Naked Movie Reviews with Trevor & Curt

April 30, 2017

The First Movie Reviews of 2017…



I’ve been helping out a lot with the kid’s homework lately. Apparently my status is being called into question because I made up some fictional math terminology. They also think I invented a country.






I’m getting increasingly more annoyed with waiting in lines. I’ve just lost my patience over the years. When people don’t have their shit together or are on their phone it drives me nuts. Or when people are in the express lane but they have more than 15 items, and half those items are obscure produce that need price checks, that shit will give me an ulcer. 

I’ve watched myself grow more impatient over the years and its almost getting to the point where I say something. Just yesterday I sat forever behind two people who apparently had never been to a Jamba Juice and asked questions about every possible thing: “Well what’s the difference between Whey Protein and Soy Protein? Well which would you recommend?” 

They then proceeded to change their order, twice, and finally whipped out a coin purse and struggled for exact change. I audibly grumbled, which thankfully they didn’t hear, but I’m really close to being that guy that says something. It’s embarrassing. 


The Girl on the Train


If somebody with Athletes Foot walks around a hot tub, and then a person in the hot tub rests his neck on that spot, would he get Athletes Foot on his neck? And if so can we please call that Neckletes Foot!?


Sing Street


The book I’m currently reading is all about British history. I’m particularly impressed with the names of English towns. These people are fantastic at naming things! I mean I started out in the town of Little Dribbling and ended up in Great Snoring, by way of Pucklechurch.

And from there the names just keep getting better. Towns include: Upton Snodsbury, Mudford Sock, Bitchfield, Cockermouth, Barton in the Beans and my favorite: Nether Wallop. Shit! I forgot my other favorite: Bishop’s Itchington. I’m not making these up, go look for yourselves. And that last one correctly has an apostrophe, so that means at some point the Bishop had an Itchington. That sounds like something I would say late at night to the kid. (On a side I want to point out that these names can all function fantastically as fake dog breeds that I use in the dog park.)

In addition nothing in Great Britain is ever just Notting, its Nottingham, or better yet Nottinghamshire. I’m getting quite a chuckle out of it. I think I would have been great back in the 16th century helping name these villages and squares. I would have been the one in the back of the town council meeting trying to add a few extra suffixes to everything. 

The president of the board would announce: “Currently up for voting is the name of East Ruther.” 

And people would mumble “Oh, yes, East Ruther is a fine name.” 

I would then subtly cough out “East RutherFORD.” 

The council members would then mumble “Ah yes, East Rutherford is a more strapping name, harrumph, harrumph.” 

I’d then slyly change sides of the aisle and call out “East RutherfordSHIRE!” 

“Oh smashingly good sir! East Rutherfordshire it shall be!” 

And then, like at an auction, I would keep raising my racket and bidding it up. 

“I say East RutherforshireHELM!” 

“Mumbles of approvement from the crowd.

“Maybe even East RutherfordshirehelmFORTH!” to a smattering of claps from the crowd.

”I say, moving notion chap! Harrumph!”

And then the dagger, I’d stand up and proclaim:

“East Rutherfordshirehelmforth THE FIFTH!!!”

And the place would go nuts!

“All for East Rutherfordshirehelmforth The Fifth say “I”!”

Of course I have taken to instituting this English way of naming things into my daily life. My wife (Mrs. RollingHerEyesbrooke) hasn’t laughed yet, but I think the dog has taken a liking to his new nickname: Leonardfordshirehelmforth the 5th Duke of Uploading. And like the American I am, I have whittled that down to simply Lenny, which after a few days has felt oddly familiar.




Near my sister’s house there is a large utility box that somebody has scrawled a message on. The lettering is notably unique as they used masking tape to outline the letters, and let it sit there for months, or years. Then the masking tape was removed, or withered away with the weather, and it left an imprint that reads: “Leave Nerd!” 

It’s my favorite piece of graffiti, ever.


Captain Fantastic


The first year I had my dog he ate (or drank) an entire bottle of vegetable oil. God I love that dog.


Hell or High Water


I was in good seats on the first base side of Wrigley Field on a normal sunny humid day in Chicago. I was probably 10 years old or so watching my hero’s in their pinstripes on the ballfield and I remember seeing for the first time the bald spot on the back of one of my idol’s heads. It was after a play where he was thrown out at second base. His helmet got knocked off in the play and he waited there patiently while his teammates brought him his hat and glove. And there it was, I couldn’t beIieve it. My childhood hero was just a mere mortal man. And a man who suffered from male pattern baldness. 

It was later in life that I realized we all have that bald spot in our lives, it’s just a little more glaring when you’re in the spotlight.

This movie was great, go see it.


Swiss Army Man


Dear Wes Borland, I am making Swiss Army Man my Movie of the Year. I have been telling everybody to watch it but nobody has. I think they are missing out. I am so glad that there are artists out there making wonderfully bizarre films like this. I loved it, I think you should watch it.


La La Land


Has anybody noticed that Trader Joe’s hires the friendliest people!? Every time I need help they are so accommodating. Sometimes I don’t even need help, I just want to meet a new friend. 

The employees always have the best attitude. When you ask: “hey where are the granola bars?” The person stops what they’re doing and is like “Let’s me and you have have a little adventure together and go find the granola bars!” I love it, I wish every store had employees like this. 

The wife and I saw this movie in the theater, I didn’t think it lived up to all the hype.


Kubo and the Two Strings


Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong century.


Valhalla Rising


We get fair amount of song requests and some of them are great, some funny, some stupid. Makes me think of Bruce Springsteen, who plays a bunch of requests at every show. People bring handmade signs and hold them up and then he just calls it. It’s impressive and I respect it.

Speaking of Bruce Springsteen, that reminds of the greatest group of softball mercenaries ever to walk the earth: The Bruce Springsteens. This story has its roots in a long ago tour I was on with some other musicians. We had the day off and were having beers at a downtown bar in Milwaukee. The bar had a bunch of old sports photos, some of minor league teams, some of the bar’s softball team, and we were struck by the wide and wonderful array of strange mascot names for these teams: The Toledo Mud Hens, The Hartford Yard Goats, The Montgomery Biscuits.

So the 3 of us asked each other: if we were to start a team of some sort, what we would call ourselves? There were a few funny ideas and a few bad ones, and then we stumbled on the gem of the day: The Bruce Springsteens.

