Ye Olde Ode To Led Zeppelin

It is only in my college years that I can say I truly found Led Zeppelin.

If I were poetic in that forced/yuppie way, I'd probably write something like "or should i say, Led Zeppelin found me" but I'm not that guy, so I won't say it. Nope.

I recently finished reading Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself To Live (I highly recommend anything written by Chuck Klosterman. If you're entirely unfamiliar with his work, he's a music critic and pop culture commentator - very funny and entertaining writing style). Just last night I was reading his commentary on why Led Zeppelin is so good and, I realized as I was reading it, that he put it more perfectly than I thought imaginable. He managed to put into words exactly how I felt when I started listening to Led Zeppelin.

Although seemingly entirely unnecessary, I still feel the need to post said commentary because I could never write it so accurately myself. And I'm sure way before it's done, I will fully understand how completely unnecessary this all is.

For those of you that get Led Zeppelin, you're welcome.

For those of you that don't [yet], this is what you're missing out on.

Once again, for legal purposes, straight outta Chuck Klosterman's Killing Yourself To Live:

...I'm playing How The West Was Won by Led Zeppelin, a recently released collection of live Led Zep recordings from the year of my birth. I've been saving this CD for rural Montana, since Montana seems like the only state where a 23-minute version of "Whole Lotta Love" would feel completely necessary. Whenever I find myself in an argument about the greatest rock bands of all time, I always place Zeppelin third, behind the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. This sentiment is incredibly common; if we polled everyone in North America who likes rock music, those three bands would almost certainly be the consensus selection (and in that order). But Zeppelin is far and away the most popular rock band of all time, and they're popular in a way that the Beatles and Stones cannot possibly compete with; this is because every straight man born after the year 1958 has at least one transitory period in his life when he believes Led Zeppelin is the only good band that ever existed. And there is no other rock group that generates that experience.

A few years ago, I was an on-air guest for a morning radio show in Akron. I was on the air with the librarian from the Akron public library, and we were discussing either John Cheever or Guided by Voices, or possibly both. Talk radio in Akron is fucking crazy. While we were walking out of the studio, the librarian noticed the show's 19-year-old producer; the producer had a blond mullet, his blank eyes were beyond blood-shot, and he was wearing ripped jeans and a black Swan Song T-shirt with all the runes from the Zoso album. The librarian turned to me and said, "You know, I went to high school with that guy." This librarian was 42. But he was right. He did go to high school with that guy. Right now, there are boys in fourth grade who do not even realize that they will become "that guy" as soon as they finish reading The Hobbit in eighth grade. There are people having unprotected sex at this very moment, and the fetus spawned from that union will become "that guy" in two decades. Led Zeppelin is the most legitimately timeless musical entity of the past half century; they are the only group in the history of rock 'n' roll that every male rock fan seems to experience in exactly the same way.

You are probably wondering why that happens; I'm not sure, either. I've put a lot of thought into this subject (certainly more than any human should), but it never becomes totally clear; it only seems more and more true. For a time, I thought it was Robert Plant's overt misogyny fused with Jimmy Page's obsession with the occult, since that combination allows adolescent males to reconcile the alienation of unhinged teenage sexuality with their own inescapable geekiness. However, this theory strikes me as "probably stupid." It would be easy to argue that Zeppelin simply out-rocks all other bands, but that's not really true; AC/DC completely out-rocks Led Zeppelin, and AC/DC is mostly ridiculous. Whatever quality makes Led Zep so eternally archetypal must be "intangible," but even that argument seems weak; here in Big Sky Country, I'm listening to "Heartbreaker" at rib-crushing volume, and everything that's perfect about Led Zeppelin seems completely palpable. There is nothing intangible about the invisible nitroglycerin pouring out of the Tantaun's woofers. Everything is real. And what that everything is - maybe - is this: Led Zeppelin sounds like who they are, but they also sound like who they are not. They sound like an English blues band. They sound like a warm-blooded brachiosaur. They sound like Hannibal's assault across the Alps. They sound sexy and sexist and sexless. They sound dark but stoned; they sound smart but dumb; they seem older than you, but just barely. Led Zeppelin sounds like the way a cool guy acts. Or - more specifically - Led Zeppelin sounds like a certain kind of cool guy; they sound like the kind of cool guy every man vaguely thinks he has the potential to be, if just a few things about the world were somehow different. And the experience this creates is unique to Led Zeppelin because its manifestation is entirely sonic: There is a point in your life when you hear songs like "The Ocean" and "Out on the Tiles" and "Kashmir," and you suddenly find yourself feeling like these songs are actively making you into the person you want to be. It does not matter if you've heard those songs 100 times and felt nothing in the past, and it does not matter if you don't normally like rock 'n' roll and just happened to overhear it in somebody else's dorm room. We all still meet at the same vortex: For whatever the reason, there is a point in the male maturation process when the music of Led Zeppelin sounds like the perfect actualization of the perfectly cool you. You will hear the intro to "When the Levee Breaks," and it will feel like your brain is stuffed inside the kick drum. You will hear the opening howl of "Immigrant Song," and you will imagine standing on the bow of a Viking ship and screaming about Valhalla. But when these things happen, you don't think about Physical Graffiti or Houses of the Holy in those abstract, metaphysical terms; you simply think, "Wow. I just realized something: This shit is perfect. In fact, this record is vastly superior to all other forms of music on the entire planet, so this is all I will ever listen to, all the time." And you do this for six days or six weeks or six years. This is your Zeppelin Phase, and it has as much to do with your own personal psychology as it does with the way John Paul Jones played the organ on "Trampled Under Foot." It has to do with sociobiolgoy, and with Aleister Crowley, and possibly with mastadons. And you will grow out of it, probably. But this is why Led Zepplin is the most beloved rock band of all time, even though most people (including myself) think the Beatles and the Rolling Stones are better. Those two bands are appreciated in myriad ways and for myriad reasons, and the criteria for doing so changes with every generation. But Led Zeppelin is only loved one way, and that will never evolve. They are the one thing all young men share, and we shall share it forever. Led Zeppelin is unkillable, even if John Bonham was not.

