Garo Bolishuk Bank

Garo Bolishuk Bank: July 2006

2006-07-18T05:23:00.000-07:00

A Green Mountain State in Our Common Future?

Long ago when talk of future Bolishuck reunions was in the Mattituck air, I floated the possibility of taking the group back to Pollackzania North, as someone once called it - i.e., my parents house in West Dover, Vermont. As I recall, some were enthusiastic, and others only politely silent at the prospect. Well that dream, (or nightmare) can be now upon us.

Here's a plan: either of the two middle weekends in August can work (August 12-13 or 19-20). I'm not sure any have made it to Vermont in the summer, apart from Sol in 1982 I believe, but there are amble summer time activities, not the least of which is golf - though I presume only half of us would even consider that - you figure out who's who for that one. Last time I played was in Dix Hills with Dish and Bal somewhere near twenty years ago and my ineptitude certainly didn't earn any we'd-love-to-see-you-back-here points.

Let me know what people think of this and we'll work from there.

Fi

Ken Lay Gets Away With Murder

2006-07-05T19:21:00.000-07:00

Technically, he was found guilty, but that's extinguished as of today," said Joel M. Androphy, a prominent defense lawyer in Houston. (NYT 7/6/06)

Andrew Carnegie said that "Wealth is not chiefly the product of the individual but largely the joint product of the community." In the case of the Ken Lay estate it will be interesting to see who collects on his life policies as much as who is shielded by his death preferences. If you look at the community idea those consecutive life sentences don't do justice to all the nest eggshells that splintered under his thread bare promises.
The suicide scenario first played out yesterday on Wikipedia.

Cuban Defective

2006-07-02T20:24:00.000-07:00

Can the plug be pulled on the Alay Soler Experiment, please??

From Father to Son, to Son

2006-06-19T02:44:00.000-07:00

Earlier this month Jeremiah and I staged a Chicago getaway. We came to Chicago equipped with all the tools required to create breaking Bank news -- a digital camera, a panoramic backdrop, a high ceiling, a gracious host, and a product placement.

Yes, the photo op you see before you is the presentation of Canuck with a copy of Bal's birthday present: "Diplomas From the School of Doubt" (an uncanny compilation of Ray Mason tunes).

On our way from the Navy Pier funhouse to the Hancock Observatory, we were given name badges and elevator privileges to a very high floor. As you can see the actual ceremony was held on a casual Friday at Canuck's urbane and finely-styled corporate homequarters.

This marked an eventful weekend in Canuckling milestones in the form of Ben's graduation. In addition to caps, gowns, speeches, and kid sisters (alas no pictures to present), the occasion included the playing of a recently penned biopic melody from an admiring dad balladeer. Recent reports indicate that the song's intimacy played out in a private moment away from the bruhahaha where peer pressures subside and the insides of father-to-son hood are properly addressed.

Perhaps Canuck will grace us with an encore when we re-embank this summer? Requests for additional awardings of Bal's birthday diploma can be sent directly to spinvillage. Please make sure to include your archival preferences and the names of satellites you've been calling friends.

Bally Up

2006-05-30T05:59:00.000-07:00

When I think back on defining moments in my life -- the ones where you're tickled to consider how high, how far, how thick, how juicy ... I know that: (1) whatever the definition, and (2) however arrived at = furnished + brandishing by the insatiable curiosity, daring, luring, and coaxing of Player-Coach Bal.

And I'm not talking about mountains like the milestone peaks of the Pete Rose hitting streak, the break-in at Wrigley, the commando raid on John Woloshuk, or, the 1984 downhill slolum.

No siree. I'm talking about the challenges of the daily King Kullen sliced beets vintage. I mean who can stand up with a straight face at the thought of a dismounted hoodamint or a feigned twirlie while exiting the perfumed aisles of the down-brow late-70s Whitman shopping experience? And not only the experience of it but the immediacy of observation -- the rating system, the tallies, the hypothetical trade-offs about grafting obsessive minds within the welcoming contours of hypnotic outfits -- sebaceous prominences from the coming of boy-to-manhood.