We laughed about this and it became a conversational touchstone for months to come.Then the summer came and a rival group of friends challenged us to a game of Sloshball in San Francisco. Naturally we accepted that challenge and like the competitive bastards we are, we decided to make uniforms, with numbers, and of course we named ourselves The Bruce Springsteens. 

We kicked the shit out them. We then went on and kicked the shit out of another team in the neighborhood. Our heads began to get bigger and we decided to enter into a co-ed softball league. We won it. We were the kings of the under-world of San Francisco pick up sports.

It was then that we decided to put ourselves out for hire. Anybody who wanted to kick the shit out of somebody else in team sports could hire us. Thus was born the greatest group of sports mercenaries in the Bay Area: The Bruce Springsteens.

We’re still available for the record. We’ve lost some spring in our step, some of us put on some weight, a few knees have been blown out, but we still got it.


The Founder


“Writing songs is like trying to catch a bird. Sometimes you just end up with a handful of feathers. And sometimes you go out for a drink and wake up in Singapore with a full beard.”


The Handmaiden 


Don’t paint with the broad and clumsy brush of generalization. The way you think the world is is not the way everybody else thinks the world is.

There are people who argue to get it right, and there are people who argue to be right. I’d like to think I’m the former, and if you ever want to discuss things, lets try to get it right.


Hunt for the Wilderpeople


My dad taught me how to build potato guns. Growing up we made countless potato guns, some big, some small, some that used hair spray, some that used pure oxygen, some that used a firing mechanism, others that operated only on a match thrown in a hole. We made potato guns for uncles and cousins and gave them out at Christmas. 

It was great thing to be a part of. For those of you who have built and fired your own potato gun you know what I speak of. We would shoot potatoes out over the lake, we would shoot potatoes through the field goal posts at the high school football field. We would go out to the dump and shoot as far as we could. Sometimes the potatoes themselves would catch on fire and you were treated to a beautiful spectacle of a flaming potato hurtling through space.

I think the farthest we ever shot one was over the lake where I would guess it went went a few football fields in length, a glorious shot. There were plenty of duds to go along with it, the most spectacular dud coming on Christmas day when we gave my Uncle John a shiny brand new potato gun and we all excitedly went to the deck off the back of the house, loaded it up and…..thump. A limp potato jumped about 3 feet out of the barrel and plopped down near our feet. 

That same Uncle was also the one who got knocked over from a potato gun recoil. It was out on a frozen lake in northern Wisconsin and after the shot I looked back and there he was, all sprawled out in the snow. It was a glorious shot if you were wondering, which made it worth it.

Fast forward to my college years in Santa Cruz where my friends and I continued the tradition.  One night we were shooting potatoes in the backyard when our housemate Jessica came out and in a drunken swagger said “give me that thing, I’ll show you how to shoot it.” She took the potato gun and basically hip shot it, hit the bullseye dead center and knocked over the target altogether, `mic-dropped’ the potato gun and was out. It was awesome. 


Microbe and Gasoline


I have an itchy scalp. I can’t stand it


Rogue One


One of the many problems with social media is this Outrage Blender that everybody gets thrown into. Why is everybody SO upset about everything!? Why is it that you CAN’T BELIEVE something happened? Is it because you are detached from the actual thing and are writing about it in some ethereal cyber space that makes you that much more outraged? Is there some existential emotional balance that is disturbed by us living so much through social media? Why can’t we just calmly disagree? Why is everybody so worked up? I don’t get it.

And speaking of outrage…why in the world didn’t they have more Darth Vader in this movie!? I mean who was there making this movie and saying, “yah, let’s keep this awesome character to the absolute minimum screen time.”


Nocturnal Animals


I remember when my friends and I were growing up we would play all sorts of stupid pranks on each other. One of my favorites was when 3 of us dudes were driving in a one-bench pickup truck, the kind where all three of you sat right next to each other in a row. If we saw a girl or somebody down the road, the person sitting in the passenger seat next to the window would duck way down so nobody from the street could see him, all you could see were two dudes sitting right next to each other in the truck. That shit still makes me laugh.




The Cubs won the World Series. I know a lot of people won’t understand it, and that’s just fine, but it was one of the greatest moments of my life. We tried to put the kid to bed when the rain delay came, but she quickly came back upstairs when she heard me yelling. I think I’m gonna be able to ride this victory through my 40s.

My hope and prediction is that the Cubs will win the next 3 World Series in a row, and then go on to win the Super Bowl the following year. 




July 19, 2016

Naked Movie Reviews with Trevor and Curt – 2016

Slow West


I will often times give people fake breeds when they ask what type of dog I have. I don’t do it to be a dick; I do it just to entertain myself. Besides, I don’t actually know my dog’s pedigree. My best guess, given his size and snoring habits, is some cross between a deer and an exhaust manifold.

Anyway, some of my favorite breed names have been: Grundleplith, Romanian Hotfarm, Dipshit, King Ding Carpeter,  Larry Beezler, French Twelve Leaner and Miniature Donkeybear.





The other day my brother-in-law asked me, “When you guys stage dive, jump in the crowd or dance on tables, do you ever fall down?”

The answer is yes. All the time.

The end of the Tour


I tried a VR headset for the first time. Admittedly both fun and amazing, this incredible new technology left me only with an acute sense of anxiety. Virtual Reality is gonna take over the world, there is no way it won’t, and I am gonna be here for the start of it. 

We are gonna have to develop some machinery, something inside our guts, to help us turn off unreserved pleasure. Technology is only gonna get better and better. And it’s gonna get easier and easier, and more and more convenient and more and more pleasurable to be alone with images on a screen, given to us by people who do not love us but want our money. Which is fine. In low doses. But if that’s the basic main staple of your diet? You’re gonna die. In a meaningful way, you’re going to die.

Soaked in Bleach


I need a team of scientists to figure out my hair. It baffles me, still. After years of following me around, I’m confident these scientists would scratch their heads and hypothesize something like: “The main winding was of the normal lotus-o-delta type placed in panendermic semi-boloid slots in the stator, every seventh conductor being connected by a nonreversible trem’e pipe to the differential girdlespring on the ‘up’ end of the dingle arm.”

This movie was recommended to me by a friend and it took me by surprise. I was unaware that it was being questioned whether Kurt Cobain actually killed himself. If you are interested in true crime and/or Nirvana, check this out.

The Big Short


Near our house there is a mall that we go to a few times a year. The kid really enjoys it because she gets to ride the Horse Tornado.

Now it’s my right as a parent to teach my kid how to relate to the world. However, I should probably start thinking about how I’m gonna talk my way of out it.