I mean, this just so completely hits the nail on the head. There is that phase where you think "This is music perfection, and I'll never have to listen to anything else again." And it may have lasted only about 6 weeks (err, months) but at some point in your life, you felt this was as true as the sky is blue.

Meet the Mets, Beat the Mets...

So, as of this morning - er, whenever anyone in America woke up, they will have heard - the Mets fired head coach Willie Randolph.

Personally, I didn't think it would happen that quickly. I thought it was yet another example of media fluff and those jerks whose livelihood relies on meeting deadlines taking a story and blowing it out of proportion. Obviously, I was wrong. After the Mets won a game against a very good Angels team (that's right, I said win - it's not a typo, yes, they actually managed to win a game! crazy, I know) GM Omar Minaya and the Wilpons sent Willie packing.

To be honest, I don't really have a problem with this move. I loved Willie when he first came here. It was painful in the beginning of 2005 when it took the team 6 games to get him his first win, and after getting hot and making covers of magazines and sports pages, they cooled down and missed the playoffs by a somewhat large margin. 2006 was, well it was 2006. It was the year they should have won. Untimely injuries, cold streaks, and Guillermo Mota were the reasons they lost to the Cards. 2007 saw the biggest collapse in baseball history (I still like the Yankees 2004 ALCS collapse personally). However, me being in Europe for the last month of the season made that a lot easier to deal with.

2008, they were sluggish right out of the gate and are performing at a level below mediocrity. The bottom line is that everyone is, overall, cold. Not one of their regulars is having a hot season, and except for David Wright's RBI total, none of their regular starters are even playing to their potential, their norm, their average season. Everyone in the lineup is, currently, under-performing. The pitching's been spotty, the bullpen's blown a lot of games. The bottom line is that they lost A LOT of extremely disheartening games. Their bullpen blew a lot of leads, Delgado grounded into too many rally-killing double plays almost daily. These weren't just a lot of games surmounting in the Loss column. They've been losing a lot of extremely painful games. Three 2-1 losses to San Diego (one of which saw Scott Schoenweis walk the bases loaded and hit the batter to force in the winning run), only to blow a 6-4 lead the next day to lose 8-6?

You cannot blame Willie for all the players being cold. Omar Minaya gives him a 25 man roster, and he picks the "best" of those 25 to put out on the field. What I can blame on Willie - I've disagreed with his pitching/bullpen moves countless times. That IS something he has control on, and I disagree heavily with the way he uses his bullpen, which is the reason for many of their losses this season.

I didn't really care if they let him go at this point. I don't know what goes on in the clubhouse or on the bench, all I know is what I see on TV - but that being said, he's too quiet. In the sense that he needs a little more fire on the bench, and energy from game-to-game. The Mets need a manager that shows emotion (ehem, Bobby Valentine, ehem) and fights for ballclub, not during the post-game conferences, but on the field in the umpires faces. They need a guy who will fire up the team, get them going, and stick up for their players on the field.

So hearing that he didn't "have this team" or that "these guys don't really play for him" I don't know how much stock I put in to that. I think they respect him, and they want to succeed, and they want their success to be a reflection of him. But I also think that they needed a little more umph from their manager, and that was something they didn't get from him.

Sorry Willie, but you'll do just fine with your $millions and a definite future coaching job; I don't feel too bad for him except that some people put the blame of the season thus far and the 2007 collapse almost solely on his shoulders, which is unjust. But yes, they needed to shake up the team. And while I never bought in to the theory of "when the team sucks, it's the manager's fault, and that's why you fire him," this was a necessary move for other reasons (I just didn't think it was going to be this early).

Like I said, I don't have a problem with THIS move. However, they also fired pitching coach Rick Peterson (and first base coach Tom Nieto, but that doesn't matter at all. I think they can find first base with out him. In fact, they've been able to do that all season, they just can't get beyond first base, that's their issue).

Rick "the Pitching Guru" Peterson. The Mets were among the league leaders in total team ERA ever since Rick Peterson came to town. By far and away, the only good thing to come out of the "Art Howe" era was that it brought Rick Peterson to Shea and he wanted to stay. The Mets got rid of Art Howe because A) the team sucked, B) to cover up the fact that they threw money to ex-All-Stars that no longer deserved it (see Roberto Alomar, Mo Vaughn, Jeromy Burnitz, Tom Glavine), but mostly they wanted a manage that wouldn't just sit there on the bench with the same expression whether they were up 7-0 in the third inning or down 7-0 in the third. And with Willie, though I loved him in the beginning, he was the same way.

He came over saying "I'm a Joe Torre guy, and I'm going to coach like him" a.k.a. sit on the bench with his arms folded, showing as little emotion as possible, making as few moves as possible. My personal beliefs is that the Yankees success had a lot less to do with Torre than fans and the press made it out to be. They had some great teams, and hot seasons from over-achievers (ehem, steroids much?).

But back to Peterson. I honestly thought that when Willie was given his pink slip, that there was no way they would get rid of Rick Peterson. I am blown away. I think this was a very unintelligent move. Only time will tell, and if they go on without him to have one of the best pitching staffs at the end of the season, then great. But I cannot imagine that the team without Rick Peterson is better than the team with Rick Peterson. This guy helped a lot of Met pitchers. "He's regarded as one of the best pitching coaches in baseball," the TV just said, as I type this.

It's not his fault that El Duque is 45 years old and hasn't pitched yet this season. Pedro's freak injury woes is not his fault. Oliver Perez being Oliver Perez is not his fault. Rick Peterson is a great asset for any baseball team, and the Mets just let him go. I can't fathom that their bullpen will all of a sudden click and do their job now that Peterson isn't there anymore. I would love nothing more than to be wrong, and for everything to click with this team.

The bottom line is, as bad as they've been, they're not far away from anything. All they need are two hot months during the summer, win series against their division rivals and they will make the playoffs. No team in the NL has been the best team for the whole season so far. The D-Backs were the top, then they got cold (real cold). The Cubs started off so-so, now they have the best record. For a little too long, the Florida "our entire team payroll is less than A-Rod's" Marlins held the best record in all of baseball.

It's not just the NL. Even in the AL, no team has consistently been the best. The Tampa Bay [no-longer Devil] Rays held the best record for most of the first two months. In the NL, and especially in the NL East, nothing is sealed. The division is most definitely still up for grabs.