Bal -- there is no nickname too arcane, no put-out too unrecorded, no systematization too mechanical, no memory too interpretive, and no life sentence too uncommuted to thank you for your palette of spice and gumption. May we all revisit the gazumption of it with each passing year.

Sell Out, Sell Out

2006-05-24T09:38:00.000-07:00

From: RPondiscio@aol.com
Date: Sun, 21 May 2006 20:09:13 EDT
Subject: Sell Out, Sell Out

This may be old news to you, but while passing a TV tuned to CNN the other day, I was stopped in my tracks by the opening riff of P. Gabe's Solsbury Hill. It was used as a music bed for a Cingular ad, with the only lyrical snippet remaining being "Grab your things I've come to take you home." I'm less surprised at P. Gabe for selling out, than that someone at Cingular or their ad agency would want to use it.

Are we aware of any other Bolishuk musical heroes selling their wares for commercial use? Randy Newman sold "Dayton, Ohio 1903" to Nutrasweet, I think and turned a song from a sountrack into a McDonald's commercial. Any other examples, fellers?

Putting the Dix into Cunt'ry

2006-05-21T15:24:00.000-07:00

(Top) Dixie Chicks on Tokyo press junket for the release of their latest film, "Agents of MILF."

(2nd from top) Video box art for "Pocket Rocket." (Courtesy Vivid Entertainment)

(2nd from bottom) The chicks walking the red carpet as they make their way to the Adult Video News awards, for which they will win for "Best Three-Way While Recreating the Double Dildo Scene from Requiem for a Dream." Not pictured: Natalie's peek-a-boo pants; brunette one's "I Eat Bush for Breakfast" ass-patch.

(Bottom) Previously unpublished promotional piece that accompanied the release of their first film, "Lactatin' Lesbian Round-Up."

Chicks y Dicks

2006-05-21T14:18:00.000-07:00

No one's reading this, are they? Blah blah anyway, I was reading a review of the new Dixie Chicks record, and it seemed pertinent to point out that there's a song co-written and sung w/ Neil Finn. (Called "Silent House," eerily enough.) Perhaps Dish might want to mp3 it and send it out to the rest of us? And while we're on the subject, I've felt this for years, but it's really confirmed by the latest round of publicity photos popping up in glossy weeklies these days: the Dixie Chicks, particularly the two sisters, look totally like porn stars. Try and disagree with me.

Garo

With Your Mind in Mind

2006-05-19T08:59:00.000-07:00

From: Putthel@aol.com
Date: Fri, 19 May 2006 09:07:43 EDT
Subject: With Your Mind in Mind
To: deeptracks@xmradio.com

Hi Deep Tracks,

Thanks for playing Klaatu's "Juicy Luicy" and for honoring this creative trio's works in the past.

I have yet to hear "Doctor Marvello" from Klaatu's first album on Deep Tracks, which is suprising in a way (if not hearing Klaatu on the radio can ever be said to be surprising!)

Here's why. There are only 406 citations on Google for the expression "With your mind in mind." I've come to notice that this is an expression that Deep Tracks takes seriously as an embodiment of your philosophy. It is also a lyric from "Doctor Marvello", a great trippy track which would be perfect for the blue light room.

Interesting, but I just did a lyric search of that first Klaatu album and the word "mind" shows up in five of the albums eight tracks!

Hope you don't mind the advice!

