Overheard On McNair Ave.

It had been cold, like below 20 degrees, for a little over a week. Then the weather broke. It was a sunny 62 degrees in January. In St. Louis, that's like finding money. It's actually like finding the money you just put in a stripper's thong, but that's a different story. The unfortunate part is most people don't get to enjoy days like this because they have to go into some place of business. Luckily, I'm not most people. The world is my office, as long as there's an Internet connection. So I plan a day of working in some of my favorite places around the neighborhood. And since the weather is so nice I'm totally going to walk.

There's only one catch. By sundown, the temperature is supposed to drop 50 degrees. This isn't optimal. It's not a deal breaker either. I'll put on a pair of big-boy pants. Toss my devices and some layers of clothing into my backpack a get moving. A nice early walk in exchange for a shitty late one* And if rugby has taught me anything, it's that 50-degree temperature changes are completely manageable as long as you've got a flexible wardrobe and a fuck-it attitude.

But before I get to where I'm going I plan on stopping by the absolutely overrated Blues City Deli (BCD).** I'm going to grab an Italian Beef and a Cheerwine to enjoy on my walk. As usual, BCD is packed. And don't give me any "the line moves fast" bullshit. Because FUCK waiting in a line that wraps around the building for a deli sandwich. I only deign to wait in line this day because the weather is gorgeous and I can read a book in line.

Having a book to read is key because the line at BCD is always filled with tourists. By tourists, I mean County folk, a.k.a suburbanites. They're the people who show up in the city for work, sporting events, concerts, and, yes, restaurants. Then they retreat back to the homogenous nooks of our fair metropolis with tales of crime, grime and people of various colors. Seriously, fuck these people. Last time I checked sandwiches are available everywhere. Enjoy one elsewhere. Because you're likely persona non grata here.

Smell that? That's honestly earned contempt.

So, I read a book. I order a sandwich. I grab TWO Cheerwines. I receive a sandwich. Then I go about my jolly-fucking way.

As I leave some I'm on the opposite side of the street as three tourists who are speaking almost too loudly and this happens (Names have been changed to protect the innocent.):

County Slob 1: See, I'd love to live down here in one of these old historic houses and be able to walk to bars and restaurants, ... (This is the spot where there should be a "but" However, the "but" never came as he looked and made eye contact with me. They kind of eye contact someone makes before they're caught doing something.)

County Slob 2: Dude, what...?

County Slob 1: (tries to subtly nod in my direction)

Me: (silently. "Yes... what, indeed?" While making this face)

(Followed by an AWKWARD silence. I mean like 5-7 seconds of silence. Time that. It's a long time)

It seemed like time stopped. Like that scene at the beginning of Deadpool. A stop-motion car wreck. Me cast as Deadpool and each of them the "guy in the brown pants." But then the frame unfroze, and we all went our separate ways. Them relieved. Me unsurprised.

Before I reached the end of the block I walked past a lady walking her dog. She was pleasant in a wholesome June Cleaver way. We exchanged pleasantries and talked about how fleeting the good weather would be. As we parted ways she said, "I get so tired of those crowds at Blues City Deli."

Me too, sister. Me too.

* Technically I could've taken an Uber, but where's the adventure in that.
** Don't even @ me about Blues City Deli. I can name five places as good if not better. There are three on The Hill alone.

Hello There

Mortimer, we're back!

It's almost embarrassing to look at the date of my last post. Maybe as embarrassing as re-reading my last "I'm Back" post. But what is life if not a series of humiliating setbacks followed by delusions of success? (Yes, all of this will be written with the same Trotter branding you've come to know and love.)

So, why not start a (the?) blog one more time? I can't think of one good reason not to do it. And here are a few good reasons why I'm going to do it.

1. I don't get to write much anymore. I mostly solve problems and "write" presentations and proposals. When your passions become your commerce, they become less enjoyable. Maybe having free reign to write will make me enjoy it in a way I used to enjoy it.
2. I've recently started forming productive habits. I wake up in the morning crank out a bunch of push ups, cook breakfast, read the news and answer e-mails. I also set aside an at least an hour to read a book. I think this kind of structure suits me. I've always been a creature of habit, just not always productive ones. Here's one more productive thing I can squeeze into my day. Like any other habit, I'm going to start small. I'm going to try a post a day for 30 days.
3. I'm becoming reclusive. Introspection is good, but at some point something needs to be said for consumption. I'll tell people about this blog. People will probably be polite and read it once or twice and then stop. But in my mind I'll be interacting with people. I'm not great at that anymore.
4. I don't sleep. That makes for long days. Long days mean more time for more stuff.
5. I've got a lot of stuff running through my head.
6. If you know me, you can read this while you poop and it'll kind of be like conversations we used to have. Except you'll be pooping and holding a phone or an iPad. (Please don't poop with an iPad at work. That's a little too comfortable at your place of business... unless you work at home. This just got really complicated.)