So even though the currently 34-35 Mets are 6.5 games back, they can definitely still be a good team this season and make the playoffs.

They're just going to have to do it without Rick Peterson.

The Unentertaining Cedric The Entertainer

What’s the deal with Cedric: The Entertainer?

Seriously, what’s his deal?

First of all, what kind of name is that? First name Cedric, that’s perfectly fine. Middle name The? Last name Entertainer? So when he goes to the doctor or files his taxes, is his file under Entertainer, Cedric The? Entertainer, Cedric T.?

Seriously, did he legally change his name to that? Or is it in the way Bob Dylan’s real name is Robert Allen Zimmerman? I would draw a comparison to Larry The Cable Guy, but I don’t have enough respect for him to even mention his name… Oops.

I suppose that alone, on the surface, really bugs me about him. He was born Cedric Antonio Kyles, and I suppose having a somewhat generic human name wasn’t good enough for him. He needed to stand out, and as an aspiring comedian that certainly makes sense.

He really needs a “The”? Ceddy, the Entertainer. Psh.

Well, I suppose it really doesn’t matter as long as his work speaks for itself. Let’s take a look at how some of the movies he headlined fared at the box-office.

Codename: The Cleaner (2007): $8 Million

The Honeymooners (2005): $12 Million

Johnson Family Vacation (2004): $31 Million

Kingdom Come (2001): $23 Million

Cedric: The Entertainer in Codename: The Cleaner, $8 Million. A movie that cost $20 Million to make only pulled in $8 at the box office. So, apparently he’s not at the iconic status in the eyes of America to successfully pull off a “The” name. Yet, he does it anyway.

What really bugs me about him is that I just plain don’t find him funny. Yet, I feel like he’s everywhere. It’s as if he and Monique signed contracts with the Devil to be everywhere. Why couldn’t they sell their souls to the devil to have some comedic talent? Wouldn’t that have worked out better for them?

I really just don’t see why he’s funny. Is it because I’m white? I really don’t think so. I like a lot of comedians. I just don’t understand how people can find him funny.

His shtick is to say unintelligent things, and make fun of other black people. I mean, youtube him and make a choice for yourself… I just don’t get it.

To me, his greatest achievement was his sidekick role on The Steve Harvey Show (1996-2002). I think he should’ve stopped there.

But, being that his last headline project was 2007 we’re probably due for another amazing Cedric The Entertainer bust due out 2009.

Look out for the 2009 flop Chicago Pulaski Jones with Kel (You know, from Keenan and Kel? You might’ve heard those odd rumors that he was dead, but – no, not dead. Just resurrected by Cedric THEE Entertainer). Chicago Jones? Really? So, expect the blaxploitation knockoff of Indiana Jones to hit theaters (you know, like 12 of them) some time next year.

He continues to put out movies, and declare himself as one of the kings of comedy of our time. And I suppose to the people who find him funny – you know, Steve Harvey, Bernie Mac, Nick Cannon, Katt Williams and President Bush - they will agree with that.

But as for the other 300 Million Americans… Cedric, stop.

Follow in the footsteps of Pauly Shore. After a few tries (In The Army Now, Jury Duty, Bio-Dome), accept that you don’t have comedic talent and fade into the background.

Thank you.

What's Wrong With Music Today?

TODAY'S MUSIC REALLY BLOWS.

Part II coming soon...

Three Years Ago Today, I Almost Died (In A Few)

It's that time of year again. School's out, the weather's nice, and spirits are lifted as the temperature rises.

Oh, and it's the anniversary of my brain surgery.

Three years ago today, June 6, 2005, I underwent brain surgery. It was by far the scariest thing I've ever had to deal with. I thought my life was quite literally over. And in honor of that day, I choose to do something that I've been meaning to do ever since; put it all down in writing. Of what I can remember at this point, that is.

For years, ever since I can remember, I used to get these odd head pains. It would come so randomly and without warning. I'd just turn my head slightly and it felt like an electric shock was hitting me all throughout my head. It was a really intense pain, and I wouldn't be able to move for a few seconds. Then after about 10 seconds the pain would fizzle and my head would feel numb.

This had been going on for years, ever since I can remember, but it would only happen two, maybe three times a year, so I never really thought much about it. As I got older, I started to wonder about it a bit more. I don't remember if they were necessarily becoming more frequent, but it was on my mind more, thinking that I ought to get it checked out.

So, towards the end of my senior year of high school in March 2005, I was in gym class. We were playing badminton and my partner and I (not as in the homosexual, significant other, life-partner sense, but you know, badminton partner in doubles) were both about to swat a birdie. It just hit me, and immediately brought me to my knees. I fell over on to the floor grabbing my head, wondering when it was gonna go away, because it seemed like it was getting more intense. My partner was freaking out because he thought he slammed me in the back of the head.

"No, no, don't worry - it's just uh, this thing."

Yeah, that seems normal, right? I decided it was time to get it checked out; to make sure nothing serious was going on. So of course by the time I actually had an appointment with my doctor, it was now late April/early May. He said he thought it was just a pinched nerve, but being it's not his expertise he sent me to a neurologist.

It was mid-late May by the time I saw Dr. Grossman, my neurologist. He saw me, checked me out and thought the same thing - probably just a pinched nerve. But he had me go back in a few days for some tests. Let me say, it's a lot of fun having wires from a computer attached to your head. Not the least bit scary at all. (If you really couldn't tell, for whatever reason - yes, that was sarcasm).

But none of those tests showed anything wrong. Why push on? He schedules me for an MRI.

Monday, May 31st, 2005 - I went in for an MRI. And believe it or not, I wasn't really freaking out about the seriousness of all of this. I was just thinking, Jeez, an MRI? Is that really necessary? Seems kinda heavy duty. Now, I'm not really one to be claustrophobic, but being slid into a little cylinder-shaped container not much bigger than me isn't so fun. My nose was practically touching the ceiling. An hour of loud bangs, clicks and buzzes all around my head was a little nerve-racking.