-- Bob

Red Rain

2006-05-16T20:19:00.000-07:00

So it's after 11 and it's raining in St. Louis. Gary Cohen mentioned that the rain wasn't expected to let up, and so the game against the Cardinals was likely to be suspended and played later on. Here's what I don't get: last Thursday the Mets were playing the Phillies, down 2-0 after 4.5 innings, and the rain came down. That game was called, and the Mets took a tough loss. Tonight they're up by 1 after 6.5, so why can't they call this one as well? Is it because the Phillies game was the last of the series, and tonight's is the first of the Cardinal series? Does anyone know? And can anyone explain the run of incredibly bad luck that's hit the Mets these past two weeks? Every call seems blown; every opposing team makes monumental plays to rob hitters (particularly Cliff Floyd and Xavier Nady)...even the weather is conspiring against them. Does anyone want to take the Mets bullpen over the Cardinals' for the resumption of the game tomorrow? Goddamn!

OK...a little while later, the idiocy of what I just wrote occurs to me. Clearly the Cardinals are due their turn at bat before the game can be called, yadda yadda yadda. They just went down runless in the bottom of the 7th. Can it start raining again? I'd contemplated deleting this post, but there're so few here anyway. So feast your eyes on my late-night non-thinkery.

B-side Rendezvous

2006-05-11T13:59:00.000-07:00

Hey, kids! Let's make like the flip side of "Something"! Let's "Come Together." Soily and I have been having conversations about this year's model of the GBB convention, and neither of us was quite sure where it was. It's my year, but Alfie had made specific noises at last year's about hosting the 2006 version. No one has heard from Alfie on this, I take it. We'll rope him into the discussion soon. For now, the Bankblog seems a fine place to collect everyone's opinions on what constitutes a good weekend. You're on the clock, 5:05pm EDT, 5/11/06. Ta ta! P.S. Anyone else find this site really buggy and sluggish?

Musical Doetry

2006-04-26T11:21:00.000-07:00

Shucks,

I read about and experimented with a site worthy of further exploration: www.pandora.com. At this site, you insert an artist name and it plays a tune from which "the musical genome project" derives and plays tunes which may be attractive. It is an intriguing segue machine. My results for Klaatu were mixed but suggested that more refined searches will be worthwhile.

Some musical non-sequiturs:

I listened to Consequences last week while in transit for some cases and it still holds up. It remains a legitimately funny radio play with some inspired musical interludes.
On Bal's recommendation from XM, I own The Decembrists Picaresque - and I cannot get enough of it.

David Duke

2006-04-25T15:40:00.000-07:00

Putthel@aol.com wrote:
Date: Wed, 12 Apr 2006 09:41:33 EDT
Subject: David Duke

I trust I'm not the only Bolishucker to have read David Brooks' great column "Virtues and Victims" in the Sunday Week in Review section. But if you overlooked it and the canary cage is still making its way through the stacks, look it up. Unfortunately it's pay-per-view on-line.

The column compares the Duke scandal with the blueprint of "I Am Charlotte Simmons". An obvious idea for a column, but Brooks goes off on some very interesting historical-social tangents.

HR Puckenstuff

2006-04-12T13:07:00.000-07:00

Fellers,

Seven Solomon males spanning 3 generations, two religious traditions, and untold bagle variations converged on the Nasshole Coliseum last Saturday for a rousing interplay of cuddly mascots, bungled wedding proposals, and retired numbers. Missing in action: any trivia questions related to hockey history and the Canadian National Anthem. I also remember the house lights dimming once the puck was dropped but maybe that's just the dimmers now set to my fading recollections of hometown ice supremacy.

The wedding proposals are actually advertised on the men's room walls as a way of winning a free honeymoon. There are also staged inbetween period bumper scooter derbies between plainclad clownsters.

Perhaps the centerstagiest of the recent side shows are the ice girls who storm the ice at the first stoppages, pedaling their midriffs and their Zamboni brooms. There were few intrusion opportunities, however with the demolition of the red line and the spectre of delay-of-game calls. In fact it's fair to suggest that 60 minutes of hockey action can be achieved in a realtime zone of about 2:20. The attentions don't waver very far -- even though the "how about some noizze!!!" prompters fell on deaf eyes.

