Meet Gritty! He's gritty!

Hey, everybody! I’m Gritty! I’m gritty! See my orange beard? It means I have grit! Playoff beard! Grrrr! I’m a gritty man/puppet who’s proven he can grow a beard!

Touch my beard, kids! I won’t bite, despite how gritty I am!

Flyers! Broad Street Bullies! Puck right to the teeth! We’re gritty! Grrrr! I’m so gritty, I leave a textured grit on the ice that the Zamboni must clean up!

I’m gritty! Just like gritty, blue-collar Philadelphia! Phillies and Eagles too! Grrrrit! We all carry lunch pails and wear hard hats here! All of us, to a man, longshoremen! All of us, even preteen girls, with playoff beards, even in the offseason!

I’m so gritty, my favorite movie is True Grit! Not the Coen brothers version—the original with gritty John Wayne!

I order my cheese steaks with Cheez Whiz, onions and extra grit! I grunt out my order at Pat’s! I get Amoroso’s crumbs all over my orange beard! I’m not like that genteel Phillie Phanatic, sticking his green pinkie in the air while sipping a latte!

Because I’m Gritty and I’m gritty!

I’m on the el! I’m stuck on 76! I’m talking trash at a Cowboys fan at the Italian Market!

Kensington! Fishtown! North Philly! Gritty!

I’m the grit under your fingernails after you change your oil! I’m the grit between your bathroom tiles! I’m the grittiest Muppet you’ve ever seen! I’m Gritty!

GRRRRRRR!!!!

11 Thoughts on the Mid-'80s to Late-Mid-'80s Discography of Starship

1. Does anybody else remember when 98 FM would play “We Built This City” and over the intro of the song, they would play, “We built Philly on rock and roll! WCAU-FM!”? I still can’t hear this song without the local intro. Then at the bridge when the DJ talks about San Francisco, 98 would play some stuff about Philadelphia over it, I think substituting the Walt Whitman Bridge for the Golden Gate Bridge from the original.

2. I remember being bitter when 98 switched from Top 40 to an oldies format. Now we’ve come full circle and the station is playing Starship songs and other ‘80s hits because they’re old enough to be oldies.

3. Some polls over the years have said “We Built This City” is the worst song of the ‘80s or even ever. It’s pretty bad but I don’t know about the worst. Not when “Don’t Worry Be Happy” and “Dear Mr. Jesus” came out in the ‘80s.

4. Sara … Sara … STORMS! Are brewing in your eyes …

5. “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” is apparently from Mannequin. I don’t remember this very well. My strong knowledge of ‘80s music is a contrast with my dim remembrance of ‘80s movies.

6. God, all the artwork from these singles is terrible. It looks like cut-out Shrinky-Dinks just thrown onto a piece of paper.

7. Did you know “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” was songwriter Diane Warren’s first number 1 hit? It’s the first of nine. Her first hit song was “Solitaire” by Laura Branigan.

8. I don’t know: did they really build San Francisco on rock and roll? I know the band has a soft spot for their city but I could think of better cities to illustrate this idea: Detroit, London, Philadelphia, etc.

9. I don’t know what horrible necromancy or alignment of the stars led Starship to score three number 1 hits on the Hot 100 from 1985 to 1987. It just shows that the doling out of number 1 hits can be random and not always indicate material that endures: Starship had three and Roxette had four. Aretha Franklin only had two.

10. No time … is a good time … for goodbye …

11. A few years ago, I drove past a sign saying Starship was playing in a park near work. Just a random park. It was 100 degrees that day. This was a 6:30 concert in June, so it wouldn’t even have been dark yet. Pass.

Backlash to the Backlash to the Backlash of #PSL

America is divided once again. It seems like for the past few years, the country has been toxically polarized by so many pressing issues. And now, it seems I must take sides.

The issue: Is it too early to drink pumpkin spice latte?

I really don’t care. I don’t drink these, am not sure if I’ve ever had PSL from Starbucks or somewhere else, and don’t have much interest in pumpkin. Yet a backlash rages in this country on the exact timing of the release of a seasonal beverage, and I must work myself up to join a side. Do I support the backlash to the late August release of pumpkin spice, or do I support the backlash to the backlash?

On one side, yes, it was rather hot at the end of August and it was disconcerting to see the stores carry a food substance derived from the spices of the pumpkin, which is not yet in season. I suppose I have not been as livid as I should have been about this agricultural revisionism. Do I want to join the backlash against PSL appearing so early? Shall I march with this faction?

Or do I want to join the backlash to the backlash? Should I be more florid with outrage at the shaming of people about their latte choices, or the vicious misogyny inherent in dismissing seasonal beverages? Who should I be yelling at here? Tell me and I will start making protest signs.