The intervention might not happen when she shouts “Horse Tornado!” at a carousel or when she screams “Creeping Rack Disease” as she points at somebody with hat head or pillow indentations on their cheek, but I’m fairly confident that the principal will call me in to explain why the kid says in a mock asian accent, “Oooooooh, nooder sooop, vary goood fo yu,” every time noodle soup is served in the cafeteria.

Animal Kingdom


I know Curt’s mom reads this occasionally so we try to watch our language, but we do a shit job of it. We also are pretty uncensored as far as our subject matter so read these reviews at your own risk. This was a good indy film, go find it somewhere.

Mississippi Grind


2016, the year of Alexander Hamilton.

You ever have that book in the pile of books that you know you should read, but it keeps getting pushed down in favor of more interesting and compelling reads. You keep it there on the nightstand, at the bottom of the pile and it just stares at you, making you feel guilty for putting it off. I have that with the biography of Alexander Hamilton. It’s just fucking sitting there, staring me down. This is going to be the year though, I can feel it. 2016! The year of Alexander Hamilton!!

Seven Psychopaths


I’m that guy digging through the huge bin of discount DVDs at Best Buy. You’ll find me with my legs up in the air wiggling around as I’m face down plumbing the depths of the barrel. “Found it!”

I can also be seen nosing through the 12 DVDs on sale at gas stations. Books are the same way with me. They like to surround me, and scream at me even.

Anyway, if I come across this movie I’m gonna buy it. Sam Rockwell as the lead, a cameo by Tom Waits, Christopher Walken in a starring role. It’s witty, irreverent, funny. Great movie. I look forward to nerding out on all the bonus features. Some funny lines from the movie:

Hans: An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, I believe that wholeheartedly.

Billy: No it doesn’t. There’ll be one guy left with one eye. Hows the last blind guy gonna take out the eye of the last guy left, who’s still got one eye! All that guy has to do is run away and hide behind a bush. Gandhi was wrong, it’s just that nobody’s got the balls to come right out and say it.


Charlie: Should’ve brought that gun along, buddy.

Marty: I don’t believe in them.

Charlie: In guns? You don’t believe in guns? They ain’t fucking leprechauns, you dumb Mick.


Hans: “I know you said dream sequences are for fags, but I think it could work, don’t you? We all gotta dream don’t we…..not just fags. Oh by the way I don’t think they like being called that anymore.

The Revenant


I’m gonna start helicopter pilot training. Believe it, Goose. One of these shows I’m gonna chopper in.

My parents always taught me to follow my dreams. Or maybe they didn’t, I can’t remember. Maybe that was just something I picked up from a bumper sticker, or a bad TV show.

Last Christmas as I was passing down my parents’ teachings to a nephew professing “You can do whatever you want”… my parents stopped me and said, “You know, we never actually said that. We wanted you to be an Electrician.”

The Funny thing is they were serious, and haven’t given up. I still regularly get electrical manuals and wiring handbooks for my birthday. It’s true, ask the wife.



Social graces 101: Lesson 703.B-1: For the love of god, please eat with your mouth closed.

The Good Dinosaur


I forget if I’ve told the story but I was just sitting here thinking about it and started laughing to the point of tears, again….

About 6 years ago, this was back when my dog would share the bed with me, I woke up early one morning and began to read in bed. The dog casually opened an eye, looked at me and promptly went back to sleep. As I lie there reading he began to dream and in his dream he began to run. Those of you who’ve had sleep running dogs know how amusing it is so I just sat back and watched him as he chased something in his sleep.

Realize that this dog is large so him running in his sleep is a big production. His legs were kicking towards me and his back was up against the other edge of the bed. Gradually his kicking got more and more animated and he started letting out little whimpers and yips. What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion and I watched it all unfold right in front of me. The dog got so animated in his sleep running that he kicked his way right off the side of the bed.

The thing about a large dog falling off the bed in his sleep is the complete lack of reaction. It’s like a huge sack of potatoes, it doesn’t fall all at once. One end starts to go over and the the rest just gets pulled behind it, potato by potato. His head went first, which pulled his long legs skyward and then over, this of course pulled the rest of him,  yet his legs kept running in air until his head hit the ground.

Every part of his body made a different sound when it hit the hardwood floor. HIs head a higher pitched thud than his torso which was a succession of low meaty tones followed lastly by his legs and feet which were of a higher thinner variation.

As the milk flew out of my nose, the dog woke up and proceeded to panic. This doubled my laughter because he was upside down and completely confused which led all four legs to kick wildly in the air trying to find the ground, which of course was in the opposite direction than it normally is. He finally righted himself and in so doing knocked his head on the nightstand table which sent the lamp crashing down. This threw him into a secondary panic that resulted in him running backward into the bookshelf bumping it hard with has hind section. There is where he finally just stopped, I assume hoping for this nightmare to end.

I was wiping the tears from my eyes and trying to catch my breath as he just stood and stared at me like “What the hell was that!?” He shook himself, looked around the room, and then just climbed back in bed. I love that dog.



Years back my buddy went to the doctor. It was a routine examination and during it he had a friendly discussion about some problems he was having with his girlfriend. After a few laughs the doctor paused and then eloquently said: “Women have little chance at sanity considering the chemical chaos they have swirling within them.” I think of this from time to time. I love my wife but god damn sometimes she is crazy.



A common question we get is how and where we write songs. Sadly there is no magical answer. It’s really a bizarre and elusive craft. Some of the most complex songs get written while on the couch watching TV. Some of the simplest songs take years,  others just come out of the ground like an eggplant and all you have to do is pick it up. You never know.

Some songs ripen and change, some tell you when they’re done and others are never done. Some are just right and others just aren’t right. There are the songs you work on and work on, replacing this part for that, taking the arm off that one and putting it on the other. Maybe take the head off the one collecting dust in the shed, replace it with the muffler from the truck. You never know.

Its like birds setting out to fly for the first time. Some fly, others just crash to the ground. Some of those you pick up, slap some duct tape on it and send it out again. Maybe it crashes again, maybe it needs more than duct tape. I think I saw an old refrigerator in the back yard, maybe that has some parts we can use. You never know.


The Lobster


I forget where I heard this but one of the greatest insults you can say is “Who’s this clown?” because it implies that A) they’re a clown and B) they’re not even one of the better known clowns.

I haven’t even seen this movie, I just put the picture up to remind me I want to see it.

