Sunday, July 25, 2010
Gravity may have lowered that baby face a bit, but this 68 year old god is still gettin it done. Paul McCartney played the Sprint Center in Kansas City last night and Max and Max's Dad were there sitting in the nosebleed section ($95 each from a scalper,errrr, broker) and looking at Sir Paul's backside all night. Thank goodness for side video screens.
Years ago, after that horrific duet with Michael Jackson, and Sir Paul's general wimpiness, I gave up on this guy. John was dead, George was still perhaps the most talented musician of the bunch but being ignored,Ringo was doing whatever it is Ringo does and Paul was treading water writing crap. The Beatles were gone. I had to get that through my head. It worked for a while. Then George died. Paul was all that was left. He played the 2005 Super Bowl halftime show and I was back on the bandwagon. Paul was the link to my childhood. Please accept my apologies.
Living in Omaha, we don't get artists the likes of Paul McCartney here. Then they built the Qwest Center and all of a sudden we did get the superstars. The Stones, yuck, retire already, you're making asses out of yourselves. U2, wonderful but not quite the religious experience everyone expects. The Who, nobody came. Springsteen, every bit as awesome as advertised. Paul McCartney showed up in 2005. I didn't go because it cost way too much.
During the trip to Target Field, after I said I wanted to see Paul before I die, Max, a genuine Beatles freak, commented that he "wanted to see him before "he (Paul) dies"". That was such a great observation from a kid that I couldn't justify not going this time.
When the opening keyboard riffs of Venus & Mars began last night, and the lights came on, the chills never left my spine. The whole freaking night I couldn't get over the fact I was watching perhaps the most famous musician on earth, a former Beatle for chrissakes, perform the music I have never ever gotten tired of. From the Wings stuff to the Beatles stuff, and even a Jimi Hendrix song, Sir Paul rocked the crowd for three solid hours, without a break, with humility, and with a sense of wonderment that made you believe he really was grateful for your support. His moving tributes to John Lennon and to George Harrison brought tears to many in the crowd. It was wonderful night in "Kansas" as he kept calling the Missouri city.
Lots of highlights. He did 1985, the best Wings song IMHO. He did A Day In The Life, perhaps the most perfect rock song ever written. He led the crowd in singing Give Peace A Chance. Band on The Run. Something. Let It Be. Eleanor Rigby. The obligatory crowd chanting la la las of Hey Jude. Sgt. Peppers and The End. Then he was gone. Three hours had passed. It seemed like 15 minutes. Wow.
You know, most parents have a lot of trouble bonding with their teenage kids. I bonded with mine last night. It was worth every penny, every second of time, every tired moment driving home for 3 more hours. For that especially, I want to thank Sir Paul McCartney.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Way back when I was a kid I would tune my transistor radio to the left, then to the right, and eventually if I stood on one foot and hung my arm out the window, I could pick up the sweet sounds of Halsey Hall on WCCO radio in Minneapolis and listen to the Minnesota Twins play ball in far off Cleveland or New York or at home in Bloomington. It was heaven. The Twins were good (except in '66 or '68 when Killebrew got hurt in that All Star Game in Houston) and contending for most of the seasons of my youth. I longed to see them in person.
In 1967 the family went to Minnesota to visit my Uncle Dick and a trip to the Met(ropolitan Stadium) was in order. I will never ever forget it. Despite my Uncle Dick losing the tickets (in his watch pocket?), we went from the old Thunderbird Motel to the Met and saw the Twins knock off Boston 5-3. Harmon Killebrew, whom I idolized then and now, knocked a double off the left field fence and Dave Boswell threw a 5 hitter. I can see it all now. Though that season broke my heart, I can still remember crying when Boston won the pennant on that dreary fall Sunday at Fenway on the last day of the season, that trip to the Met was one of my top 10 childhood memories.
I usually saw the Twins in subsequent years in Kansas City and when they started to really stink after Billy Martin self destructed, I even drifted into Oakland A's and Chicago Cubs land. When the Metrodome sucked the Twins indoors I was done, done as Max says with the Twins. Who the hell plays baseball inside? The freaking Mariners? The Astros? The Bluejays? Not my Twins. I ignored them for well over 25 years.
Two years ago I relented and the family went to the wretched Metrodome for the first time. The Metrodome was every bit as dreary and cement-ified as I thought it would be, but Max got a free Justin Morneau jersey out of the deal and I got to see the Twins play in Minnesota for the first time since 1967. Despite the Dome, I fell back in love with a baseball team. The Minnesota Twins were my first love in the 1960's and I dumped them because they went inside? What a beast I am!
Last Sunday afternoon, we went to the brand new Target Field. OMG! This place is absolutely wonderful. Easy to get to, fan friendly, it is the most beautiful place I've ever seen. Sitting in the outfield overhang (I love to sit in the outfield, that's where the real fans sit, sorry Jack :))we watched the Minnesota Twins come from behind, score 4 runs in the bottom of the ninth, and win the best baseball game I may have ever seen. Certainly the best MLB game I've ever seen. Surrounded by loudmouth White Sox fans, naw they were fine, this was everything I expected and more. Just beautiful. The only ugly thing I saw was Nick Blackburn's 6th inning.
Go to Target Field. That's all I can say. Have yourself a walleye sandwich at the Loon, a beer or two at the game, and just enjoy the day. Minneapolis is so lucky to have this palace. Now if those Vikings could ever get out of that concrete prison, Minneapolis would be perfect.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Seems Louisiana Senator David Vitter, just palling around with radio scum, thinks this picture is of Rachel Maddow "back when she looked like a woman". Cue the radio yakkers wild and crazy laughing.
No mention if Vitter was wearing a diaper on the wacky radio show or what he thought of Ann Coulter's adam's apple, Laura Ingraham's nasally whine or Gretchen Carlson's empty cranium.