My new hero

Boy, there are a lot of blogs on the internet. Some of them are pretty astute; my experience has been that most of them are essentially a waste of time (which you may be thinking as you read this). Every now and then, however, you stumble across one which hits home. I recently discovered one called Waiter Rant, written by an anonymous waiter in NYC.

I find this blog fascinating for a number of reasons. First, I seriously considered culinary school when I was looking to make a career change several years ago. I decided against it, primarily because I love to cook and felt certain that turning a personal pleasure into a primary source of income would take the enjoyment out of it. Waiter Rant, however, focuses on not cooking, but the service aspect of the restaurant industry, known in the trade as "front of the house."

I've worked with the public in one form or another since I was seventeen, which was many moons ago. A good chunk of that time has been in retail, primarily in management positions. My father, who served in the Navy during WWII, often said that he felt every young man should serve one year's mandatory military service. After spending more time in retail than I care to admit to, I feel the same way about the field in which I work. Everyone needs to spend a year working in retail, especially the Christmas season. While such an experience would hopefully help one develop an appreciation for retail workers, it may also cause one to hate the holidays - c'est la vie.

I guess it's my years in retail that have made me appreciate the food service industry, because I couldn't wait tables. I just know that I couldn't do it. I'm good with customers, but I've seen too many people in restaurants make total asses out of themselves. I am fully aware of my tolerance for stupid behavior and, although I've never snapped on a customer, some have pushed me to just this side of my limits. A long time ago I came to the realization that there are some people who have no way to assert themselves except by bullying retail associates who have to live by the old maxim that "the customer is always right." (This, by the way, is the biggest line of crap you'll ever hear outside of the political arena. No one is ever always right. The customer is always your boss, because he or she ultimately signs your paycheck, therefore you have to make that person happy, but always right? No way.)

In addition to the inside view of an industry which I considered entering and am often a patron, I enjoy reading Waiter Rant because there are so many parallels to my current profession, at least as far as the aspect of dealing with customers, and that the author is free to not only chronicle his experiences but that he also provides details - at least, I assume, as many as he can without being sued for libel or fired. At this time, I'm unable to share too many details for fear of reprisal (Latin for "pink slip") - perhaps when I finally escape from retail and the statute of limitations has expired.

Now, before you think, great, the guy writing the blog I'm reading now tends to go off on tirades and he's recommending another blogger who does the same, Waiter Rant is more than some disgruntled table jockey blowing off steam about customers who don't tip fifteen percent. Yes, the Waiter (as the anonymous author is known) does indeed get medieval on patrons who are abusive, mean, stupid and are just otherwise pissing in the gene pool, but there are also posts dealing with human interactions of all types, and with all types of people, not just customers. Some will make you laugh, some cry, you might even think after reading some posts. I guarantee you will find something to which you can relate. And who knows, you might even tip your waiter or waitress just a little bit extra the next time you go out to eat.

Beware the Ides of March Madness

(Alternate title - Everybody into the office pool!)

Ah, springtime and a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of...college hoops.

The NCAA Basketball Tournament is underway. A field of 64 (okay, 65 if you count the play-in game) teams duke it out over a span of three weeks to claim one of college sport's most prized championships. If you don't already understand, I can't explain it to you. Last night's first round game between perennial contender and three time national champion Duke and underdog Belmont, a team unknown to the general population and to most people in their home state of North Carolina, a 71 to 70 Duke win by the skin of their teeth, was one of the most exciting NCAA tournament games I've ever witnessed, and I didn't even see all of the second half. It was drama, tragedy, comedy, all of the elements that make up the human condition. It was a perfect example of the mania that grips otherwise sane people during this month. It was why it's good to be alive.

"If you don't have anything nice to say...

...come sit next to me." - Dorothy Parker

Unlike a newspaper columnist, I don't have a deadline. I can post anytime I feel like doing so. I would like to be able to post something on a daily basis, but the details of my personal life aren't interesting enough to warrant that, and I don't like to post something involving my opinion or viewpoint without a serious self-editing process, which can often take days. And then comes the arduous task of editing while I'm writing, often accompanied by more editing after I've posted what remains of the original topic. I've actually missed out on posting about a number of topics because they were stale by the time I had mentally constructed an outline and was ready to apply my fingers to the keyboard.