The building felt like real estate worth more as imminent domain than as the future site of any upcoming celebrations or human athletic prizes. Thirty-four years of age the Coliseum holds true to its original lack of vision, devoid of charm as well as luxury boxes and harkening back to a time where the middle-class was the fastest growing of the social stratas.

The Islanders themselves were an engaging team. They flew around in their bright orange Islandware (my sister-in-law informs me that orange is the new black and I believe her). The fact that I remembered their unlikely jersey numbers (#48, #79, #81) more than the names across them did nothing to impede my enjoyment or curiosity about how Bob Nystrom managed to send #23 to its eternal rest.

As we were leaving the Isle goalie Rick DiPietro was interviewed by the minicam 'n mic team that had patrolled the Coliseum all game long for wedding proposals, fire chiefs, and go-go dancers. He promised that the Islanders were going to "kick the Rangers ass" in their next and final meeting of the season. When his vow found its way over the PA DiPietro later told Newsday that he watches mostly cable and assumes most of us do too.

While it felt more like circus than theater I guess you would need cable just to know of his teammates, let alone the league's year-to-year status. Personally I think the NHL has a great entertainment product. All it needs now is the orange-is-the-new-black packaging.

Housewarming

2006-04-10T04:07:00.000-07:00

All:

I'm told Carlos Betran will be a neighbor of mine shortly. I've purchased a new apartment (only a mile or so from where I am now - 38th & 5th), and Carlos Betran purchased the two top apartments. I anticipate moving in about a month and will be selling my current apartment.

Mr. Betran purchased the units that span the 65-67th floors (the top unit already occupies two floors). As expensive as his purchases were (and I know exactly what they were), I hear he can afford it. If I run into him in the elevator, I'm going to need all of you to tell me something baseball-intelligent to say.

Fi

The Door to Hell

2006-04-03T10:20:00.000-07:00

I can't tell you how much I've been focusing on this metaphor all afternoon.

My relief at finding the missing doorknob should then come as little surprise to you.

Look, I know I sounded like a kook. But the house is so spare right now that I was at wit's end to imagine how it could be anywhere, if not with the other knob.

It was on a workbench in the basement (one of the few remaining objects) in a plastic bag with some other hardware items. I'm still not sure what it was doing there, but trust that the explanation is more sound than the one I was offering up.

I'm glad I found it. I'd have feared that the dark grey unearthly javelin of "The Omen" would have been poised to impale me for eternity if I'd sold the house, which I still would have done.

The sad thing is that I was convinced of an afterlife for my Dad in a place where he could exert some influence over earthly affairs. Now, I'm back to faith again.

I know you all were right. That it was obvious to you I'd misplaced the doorknob. You are now free to resume your belief systems, whatever they might be.

-- Bal

Happy Terrence Patrick's Day Parade

2006-03-20T04:09:00.000-08:00

Dear C'nuck,

I don't march in many of these.

Heck, I don't come early for a shot at sitting on the risers. But I park my keister firmly in the camp of those who know your precious and prolific gift for rendering reason on the least seasoned and most unreasonable fears, greeds, demands, and inexhaustible supplies of human frailities.

You could have said, "why can't they all just get along?" You could have chafed at the junction of 24/7 pettiness: "Why can't they just ... behave?" But you have lived in the fray and elevated the rhetoric far beyond the margins of argumentation and brinkmanship. You also go home at a reasonable hour and don't take work home with you ... right?

So here's to not only to standing on the tippy toes of giants in those elevated risers. Here's to marching down your sensible constructions, level-headed persuasions and self-evident flourishes.

Happy birthday, Canuck. Your birthday picture (don't blush!) will be blogged along with your parade watchers and well-wishers sometime over the weekend.

Love,

Sol

Look on my works, o ye mighty, and despair

2006-03-13T11:41:00.000-08:00

Fellers:

I'm not sure which female gene is kicking into high gear and more or less forcing me to pass this along, but it at least had the good grace to prevent me from posting it at the Bankblog and turning it into the kind of website you'd be afraid to visit, like "My Disneyland Vacation" or "Ask Me About My Grandchildren."