Finally, it was over. I made plans for afterward and went about my day. Stephanie, let me just say I'm sorry that this was the last time I saw you for a few years. I didn't exactly plan all of that - but the next month my head wasn't in the best place, then I was gone for the rest of the summer, then it was off to college. I'm sorry.

So I went about the rest of the week as normal, thinking nothing of it.

Friday, June 3rd, 2005 - While the rest of my esteemed soon-to-be graduating class was getting ready for the prom that night, I wasn't going. For whatever reasons, I'm not getting into that now - but in the end, it's good I wasn't planning on going because in the end, I was going to be elsewhere that night.

I was heading out the door with my mom and grandma on our way to my cousin's house for dinner, when the phone rang. I picked it up; it was my neurologist asking to speak with my mother. I'll never be able to figure out how she was able to stay so calm, but she hung up and told me we had to go to his office.

I'm not sure why, but even then I didn't think it was going to be anything serious. In reality, when a neurologist calls you and tells you to come in to his office immediately, you can kind of figure it's pretty serious, but I don't know. Probably because my mom was so calm, I didn't think anything of it.

My grandma waited in the car and we went in to the office. We were called in to his office right away, and sitting there waiting for him I began to become a little wary.

He came in and cut right to it. I'll never be able to forget his words...

"Mark... there's something on your brain, I don't know what it is, but it has to be removed immediately."

My heart sunk. I couldn't breathe. All the blood from my head drained in an instant. Naturally my mom couldn't hold it in anymore. All I could think was, I am going to die. I am going to die at a very, very young age. Or what if I don't die? Oh my God, I'm going to be brain dead. I can't believe this is happening to me. Why me, God?!

I sat there crying, just bawling. I couldn't help myself. I felt numb. I felt as if I were already going to die. My life was over. Here I am, not yet 18, and I am going to die? How fucking unfair is it that I should have to deal with this? Haven't I been crapped on enough all my life? Really, this is how it's going to end? I'm never going to have children. My parents are going to have to bury me.

I couldn't believe this was happening to me. He told us to go to the hospital right away; he let them know before that we were gonna be coming in. Head to the ER.

We leave the office and get in the car, where my grandma's been sitting there waiting. My mom tells her that we have to go to the hospital; she wanted to scare her as little as possible. My dad, who was going to meet us at my cousin's house, met us at the hospital when we got there.

I'll never forget the car ride there. Not that anything specific happened, but I can remember exactly how I felt. Exactly. Sitting in the car on the way there, being driven by my mom, sitting next to my grandma, I just felt so utterly and completely helpless. I already felt like a vegetable,to put it poetically. I felt like my fate was sealed and it wasn't going to allow me to live a long, normal, healthy life.

At the hospital, dad took grandma home while mom stayed with me. After my dad got back my name was finally called. I was brought in to a small room. Some young doctor took my blood and asked me what was going on, describe the sensations I was feeling in my head. This was a recurring theme that night. I must have seen 6 or 7 different people, all of whom needed me to tell them everything from the beginning.

When you're in a situation like that, you really don't feel like telling your story multiple times. Why couldn't they just communicate with each other, or have 5 doctors in the room at the same time? Anyway, they finally took me to my room. I was going to stay overnight.

I wasn't yet 18 when this happened, so they put me in the children's ward. I must say this was the greatest thing that could've happened to me during the whole ordeal. The way they treated me there just made me feel so much more comfortable.

Late that night while I was lying in bed, two surgeons walked in my room, Dr. Schneider and Dr. Mitler. They told me they were going to be the ones operating on me. They looked at my MRI films, and they think they know what it is. I had a small growth wedged between my brain and my brain stem. They said they didn't think it was cancerous, it seemed benign. It was like a grape, fairly small and curiously enough, perfectly round. Because it was so round, they said it should be fairly easy to remove.

So the growth was not malignant, and it was not that huge. But what made it so serious (besides the fact that, you know, I had a growth on my brain) was it's location. Like I said, it was wedged in between my brain and the brain stem. But they said they felt confident ad they were gonna take care of me, and they'd see me in surgery on Monday.

It must have been 1 or 2 AM when this happened, and my mom started crying again, this time the tears were closer to joy [relief]. She slept on the chair next to my bed the whole time I was in the hospital. I don't know how, but eventually, somehow we got to sleep that night.

Saturday and Sunday were both extremely long, fairly uneventful days. I went in for another MRI on Sunday, but other than that it was just lying in bed watching in TV for hours. My dad was there all day, every day, too. My brother was in Europe. My parents didn't want to call him and tell him what was going on until after the surgery, which made enough sense. Why worry him when he's on the other side of the world?

I got a lot of phone calls from family and friends, teachers, my boss at my luxurious Marshall's job, Stanley-the owner of Camp Monroe. And some visits too, family and friends. That was nice. It helped pass the time and it was really great seeing all these people that on Friday I wondered how many more times I'd be able to see them.

So Sunday night, I'm lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. Yet, believe it or not, it was a little hard thinking that when I woke up I was undergoing brain surgery. So of course, the bed next to me in the room that was vacated ever since Saturday morning was filled. A family was involved in a car accident, and they were keeping one of the kids over night but of course they all stayed there. Of course, they were extremely noisy throughout the entire night. I felt bad about complaining, but it wasn't that dire of an accident and it was like 2 in the morning and all I wanted to do was go to sleep so I can wake up and have surgery.

Monday, June 6th, 2005 - Surgery was supposed to be at 11. I was nervously watching the clock wanting the time to come already, but of course it got pushed back. A couple of hours passed and then around 2 or 3, someone came in to wheel me down to prep me for surgery. Wha- Now?! I'm not ready, I need time to, you know, mentally prepare.

So I was wheeled down in this waiting room/line. They wheeled me in and you know, the anesthesiologist is cracking jokes, trying to help me not worry so much. I was actually okay that day. I was ready. They gave me the anesthesia, and told me to count backwards from 100. I'm thinking Ugh, great. There's no way I'm gonna pass out, I'm too nervous... 100.... 99... 98...97...

97 was the last number I remember.

I woke up in some pretty intense pain. I couldn't move my neck at all. They wheeled me back to my room and I couldn't have been happier to see my parents faces. They had me on a morphine drip, and I was able to control it by pressing a little button another dosage of morphine would hit me. It was so good. So good, in fact, they took the power away from me the next day. They said it was to be expected, but I was taking a bit too much morphine than I should, and well, I was in more pain for the rest of my stay.