I've never done the math, but I probably have more friends who are liberal than conservative; I have some friends with whom I've never discussed politics and honestly don't know what their leanings are. For a while I was even in a serious relationship with a young lady who came from a family of "Yellow Dog" Democrats, a clan who would have disowned the lady in question if we had married and I had not changed my voter registration (for any reader not aware, a "Yellow Dog" Democrat is one who would vote for a yellow dog if it ran on the Democrat ticket). To this day I'm astounded that we dated without catching more grief over our "mixed relationship" than we did.

I've received relatively little flack from my friends on the liberal end of the spectrum about my political posts, or "rantings," as my friend Dallas put it in a recent email (an ironic aside - Dallas lives in Texas' capital city of Austin; I always found that amusing). I don't know if this is because they're used to my conservative leanings, they're not reading this blog, or they figure it would be a waste of time to try to get their viewpoint through my thick skull. In any case, I've recently been mentally outlining a positive post about Barack Obama. Not to appease anyone, but because I genuinely have something nice to say.

Obama has, without fail, taken the high road in his campaign for the Democrat Presidential nomination. As the first serious (note the use of the word serious - this immediately DQs shakedown artist Jesse Jackson and poverty pimp Al Sharpton) black, African-American, whatever you want to call him, Democrat candidate for nomination, he could have made race an issue a long time ago, especially in light of comments and various stunts by Hillary Clinton's campaign. But rather than get into the mudslinging and dirty tricks one expects from the Clinton camp, Obama has kept the focus on the campaign and his message, not resorting to in kind attacks on his opponent. He has been, above all, a class act. And as a former boss often told me, there are two types of class - "first" and "no."

Now, however, race and patriotism have been put front and center in the Obama campaign due to caustic sermons delivered by his pastor, Reverend Jeremiah Wright of Chicago's Trinity United Church of Christ. By now you've probably heard at least part of Rev. Wright's inflammatory rhetoric, or seen the now infamous "God damn America" sermon on YouTube.

On Tuesday, Obama attempted to quell the firestorm about his pastor's remarks with a speech centering on the need to bridge our country's racial divide. No one can deny that even in this day and age that racism still exists, and that there is a need for greater understanding, to look beyond one's DNA and see peoples' performance, not appearance. As I've mentioned before, the gentleman is a gifted orator and, as someone who has spoken in public many times myself, I can assure those who have not that delivering a speech is no easy task. I've often heard that short of death, the most common fear people have is speaking in public. It's a well-deserved phobia.

The jury is still out on two issues concerning Obama's association with Reverend Wright, and whether or not this will hurt his chances of securing the Democrat Presidential nomination. First, and most obvious, what does his association with someone who makes such inflammatory remarks about America say about the candidate? Second, what does this say about his credibility? Obama claims that in twenty-something years of attending Trinity United Church of Christ that he has heard Reverend Wright make what may be considered controversial statements, but has never heard anything like the "God damn America" sermon.

Now, as much as I would like to, I don't attend church regularly, but in the past have done so whenever possible (or when my parents made me, but that's another issue altogether). And I'm not black, so I don't have the vantage point that Obama and his fellow parishioners share, but I feel certain that the average minister of any skin hue doesn't just start preaching "God damn America," or similar sermons, out of the blue, and that if he or she did, that minister would have to deal with at least some backlash. And for someone who aspires to hold the highest office in our country to not only listen to such rhetoric, but to do so on what is supposedly a regular basis, and call the person spewing this invective a mentor and inspiration, make this candidate a questionable choice, at least in my mind.

God bless America.

Well, they told me that stuff would cause bad flashbacks one day...

The annual induction ceremonies for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame were held this week. Now, there are some who feel this is the antithesis of what rock is about - rebellion, revolution, sex, drugs, and...well, rock and roll, not some corporate, black tie event at a four star hotel with a VIP list and goodie bags with a five figure value for the recipients and presenters. That's the Oscars, not rock and roll (or rock n' roll, if you prefer).

Personally, I don't have a problem with the concept of a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Everything else has a Hall of Fame, including virtually every other musical genre, so why not rock and roll? The problem is who is behind the scenes, specifically Jann Wenner.

