE who never resorts to making the game a joke yet has fun with the broadcast ... All of a sudden the NFL is rife with good, young quarterbacks. In addition to my favorite, Tony Romo, there's Philip Rivers in San Diego, Vince Young in Tennessee, Matt Leinert in Arizona, and Jay Cutler of Denver. After a horrid first game versus Seattle, Cutler has rebounded to go 38-61 for 449 yards, 4 TDs and only one pick in his last two games. It helps that he has one of the best offensive football minds in the last few decades in his corner in head coach Mike Shanahan ... But my sleeper pick, and it gives me no pleasure to report this as a Cowboys fan who will have to see the guy twice a year, is Redskins QB Jason Campbell. The second-year player has a special poise in the pocket and a rocket arm, as well as terrific mechanics and a great offensive line to give him time. The numbers don't show it yet, but I think this guy will be a solid QB for years to come ... Speaking of solid, I think I wrote off Eagles' QB Jeff Garcia a tad prematurely. Based on his 9 TD passes and only one INT, his rating is 96.3. Plus his leadership, experience and passion are making up for the drop-off in talent from the injured Donovan McNabb. And don't think Garcia wouldn't love to get the last laugh on his old "buddy" Terrell Owens as he brings his Eagles to Texas Stadium with first place on the line. His scrambling ability and movement around the pocket make him hard to defense, as the Giants will no doubt admit after Garcia's effective game yesterday ... Amazingly, the Giants would be a wild card if the playoffs started today. And in a strange turn of events, Cowboys fans will probably be rooting for them to beat the Saints next week when they host them in the Meadowlands. Playoff positioning makes for strange bedfellows this time of year.

Fire Sale Friday

*** Today only *** all commentary comes with free half-price money-back guarantee of quality *** how do we do it? *** three words: volume volume volume *** A practice also known as "emptying the notebook" *** Warning: may contain left-wing political shizzle ***

At the very end of his life, Scarlet Letter author Nathaniel Hawthorne obsessively scribbled the number 64 over and over again on any surface he came across ... Please don't ask me how I know this, but you can Google it yourself or just take it as fact and use it in conversation at your own discretion ... Hawthorne died in 1864. Oooohh, scary! ... I didn't even know she had a name, but if you've been paying attention, the drawing of Tropic Ana, the little hula girl that had been the centerpiece of Tropicana orange juice advertising since the early 1950s has been downsized right off the carton, apparently the victim of political correctness. The new carton is completely mascot-free, and somehow it doesn't taste the same to me now. I've been a Tropicana fanatic for my entire life, so don't even step to me with any lame-ass Minute Maid substitution ... Apparently some prudish consumers take exception to scantily clad prepubescent native girls serving as corporate role models ... I'm not sure if it's worthy of a boycott on my part just yet, still looking into the mysterious circumstances of her demise...

One of the more ludicrous aspects of Jeopardy is how contestants are allowed to bet less than the category amount on a Daily Double. In other words if someone hits on a Daily Double clue for $1,600, they're of course allowed to bet up to whatever amount they've earned up to that point, but why are they allowed to bet less than the $1,600. Often you'll hear, "Alex I'll bet just $600." That's just wrong and it slows the game down ... You should have to wager AT LEAST the amount of the freaking clue as it's listed. Gutless bastards ... Did you know there were five Invisible Man flicks released in the 1940s? But except for the original starring Claude Rains, they're all pretty shoddy, uninspired affairs, including the inevitable Return Of and Revenge Of sequels starring Vincent Price, as well as Invisible Woman and Invisible Agent, the latter of which stars Peter Lorre as part of a bumbling gang of Nazi's out to steal the secret formula for their own nefarious ends ... Thank god they never got near enough to patent their own version, or we very likely would have been dealing with an invisible Adolph Hitler toward the end of the War. We had our hands full with the Germans as it was! ... All five flicks are contained in the two-disk collectors edition, the same treatment given by Universal to their other classic horror franchises like the Wolfman, Frankenstein, Creature from the Black Lagoon, the Mummy, etc.

Speaking of horror, does anyone else find it passingly curious that we haven't been subjected to any color-coded warnings in terms of the terror threat index? I mean, during the months leading up to the 2004 presidential election, every other week New York had an orange alert or a red alert, but it's been years since I've heard it used. I guess once Bush won the election, Karl Rove got tired of arbitrarily scaring people according to how Bush's poll numbers were faring. I'm just glad it was never used as a shameless political tool ... As a young child on vacation in Atlantic City in the 1960s, the sight of a larger than life Mr. Peanut roaming the boardwalk used to scare the hell out of me. I mean, a giant legume with a top hat, fancy walking cane and oversized monocle was a good deal scarier than any conventional screen monster conjured up by Hollywood. That distinguished Planters gentleman was perhaps the most threatening corporate mascot ever created in the long, sordid history of American capitalism.