Dr. Schneider and Dr. Mitler came in and I thanked them. I stayed in the hospital until Wednesday. I was in this foam neck cast, and the ride home was killer. When I got home, no position was comfortable. Everything was painful. I stayed at home until the very last day of school. My mom had the glorious job of removing the bandages from the back of my head. You can imagine how cute she thought it was when she saw 13 bloody staples when she took it off.

I went back to school for the last day. The last day of senior year, my last day of high school. I was walking around with my yearbook, this stiff board, unable to rotate my neck at all, so I'd have to turn my whole body when I moved. It was eerie. Most of these people knew why they hadn't seen me in two weeks, and the conversations were... interesting. So that was the glorious memory of my last day in high school.

I went back to see my neurologist, who told me that although the growth was benign, because of the location of it it was very dangerous. Had they not caught it, I could have potentially only had a few years left. Had I not gotten it checked it out, I could've died shortly after college. Well, I'm entering my senior year now, and that still stays with me.

I had the surgery, the growth was removed. Had that not happened, I could've mysteriously dropped dead in a few years. I still wonder a lot that that might still happen. I've had follow-up MRIs every year, and nothing appears to be regrowing; but I still think about that.

The truth is, you never know how much time you have. Everyone assumes that they're going to live a full life and get to see their grandkids grow up. People always think that if there's some danger around the corner, there'll be signs or they'll be able to deal with it. Not to sound too much of a downer, but the truth of it all is you never know what's gonna happen. You just never know.

I owe my life to Dr. Schneider and Dr. Mitler. Without them, I might not be here. Or maybe in a few years. Thank you, Dr. Schneider. Thank you Dr. Mitler. I owe everything I have to them.

I had been meaning to do this for some time; write down the whole experience. I feel like this was not as emotionally driven, or fact-filled as it could've been if I'd done this right after it happened. But I liked this, it was good for me to do this. I was looking forward to writing this today, and I'm glad I did.

Like I said, today was third year anniversary of my brain surgery. Not a day goes by that I don't think about it.

So I Have An Internship... Now What?

Ahh, summer vacation. The greatest 3.5 months of the year, right? School's out, the weather's nice - this is what we've all been waiting for all of last summer, right? Ehh, not in every case.

I've just finished my junior year and I have an internship, albeit part-time, at an advertising agency. This is what I wanted. This was the plan.

I've spent the last nine summers of my life at a sleep away camp. I lived for the summers. I was a camper there for 4 years, a waiter, and then "worked" there as staff for the last four summers. I surround the word worked with quotation marks because I believe in order to technically be working, you in turn get paid for the work. Technically some small sum of money did exchange hands in my favor, but the amount could hardly be deemed fair payment for my services.

Besides, most if not all of the money that I was to be paid over the summers were spent primarily on booze at Legends, the crappy hole-in-the-wall bar up by Camp Monroe. But it was our crappy hole-in-the-wall bar, and it was amazing. They served us, despite the fact that more of us were under 21 than over.

Spending the past nine summers away from home, I cut a lot of ties around here on Long Island. And now, for the first time since 1998, I'll be spending the entire summer on Long Island.

Before I even started college, I planned to return to Monroe up until last summer - figuring I wouldn't really need an internship until the summer after my Junior year of college. So now, Junior year has come and gone, and despite unnecessarily sweating out the internship that I unknowingly had ever since mid-March, I can breath a sigh of relief. I am not a sorry excuse waste-of-life college bum.

I am an intern.

Again, a part-time intern. Nonetheless, I have an internship at an advertising agency. Pretty legit, eh?

For two days a week until my Senior year starts up at good ol' Syracuse University, I'll be learning the crafts of my trade that'll hopefully help land me a job in 12 months, that hopefully won't make me want to pluck my eyeballs out with a fork.

So the other five days a week... well, let's just say that so far my summer has been a tad more dormant than I'd imagined. And although I'm starting my search much later than I should have, it is time...

I need a summer job.

I already have the internship that'll do something for my eventual career... That's the plan, at least - otherwise it's "Hello, Devry!" (No that's not funny, that's scary.) But now I really need to make some money. Otherwise, there's no reason I couldn't return to Camp - and that can't happen.

Thank God the list of respectable summer jobs for college students is endless!! Oh wait, no - that's an entirely false statement. So now it is the beginning of June, and I have been home for almost an entire month. In no specific order, it's time to examine possible summer job opportunities.

Waiter: In theory I wouldn't mind doing this. I enjoy people, so long as they don't suck. Which can be taken as both a universal and/or contradictory statement. But I mean it, I'm a people person. I enjoy the atmosphere of a lively restaurant chain more than most, probably. But when it comes to people who suck, and reminder, I live on Long Island, so like... a carefully calculated 62% of people here fall in to that category. Also, although it was an entirely different set-up, my summer spent as a waiter in the sleep away camp setting was anything but a success. I can be clumsy at times, and that's putting it politely. So maybe that experience will drive me away from doing that.

Bartender: I've always wanted to be a bartender. I think it would be so cool to work at a buzzing local bar, but again: Long Island. Guidos, bitchy japs driving around on their daddy's money and all around shitty people ain't my bag, baby. Plus, I'd have to spend $2-300 getting my bartender's license, and then honestly... who wants to hire an unexperienced 20-year-old male as a bartender? I could get a job if I had long blonde hair and a nice rack, or experience behind a bar, either one really. But realistically, no. Plus, the whole clumsy factor.

Temp Agency: I really wanted to steer away from this. Not wanting to do secretarial bullshit work is the reason why I became an advertising major - in hopes that I'd be able to something creative with my life and actually enjoy getting up and going to work in the mornings. Although this is the most realistic, probable and possibly profitable choice, I'll save this one for later.