Jann Wenner is the founder and publisher of Rolling Stone, a magazine that was once the voice of modern, i.e. from the Sixties to the present day, rock. In its day, Rolling Stone was the vanguard of the rock and roll counterculture, covering all it involved and stood for. For a prominent member of that counterculture, being honored with the cover story was akin to a Catholic receiving a blessing from the Pope himself. Those of us of a certain age even remember a song by Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show, "The Cover of the Rolling Stone." Dr. Hook did indeed make the famed cover, and legend has it all the band members did "buy five copies for (their mothers)" as the lyric went.

But, as Saint Zimmerman once put it, the times they are a-changing. For at least twenty years (and that's being kind), Rolling Stone has been at best irrelevant, and at worst a bad joke, at least in terms of rock journalism (an oxymoron, as the late Frank Zappa would remind us). These days, Rolling Stone is in the middle of a crisis - whether it's of the identity variety, midlife, or perhaps a combination of both remains to be determined. Rolling Stone can't determine whether it wants to be Tiger Beat (for example, a recent "High School Musical" cover story) or a house organ for MorOn.org (read any article about any Republican or anything related to the war in Iraq).

It hasn't been that long ago that I was covering a register shift at work when a young customer was purchasing what was the then-current issue of Rolling Stone, one which had whatever the prefab pop flavor of the week was (I believe it was Justin Timberlake) on the the cover. The next customer in line was a gentleman about my age who, when he got to the register, looked at me and said, "You know, some of us remember when it meant something to make the cover of Rolling Stone."

So what does this mean in terms of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? It means that the nominees no longer have to have any connection whatsoever to rock and roll in order to be eligible. Jann Wenner is pulling the strings like some perverted puppetmaster, and he has the final say over who gets nominated and therefore inducted. And since Wenner no longer cares about rock and roll but his focus is on pop culture celebrities (and left wing politics), anyone with a "musical" career who is on his "A" list has a shot at nomination. Mark my words - if Britney Spears is still alive when she's eligible for nomination in 2024 (highly doubtful), Jann Wenner will make sure she's the first member of that class of inductees.

The most prominent member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Class of 2008 is Madonna. Yes, the "Like a Virgin" pop tart who was on MTV every five minutes back in the 80s. Whether or not you care for her music, you have to give her credit - she's been smart enough to keep her career alive by keeping things fresh, constantly changing her image and keeping people guessing. Note the key word here is image, not music. I couldn't tell you what she has sounded like since I left radio in 1990 - I'm not a fan and don't listen to radio stations whose formats would incorporate what she does - but if you're exposed to enough entertainment news (another oxymoron there) you'll inevitably run across whatever her latest incarnation happens to be. And that makes her very, very smart. When the average musical entertainer of virtually any genre now has the career lifespan of a fruit fly, it says something about her that she's savvy enough to stay in the game for more than a quarter century. It does not, however, make her rock and roll.

So what lit the fuse on this screed? Not that Madonna is now a member of an institution to which, in theory, she shouldn't have even been considered for in the first place. No, I recognized the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame for the sham that it truly is some time ago (if Lester Bangs wasn't already dead, this would've done him in), so this shouldn't come as a surprise. What prompted this post was when I read who performed in Madonna's stead at the induction ceremony - Iggy and the Stooges.



That's the same Iggy who was once known for such antics as throwing up on stage, smearing himself with peanut butter, stabbing himself with pencils, rolling around on broken glass and in the resultant blood, sometimes all in the course of a single show - not the kind of performance you're likely to witness during a matinée at the Bubba Joe Jim Bob Jr. Theater in Branson, Missouri. The same Iggy and the Stooges who recorded Raw Power and Fun House, two of the most brutal, violent, beautiful masterpieces of American pre-Ramones punk music ever. The current incarnation of the Stooges includes bassist Mike Watt, who made his bones anchoring the rhythm section of the Minutemen, one of the greatest of the 80s era American punk bands and perhaps the second best to embody the decade's DIY ethic, number two only to the legendary Black Flag. And this is the band that performed in Madonna's place? Performing not one, but two of her songs? I don't know what it says about Madonna, Iggy, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, or any of the above. I only know that it makes me realize that if rock isn't dead, it sure as hell has a foot in the grave. I shudder to think what's next - Nike using Beatles songs to sell sneakers? Songs by the Who used for television themes? Wait, what's that? Oh shit, does anyone have the number for Jack Kevorkian?