The Hateful Eight


I do not condone my bandmates style of dress. I am often embarrassed by their daytime clothing choices. I understand that I myself have always appreciated, enjoyed and respected well dressed people. I love walking around Paris and New York, fashion is a form of artistry that I connect with. I realize not everybody thinks like me nor has this affinity, which is fine. However, I will contend that there has to be a fundamental level of common sense and general courtesy to fellow citizens of the earth. You don’t have to look at yourselves but other people do.

With the dudes I feel like I’ve even been trying to tilt the scales, attempting to balance it out a bit. I’m putting my good shoes on for breakfast, showing up for soundcheck in a suit and tie, hell I’m even doing it at home. I come up for dinner in a 3 piece suit and an ascot and the wife and kid don’t even bat an eye.

Steve Jobs


I walked into a Pete’s Coffee the other day and they had this big community cork board where they took polaroids of the regulars. The locals would then write something on the picture and they would pin it up on the board. I had 5 minutes to kill so I just started to read em. My favorite one: picture of a cute girl and her message: “I hope the fetus that you save grows up to be gay.”



Anybody who knows me knows I am an unabashed sports junkie. You’ve probably seen me out at the bar before the show yelling at the TV. Here’s the thing though, the music industry is not filled with seamheads and ballers. It’s full of  `artists’ who deem sports as superfluous. It’s a desert out here for any good sports discussions. I can make the dudes’ eyes immediately glaze over by uttering only the word “Lebron.”

Just understand that sports is merely one platform for looking at the world. One way of understanding and engaging with things larger such as education, politics, economics, religion, leadership, math, love  etc. I bet you have your own platform and I won’t judge it. I consider myself well read, well traveled, well cultured etc, and sports has given me some of the most profound insight into all the wonderful and terrible corners of emotion, thought, culture, race, politics and humanity. It’s just one of the great many tools to understand the world.

So yah, if you see me sitting watching a game, come say hi. I’ll buy you a drink and we can yell at the TV.

Straight outta Compton


Speaking of sports, I cannot begin to tell you how excited I am for the Cubs this year. 2016, the year of Alexander Hamilton and the Chicago Cubs. Maybe the wife and I can do our anniversary in Chicago this year…. She won’t like that. Or maybe she will, I don’t know. How do you even broach that subject? Can you get in trouble for even bringing something like that up? Shit, I’m already psyching myself out…. Now when I ask she’ll see it all over my face that I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I’ll be sweating, breathing heavy, forgetting my script because the writing on my hand is smeared….She’ll get upset and say “Well how long have you been thinking about this!? Were you not gonna include me in your plan?” I just know it, it’s not gonna go well.

Either way, wouldn’t it be cool to go back and spend a weekend at Wrigley Field!? She might like that, or at a minimum, she would tolerate it, right!? I’m already starting to sweat.

Sherlock Holmes


Here are some hipster baby names that require some real courage;

  1. Lieutenant
  2. The Fourth
  3. Brucespringsteen
  4. Fist


Stop annoying me with your weak attempts at unique baby names.

Star Wars: The Force Awakens


I took the kid to see the new Star Wars. There might be as much joy in watching Star Wars as there is watching a kid experience it for the first time.

We’ve been doing the original trilogy leading up to The Force Awakens. Big movie nights, inviting the dog up on the couch, cranking the sound, dressing up as Han Solo. It’s been great. It gives me the excuse to eat pizza, the kid gets her movie candy, the dog gets his cigarettes, everybody’s happy. The wife still brings some weird smelling kale bowl but we make her eat it in the other room. Good times.



July 18, 2016


Movie Reviews





It is gratifying to discover that mankind is still capable of finding new ways of being weird.

I sometimes worry about the current deficit of wonder in the world. With the increasing digitization of society, where are we to go for a sense of wonderment? Anytime a thought or question comes up, we go to our phone or laptop and look it up. There we find an exact and quantifiable answer, we don’t spend time in awed fascination anymore. We don’t sit and wonder about the stars, we don’t wonder about the life Edvard Grieg lived, we don’t wonder what it would be like to be live in Nova Scotia.

We still have curiosity, but with the decline of wonder are we perhaps losing some of our imagination!? Are we not pushing or stretching our minds as far as we once did? Life is beginning to resemble a science fiction scenario where organisms and machines share a common superfluity. With so much information floating around, is it really a surprise we’ve lost some of our awe and admiration? 

It’s movies like this that make me happy there are still people and artists out there wondering. People and artists who are just taking it out there. 




We have this funny thing happening at the house. I think it happens every summer, or every ‘allergy season’ (whatever that means). Our dog gets his itches and allergies that lead to some obsessive licking. Now we give him meds and look after him but he will still do some serious licking, which is loud, unhealthy, persistent and annoying as hell.

What happens is when we walk out of the room, he will start licking, thinking he is secretly getting away with something. This licking can be heard clear across the house and forces us to yell his name, to try to get him to stop. Only we don’t yell his real name, we yell his nickname, which is “Turds.”

Here is what I realized… more often than not I am yelling while I am in the bathroom. I asked wifey and she agreed, odd as it may seem the yelling happens most often in the bathroom. So this means that on a consistent and daily basis, both of us are yelling “Turds!” multiple times from the bathroom. Now I am sure, because we live in close quarters to our neighbors (and to the sidewalk), that people hear all of this. I can’t know for sure what people must think about this daily declaration of “Turds!” coming from our bathroom window, nor of the odd combination of irritation and fervor with which we yell it, but I would guess they would have to surmise some sort of excited vocal confirmation of this basic human act.

To heighten the effect, and add a nice complexity to the issue, the 6 year old started copying us as well. So hopefully now at least people think we are great proponents of tradition.




Best Picture 2015






I believe my parents might still be holding out hope that I will become an Olympic athlete. I remember doing all those weird events growing up. Shot put, discus, high jump. None as weird as Pole Vault, which basically seems like a dare made by drunk acrobats.




I didn’t want to believe it, but this movie is undeniably good. Even the kid loved it. There were a few swear words but the dick jokes went over her head. A big, well done,  funny, irreverent kind of space epic. It’s a story I would love to have written and worked on.

I have the Great American Novel in my head. I started to write it but committed a fatal flaw by killing off the main character in the first chapter. But it’s still up there, and maybe if I didn’t spend so much time writing these stupid movie reviews I could finish it.




Having a big brown Great Dane is kind of like walking around with a deer on a leash. I swear. People freak the fuck out.






