Classic Rock Mailman

It'll get bigger if you click it.

If there's one noise that can send me straight for the "off" button, it's the sound of the band Boston with their stupid fuzzy guitars that always sound the same, no matter what ancient and lame song they're playing.

You could avoid playing most classic rock acts ever again and make 90% of the country happy. (Some bands, Zeppelin comes to mind, stand the test of time and get rediscovered by later generations.) Unfortunately, there are enough classic rock fans out there to keep at least one classic rock station on the air in most major markets. (They are REQUIRED in small markets.) And the playlist will always have way too much Boston on it. (And REO Shitwagon!)

The mailman here at work is always cranking it up to 11 as he drives up to our mailroom. He inspired this silly image, using the head of classic rock guitarist Luther Dickinson, who does not fall into the unlistenable category by any means.

I think this could be an SNL skit.

Open Mic Night: Headed South Edition

Florida is the destination of choice for many a homeless man, and that’s the subject of this edition of Open Mic Night. A few months after kissing off the Ad Club, (see yesterday’s post) I had another bout with integrity.

My boss, who struggled in vain to land new accounts and relied on old friends who remembered him as a 2nd string quarterback at the local shitty college to bring him business, was pushing me to pad my time sheets. Of course he wasn’t so dumb that he’d come out and say it that way, but the implication was clear. He hated to see any time billed to the company, but the fact of the matter was there simply wasn’t enough business to account for all of my time. I was learning how to take a ridiculously long time to do very easy assignments and then bill that time to clients. I was learning that going through magazines or playing in Photoshop was called "creative concepting" and that we had a billing code for that. I learned that if I just needed to get the hell out of the office to take a drive, I could bill that to someone as a video-shoot location scouting expedition. Finally, after yet another battle with him in his office over hours billed to the company, I said, “Thanks for the education,” and walked out.

In hindsight, that was kind of stupid. At the time, I was sure that a stand for what was right would all turn out fine in the end. It did, eventually, but not before the things in this song happened.

Taking you back to when rock was raunchy and rooted in the blues, many people hear Keith in this song, which is fine with me. It obviously needs the intro and bridge fills of someone like Luther Dickinson , Joe Perry, or even His Royal Badness, but I’m strictly rhythm; I can’t make it cry or sing. This is a demo version only, so don’t give me too much crap.

It’s called “Babylonian Blues.” It’s up in the top of the sidebar. Lyrics are here.

Archived Open Mic music is stored over here.