So, if you're reading this, it's probably because I invited you. Thanks for stopping by. I don't know what this is going to be. It'll be funny, thought provoking, angry, depressing, strange and boring. Maybe all of those things at once. Maybe none of them. I don't know. Let's see where this takes me.

Regards,

T

Staying Frosty

Remember this scene.

I was a huge fan of The Wire. I was addicted and could never create enough superlatives to describe my feelings. It was so raw and honest. There were really no good guys or bad guys. There were just people. And each of them was flawed. But I cared about each of them and their fictional fates. So after it ended, and I found out that its creator, David Simon, was doing a mini-series about the invasion of Iraq, I knew I was all in.

Simon's mini-series would be Generation Kill. It was based on a true story (The Wire was loosely based on factual events), so I decided familiarize myself with the source material by Evan Wright. I must have read Generation Kill in a few days. It was awesome. I loved that it took no stance on the war. It was just a look into the people who fought it and their day-to-day realities. Wright developed the characters to a point where I felt like I knew them. Ultimately, I think this is why the mini-series worked so well. It was the same direction David Simon took with The Wire - a story about people operating within a societal system. Sure it's about a controversial war, but the politics were really never the issue. It was about humanity and the people who have to go do some very bad, but necessary things. It wasn't Band of Brothers, but you know what? We don't live in a Band of Brothers world anymore. I think if you watched Kill, you probably related to the guys in First Recon. Because they're regular people just like us.

And them being just like us lead me to a bit of an epiphany as I watched. Is it fucked up the the military is as fucked as it is? OR is it fucked that American businesses/society is so fucking broken? I could empathize with the Marines because the futility of their ultimate mission and the obstacles they had to overcome mirror my 9-5 existence. Now, I would never completely compare my day-to-day experiences to those of First Recon. After all a bad day for them means death. For me it could just be a pink slip. But could we look at the parallels:

The president has decided to invade Iraq = Hello, CEO! "We need to start winning awards." "It's time to grow our business." Or any other statement that comes from echelons beyond reality.

They're rolling through the desert in busted Hummers with no armor = We've got three copiers. One of them usually works. the other two are always under repair. No one in authority seems to be upset about this.

They don't get maps on time = My creative briefs fucking suck

They don't have enough batteries for night vision = My internet at home runs faster than the shit in the office. I also have better software

They have to run a hustle to get what they need from the PX = Me trying to creatively expense shit I need from Borders or Office Max

Godfather = A guy bucking for a promotion by having the people under him make him look good - no matter what the cost. - Yeah I've worked for that guy.

Encino Man = An inept yes man - Ummm, who hasn't worked for him

Casey Kasem = An undermining, backstabber - Check

Captain America = A coward who has his fuck ups constantly covered by his subordinates - I see a trend

Lt. Fick = A competent person in a position of responsibility who can't get ahead because he won't be a part of the fucked up politics. - Do I even need to answer anymore?

And what's even funnier is I have the same amount of contempt and derision for these people and situations as the Marines (Grunts) in Generation Kill. Everyday I feel like I'm riding in the Humvee, following stupid fucking orders and going out on stupid missions. Maybe this is the true beauty of Generation Kill: It's the fact that somewhere underneath the geopolitical bullshit it's a scathing metaphor for American corporate life to which we can all relate.

Then again, I may just be an asshole.

Travel Notes Pt. 1

(This post was supposed to be about TWO trips. But about halfway through this I thought this was like a reeeeeealy boring version of vacation slides. You may not give a fuck about Memphis. And you may not give a fuck about my vacations. If so, you may not want to read this. That's cool. If you just stop by for me ranting about shit, I'll get back to that soon.)

It's been a while since I've posted, and quite a bit has gone down. I had knee surgery. I was indifferent about the new GZA album. Generation Kill was the best thing on TV and ended. (This will be another post.) Michael Phelps won a bunch of medals. A lot of famous people died, including Issac Hayes and Bernie Mac. And my main man, Chris Carpenter, came and went. With so much going on, I didn't didn't know where to start. But I decided to talk about a couple of trips I took. So close your eyes, read on and imagine me as your own personal Anthony Bourdain.



At the beginning of the month I headed to Memphis. (Or as my buddy Shaw calls it: Memphrica.) For my money, Memphis is one of the most underrated places in the entire country. Great food, great nightlife and great live music. A downtown ballpark with a Cardinal affiliate doesn't hurt either. I can't ever remember having anything less than awesome time in Memphis and this trip lived up to expectations.