Dear Christopher Nolan, please cut your movies in half. This movie could have been excellent, but too much was packed into it.  Spend some time in the editing suite bro.
And please hone your philosophical knife. There are 34 grand conceptual issues trying to be addressed and they all spill messily out of your hands. Just grab a few and really hold them.
I still enjoyed it visually, but you’re better than this. Pull it together.







Interesting fact: Penguins can jump up to 9 feet in the air. No shit. Another interesting fact: a traffic jam in Beijing lasted 9 days.
This movie is incredible, go see it.








I love hotels, always have. Growing up we used to go to a Holiday inn for like a family vacation and I think I still hold a reverence for them. I love everything about em, I jump on the beds, wear the bath robes, order room service etc.

The family was traveling recently and we stayed at a hotel that had pay-per-view movies that were playing in the theater. (How the hell does that even work!?) Anyway we started watching Nightcrawler after the kid fell asleep and we were liking it. Jake Gyllenhaal is officially an actor. About an hour in the movie suddenly shut off, some technical glitch, and we couldn’t get it back. We were bummed, we called the front desk, no dice. We had to wait for 2 months to see the end.

The end wasn’t as good as the start, maybe it had something to do with being a hotel, I just love em.





I wanted to rent this movie the other day but the kid said: “ We already saw that!”

I don’t remember seeing it.





Social graces 101, I swear I was placed on this earth to write the syllabus.

Subject 4G; Don’t drive like an ass. Why are you peeling out down a residential street? Seriously why dude? 

Subject 12C: Just be kind, everybody is fighting a struggle.

Subject 27E: Rescue dogs, don’t go to breeders. Do you realize that 1.2 million dogs are put down every year because they can’t find a home! Jesus. Fucking people.









I am waging a war against my backyard. The backyard is currently winning. It’s an interesting fight, one I didn’t expect myself to be in at this point in my life. I always imagined myself battling other major league athletes on the field, or fighting evil in the streets with other superheroes. But here I am in a bathrobe and a cup of coffee, cursing the weeds, scratching my head, angrily coming up with new strategies.

I guess its just part of manhood, owning a house, broken toilets, burning toast and crazy women. But it’s part of my life, it’s my battle and I’m gonna fight it. I’m running onto the field with sword in hand. God damn it I’m gonna have the yard I want, I’m an adult!

The antagonists in this movie battle a nuisance in their backyard and that nuisance is Mr. Fox, voiced by George Clooney. Just one of the many stars who lend their voices to this movie. What a gem of a movie. We watched it last night and the thought of it glides gently across my mind as I swear at the dirt.








I hate leaf blowers. They are one of the worst noise polluting things out there and our neighbors are obsessed with them.

If and when I run for public office it will be my platform to get rid of them.

Duke Carmichael for Comptroller.

Down with leaf blowers.








I don’t understand why my car is always dirty. Inside and out. It is absolutely impossible for me to keep my car clean. Even remotely clean. I officially give up. I’m deciding right here and now that this will be one less thing that gives me stress. My car will be dirty and that is just who I am. This is now officially a part of me, one way people will describe me, an annoying or endearing quality, a visible factor in my existence, some extra dirt and dust in my vicinity as I constantly move and change while hurtling forward on this giant spinning rock in space. I think I’m cool with it. The dog obviously doesn’t mind.

Saw Birdman. Loved it. Not at all what I expected. It made me realize how much I like Michael Keaton.







I have an accordian, it’s a good one too. I’d like to learn it solely for the purpose of waking up the six year old.








I really want a good sports interview. I am growing more and more tired and flippant of the benign, cliched and utterly boring sports interview. This goes for players as well as coaches, GM’s, the whole lot. I want somebody who is funny and self deprecating, someone who is clever, well spoken and bizarre. I want somebody who is comfortable in front of a camera, somebody who could go toe to toe with Colbert. I want the script to be thrown out.

I understand the need for professionalism at work and in appearance. I’m just being grumpy, I just want somebody who will make me laugh after the game. I understand that these are athletes, skilled in arenas outside comedy, improv and  forensics. But I’d like to think there’d be a handful of players who would break the mold.  I mean, I’m in the entertainment business, but I can hold my own in a game of pick up.





Great and weird, knew nothing about this movie going in and couldn’t pull myself away. Scarlett Johannson goes full nude here, didn’t even know it was coming. What a great little gift in the middle of this wonderfully bizarre little indie flick.







Some blvrbs come easy, like soda from a fountain. Like a potato picked from the ground. Others are hard, they require physics and math. They involve viscosity and thermal dynamics. I imagine the same with movies, scripts, songs, paintings etc.

I watched this movie with the kid, I thought it was awesome, the kid was like “eh, I’ve seen better.” Made me realize the high level of skill and craftsmanship in today’s movie world, it’s a high bar. I can’t believe the amount of work and talent that goes into it. Lots of viscosity and thermal dynamics man.






Russell Crowe as Noah


After 16 years hosting the Daily Show, Jon Stewart is stepping down. The news is hitting the internet like somebody died.

I met him once, years ago. A friend was working with him and we were invited to a Christmas party. I was chatting with Larry Wilmore when all of a sudden a small guy in a leather jacket and raggedy ball cap was standing next to me. At second glance I realized it was Jon. I introduced myself, somebody brought us beers and we shared small talk for a minute. Upon leaving I said I was a big fan, and then added “nice work.” The next day I cursed myself for saying that. What a stupid thing to say, “nice work,” like he needed to hear that. I didn’t realize it then, but I realize now that I couldn’t have said anything better. That’s exactly how I feel, then and now.

Nice work Jon, nice work.







Its hard to go to the movies these days. Does anybody agree with me? I mean I can close my eyes, cringe and give them my credit card, I know it’s costing me $127 just to get it, but what comes afterward is what bothers me most. Sure the Milk Duds for the 6 year old cost $8, the wife’s popcorn cost $12, but they tried to charge me $6 for an empty cup….


“No, I’d just like to fill it with water from the water fountain.”

“Ok sir, I need to charge $6 for the cup.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes sir, it’s our policy.”

“No seriously, are you fucking kidding me!?”

“Sir, there are children around.”

“Yah, I know, that one there is my fucking kid.”

At that point I got a gentle tug from my mature half and we carried on to our theater, me still grumbling. Now the last few years I have been going to movie theaters in the Los Angeles area, where you think the audience would be , I don’t know, movie-considerate !? Nope, people are having all out conversations, half the teenage girls are on their cell phones, the person directly behind me has been slowly opening some plastic food device for the last 35 minutes, the fat dude to my right chews his nachos so loudly it haunts my dreams that night. Whole families come 20 minutes into the movie, and then discuss in normal voices where they might fit.