In other news: Sol, I have not yet made out my check to the Avon Walk, although it is in the pending pile and will happen some day soon. I completely adored "Further Ado." I own 4/5 of the songs but haven't listened to 2/3 of those in years. Travis Anderson is a real find--he's now on my to-be-downloaded pile. Excellent job with the segues. I wish I didn't like some of it, because that always makes for more fun dialogues, but if you can't win them all, at least it means you won this one.

To all, again: thanks for the indulgence. To wit:

McCarthy Hearing

2006-03-03T17:03:00.000-08:00

Fellers:

Driving home tonight--out to dinner with the family--I caught the beginning of a Mets' pre-season game. Howie Rose and Gary Cohen doing the honors, except it took me an entire turn at bat to realize that it wasn't Gary Cohen, but rather Tom McCarthy, his replacement (ex-Phillies, apparently). Turns out Tom is, vocally, a dead-ringer for Mr. Cohen, at least in the quiet play-by-play dept. How he will handle the rain delay, the 12-pitch, five-minute ordeal of a Steve Trachsel delivery, the conference on the mound--the quiet moments wherein Cohen sparkled--remains to be seen, as does his handling of home run calls and tenser, more meaningful moments. But for now, hey, it could be worse: it could be Tom Seaver.

G.

Junior Thingamajig Moment

2006-02-19T17:15:00.000-08:00

In answer to the Canuck question (and budding insignia) where the curiosity of a post '85 denizen of Politzania.Blogspot produces a mental blank as big as the name of the Robot on Lost in Space.

Crossing the bloggosphere rubicon

2006-02-18T13:38:00.000-08:00

Well, so much for my first entry into any blog. And Garo, good to see that we've tamed those pesky DVD techy problems. Also, you look just fine, but will confess to have photoshopped one or two pics of me that you saw in the New Zealand presentation. All jpegs are digitally manipulated anyway, so what's a little more help. I'm not the best at photoshopping (actually I only have the consumer version - Photodeluxe), and I got that mainly to remove those obnoxious date prints in some of my pictures. I also know have to manipulate Adobe Acrobat files. Be warned.

Girls That Don't Exist

2006-02-18T08:29:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr. Alfie's father's son:

Well, what do you know? The disc worked in both my Mac AND the DVD player (actually we have 3 of each--spoils of a middle-class household--so I played it in the most commonually-partaken-of).

Wonderful job, and as far as music goes you needn't have worried. I confess to having had a non-stop string of "Do I really look that bad?" epiphanies, but I was able to console myself by remembering that I have the best-looking wife. Granted, only two others 'shuckers are married, which narrowed the field quite a bit, but one takes one's solaces (so to speak) where one can find them. (It's observations like this that are why I took this correspondence private. Ha ha. [As Nelson Muntz would put it.])

Please do this sort of thing more often. I only have one Bolishuck reunion photo, if you can believe that, so this is--how you say--indispensible to me.

Thanks again, and thanks for letting my wife know that I was actually where I said I was, and not cavorting with strumpets.

Best,

Garo

Happy Soliday!

2006-02-17T10:44:00.000-08:00

From: Putthel
To: spinvillage@yahoo.com
Cc: MGaro; tcanade@lordbissell.com; RPondiscio; AHPollack
Sent: Wed, 15 Feb 2006 1:54:15 PM Eastern Standard Time
Subject: Happy Soliday!

Recently, around the time that the college football National Championship was awarded, I thought back to the time when I took a fresh look at Marc Solomon.

Previously thought to be a curiosity of otherworldly dimensions, on this day I saw him for what he did not become: A potential tailback in the USC offense.