Those preternaturally giddy Old Navy ads shown on TV every, oh, five or six seconds have the unintended effect of making me want to join the Communist Party or become a serial killer. Either way, I'm not picky, as long as I can just make those commercials go away ... If you can find it, rent Killer's Kiss -- Stanley Kubrick's directorial debut from 1955. The story is all right if slightly hackneyed -- washed up boxer falls in love with hoodlum's girl -- but the background is full of great shots of mid-century New York City, making it almost like an accidental documentary of how the City looked more than 50 years ago. Priceless, to employ an excruciatingly overworked sentiment ... I saw where the convicted killer of actress Nicole duFresne received a life sentence with no chance of parole, plus an additional 30 years. A harsh sentence, but deserved, because you know those last 30 years are really gonna be the tough ones for that lowlife scumbag.

I thought ruthless dictator slash U.S. ally in the cold war Augusto Pinochet dying on International Human Rights Day (December 10) was a nice real life example of Twilight Zone justice/irony. Now if Henry Kissinger would shuffle off this mortal coil sometime around Tet, the Vietnamese New Year holiday, we'd have something. He can then join Pinochet, who he installed in power and thus shares responsibility for thousands of disappearances and brutal killings of students, trade unionists and progressive, in Hell, along with recently deceased right wing propagandist/witch Jeanne Kirkpatrick. Never has the phrase The World Is A Better Place seemed so apt ... Speaking of mentally challenged right wing ideologues, nice to see that diplomat's diplomat, John Bolton, ousted from the UN. Bolton was the owner of the most ridiculous, anachronistic facial hair in government service, and was outdone by very few humans not named Myron Magnet. Unless you lose a wager or are the victim of a foolish dare, there is really no reason to leave your residence sporting such outdated hirsuteness. Even as I "Image Google" the name Myron Magnet, I can't with absolute certitude remember if he actually existed or I'm just imagining his visage due to some bad acid flashback, mescaline-related residue or perhaps psychedelic mushroom recurrence. And even studying the picture now, I can't rule out a mad PhotoShop experiment gone hideously, disastrously awry... Someone on Air America recently made the astute Moby-Dick related observation that if George W. Bush is the mad Captain Ahab, and his father the White Whale with which he is obsessed, that makes America itself the shipwrecked Pequod. I like that, although it does scare the crap half out of me that someone so obviously removed from reality is working out his dangerous unresolved Oedipal issues on the public stage.

Iggy Pop - Candy

Ah, "Candy, Candy, Candy, I can't let you go" ... One of Iggy's more tender if obsessive love songs. This song and the album it's from, Brick By Brick, reminds me of the many nights spend at the old Holiday Lounge on St. Mark's, one of our favorite late '80s/early '90s Village hangouts. This 1990 album was on the jukebox and I would play the crap out of it, especially this song, Home and Main Street Eyes. Another case where you probably had to be there. Probably hadn't heard this song in a good 10 years, with Kate Peirson from the B-52s on background vocals. Takes me to a good spot in the way back machine. The bar had two-dollar mixed drinks and we would meet there and get good and blistered before moving on to other, more pricey venues later in the evening, after we had played the bowling game, the jukebox and most likely surreptitiously lit a joint inside just to see if we could get away with it. And I guess we did, because here I am... Fun Iggy facts: Born on April 21, along with yours truly, Cowboys QB Tony Romo, Tony Danza, Charles Grodin, Queen Elizabeth, Anthony Quinn, Catherine the Great, and the Cure's Robert Smith. That's an awful lot of talent for one day. I like to think I'm an uneven amalgam of all those people somehow, with hopefully at least slightly less of the bad Tony Danza birthday "gene" and more of the good material exemplified by a long-reigning British Queen, a feared Russian Empress, a multiple Oscar winner, a charasmatic goth-rock icon, a pioneering punk-rock godfather, a rising football phenom, and a witty talk show host. Iggy Pop also had a brief but memorable role in the Jim Jarmusch Western Dead Man. We saw Iggy live at the old Ritz circa '81 and, surprise surprise, he was shirtless the whole show. What a showman...