Some might really enjoy this community style viewing. I do not. I also wonder if it is affecting theater attendance and the movie business in general. I am sure there are a team of scientists working on this very problem, I’m sure a bunch of studies are out there, I have not read one of them. But my take away, unless you can sneak in a full wine and cheese board into an empty matinee, going to the movies just might not be worth it.

Give me my big ass flat screen, surround sound, and my comfy couch. Hell I don’t even need pants on, and I’ll still shush my wife.








I watched this on a day off. It took me about 5 hours to get through because I kept stopping and starting it. Fucker is long, but I really enjoyed it. I laughed out loud at the country club Quaalude scene and I thought Leo killed it. And for whatever reason it made me really horny so I had buttsex with the wife that night.







Have I talked about my idea for a Social Graces class yet!? Seriously, maybe in High School, maybe before, but you would need to take it and graduate it , like Drivers Ed, and then you would get a social license so you could go out in public. Ok here’s the deal….

First day of class:

-OFF before ON. Allow people to exit an elevator before you enter it. This applies to pretty much everything: trains, busses, bathrooms, etc…

Other subjects:

-Noise Pollution. This is a real thing people, I have sensitive ears so I am extra aware of it, but let’s start getting a grip on all the noise we are putting into the environment.

-Phone etiquette. There will be a whole semester devoted to this. Don’t even get me started. I just popped a blood vessel thinking about it!

So many things bother me out in the world. My friends laugh at me and say that I’m an asshole, but I don’t think so…for example I let people go ahead of me if they have less groceries, I help women lift their strollers on the curb, I am extremely Socially Grace Conscious!!!! I’m an adult !!!

Now granted my wife would say that I have a lot of things I can work on and I won’t deny that. This is why we need a whole panel of people to build the curriculum. I am currently taking applications.

Dallas Buyers Club was epic by the way.







It was probably the well timed Vicodin, or the half bottle of wine, but this movie tops my list. I thought I was on acid, with all the colors, and 3D shit going on. Wow. I cried like a baby at the climactic scene in the landfill. I am tearing up right now just thinking of it. What a great movie. God damn it, great fucking movie.







Sometimes I think free agency is ruining sports. It makes people just root for laundry. I was at an A’s game the other day and half of the jersey’s people were wearing were for people who don’t even play for them any more. I know its the nature of the business, but it just kinda makes me sad. I grew up around Chicago where Ryne Sandberg played his entire career as a Cub. He was my IDOL !!! I want that for kids these days. A real hero. A guy who doesn’t leave town, even if their team stinks.

Now hear me , I read all the articles and listen to all the podcasts, I understand it’s a new era. America is built on upward mobility and its the nature of the business. Individuals need to find their niche and build their “brand,” companies need to deal with salary caps, unions and regulatory committees… thats all find and I understand it. I just grew up with a hero. And I want that for my kids.







I think I might have shin splints.







Possibly my favorite movie of this genre. Not only visually epic, but the plot, characters, script and soundtrack are top notch. I think I have watched this movie 75 times. I will put it on silently in the background while I’m working in my shop, always a cool thing to pan my eyes to. Seriously…. go watch it. It’s fucking great. People scoff at Sci-Fi and fantasy movies but I will stand up in a courtroom and say this is one of my Top 5 all time.







So I showed this blog to my wife and she kinda laughed and said “eh… yah, you can do better.”

I don’t know exactly what that means, so i asked…

”Should I try to be more funny ?”,

“No, people can tell you’re trying to be funny.”

“Ok, should I try to be more critical and film savvy?”

“No, that’s boring.”

“Ok, should I try to be more abstract?”

“What ?….well… !? I don’t don’t know….can we start RoboCop now!?”







So we started the The Americans, the FX Show.  I fell asleep the first couple episodes, not because it was boring but because I was just tired. I am now trying to stay awake. The show is good, great acting, plot….

I don’t know how many people watched the weird CNN Anderson Copper interview with Donald Sterling, (the disgraced LA Clippers owner), but there was a moment that went under the national radar. In response to Cooper’s query of “You are accused of having a plantation mentality.” Sterling quickly and reactionary responded: “You have a plantation mentality!”

It was similar to how I talk with my close friends, “Your mom is a plantation!”

Donald Sterling is an idiot and he needs to get beat.

For the record I really did want to watch RoboCop, I know it has mediocre reviews, but I love the cast and want to watch it. The wife had to work tonight so we put it off.  I will say that if we DID put on RoboCop, I would taken my pants off. Instead I am trying to take notes on The Americans.

 I’m pretty sure my review of RoboCop will come under the heading “Book Reviews: The Goldfinch”.

You’re a RoboCop





Great Film.

I expected to see Charlie Kaufman’s name in the credits. Do you know of Charlie Kaufman? He didn’t write this movie, but it reminded me of him. It’s probably due in large part to the writer/director Spike Jonze being a long time collaborator of Kaufman’s and the quirky narrative of the film.

For those of you who don’t know of Charlie Kaufman, learn about him. His films are brilliant…

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Being John Malkovich


Confessions of a Dangerous Mind

If you haven’t seen these, then here you go.

You’re welcome.

July 17, 2016

Naked Movie Reviews with Trevor and Curt – 2014









I have a big dog, a Great Dane. Once in a while he will eat some grass and then throw up. Just happened this morning. When he starts heaving, I kind of imagine something like a scene from the movie Jaws, where he throws up a license plate, a shoe, a smaller dog. Nothing has come out like that yet, but I keep an eye out.






I have no idea where this came from, I think it might have been too many hours and days in the Tour Van, but we started calling Bed Bath and Beyond: “Blood Bath and Ben Affleck.”

Over time we then started putting some stank on it, pronouncing all the B’s with a plopping sound and adding a bit of a droopy dog drawl. Just as stupid as stupid can get.

But till this day I can’t pass that store without reciting it, nor can I see an add for a Ben Affleck movie without doing it too.

And now as me and the wife drive down the road and pass a Bed Bath and Beyond store, she will roll her eyes and mouth the words as I said it out loud .






Go see this movie, I’m telling you, it’s fantastic. I laughed, cried, yelled. It’s what a good movie should make you do. Nobody believes me, and it took months for the wife to finally cave in and watch it and SHE laughed, cried and yelled.