Darwin had been telling me about how Carter and his friends had found a place to play full contact tackle football near the peak of Jayne's Hill -- Long Island's own Mt. Olympus. I'd also been briefed on the sheer untackleability of one Marc Solomon. Never having associated this brainy underclassman with athletic prowess, I was fascinated to see the scouting report was true. Nobody could bring him down. It was an Anthony Davis, 6 TDs against Notre Dame-type performance.

I don't know how long it was after that, but it couldn't have been too, that Marc and I were singing "You can go to hell!" at each other while pennysavers turned golden brown in the microwave.

And wouldn't that auspicious center of gravity that enabled him to shrug off tacklers later manifest itself as the bonding agent for a crazy little bank called Bolishuck?

Many more Solidays and salad days to you, my friend.

-- Bal

Garo the Premium

2006-02-06T17:59:00.000-08:00

I see. Apparently the problem lies with America Online, which I've used, to my deteriment, for over 7 years now. And it's not as if I'm in love with my e-mail address; despite being a fairly-early adopter, my first 3 choices (Garo; Dr. G; Scaryfellow--some bastard out there has those addresses!) were all rejected, and mgaro is what they stuck me with. I've placated myself by remembering that it's at least not "mgaro65745346" or some hellish oddity like that. I digress, sure, but the point is that AOL sucks, and all it took to get a post up was switching to another web browser. (On the other hand, this browser doesn't allow the formatting options that connecting via AOL did--or would have, had it actually worked. So I'm stuck with the default text.)

Anyway, I promise to check in at least every third day, and post something of interest at least twice a year. As I mentioned earlier, it's hard to find the actual me on the web, and not just some fourth-rate stereo salesman offering tips on monster cables. So I intend to use today's column to begin the process of making sure ex-girlfriends know where to find me. (Are you listening, Neve Campbell?) To that end: Mark Garofalo. Walt Whitman High School. Syracuse University. Doubleday. Claire Forlani. Kate Beckinsale. Fabulous wealth. 14-inch penis. Vanilla-scented sperm. Homes on six of seven continent. Pulitzer Prize. Thank you for looking.

Catuh, gentlemen.

Beer and Cake

2006-02-06T17:53:00.000-08:00

Bolishuk 05 unfolded in North Fork splendor holding nothing back -- except for a world-class eraser ball facility.

Previous failed publishing efforts aside

2006-02-03T11:14:00.000-08:00

You'll still have Garo to kick around

2006-02-03T11:12:00.000-08:00

Nektar and Muffins

2006-02-02T11:11:00.000-08:00

From: Putthel@aol.com
Date: Thu, 2 Feb 2006 13:10:56 EST
Subject: Nektar and Muffins
To: deeptracks@xmradio.com
CC: MGaro@aol.com, spinvillage@yahoo.com, tcanade@lordbissell.com,
RPondiscio@aol.com

Hi Earl,

Over on Fred I heard the great Martha and the Muffins track "Echo Beach". I first heard the song on WLIR -- where if memory serves, I knew of you in another incarnation. This was pre-dare-to-be-different LIR, where Echo Beach plausibly could have segued into Ramblin' Man or something similarly unthinkable. I think it was soon thereafter that the station changed formats.

I'm also writing today about Nektar, whom you guys are beginning to really take an interest in. My first Nektar album was a cut-out, purchased for $0.99 in the TSS bargain bin. It became one of my favorite albums of all-time not soon thereafter. Are you familiar with "Recycled"? It's much more frenetic than "Remember the Future" and the first four cuts all blend together with apocalyptic panache. Think City Boy's "Ambition" and you're on the right track.

Anyway, hope you guys can hunt this great record down some day. Even if it costs you 99 cents.

-- Bob

The Future of the Bank

2006-02-02T07:47:00.000-08:00

Fellow Bankers,

Good morning and happy Groundhog Day to you all.

I am announcing today my resignation as the recording secretary of all GBB related group communications and digressions.

In accord with this autocratic maneuver we all now have a group home to post snarky and genuine mental droppings (or deposits) into the same virtual portfolio, a.k.a. brain dump.