Fast-food: All I can think of is my days working at Marshall's my senior year of high school. Making minimum wage and having to accept customers talk to you like you're a complete idiot isn't as glamorous as it sounds. Hey, Lady! You're the one spending 3 nights a week at Marshall's carefully setting up a scheme to swap SALE stickers on other merchandise, all so you can save $4.99 on a shitty shirt. Then when you get caught, because it's pretty easy to tell, I'm forced to receive and accept your tongue-lashing because I'm working behind the counter? I was 17, who's gonna give a high school kid, no matter how smart they are, a real job? Anyway, I'd rather not relive those minimum wage memories so I can actually utter the words "Would you like fries with that?" to the scum I went to high school with. I'll pass.

The Internet is your friend: I could sell shit online, or find those abstract, odd, yet reliable ways to make money online doing different things (no not porn, don't worry, even I wouldn't wanna see that). I recently came across a site where I can make money for sending in my ideas or writings. But if I'm gonna write something, it's not gonna be so I can sign my rights away and make $100 while this company turns it into a book. Maybe I can stumble across focus groups or lend my body to science experiments. One friend, who shall remain nameless, came across an ad on Craigslist that they responded to. Said person got paid $500 to go over to some old man's house and pee on him as the old guy laid in a bathtub. I don't think I'll be going in that route.

Jones Beach: I just thought of working concerts at Jones Beach. I have cousins that did it years ago, and they hated it. But I'd like to think I wouldn't mind it all so much. I'd get to (sort of) hear (yet definitely not see) concerts (from bands that I will most likely not want to listen to at all). Maybe not work concerts, but doing something else at the beach. Or some other beach. A cabana boy? I could definitely make some coinage that way.

I'm not sure how big the market is out there for employers with fun summer job opportunities still looking, specifically for people who can work only Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays. I was kind of hoping writing this would help me figure out what I'll do, but really I'm no closer than I was when I started.

I thought I'd be able to pass out floating around in my pool, listening to some good tunes all summer. Isn't there any way I can get paid for that?

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, I'm also actually hoping for a surgery this summer that would in effect put a halt to my internship and whatever job I do or do not land. So I'm sure by the time I figure out how I'm going to make my millions over the next few months, Surgery #5 of my life would be more than a minor roadblock. Ain't doctors fun?

Do People Actually Like Sex and the City?

Really, what's the big deal with Sex and the City? What's so great about it? I just don't get it.

Maybe it's because I'm a guy?... a straight guy?... a 20 year-old straight guy?

I don't know, I just don't get the obsession with the show. What exactly do people like about the show? The common answers, thanks to our amazingly credible, talented and meaningful news broadcasts who devote their time to obviously worthwhile news stories: Strong female characters, their friendships, New York City, female sexuality and witty dialogue.

This coming from our amazing mass media that would rather spend more time on Paris Hilton than Darfur, and devote more airtime on Tom Cruise than what's really going on in Iraq.

I suppose the show has it's moments where the writers get lucky and allow someone to say something that actually is funny, but witty banter? Come on... there's more highlights from speeches from our President.

Yeah, I get it - one of them really, really loves shoes; another one of 'em likes to get drilled and make sex jokes. Women taking control of their own sexuality by saying the word "vagina" and making penis jokes - talented and empowering, eh?

I know the show definitely does have its strong following of fans, but what's with the media's obsession with the show and its characters? It doesn't represent New York as it really is, and they are simply characters. What is with the news broadcasts making such a big deal about this movie as if it's the biggest movie of the year?

Is it because it's New York media, that people in the New York area feel a connection on another level? You know, because it's so rare for TV shows and movies to take place in New York City. But hell, I've never seen a minute of 24 or Lost, and I'm sickened by the popularity of American Idol and Grey's Anatomy, so obviously I'm not exactly the target audience for Sex and the City, either.

Why does Sarah Jessica Parker get so much credit? People have a hard time separating actors from the characters they portray. Frankly, if she was really like her character in the show, wouldn't that be one of the most annoying/irritating people to deal with on a daily basis?

She's listed as an executive producer for half the series. And I hate to break it to you fans but this actually does not mean a whole lot much. It's not as if the characters, the ideas, the story lines are her brainchild. Executive producer is a vague title.

A producer can simply be the main financier, or, from wikipedia, "Sometimes, this title is conferred upon a celebrity or notable creator who has lent their name to a project to boost its prestige or credibility, as a recognition of newly-acquired industry status, or as a perk to the show's main star." And she never claimed to be more than she is.

But many fans credit her portrayal of her character as being their saving grace, their hope that somewhere out there (preferably in New York City, because they're moving there to be like Carrie) is a man who is 'perfect' [yet willing to put up with their shit and actually be with them].

Peter Griffin said it best: "They let Sarah Jessica Parker on TV and she looks like a foot!"

My only problem with Sarah Jessica Parker is that she's married to Matthew Broderick. When Ferris Bueller's Day Off quickly became my favorite movie at an early age I guess I kinda hopes he was gonna be with his girlfriend from the movie. At least she doesn't look like a foot.

It's no doubt that the biggest allure to female fans is that the main characters are female. That the show is about four women and their friendships and the way they take control of and talk about their sexuality. And yes, the gay best friend that's a given. So it's not as if this movie has a universal audience - why does the media portray this as 'thee' movie America has been waiting for?

And I'm sure it's going to do very well at the box office. How will it compare to Indiana Jones' opening weekend's Friday-Sunday take, well, I have my opinions but only time will tell.

I just think it's over-rated. I can't blame the actresses for the show/movie's success, it's not their fault. They should be commended for and given credit for their work. I just don't get the frantic obsession with it all. Kim Catrell likes getting naked and gets to say the most sexually explicit lines - so? When guys do this on TV shows and movies, it's considered a bad thing.

To men out there who will be forced to see this movie with their wives/girlfriends and unfortunately inflate Sex and the City's inevitable large box-office take, I apologize to you. And for those of you [women] who think Sarah Jessica Parker is beautiful,look at her old lady hands.

I couldn't find a picture of her as a foot from the Family Guy episode. Hopefully I'll come across it.

And not that I see this happening, but should Indiana Jones' second week box-office draw be larger than Sex and the City's this weekend, well, wouldn't that be something?

Theta Chi: Not Just My Fraternity, Drug Ring Specialists

A little over a year ago, I became a member of the Theta Chi Fraternity at Syracuse. A little over a week ago, news broke out that the Theta Chi chapter in San Diego State University was involved in a serious drug ring. 75 students got busted in a months long undercover operation by police known as Operation Sudden Fall.