Great film. Also made me really like the actor Joel Edgerton, which made me realize what a sweet name that is, think I’m gonna name my next kid or dog Edgerton.






A percentage of dog owners found in dog parks are lame. That’s just a fact. I am in dog parks everyday, all over California and I see it all. Make no mistake, I love my dog, but I also realize that he’s A DOG! He smells everything, he eats old dead mice, he’ll get in a fight once in a while, he’ll stick his nose in your vagina….he’s a DOG!

I find myself becoming more and more reserved at dog parks. The reasons for this are many, but here’s an example….

I was at a dog park in Berkeley. Coach started running and playing with a very pretty, well bred border collie (think Lassie). The owner was an immaculately dressed woman who I soon realized was very uptight. I stood and quietly watched as the two dogs happily played together, running, pouncing on each other and having a great time. The woman began to get agitated that my dog was playing with her dog.

She started to run and yell at Coach, actually swatting at him saying “shoo! get out of here.” At this point, as my disdain is becoming palpable, I am thinking “It’s a DOG PARK lady, they’re playing wonderfully….get a grip!” The woman then got close enough to Coach that she actually slapped him across the face.

I saw red and my jaw hit the ground. Did that really just happen? I began walking towards the situation calmly but angry, and as I neared I saw the woman get more flustered. I looked at the dogs and noticed that Coach had begun to mount the Border Collie, but from the FRONT. It felt almost as if Coach was reacting to the slight hysteria, but he began to hump the dogs face.

And so there we were, a well dressed woman yelling and slapping a big great dane who was face humping her collie, and me running in yelling and letting some laughter spill out the side of my mount. Coach stopped and the woman forcefully grabbed her dog by the collar. She stormed off with a volley of curses, the dog glancing back longingly

at coach.

Shortly afterwards two other dog owners came up to me and said they had some unpleasant run-ins with that same lady, they even added that the dogs were playing wonderfully. Coach proceeded to walk up and smell their vaginas.



Maybe in all time Top 5, or Top 10 movie. Just watched this again and went through some special features and found this little gem…

There’s a scene where John Malkovich gets dumped on the side of the Jersey Turnpike and a truck drives by, the man in the truck yells “Hey Malkovich, Think Fast!” and then hucks a beer can that hits Malkovich in the head. Totally unscripted and the reaction is real. Check it out:







This is one of the first big Sci -Fi movies that the wife liked, so I bought it for her for her birthday. It was kind of like when I was a kid and I got Star Wars figures for my dad for Christmas.






Normally not a big fan of Musicals made into films, but this was great. Tim Burton, either just hits it out of the park or whifs big time. 

I think Steven Sondheim might be on my short list of people to have dinner with. What is that thing people ask? You can have 4 guests over for dinner, living or dead? Something like that. Anyways Sondheim might be in there, Tom Waits for sure, I wonder if DaVinci would be a good hang? There would also be a language barrier with him. Bill Clinton? Siddartha? The Dalai Lama? Stephen Colbert maybe? I’d have to think about that one. Elon Musk maybe?







I’m embarrassed for Lakers fans. I’m not originally from LA, I moved here a few years back, but in the short time I’ve been here I have seen things that I didn’t see from outside of LA .

In all respects, the Los Angeles Lakers are one of, if not THE greatest franchise in sports. They have 16 titles, countless superstars, an A-list court-side in a perpetually sold out stadium. They are are a global brand that has a rich history and right now are experiencing a rare downturn. Since their last title in 2010 they have slowly been sliding south in the standings and now find themselves at the bottom. 

The Los Angeles Clippers on the other hand have long been one of, if not the worst franchise in sports. Decades of losing records, never having won even one title, a disgraceful front office, highlighted last year by the ousting of disgraced owner Donald Sterling. The Clippers have long played a distant second fiddle to the Lakers, they have  been the younger brother to the Lakers’ letter winning varsity senior.

Numerous cities have two teams in the same sport, the Yankees and Mets in New York, the White Sox and Cubs in Chicago etc, but none of these has as great as divide as the Lakers and Clippers. One of the worlds most storied franchises and one of the worlds worst franchises.

Now the Lakers have skidded into last place and the Clippers have found themselves in a title hunt. How have Lakers fans reacted!? They have behaved like a bunch spoiled trust fund kids. Sports radio is flooded with Lakers fans bombasting the Clippers, ESPN LA hosts play anti Clippers songs and actively root for their opponent. Outside the Staples center at Clipper games Lakers fan stand in droves and chant obscenities. 

They have not only actively rooted against the Clippers but have expressed this in extremely distasteful ways. At a recent Dodgers baseball game, Chris Paul, the star point guard of the Clippers, was shown on the jumbotron and the entire crowd booed. Chris Paul is widely respected in the NBA, he is the president of the players union, highly regarded on both sides of the lines. Yet here are 20,000 people booing him. 

I’ve seen this all and I scratch my head. Where is this coming from? What are these people reacting too? The Clippers and their extremely small fan base has sat by for 20 years while you’ve one 16 titles and now that they have one small opportunity you are behaving like this!? How insecure do you have to be to cry and throw fits when you’re team isn’t the one in the playoffs? It’s the neighborhood bully putting down a new kid in the neighborhood. It’s embarrassing. I’m embarrased for Lakers fans. Coming from an outsider, if you want the world to treat you with class then you need to have some yourself. The Clippers will never even come close to the empire that is the Lakers franchise, they will always be the varsity letter winning older brother. Maybe I was expecting too much from the fan base of such a storied franchise. I mean would I act the same? I don’t think I would, I’d like to think I would tuft my younger brothers hair and say, “way to go kid, way to go.”










Quvenzhane Wallis as "Hushpuppy" on the set of BEASTS OF THE SOUTHERN WILD. Photo Courtesy of Fox Searchlight Pictures

When Coach was younger he ate (or drank) an entire bottle of vegetable oil. He was a real maverick back then. I’m not sure where he’d get his ideas but they were impressive and he really took it there. 

He’s all grown up now, 6 years old. I wonder if he looks back on those young dog years like we look back on college days. 

This was an interesting movie, I am usually always a fan of well made independent films and especially creative and weird ones like this.





Social Graces 101: Small enclosed public spaces are not where you should bring and eat extremely pungent foods. You get seated on an airplane and just after lift off the person behind you opens up his Garbonzo Goulash or in a movie theater and somebody brings in a tupperware full of reheated fish and lentils.