You can set your profile so that each new post or comment will trigger an email notification to your fellow bankers (or my name is not Martin Solomon).

While the inspiration is a combination of laziness and encroaching Carpel Tunnell of the wrists and forefingers, I believe that the advent of blogging is at least as important as Bal's discovery of satellite radio -- if not anywhere near as gravity-defying as say, running into Blanche Blotto at a watering hole somewhere in Upstate New York.

Yours, now and catah...

Sol

Chicks and Dicks

2006-02-02T05:18:00.000-08:00

MGaro@aol.com wrote: From: MGaro@aol.com
Date: Wed, 1 Feb 2006 23:19:09 EST
Subject: Chicks and Dicks
To: RPondiscio@aol.com, Putthel@aol.com, spinvillage@yahoo.com
CC: tcanade@lordbissell.com

Shit! I can't believe I missed the Simpsons trivia portion of the evening's entertainment. However, as to "who'd ever guessed" that Bev D'Angelo had a "lovely" singing voice: um, how about the millions of people who saw her play Patsy Cline in "Coal Miner's Daughter," or Sheila, singing "Good Morning Starshine," in the Milos Forman version of "Hair"?

>> I own three, count 'em, THREE Dixie Chicks CDs. And I play the hell out of them. So there.

I already know this. Believe it or not, you've been pointing this out for the past three or four years. Your admission that you haven't been able to pay any attention to popular music since whenever isn't so much an admission as it is a point of pride, a badge of honor. Declare victory; depart the field. Or rather, if you can't beat 'em, pretend you weren't interested in fighting 'em. But it doesn't even matter, because around you no one even bothers to discuss popular culture anymore. Everyone knows you gave up, and so the subjects of any Dish-involved dishcussion are all Dish-related. No harm there; like anyone else in Bolishuck you're a fascinating raconteur when matters in which you are well-versed arise, so it makes sense to stick to what fascinates you.

Much as getting into new wave was what gave me my identity in Bolishuck back in the seventies, getting out of music altogether is what's giving you yours in the aughties. Part of you has to like it that way, no? Part of you has to be glad he no longer cares what the kids are listening to.

>> Vintage Garo. Often wrong, but never in doubt.

That. Is. Soooo. Hurtful.

Now stop reading this and go back to that biography of Marshall Foche I was keeping you away from.

XXX

DreadLock Holiday

2006-02-02T05:02:00.000-08:00

>> But I also have the suspicion that the rejection of all things popular meant I cheated myself from listening to things I might have enjoyed.

Well, that's just silly. Before you reject all things popular, you have to experience them first; otherwise your rejection has no point. So if I rail out against, say, The Dave Matthews Band (who are/is easily my biggest bete noire of the past decade, an act whose every note is more irritating than an airplane full of crying infants), it's because I've never shied away from listening to them when the opportunity presents itself--a record store, say, or some bozo's merlot-and-edam party. I don't dismiss Adam Sandler movies out of hand; I've squirmed through many of them in order to arrive at that dismissal. You bet there are better ways to spend your time--but I can honestly say that I've never missed anything I might've enjoyed because of a predisposition.

>> And if Bolishuk were teens now, Barenaked Ladies would be to us what 10cc was 25 years ago.

If that were the case, there would be no "Garo" in "Garo Bolishuck," and you guys would never be able to play Fencebusters for lack of a third outfielder (and I suspect, absent the deadwood, the competition would be that much fiercer--aren't you all lucky, knowing you'll never have to finish last?). I fail to see what's compelling about them, either musically or funn ily, and They Might Be Giants make a more compelling case for the place of snarkery in rock 'n' roll. But hey: this is not one of those harsh opinions you should be worried about incurring.

>> I own every single Counting Crows CD.

This is where the harsh opinion would go, had not endless forced spins of the Shrek 2 soundtrack pummel