On Friday night, barbecue was on my mind. But Corky's and Rendezvous are ri-fucking-diculous on the weekends. So what could we do? Well, we tried a place called Superior Bar. Superior Bar is right on Beale Street in between Silky O'Sullivan's and B.B. King's. I'm not going to get all crazy and tell you that they had the best barbecue I've ever had (I'm a dry rib guy and it was too wet for my liking). But it was pretty fucking good and better than you'll get in most cities (and probably better than any thing you'll get outside of the south or a border state). If you're looking for good AC, good food and good prices hit up the Superior.

From there we went to Flying Saucer. Now I'll admit, I like Flying Saucer, but I do have one problem with it. The problem is it seems out of place. It's new and clean in a place that's old and dirty. You feel like you could be anywhere, and in a place like Memphis that's a negative. But if you like beer you'll forget that quickly. And they do sell the coolest bar shirt I've seen in awhile. It's so cool, that I picked up one for my collection.

The next day was a biggie so we headed home. Just a $10 cab ride. Did I mention Memphis is awesome?

The Next day I caught up with some old friends at The Elvis 7s Rugby Tournament. (If you only ever click on one link, click on the last one.) Despite being plagued by some of the shittiest weather anywhere, Elvis is one of the most fun tournaments around. It's Elvis, Elvis, Elvis. (That may be an album title. ) Elvis over the PA. Most of the ruggers grow side burns. There's a sideburn contest and a beehive contest. And last but not least, Elvis trivia. I've been going to this tournament since I started playing rugby (word is Priscilla and Lisa Maria came out back in the day and were frightened by the rugby crowd.) and the Blues always do a great job hosting. Plus, this year, they had bison burgers marinated in Dale's. Muthafuckin' delicious.

After showers and a few Natty Lights we were headed back to Beale. This time i demoed a rack of ribs at Blues City Cafe. This joint was a favorite of the first black president - Bill Clinton. But even that doesn't change the fact that the ribs were just adequate. My grandmother Daisy puts those fools to shame.

From the Cafe we wandered down the street and saw this dude. His name: Richard Johnston. And my man's life is straight out of a movie. Middle class white kid travels around the world. Ends up in Mississippi learning the blues from cats like R. L. Burnside and Jessie Mae Hemphill. Then some PBS, college-boy motherfucker makes a documentary about him and the rest is history. I will say this, this dude has chops. If you ever wanted to see a lo-fi version of the Black Keys check this dude out he's a real white-boy bluesman. Like Ralph Macchio in Crossroads. Plus he told everybody he was going to go drink beer if nobody wanted to dance. He said he didn't give a fuck about the money, but he did want people to SHOW they enjoyed the music. Everybody proceeded to dance. It was pretty awesome.

He was set up next to Coyote Ugly and we made the mistake of going in. I'm familiar with the concept behind Coyote Ugly. I may have even had a good time at the one in Dallas. But FUCK the one in Memphis. Do not go. It sucks. It's so shitty i won't even link it. Don't say you haven't been warned.

From there we were torn between Club 152 and the Beale street cornerstone Silky O'Sullivans. 152 had a funk band and Silky's, well, Silky's is Silky's. The group split. And I wandered with the Silky's contingent. As always Silky's was a crazy mix of locals and tourist, singles and couples and every other paradox. Met some native Memphians who had just graduated from Wash U. After we talked about the 314, Alan Gann was doling out buckets of the world famous divers. We sat, talked, drank and sweated. It was a good time.

I had a blast that weekend. If you ask me Memphis is like the Vegas of the South. Nothing but good times to be had and tourists everywhere (I say that because it's insulting to call New Orleans the _____ of anywhere.) Next time you're looking for somewhere don't forget about this vastly underrated city. And feel free to give me a call - I'm always up for some barbecue.

Are You F-ing Serious

I live in what many people consider the South. It's not the Deep South, but southern enough I suppose. And as such, I work with and live around god-fearing churchgoers. Basically, I have no problems with these people. They can be a little uptight. But on the whole I find them congenial and decent. But the other day I had problem with one of my decent, upright co-workers.

You see, I'm about as profane and as inappropriate as they come. I've spent a lifetime socializing and bonding with athletes, so almost anything goes. Most of my co-workers accept this as a fact of life and don't try to censor me. (I even work with an ordained youth minister who listens to my tirades with glee. After all, a few bad words probably aren't going to get me sent to hell.) But here's what I hear the other day:

Co-Worker 1: Man, I'm so F-ing/Effing tired of the client pulling this B.S.

Co worker 2: You know, I think I'm going start "letter swearing."

Letter swearing, as far as I can figure, is saying you're tired of f-ing B.S. And as far as I'm concerned it, "letter swearing" that is, fucking bullshit! I look at both of my co-workers and lay this on them.

Me: You know, if you're intent is the same, not saying the word is no less offensive. It's just a word. The intent is the problem.