THE SPEEDIES - LEMME TAKE YOUR FOTO

Un-fucking-believable! Found this Speedies video on YouTube, which I am slowly becoming obsessed with. Okay, not so slowly. The Speedies were a New York City band who played great power pop and liked to dress up in brightly colored clothes, kind of like an American version of the British band 999. They had one absolutely amazing single: Lemme Take Your Foto b/w No Substitute, which unfortunately I no longer own. To say we played both these songs thousands of times would be to underestimate how much we loved hearing it. We saw them live a bunch of times. They never came up with another single or an album to match this one, but they had great energy onstage, jumping around like crazy people, probably helped by some chemical stimulants, as the band name would suggest. They weren't punk (one or two were NYU students after all), but fit snugly into the new wave niche with their short quick bursts of well-crafted, tuneful, melodic pop. Check out their Website for a history of the band: www.speediesremix.com.

The Lords of the New Church - Open your eyes

Lords of the New Church was the band Stiv Bators formed in 1981 after the demise of the Dead Boys and the Wanderers. They were sort of a punk supergroup, with terrific guitarist Brian James from The Damned and I think the drummer and bassist from Sham 69, and sounded a lot like vintage Stranglers, even the Doors. I saw all of Stiv's musical incarnations live over the years, and while it's hard to top the Dead Boys, when me and Tony caught Lords at an obscure club I can't recall right now, they were just fucking intense that night, with a brooding, determined presence that matched the dark mood of songs like Holy War, Lord's Prayer and this one, Open Your Eyes. The first self-titled album has a great cover of A Question of Temperature as well as the band's credo New Church. Also later did a crazed cover of Madonna's Like A Virgin.

Eleven Criminally Overlooked Albums

the days of our nights - Luna
This was the first album I bought by Luna, although it turned out to be one of their last. I had heard the song 4,000 Days on the radio, I think on the Vin Scelsa show, and then a couple weeks later he had them live in studio where they played a bunch of songs from Days, and I was just blown away by how great they sounded. They were having record label troubles at the time and the album's release was held up for a while, sort of like what happened a few years later with Wilco's Hotel Yankee Foxtrot but not as hyped or celebrated. Ended up buying 3 or 4 more of their albums later, including Penthouse and Bewitched, and seeing them live 3 times, but this album I could listen all the way through and did like 4,000 times. Also includes a solemn cover version of Guns-n-Roses' Sweet Child of Mine.

streets of this town - Steve Forbert
Forbert's first album, 1978's Alive on Arrival, put him on the map as the new Dylan and is perhaps his best, most consistent overall record to this day, full of great acoustic folk-rock in the Neil Young, early Springsteen mold, but I assume you're already all over that one. In 1988, 10 years after his remarkable debut, he released Streets, a terrific collection of heartfelt songs like I Blinked Once, Mexico and Running on Love. Also check out Rocking Horse Head, another underrated Forbert album released in '96 and featuring most of Wilco as the backing band.

sleepy eyed - Buffalo Tom
Buffalo Tom were once belittled as Dinosaur Jr. Junior because of their early affinity for that noise band, also from Boston, and their first few late 1980s/early '90s albums were loud, raucous affairs combining the same combination of dissonance/melody that worked so well for bands like Nirvana and the Pixies. But Buffalo Tom kept evolving long after J. Mascis's band splintered apart, to the point where by 1994's Big Red Letter Day and especially 1995's Sleepy Eyed, they had something unique and special going. Part power-pop trio and part melancholy balladeers, often in the same song, Buffalo Tom often flew under the radar and to this day the mere mention of this underrated band will draw quizzical or even blank stares in response. All I can do is draw attention to this great collection of songs that grows more intimate with each listen. Grouped under the 1990s "alternative" umbrella, and therefore easily dismissed, but their lyrics and, yes, emotional pull set them apart in songs like Summer and When You Discover. As allmusic so rightly says in the opening line of their review, "Put Sleepy Eyed in your CD player, hit play, and prepare to be amazed." Nuff said.

brutal youth - Elvis Costello
It may be hard to think of an Elvis Costello record as overlooked, but this 1994 one came and went with nary a trace among the general public. I remember I got an advance copy in late 1993 from Mario, an Elvis Costello fanatic who I worked with at the Transcript, and couldn't believe what a return to form this was. Giving up the artsy/jazzy/classical pretensions exemplified by the pompous Juliet Letters, as well as most of his dreadfully derivative Little Jimmy Scott vocalizing, Costello comes up with a great bunch of unabashed rock songs, anchored by old backing band the Attractions and contributions from old soulmate Nick Lowe. Songs like Kinder Murder and Clown Strike will take over that spot in your cerebral cortex for weeks, just as the ones from My Aim Is True and This Year's Model did all those years before. And Just About Glad is one of the all-time great misogynistic spite-filled, hate-your-guts-now songs, just in case you're inclined to go in that direction. Sample lyric:

I'm just about glad I can look you in the eye
But I can't say the same for you
And though the passion still flutters and flickers
It never got into our knickers

For some inexplicable reason allmusic only gives this record 2 1/2 stars out of 5, saying the music lacks guts and calls the production "junkyard," whatever that means. That's just crazy talk. But again, it holds up well, which I can't say for most of Costello's work in the last 15 years.

burning questions - Graham Parker
Similar to Elvis, Parker has made so many different sounding records for so many different labels that it can be easy to miss overlooked gems like Burning Questions. Given a ridiculous 2 stars by the usually reliable Stephen Thomas Erlewine, this collection of 13 songs, Parker's 12th studio album, always had an indefinable something I found compelling. Parker has always been a bit of a cult artist, an acquired taste, but on albums like Squeezing Out Sparks and Mona Lisa's Sister, his undeniable force as a songwriter and singer came together perfectly. I would add Burning to that list. From an old-fashioned antiwar protest song (Short Memories) to clever Dylanesque-like feats of wordplay (Too Many Knots, Just Like Joe Meek's Blues) and beautifully tender ballads of old-fashioned unapologetic romance (Oasis, Long-Stemmed Rose), as well as several bristling doses of Parker the Angry Young Man, as he was once stereotyped (Release Me, Here It Comes Again), the album is all over the place, but in a good way.

sell sell sell - David Gray
I kind of stumbled upon this 1996 record by accident. It was still three years before White Ladder would break Gray in the States. I think I just liked the cover and figured the music had to have something going for it. Allmusic rightly calls it "raw and piercing" yet wrongly only gives it 3 stars to White Ladder's 4 1/2. I always preferred this record with its almost Marxist condemnation of economic Darwinism and existential isolation. Allmusic calls it "smart, melodic folk-rock done up with emotion and talent." That sums it up. Songs like Late Night Radio and Faster Sooner Now are showcases of Gray's immense songwriting ability -- haunting, brilliant stuff in the rarefied class of Blonde on Blonde-era Dylan. That's the highest praise I can give and I can't give no more.

heaven & the sea - Pete Shelley
Shelley of course was one of the driving forces behind the punk legends Buzzcocks along with Steve Diggle, both of whom had underrated solo careers following that band's demise in the early '80s. Shelley's first solo album Homosapien contained the dance club hit of the title track, as well as other melodic early electronica, but this overlooked third solo album from 1986 is actually the superior collection of songs; Shelley's second solo effort XL1 was released in 1983 and is in many respects a continuation of the dance-oriented pop on the first record. But although I concur with allmusic.com that Heaven & the Sea is a "layered/textured" recording, I disagree strongly that it contains a "lack of notable songs." Obviously this is all subjective, and writing about music is indeed like dancing about architecture, as someone probably much smarter than me pointed out one fine day. But again, I keep going back to the way good, subtle music can grow on you over the course of time, over the course of a lifetime, and these songs, once you relax and let them enter your subconscious, will infiltrate their way into your bloodstream. On Your Own has that pulsating electronic beat that Shelley could write in his sleep. If there are better love songs than I Surrender, I want to hear them. Shelley's lyrics here are as usual simple but somehow deeply evocative:

I feel you when I'm dreaming
So soft against my skin
There's no need to feel so guilty
There's no element of sin
As you reach your own conclusion
I began to lose control
Is the method in my madness
Like the sadness in my soul

Is it a great, landmark record? Probably not. Allmusic gives it 3 stars and that's about right, but for some intangible reason I always found it stirringly effective. What can I say...

modern - Buzzcocks
It's easy to overlook and fashionable to dismiss the punk reunions of bands like Stiff Little Fingers, Gang of 4, Mission of Burma and Buzzcocks. After all, if punk stood for anything in its prime, it was a lack of sentimentality and nostalgia. So when these bands decided to get back together, it was often derided as a cynical concession to the almighty buck at best and as proof that these artists' solo careers were floundering to nonexistent. That's a shame, because with that dismissive attitude you would have missed a record like the re-formed Buzzcocks' 1999 Modern, an energetic set of strong songs. Actually, three years earlier I caught the Buzzcocks live on the heels of the album All Set, which was released in 1996. That show was so fucking incendiary and brilliant that I think it shocked the audience with its intensity. People were probably just expecting all the hits, but some of the new songs from All Set and their first "reunion" record, Trade Test Transmissions, were just as amazing as anything off Singles Going Steady. Plus All Set and TTT had a remarkably clean, sharp sound that suited the new songs particularly well. Well, I thought tunes on Modern like Turn of the Screw and Soul on a Rock even surpassed the ones found on those first two comeback albums. Listen and see where nervous/twitchy bands like Green Day, the Strokes and Walkmen copped their sound. I first bought the vinyl version of Modern and found it to be a great album to work out to. The sound just bleeds off the record.

