Whip It!

Last week I had the opportunity to see a band that had a profound effect on my life when I was 15 years old. That band, was Devo. They were doing two shows here in LA, performing full sets of two of their most classic albums, "Q: Are We Not Men" and "Freedom Of Choice". There was no way I was going to miss going to at least one of these shows. As it turned out I went to the "Freedom Of Choice" night. All I could say is WOW! They sounded as great as they ever did, and the crowd loved them. It definitely made up for never seeing them when I was a young spud. It brought back memories of the day I finally got in the mail my 1st Devo radiation suit! I had ordered it through their fan club. It cost $20 dollars (plus S&H). It was a bright yellow color with Devo on the right upper chest. At first I wouldn't let anyone see me when I put it on, I would slip into it, admire myself in the mirror, and then put on the Freedom Of Choice album and pogo around the room. One Saturday I was watching American Bandstand with my sisters and Devo was the musical guest. The 1st song they performed was "Snowball" from that album, and I remember Mark Mothersbaugh doing this weird kind of dance where he was hopping on one foot and moving his arms up and down (which he did on Wednesday. Check it out on youtube!) and I thought to myself "I need to try that!". So once the show was over, I slyly made my way back up to my room, put on my suit, put the record on, and started to dance. As I was admiring my performance in the mirror, I realized something didn't look quite right. I didn't have an energy dome! OK, in case you're wondering what that is, it is the red hat that Devo wears that most people think is a flower pot. It's the source of all energy required to repel evil spuds! But where could I get one? I didn't have enough to get one when I placed the order for the suit, so I did what most creative 15 year old's would do. I took off the suit, went downstairs to the backyard, grabbed one of my mom's potted plants, removed contents of pot, washed it out with the hose, went back upstairs, put suit back on and proceeded to put the former flower pot, now newly commissioned energy dome, on my head. The only thing was, this was a pretty heavy clay pot, and it didn't fit over my head as nicely as the ones Devo wore. I needed to carefully balance it on my forehead to get just the right look. Even with that I still kind of looked like Rick Moranis in Spaceballs, with that big, black Darth Vader helmet. See picture above. So after some careful balancing, it was time to hit the stage! I carefully put the needle on the record, starting towards the end of "Whip It" so I could prepare mentally for my big moment. As the first notes of "Snowball" started, I was on! When it was time to start my moves, I jumped up and landed on one leg like I had seen Mark do. Everything was going great for a couple seconds. I was even dealing with the pain of this huge clay pot repeatedly landing on my head, but I guess the continual jumping up and down eventually had the same effect on the pot as an egg cracking on a bowl, and with one last jump, just before it was time to start lip-syncing, the pot split in two over my head, with one big chunk landing on my left foot, and the other part bouncing off my shoulder onto the record player, which proceeded to make one of those rrriiiiiiipppppppppp!!!!! sounds that records can do, before toppling the whole thing to the ground with me on top of it. I heard a stampede of footsteps coming up the stairs and I knew it was my mom and sisters coming up to see what the hell all the commotion was about. I quickly lurched to the door just as they were about to open it and wedged myself against it. They had yet to know of the existence of the radiation suit. My mom was the first to try and open the door. "Danny! Open the door! What are you doing in there?!?" "Nothing, ma. Just listening to music", I said. "Open this door right now! What are you doing?!?" In the background I could hear one of my sister's say "he's probably in there playing with himself and doesn't want us to hear. He's been going into his room a lot lately and shutting the door". Thanks a lot, sis. "Um, I was just practicing some new steps for school. I was thinking of going out for the cheer leading squad as a yell leader". God, that was lame. "Open this door now or I will break it down", my mom said. And there was a part of me that really wanted to see my little Italian momma, all 5'2" of her smash the door down like a mini she-Hulk, but I had the feeling that it would be worse for me if I let it come to that. So I moved out of the way and they opened the door. I would like to say that when they saw my bleeding ankle and my semi-destroyed record player and my cracked Devo record there was nothing but concern and sympathy all around. But of course, that was not the world I lived in. No, my world was my sisters laughing hysterically and calling me a dork, and my mom, with the most serious concerned look on her face, asking me, (and this is so much more effective if you could hear her accent),"Danny. Please tell me. What is the significance of the yellow suit? Why? Why do you wear this?" Well, almost 30 years later, I still haven't told my mom the significance of the yellow suit, and the truth about De-evolution, and what "Whip It" is really about. Last Wednesday night, though, I thought about this for the first time in a long while. And while I could do a mean Pogo, I still couldn't do that dance right.