There needs to be a label on foods, a smell rating, and this rating can dictate whether or not it is acceptable to eat when in enclosed public spaces.







Every once in awhile I am reminded that as a young lad, my dream was to be a professional baseball player. The thought of being a professional musician never even occurred to me. To be honest, I still want to be a baseball player, and this music thing is just getting me by until I get that call from the Chicago Cubs triple-A farm team.

I don’t know what reminded me of this the other day, maybe it was the smell of fresh cut grass, or the headline of a newspaper. Whatever it was I suddenly was transported back to my youth, the feel of the infield dirt, the sound of a ball hitting your mitt, the loudspeaker announcements. Ahhh, Baseball. What a wonderful thing. I have for years tried to get every girl I know to enjoy it with me, but have had little success. Baseball I fear is an acquired taste. Something known by all, but loved by only a few. I am one of those few. I have to credit my dad with a lot of this and I thought it might also have been his dream to play for the Chicago Cubs. He spent long hours with me, hitting me grounders, working on my pitching, talking to me about the strategy of the game.

I came to find out later that it was actually my dad’s dream to be a part of the grounds crew at Wrigley field. One of the guys running the rain tarps out on the field, and not an actual baseball player. (After watching these grounds crew on numerous occasions at Wrigley I had to agree, it seemed awesome.) This then begs the question; why didn’t he have me mowing grass, spraying down the infield, running drills with the rain tarps, or speeding around on those tractors? Because I wanted to be a baseball player, and he knew it.


I think both of us now realize that grounds crew would have been a more reasonable goal than starting 2nd basemen. A wonderful and simple life, an attainable goal. But my dad never would say that. He knew I wanted to take Ryne Sandberg’s place in the long line of Cubs’ heroes, and so he worked with me, day after day, summer after summer, finely honing my skills until I became a decent little ballplayer, at least in the modest little Midwest town I lived in. It was one of my earliest dreams and I had the highest of hopes.

What ever happened to those dreams? I didn’t just give them up, I didn’t ever throw my bat down and say “I’m done.” Looking back, I think the slow dissolve of my baseball dreams possibly began with an incident in those early days, an incident so traumatic that it still haunts me today. And maybe, just maybe this had a long lasting subconscious effect on my letting go of baseball.

It was in the middle of a hot Wisconsin summer, I was in the back yard working on my 4 seam fastball with my dad. I was imagining that if there had been a radar gun present, I might have been clocking in at 92, 93 mph. In all reality it probably was more like 23 mph. But anyway I was throwing strikes and my dad thought it would be a good idea to have a person stand at the plate, so I could get used to throwing to a hitter. My mom of course was overly happy to oblige, mind you she didn’t know if this was football or basket-hockey, but she dutifully took her spot. And as she stood there, and raised an imaginary bat, I looked in to get a sign from my dad, came to my stance, wheeled back and threw a fastball that hit my mother in the face.

Now those of you who have ever thrown a fastball and hit your own mother in the face can attest to the sheer horror, the absolute nervous panic that overtakes you. Multiply this by 3,246 because its YOUR OWN MOTHER! To make this even worse, and I still get the jitters thinking about this today, is that she had on glasses, and the glasses shattered and cut her. So what I remember (although both my parents seem to downplay this), is kind of like a scene out of a Quentin Tarantino movie. Blood spurting out all over the yard, the neighbors franticly running around screaming bloody murder, my poor mother knocked out cold, police taping off the area and the local fire department getting their ladders out.

Now I admit that might be a bit fantastic, but to a 10 year old kid, that’s what it felt like. My mother was of course saying she was fine and it was just like my mother to apologize to me for it. “Oh I’m sorry Van, I think I was standing too close to the plate.” Needless to say that was the end of my mom’s involvement in my baseball career.

About a week later, my dad gave me a guitar. In hindsight it all makes sense, how I remember it though is a bit different. The guitar was handed to me as if it was just in passing, like he had found a guitar by the side of the road and thought, “hey maybe this’ll keep the lad busy for a while.” So he gave it to me, then sat and taught me `Louie Louie.’ I played `Louie Louie’ for 3 years. I don’t know whether this was because that was all my dad knew, or we were too busy playing baseball, building potato guns or watching the Cubs lose.

But the guitar just kind of stayed with me. It came with me when I changed rooms, it changed shapes and sizes, it made the move with me out to California. Sometimes it got dusty and lonely. Sometimes it got beat up. But it always was there, just a piece of lumber in the corner of my room. Maybe it was after college that I realized my baseball cleats were starting to collect dust. My mitt didn’t fit as well as it used to. Maybe it was after college that I realized that old guitar was a fun way to get people together and have a good time. Who knows. The point is that somewhere in there I kind of traded my old baseball mitt for a guitar.

I don’t think I could tell you exactly when it happened. It was over years and years. But now that I am a professional musician, I can tell you that its not so bad. I still get to run out in front of crowds of cheering people. Some nights I play well, some nights not so well. There’s a lot of time away from home, a lot of time with the boys, I get to sign autographs and go to work at night. The smells are different but it’s not so far off from being a baseball player. Of course every once in a while, I really miss the game. I miss the dirt and the grass, the smells and sound of baseball.


I say this in regards to all the kids that I’ve come across in my `backup job’ being a performer. Kids come up after shows and have a light in their eye, awestruck if you can believe. It has taken me awhile, but I have come to realize that light in their eye is the same light I had when I would go to the ball park as a kid. Eager to see my favorite players, watching their every move, trying hard to get an autograph. I actually remember how hard it was when you actually got near to one of these people you looked up to. I would get nervous, unable to utter a word, and I would just hold out a ball and a pen. Even for the minor league players who would play near our little town, I was an excited and nervous little wreck of adrenaline.

Sometimes as we get off stage, we’ll see moms or dads push their shy, nervous kids up towards us with a pen in one hand and a CD in the other. And after all these years, I finally realize what a cool job I have, and how even though I complain about it all the time, I am living a dream. We are at times what the Chicago Cubs were to me. We may be more like the Peoria Screaming Aardvarks farm team, but nonetheless I feel it an absolute privilege to kneel down, ask them their name, sign the CD and maybe even reach in my pocket, ask if they play guitar, and give them one of my picks. I’ll say something encouraging, give em a smile and watch as they run excitedly back to their parents showing them the newly signed CD. I am sure with my luck, if they want to grow up to be a Musician, they’ll probably end up playing 2nd base for the Chicago Cubs.