Oh Theta Chi, how proud I am of my national fraternity. Actually, that's not true... nor is it false, really. See, I don't care so much about my fraternity in the national sense. I'm no exactly all about it in a national sense. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud to be a member - of MY house.

Our motto is supposed to be 'lend a helping hand.' I didn't join the house to do community service. And as awful as that might sound, that doesn't mean that I'm against helping causes. But seriously, I didn't go through pledging so that one day, hopefully, I can become a Big Brother to someone who needs one, or fund raise for a local diabetes organization.

I joined the house because they seemed like cool guys. I love living in the house and doing shit with the guys, and we're proud of the house on our campus - in the sense that it represents us. Not the whole national hullabaloo.

Nationall, all our house are supposed to be alcohol-freeThe house is also supposed to be alcohol-free, according to Theta Chi Nationally. How much would that suck? Seriously.

I don't read the news about the SDSU chapter and think "Oh no, our national reputation is soiled! I'm so embarrassed for my fraternity as a national organization." Fuck that. I think it's funny.

It's funny that they got caught. 96 people were arrested; 75 of them SDSU students. A total of six fraternities were suspended, yet Theta Chi seems to be the only name thrown around. Police seized "two kilos of cocaine, 350 ecstasy pills, a lot of marijuana, psychedelic mushrooms, hash oil, methamphetamine, illicit prescription drugs, several guns and at least $60,000 in cash."

Those dumb idiots sent out a mass text message to hundreds of past clients telling them that they were in Vegas or the weekend, they'd be back to sell them coke and listed the prices. They got caught; that's funny stuff.

Come to think of it, we could use a little money ourselves... maybe a smaller drug ring wouldn't be such a bad idea?

Oh Theta Chi, good job boys.

A-Rod's Performance Is Consistent On & Off The Field: He's A Bitch

A very interesting piece of news is beginning to circulate. Apparently in 2004 during the birth of his first child, A-Rod's performance in the delivery room was so substandard that nurses were turning their attention away from his wife towards him.

November 18, 2004 was the date.

"“The one nurse had a cold cloth on his head. The other nurse had the blood pressure on his arm. And my mother was like rubbing his back. And he is passed out on a couch. And I am there, in the middle of labor,” said his wife. “And really, I am not being paid much attention to besides the doctor and a couple of nurses,” she said. “And he is there moaning. In between pushing, I am going, ‘Honey, are you OK?’ and ‘Are you breathing? Are you OK?’... In the middle of the night, I realized that I needed to go to the hospital. I wake him up. The first thing that comes out of his mouth, ‘Can we call your mother?’

I mean, I didn't really have respect for the guy before this, but now? PSH. Perhaps if the kid was born in May instead of the fall, his performance would've been better. A month after playing a pivotal role in the biggest collapse in baseball history when the Yankees blew a 3 game lead and allowed the Red Sox to take the series and become World Series Champions, A-Rod's autumn performances consistently stunk.

So again, as the leaves turn brown and begin to fall from the trees, the A-Rod that people know from April to September flips a 180, as does his performance. Boy, the richest man in baseball who people deem inaccurately as the best in the game just cannot get it done when it counts. Due to his lack of production, you'd probably think artificial insemination. But since the baby was born in November, that would make it February/March, when he can perform.

I just find it so incredibly funny that this story came out. As if he wasn't already fielding enough shots to his character and performance, does he really need his wife saying this on the YES Network?

How The Big Lebowski Made Me Want To Be A Better Jew, & The Only Bad Thing About The Movie

"3,000 Years of Beautiful Tradition from Moses to Sandy Koufax
YOU'RE GOD DAMN RIGHT I'M FUCKING LIVING IN THE PAST!"

Ah yes, the universal inspiration for all us Long Island Jews that just aren't that religious. And by Long Island Jew, I mean that I went to a Jewish sleep-away camp for the last decade of my life. There, I always wished I was more... Jewish. Yet by the time I got home and school started, I cared just as much as I did before I left for the summer.

Though it might be sad that it took Walter Sobchak (John Goodman) from The Big Lebowski for me to finally see the light - as long as it happens, right? The aforementioned quote really got me thinking. Jews are always talking about their past, and things that happened throughout their history. Yet I guess we have good reason to.

Yes, I say "we" because although I'm not extremely religious, I definitely consider myself Jewish, and proud of it. After all, we have Moses and Sandy Koufax on our side.

I don't want to harp on the subject in a preaching manner; that is not my intention. I just found it interesting that such an inspiration quote can come from such an odd source.

"Saturday, Donny, is Shabbos, the Jewish day of rest. That means that I don't work, I don't get in a car, I don't pick up the phone, I don't turn on the oven, and I sure as shit don't fucking roll! Shomer Shabbos! Shomer fuckin' Shabbos!"

One last thing to note about The Big Lebowski... there is by my count one, and only one, very very bad thing about the movie. The scene where the Dude, Walter and Donny leave the bowling alley only to find that the Dude's car is not there spawned the 83 minute waste of time, energy and resources known as Dude, Where's My Car? (2000). As Walter uttered those five fateful words, "Dude... where is your car?" - Some schmuck named Philip Stark got the inspiration to write a script that turned into that awful movie. It wasn't your fault Lebowski, but it is still a shame.

Fred Durst Was the Secret to the Yankees' Success

In the late 90s, some very terrible things happened that shook the very foundation of America.

The Yankees won the World Series three years in a row, from 1998 - 2000.

Limp Bizkit, led by front man Fred Durst, rocked the music charts during the same time period, what I like to call the "Middle School Years."

Is it a coincidence? I think not. Fred Durst and this red cap were inseparable. Unfortunately, many of us are all to familiar with the logo that's on the front of the hat (back of his head, because to wear a baseball hat forward, you know, the way it should be worn, would be too awful for Mr. Durst). Fred Durst always wore that red Yankees cap. The two images were inseparable.