For a look to see how the dance is done correctly, go here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dlWQ-9opvVo

Sons and Magic....

I spent the day today with my son at the "happiest place on Earth". No, not Amoeba Records, that would be dad's happiest place. No, the place I'm talking about is the Magic Kingdom, AKA, Disneyland. It was a fun day. The weather was SoCal autumn perfect, where it feels like the sun wants nothing more than to add a comfortable glow to your day. The crowd was, well, manageable. When we got there it wasn't too crowded and we were able to hop on a few rides with a minimum wait time. But as the day turned into evening the park began to be a little bit more crowded.

Here's a quote I read somewhere. Please forgive its maudlin tone, but I thought about it today at Disneyland with my son: "Son, you outgrew my lap, but never my heart" Anonymous.
Yes, another quote from the prolific "Anonymous". But I never felt this before as much as I did today. The first time my wife and I took my son (and daughter) to Disneyland, my boy experienced it firsthand from the comfort of a stroller being pushed by either myself or my wife, or, when she could persuade us, my daughter, who seemed to take great pleasure in letting go of the handles at the top of a hill and yelling "whee!" as my wife and I did a mad sprint for the runaway carriage. The look of terror in his face when any character would approach us was enough to make you re-evaluate the wisdom of dressing up like mice. The only rides we could get him on were the gentlest of rides. Basically, the ones I hated. Ever ride the Winnie the Pooh ride at Disneyland 3 times in a row? It makes you long for the simple pleasure of a tooth extraction. My son could not get enough of that ride. And when he wasn't in the stroller, where did he want to be? You got it, in dad's arm's, on dad's shoulders, on dad's feet...pretty much anywhere you could rest your tush on dad. He would religiously wear his mouse ears. And not just any mouse ears, oh no. The basic black ears with the name stitched on the back in simple cursive just wouldn't do. He wore the 50th anniversary "golden" ears, limited edition. He went through two pairs of these ears, both with elastic bands to make sure they stayed firmly attached to your head all day, no matter what thrill any attraction dished out, lest anyone question your dedication to the mouse. Aah. Those days are gone. Today, don't even think of mentioning the fact that he used to wear mouse ears. Those are for "babies". And if I tell him that he used to wear them proudly, and skip through Tommorowland while wearing them, he'll reply with a look (which seems very familiar), and say "Dad!!! I'm not a baby anymore. I'm ten!" Which means that any signs of affection just won't do. Of course, it's fine for Mom to give them, but not Dad. Don't get me wrong. I can still hug and kiss him, only there can't be anyone else around to question why dad just gave you a hug. I know he'll grow out of it. He's just trying to find his way as a ten year old boy in a world where so much happens so fast. But then, today we were at Disneyland, and there were so many fathers with their children there today, pushing strollers, wiping tears, giving hugs, buying ears.....I'm not complaining. A ten year old at Disneyland is in some ways alot more fun then a one year old. We went on everything we both wanted to go on, and I haven't been to Pooh's House in a long time. Today it was all Indiana Jones, Space Mountain, Big Thunder. And I learned my boy is growing into a really cool kid,with a great sense of humor (like his dad, natch), with one of the most creative and imaginative minds of anyone I know. The best part came at the end of the day when we were standing on Main Street, watching a great Halloween time fireworks display when out of nowhere he took my hand and held it while we watched the show. At that moment I felt like he was three again, but at the same time I felt like he was growing up.


PnL

bLoGgInG!

Wow, ok, here I am, blogging. I think I have some interesteing things to talk about. Some of them will be true, some will be stretched, and some will be inspired by mother nature, but hopefully it'll be an interesting yarn. I will be writing about my life, people I know, experiences, music, movies, adult themes (without being too graphic), scary things and what have you. Let me know what you think. I promise to take any constructive criticism under advisement and any positive remarks as confirmation of my brilliance! That's all for now. Check back soon. I will be writing about The Beatles, family life, sports, friends and being laid off in the coming weeks.
Until then,
thewalrus