Perhaps there is another phenomenon I have not yet considered: The backlash to the backlash to the backlash. This might be people who think PSL comes out too late, and should have been served in the spring.

Regardless, I must choose my side soon—before we all start screaming about Christmas—and start getting apoplectic about something I don’t have much interest in one way or the other.

$

I can’t lie: I love money. I love getting it. I love giving it. I love saving it. I love spending it. I love budgeting it.

I am enamored with amortization.

I realize money is not the most important thing in the world, but it is pretty important, and to believe otherwise is either naïve or dumb. No, money can’t buy everything but here is a list of things that money can buy:    

·      Shelter

·      Food

·      Education

·      Medical care

·      Clothing

·      Utilities

·      Transportation

·      Child care

·      Entertainment

So you actually do need money for things. You can look at that sunset for free but eventually, you’ll get hungry, and you’ll need some cash for food.

I try not to be greedy. I try to give. I just want a level of security for myself and my family, and that takes money. I like to think I have a clear-eyed view of money, and that view dictates that in general, it’s better to have money than not have money. This is math. People say “Mo money, mo problems” but nobody ever says “Less money, fewer problems.”

Nothing in particular prompted this. I just balk at the person who breezily says “It’s only money” because that money can build a better life for someone who needs it. It’s not “only money” to them. I also get aggravated when I see people on TV and movies refusing cash because they don’t want their benefactor to own them or whatever. I’m screaming “Take the cash!” at the screen. I’d run to the bank so fast, there would be a cartoon smoke outline where I used to be. I’d take that benefactor’s money to wipe out some debt. You shouldn’t get assessed with money but for Christ’s sake, use your head about how best to employ an important life tool.

I actually have plans for if I ever find a large amount of cash on the ground with nobody around and no identifying information on the cash. I have plans for which debts to tackle first and how to spend such a windfall. I certainly wouldn’t drive down the highway and throw the money out the window and laugh like an idiot in a movie.

In conclusion, some people like to say you can’t throw money at your problems, but throwing money is actually pretty effective when the problem is debt.

When do the women get their redemption tour?

After a whole nine months out of the national spotlight—surely a punishment worthy of its own circle of hell—Louis C.K. is back, baby. He showed up unannounced to a comedy club last weekend and before he even told a joke, the audience gave a standing ovation to the uninvited onanist.

So I guess Louis is testing the waters to make some sort of comeback. Matt Lauer was also telling fans “Don’t worry. I’ll be back on TV.” (I know I was missing sleep over his absence.) I’m sure Charlie Rose, Harvey Weinstein and every other bathrobe-wearing pervert will be along soon. After all, it’s a time-honored tradition in showbiz to transgress, do your time, and then embark on a redemption tour.

One question: When do the women these people harassed get their redemption tour?

I have zero sympathy for any of these men and do not relish their re-embrace by the public. They sexually harassed women at work because they knew they could get away with it, and they did get away with it for years. Meanwhile, the women they preyed on ended up with trauma and ruined careers.

Among these people, Louis C.K. especially pisses me off. He caused women pain, turned that pain into art for himself, then rode that art to great fame, fortune and critical acclaim. The women he harassed are left only with their pain and further harassment by the public. Rebecca Corry spoke out against him after he masturbated in front of her and she lost her career:

“Since speaking out,” Corry explained, “I’ve experienced vicious and swift backlash from women and men, in and out of the comedy community. I’ve received death threats, been berated, judged, ridiculed, dismissed, shamed, and attacked.”

Is more Louis C.K. self-loathing comedy really worth the pain of all these women? Do people really need more of this man wallowing in how depraved he is (he was telling people how abusive he was all along in his comedy and everyone just laughed) for laughs at the expense of these women’s livelihoods?

I don’t think it’s worth it. I don’t think people like him are irreplaceable. I understand his fans miss Louis’s work (I liked Lucky Louie OK but I saw a few episodes of Louie and found it so depressing that I specifically request never to have to watch it again) but we should keep in mind that we may also be missing out on the work of talented women who were forced out of the industry for the great crime not wanting to watch their boss jerk off at work. I’d much rather see these women are doing OK than have to watch Louis’ inevitable triumphant return to the Emmys, complete with a vomit-inducing standing ovation from his peers.

Has Louis even learned? Who knows. Judging by last year’s “apology” statement, there’s no evidence that he has: “The power I had over these women is that they admired me. And I wielded that power irresponsibly … I also took advantage of the fact that I was widely admired in my and their community.”