get a life - Stiff Little Fingers
Same story as Modern, only different band. After four remarkable albums and a glowing reputation as the "Irish Clash," the inevitable breakup occurred in 1982. But Belfast punk legends Stiff Little Fingers reformed in the late 1980s for a series of live shows in Ireland and England and the resulting tours were so brilliant that Jake Burns decided to reform the band. See You Up There is a terrific document that nicely captures the excitement and enthusiasm of both band and audience -- a symbiotic relationship that very few bands can lay claim to. The first reunion record, 1991's Flags & Emblems, found the boys a little hesitant in spots, although songs like Beirut Moon and Stand Up & Shout recapture some of the old magic. But by the time SLF released Get a Life in '94, as allmusic rightly puts it, "singer-guitarist Jake Burns figured out how to make those shopworn pop-punk chords ring true again, yielding one of the band's finest outings." These songs cover topics like the fall of communism (The Night That The Wall Came Down), political apathy (Get A Life), the plight of the immigrant (Harp) in an intelligent yet non-dogmatic manner. Jake Burns' guitar-playing here is a revelation, reminiscent somehow of Bruce Springsteen's on another often-overlooked album, Darkness on the Edge of Town -- nuanced, focused and stirring. The Jam's Bruce Foxton joined the band on bass for this record and all the subsequent ones. SLF released a few more records after this, but none match this one's power and intensity. It's bewildering to me how bands like U2 get an avalanche of praise for every mediocre record they release, while SLF has to play in the shadows.

white heat white light white trash - Social Distortion
Ironically, allmusic dismisses this album as overly "glossy" and gives this record a mere 2 1/2 stars, by far the lowest rated record in their catalog. That's just bullshit. But this is one of my all-time favorite records about redemption, rebirth and reawakening. Religious imagery competes with profane testaments of despair and self-abuse in some of the most powerful lyrical content. Basically a junkie's plea for a second chance in life, at least that's how I read it. Songs like I Was Wrong, Through These Eyes and Crown of Thorns reflect the narrator's harrowing plight, plus there's a great cover of the Stones' Under My Thumb. I cannot put this record on without being prepared for an emotional jolt that fires me up like very few records. As I said, it's about overcoming demons and it's not always pretty, but rock and roll needs more of its confessional power, despite what allmusic calls sentiments that are "too cliched and ham-fisted." Well, it works for me, and I'm the one talking here. But seriously, instead of listening to critics or even to me, go on amazon.com and read some of the heartfelt testimonials from the fans as they tell you what this record meant to them. In one post titled, Absolutely Gorgeous Agony, a reviewer sums up what the record means to his life, and I couldn't agree more: "Some may say that this CD is a bit depressing. Those people would be right but Ness's pain, loneliness, and frustration is beautiful to listen to unfold. In point of fact, this CD reminded me of why I love music so much. It allows you to explore the darker side of yourself and not to be afraid of it. Kind of scary, huh? When you're finished listening to the entire CD from start to finish, and I advise you to do so, you will feel spent, exhilarated and humming some of the songs all day. Magnificent, heartfelt writing coupled with virtuoso musicianship and recording standards of the highest caliber should result in this CD becoming a pillar in everyone's music library." Right on target!

what i deserve - Kelly Willis
Traversing the same confessional new country terrain as the more critically acclaimed Lucinda Williams and Dixie Chicks, Willis released a series of solo records in the early 1990s that were uneven and overproduced affairs. It wasn't until this 1999 record that it all came together for the beautiful songstress. The two songs that kick off the record, Take Me Down and the title track, were co-written by Willis with Gary Louris of Jayhawks fame, a very good start to this gorgeous, aching record. Like Lucinda, her voice just soars among the angels and it brings tears to my eyes just thinking how sweet it sounds. The album also has the feel of an artist awakening to her own potential, and there's an undeniable purity and sincerity here that seems almost otherworldly. That said, Side One is far superior to the second side -- I own it on cassette -- but that's only because of how shockingly memorable these simple declarations of love and identity prove to be. The highest praise I can give is that the best work here stands up to Lucinda's best work, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, and like that album it gives you a lump in the throat that you should never have to apologize for.

See also:

Hey Ho! It's Gone

Take a Bow, Bo

All Things Ziggy

Lux Interior

Beth Orton

Not For Sale

MP3 Madness

Shufflin'

A Bush Bash

Bottle Rockets