Everyone in the room stops and looks and contemplates starting an argument with a writer. I can see the wheels grinding. So I continue.

Me; It's not like we don't F means fuck. We're not four years old. Really, if you're concerned with not offending people you just shouldn't swear at all.

Silence.

Co-worker 2: I guess you're right, but it's a little less harsh.

Me: Then why use a harsh word in the first place?

Silence.

Well, dear readers, I'm sure you agree with me. But I'm a chronic line crosser. So I continue.

Me: Would you ever say look at all of those f-ing N-s standing on the corner? Is that any less harsh? Is it okay to tell some lady to suck your f-ing D?

Me: If you don't want to be harsh, don't even imply. I'm just saying.

Co-Worker 1: Ok. Let's just move on.

If you happen to know a letter swearer tell them to get fucking real. Cut the fucking shit. And quit acting like a goddamned pussy. We all know what they mean. Just fucking say it.

Like my mom used to say, it's not what you say, it's how you say it.

Cleared For Takeoff

Back in college I used to tell my friends, "If I could dunk, I wouldn't even talk to you." For some reason everybody wants to be able to do it. It's a strange phenomenon. But before I end up plagiarizing this entire post from Deadspin, I'll just leave you with the following link.

I especially enjoyed numbers 3, 12 and 13.

A List

My buddy posted his to top 20 albums on his blog. He asked me to come up with a list as well. Here's my list with the comments from his blog. I posted it because I wrote it. And maybe there's something you, dear reader, may want to check out. Please remember, I'm no Chuck Klosterman.

Jeff, you asked for it so, being me I gave you my 25 with the cheesy iTunes store commentary. I swear if you asked me tomorrow, I'd give you a different list. Without further ado.

1. Alice In Chains – Dirt – An album about addiction. Makes you feel like you walked out of a crack house.

2. … And You Will Know Us BY The Trail of Dead – Source Tags & Codes – If there’s a studio album that can capture the energy of a live performance this is it.

3. Black Flag – Damaged – The sound of the streets before we listened to hip-hop.

4. Black Sabbath – Paranoid – A band on fire. War Pigs is timeless. Planet Caravan is surprising

5. Guns N’ Roses - Appetite For Destruction – Where did this come from? I didn’t know when it came out. I do know now.


6. John Coltrane – A Love Supreme – I try not to use the word genius. It’s overused. But this is genius.

7. Led Zeppelin – Led Zeppelin – I love them all. I chose this one because it’s the closest to their roots. Not that I don’t really believe that Robert Plant digs The Lord of the Rings.

8. Metallica – Ride The Lightning – Even dirtbags need heroes. Not a bad song in the bunch. Die by my hand!

9. N.W. A. – Straight Outta Compton – If these guys played punk, they would have been Black Flag.

10. Nine Inch Nails – The Downward Spiral – A total buzzkill. And I mean that in a good way. It's sonically delicious.

11. Nirvana – Nevermind – Is this album overrated? Probably. Is it awesome? No doubt.

12. The Notorious B.I.G. – Ready To Die – It just grooves and touches your inner mack daddy. An MC with skills riding Puffy’s samples for all they are worth.

13. Pixies – Doolittle – I could have picked any one of the first three albums. This one is probably the best from top to bottom.

14. The Police – Ghost In The Machine – My favorite album by my first favorite band.

15. Portishead – Dummy – I’d never heard anything like. And to be honest, I haven’t heard anything like it since.


16. The Pretenders – Learning To Crawl – An odd choice. But it really is a great album. I promise. Give it a listen.

17. Public Enemy – It Takes A Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back – Back when hip-hop was about more than bling and bitches. PE always made you think.

18. Queens Of The Stone Age – Songs For The Deaf – I don’t know how these guys aren't the biggest band on earth. This is the most even thing they’ve made.

19. Slayer –Seasons In The Abyss – 42 minutes of fury. Sometimes being groundbreaking is overrated. Sometimes you just need to master your craft.

20. Sleater-Kinney – The Woods – Let me be sexist for a moment. These chicks rock. And this album rocks more than any other chick album.

21. Smashing Pumpkins – Siamese Dream – A perfect album for a perfect time of my life.

22. Sonic Youth – Sonic Nurse – Noise rock is cool. Sonic Youth pulling to together a melodic album is a surprise. I could listen to it any time.

23. The Stooges – Fun House – Raw Rock n’ Roll. How many people have ripped this off? Might as well lisyen to the real deal.

24. Van Halen – Van Halen – Sounds like junior high. The soundtrack for stinky fingers and bare breasts.

25. Wu-Tang Clan – Enter The Wu-Tang (36 Chambers) – RZA produced. A plethora of quality MCs. An alternate to taking one of the many great solo albums to come after. This. RZA, GZA, Method Man, Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Ghostface Killa. Wow.