“Power.” “Admired.” It’s like the guy’s still jerking off in front of people.

People like Louis C.K. deserve the chance to right themselves but I can see this turning into some kind of victory tour with accolades, and nobody should get a round of applause for treating people with a bare minimum of dignity by not whipping your dick out at work. People like him shouldn’t have to live on some island forever but we also don’t owe them HBO specials.

I’m sure Louis C.K. would have been able to live out life comfortably away from the spotlight with the money he earned by causing pain to women. The women, I assume, don’t have that luxury.

Failure Means You Failed

I forget exactly where we were recently (maybe the rest stop on our trip?) when I saw a knickknack that said something like “Failure means you tried.”

I have some questions. When is it ever appropriate to give such a knickknack to someone? Is there any way the message “Failure means you tried” can be anything but a backhanded compliment? You may be trying to make someone feel better about failure but you’re still calling attention to the fact that the person failed.

Also, where would one display such a knickknack? What, are you going to put it up at work so everyone who walks by your desk can see the word “failure” in an inspirational font? Do you really want coworkers to associate you, even subliminally, with the word “failure”?

I guess I see the point in giving this to kids to encourage them, and I do see the overall message that you shouldn’t give up. Like, maybe Faulkner’s work was rejected by several publishers or Einstein’s theories didn’t pan out at first, etc.

However, I disagree that failure always means you tried. For some dopey ding-a-lings out there, “trying” is like when a little kid tries to reach for a remote on the end table but won’t move from the chair to get it. He just wiggles his fingers and groans and says “It’s too far!” It’s cute when a kid does this but not for an able-bodied, able-minded adult. We’ve all seen this with drivers, customer service, etc.

Yeah, don’t give up. But “Failure means you tried” can enable incompetent behavior. I’m thinking of that person who screwed up (again) but “doesn’t let it get to me.” He slaps on a dimwitted smile and doesn’t think about it again. There, there: You just dig into that bowl of strawberry ice cream and look at that inspirational pencil holder of failure and keep not improving. You shouldn’t let your mistakes tear you apart but sometimes you need to let something get to you to spur you to competence.

Failure does mean you tried but you know what else means you tried? Success. Sometimes failure just means you failed.

I Don't Even Know

Sunday twilight deepens as the car moves farther south. The man is driving his 10-year-old son home from dinner with the family. As all parents do, the man wishes to pass down some cultural interests to his child. So he has made a playlist of some music he likes, mostly older stuff. 

“Hungry Like the Wolf” by Duran Duran plays. “You ever heard this song?” the man says to his son. “I was younger than you were when this came out.”

“No,” the child says.

The man furrows his brow. He’s really never heard this song? Maybe he should be more forgiving. After all, it was 35 years ago. After a few miles, the groovy bassline and anguished lyrics of “Billie Jean” start to play.

“So this is Michael Jackson. He was huge when I was your age. You ever hear any of his music?”

The child considers it, then goes back to his tablet. “I don’t even know.”

Really? Not even Michael Jackson rings a bell? But he was so huge for so long. Well, I guess he did die when my son was just a baby, the man thinks. Farther down the road, another 1983 classic plays.

“This is called ‘Let’s Dance’ by David Bowie,” the father says. “Your dad and I really like him. You know him?”

In the rearview mirror, he can see his son shrug. Wow. The hits just keep on coming.

Then, another stone-cold classic. Over a burst of synthesizers and electric guitar, Prince sings about his bold father and unsatisfied mother in “When Doves Cry.”

Daddy smiles. “Ah, Prince. He’s one of my very favorites. You’ll be hearing a lot of him in our house. You know this song?”

The 10-year-old speaks in an exaggerated hem and haw: “Ummm … No.”

Daddy’s smile fades. Entering his home state, he feels a sort of tightening in his chest. It’s a leaden thud that is not quite a heart attack but something equally dreadful.

Then the motherlode plays: “Like a Prayer.” Slashing guitar gives way to Madonna’s plaintive “Life is a mystery” gives way to a roiling bassline gives way to a gospel choir.

“And this is my favorite of all time: Madonna,” the man tells his son. “You know her? You ever hear this song?”

The child looks up from his tablet, as if he may say yes. The father’s heart leaps.

“I don’t even know.”

The father’s heart deflates. The song ends as he pulls into his driveway. The child bounds into the house as the man lingers in the driver’s seat. His head sinks lower and lower until his brow rests on the steering wheel. His bones suddenly turn to crystal. His blood suddenly slows to a crawl in his veins. He has never felt so weary.

And when he raises his head to look in the rearview mirror, he could swear—swear—he sees some crow’s feet that weren’t there before.