It is my theory that the reason behind the Yankees success in the late 90s had very much to do with Fred Durst. I think the best way to prove this theory is to look at their simultaneous downfalls. Their breakthrough single, "Faith," was the driving force behind Three Dollar Bill, Yall$ peaking at #22 on the BIllboard Charts in 1998. Durst "did it all for the Nookie" in 1999, and had several unfortunately successful singles thanks to TRL and Carson "Whitest Guy In The Room" Daly over the next couple of years.

In 2001, Limp Bizkit released Chocolate Starfish and the Hotdog Flavored Water - classy, ain't they? This was a last ditch effort to show that they had any talent. Their lone successful single off this album, "Rollin" was known more for being the entrance song for The Undertaker (a dark period in his wrestling career) than anything else.

From 1998 until somewhere in the middle of 2001, Limp Bizkit were, in the media sense, on top of the world. People actually bought their music, enjoyed listening to them play, and liked seeing them appear on TV.

From 1998 until somewhere in the middle of 2001 was also the time period of the Yankees success. They swept the Padres in 1998, after having a remarkable 114 win season. In '99, they again swept the World Series, this time denying the Braves yet again the chance to raise a banner other than NL Champs. In 2000, George Steinbrenner paid Armando Benitez to blow game after game, and won a hard fought series against the Mets 4-1. In the 2001 World Series, after being down 2 games to None, the Yankees pounded away on Byung-Hyun Kim who mysteriously blew up in the playoffs after having a brilliant season. After taking a 3 games to 2 lead, the Arizona Diamondbacks raped them in game 6 forcing a game 7. The Yankees had the lead going in to the 9th inning, before one of the happier moments during my time in 9th grade - Mariano Rivera blew it and the Diamondbacks were World Series Champs.

Ever since then, the Yankees have not had success in the form of their ultimate goal that they feel they are entitled to each year, a World Series championship. In September 23, 2003 - Limp Bizkit released an album Results May Vary. A month later, the Yankees, whose results usually bring home a World Series Championship, lost the World Series to the Florida Marlins. The results surely varied there for them. They have not made it to the World Series ever since. Results May Vary garnered negative reviews and low-sales for Limp Bizkit, and they have more or less disappeared ever since.

I think I make fairly strong case linking the two together - Fred Durst was responsible for the Yankees success. now some of you may be wondering, Well yes, I see the time comparisons. But how does that mean Fred Durst was responsible for the Yankees run? Excellent question, little one.

It wasn't "Fred Durst" himself so much that was the reason for all this... It was his red Yankees cap. That stupid red Yankees cap that hid his balding head, he wore all the time. As he rose to fame and was all over the media, so was that stupid hat.

All my facts are true, you can Wikipedia them. And with the simultaneous rise to power, came the much happier and more celebrated (okay, by me) demise of both Fred Durst and the Yankees. The Fall of 2001 was the last sign of pure success for either party involved. As Durst faded away, so did his red Yankees cap - and so did the Yankees.

A certain someone challenged me, thinking that I wouldn't be able to write an essay on my recently founded theory of Fred Durst = Yankees Success. Well, more like said person probably figured I would never be so bored so soon as to actually write it. Well, classes are officially over until August 25 and before I start 'enjoying' the time off that is 'finals week' I thought I'd show the academic side of me.

For the past 7 years, we have been free of bad music (that's a lie, but as long as one horrible rap-metal band is no longer prosperous, it's a start) and are not inundated daily with the accomplishments of the Yankees (also a lie, unfortunately.) Well, at least I haven't had to watch them raise any Championship banners the past few years.

Fred Durst's stupid red Yankees cap was the driving force behind the Yankees success of the late 90s... well, that and the whole STEROIDS thing.

Tim Robbins Is My Hero

Tim Robbins may have just saved the future of television news broadcasting.

Okay, that's a tad drastic. But he has used his star power to urge those in charge to change the way they deliver "news."

"We don't need to look at the car crash; we don't need to live off of the pain and humiliation of the unfortunate; we don't need to celebrate our pornographic obsession with celebrity culture... We are better than that."

They thought they were going to have a keynote speaker who would serve them fluff about how wonderful they all are and how the internet and technology makes news available to people all over the world instantaneously. But Robbins said something that needed to be said.

News today is crap.

Especially television news broadcasts. Everything he said is right on. They show the rapes, the deadly car crashes, the tallish black male who killed a smallish white female, and what Paris Hilton, Michael Jackson and Tom Cruise have done in the past 24 hours.

I don't care that Oprah went to the bathroom twice while having lunch at the expensive yada-yada-yada, or that Lindsay Lohan spent $2,500 buying sunglasses for her pets.

There are things going on in the world, the country, and locally other than murders, crimes and tragic deaths. Why is there the need to only highlight these things? Is that really what brings in ratings? Is that what attracts advertisers?

The news is full of sensational stories that scares the average white suburban viewer, because, after all, aren't all the people sitting at home watching the news on their TV white and from the suburbs?

The journalist heroes that people talk about from decades past who have covered (or in some cases, uncovered) great political stories and got classic interviews - that's journalism. Journalists are supposed to provide the public with news of what is happening locally, state-wide, nation-wide and world-wide. Good and bad, and give them all the pertinent information.

The fact that the average American knows little to nothing about the situation in Darfur, yet they do know What Britney Spears' shirts say on a daily basis is disgusting. There is a genocide going on right now, and people don't know. Why? Because the people in charge of the media don't think that we care. Well, if we never hear about it in the first place, how can we even form an opinion on the subject matter?

Instead of relishing on the bloody images of a victim being carted away from a deadly 10-car-pile-up, present the news in a respectful matter.

Stop portraying certain people as criminals based on their income, location, skin color, clothes or accent. These people must have been forced to do real journalism through college, have they forgotten everything?

I'm not doing anything new by saying that there is a problem with the current state of the news. All I am trying to get across is the magnitude of what Tim Robbins did. He was granted a high honor, and used it to take a chance to speak to the National Association of Broadcasters to point out what is wrong with the news today.

So while Robbins will never be known for these remarks more so than for his performances in Bull Durham or The Shawshank Redemption (or his Award-snubbed performance in Tenacious D: Pic Of Destiny), this might be the most powerful thing Robbins has ever done.



Oh yeah, his speech, just like this post, ended with a standing ovation.