Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Wow! I never thought I'd say this, but I'm already almost Halloween'd out. In the past week, we've had six kid Halloween parties to prepare for, two of which me and da missus attended. All of this on the heels of the costume birthday party to boot!
Old Man Winter, that effin' bastard, has played one of his cruel tricks on us. Unseasonably warm weather in our area, right up until yesterday. Today it's snowing. Oh, yeah, Winter, well how'd you like some more greenhouse gas to choke on, you evil old man. We've got your number, Winter.
My boys' and I, our minds are all abuzz today planning refinements to our route. Candy maximizing is a tricky business, you know. Will the hi-rise condo let us in? Will they have a major grab-bag at the lobby? Should we even bother with the townhouse condos, whose residents so often seem to be mysteriously absent on Halloween night? So much to think about.
Over at the Contrast Podcast, they are running their Halloween special. Check it out. I made a very small contribution, The Pogues version of the traditional spook song Worms. Once you've heard it, check out the full lyrics here.
These damn MP3 types are slowly sucking me into their wanton lifestyle. This week I actually found myself debating alternative tunes to submit.
From the same Pogues album as Worms is Sit Down By the Fire, a joyful, bouncy ode to the delights of scaring small children. For the full effect, read the lyrics.
What can one say about the title track to David Bowie's Scary Monsters, Super Creeps? Well, for starters, it's an acquired taste for sure. I've definitely acquired it. As an angy teen, I used to listen to that album over and over as I thought black thoughts about everyone who was pissing me off, which was quite a few people at that age. Not so many these days, I hope.
Enjoy the tunes and enjoy tonight. Be sure to wear a costume. Trust me, you'll like how it feels.
The Pogues - Sit Down By the Fire
David Bowie - Scary Monsters, Super Creeps
posted by Mentok @ 12:22 PM, ,
Saturday, October 28, 2006
We did a test run of our costumes at our school's Halloween dance.
You will note that we did not opt for the full-blown traditional KISS costumes, but rather did the leather look the band was known to do on occasion. In these chilly climes, we of course needed costumes that incorporated some sort of jacket.
We won Best Family Costume. An immigrant Asian family had their pictures taken with us. We were the toasts of the ball with everyone coming up to tell us how much they liked the outfits.
The boys got shy on me on the ground, so we didn't sing our KISS Halloween medly.
The biggest sacrifice for me that I had to shave off my goatee for the sake of the costume, but, as I kept reminding the boys, you have to suffer for your art.
All in all, we were very pleased with the results.
posted by Mentok @ 1:48 PM, ,
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Before I forget, the new Contrast Podcast is out with another contribution by me.
The theme was 'A song you like by a band you don't'. I figure you can't lose in that scenario:
- If people look down on the band, you get credit for also disliking them
- If they like the band, you get credit for at least having enough taste to like that one song
- If they dislike both the band and the song, you get a pass on the basis of it being a kitschy, idiosyncratic quirk, since many others on the podcast picked much worse songs
Stra-tee-gery. That's my middle name.
My pick for the week was Chumbawumba's Tub-thumping. "I get knocked down, I get up again" could practically be my personal slogan but I can't stand the band, who have always struck me as being very pretentious. They seem like the types who think calling themselves anarchists means they can act like dinks whenever they feel like it.
So, please take time to visit and listen to the whole Contrast Podcast . It's always a pleasantly eclectic dose of good music.
This is the second post of the day. Be sure to see below for the new discussion item post.
posted by Mentok @ 12:03 PM, ,
Today is municipal Election Day in our city. One of my neighbours, a successful and, as the lefties say, rather bourgeois real estate agent, is running for city council. In all my years of political campaigning, I've never seen a campaign quite like his.
First, you need a mental image of the guy. Over 40 but obviously goes to the gym a lot. Wears a lot of leather. Has that salt-and-pepper hair that some women seem to find attractive in older guys. Perma-tan. On the whole, very oily looking.
During the campaign, he was often spotted cruising around the neighbourhood in his candy-apple red Benz convertible, which was loaded up with lawn signs. When he spotted voters out working in their yards, he would holler over from his car to see if they wanted a lawn sign. Yup, he didn't even make the effort to get out of the car to put up a lawn sign. Incredible.
He got me thinking about the drivers of Benz convertibles. On the one hand, you've got your middle aged mid-life crisis types. On the other hand, you've your 20 year old kid whose dad bought the car for him. I'm not sure which I find more offensive. In any case, it appears clear that window of opportunity for judgment-free Benz convertible ownership is between 25 and 35. After that, if you need to waste money on a fancy vehicle, best to stick with Beemer and Lexus hard-top sedans.
But whatever you do, don't be seen dead in a luxury vehicle if you plan to run for public office.
So, we have two discussion topics here today:
- Any anecdotes of goofy political campaigns you've witnessed?
- What are some other examples of things you can do between 25 and 35 that you can't really do before or after?
posted by Mentok @ 9:37 AM, ,
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Thought some of you might like a peek at the cowboy party.
(I have a policy against showing identifiable pictures of kids on the internet, hence the eye blackouts.)
That was, um, one of our more interesting parties.
I was on the whole very pleased with the production values of the stage set. I didn't get the swinging saloon doors I'd been shooting for, but a few hay bales, wanted posters and red gingham tablecloths went a long way to set the mood.
Notice in the background my two older sons. At this moment, #2 is playing a passed out drunk and #1 is the piano player. However, their main roles in the production were as the nefarious birthday-present stealin' outlaws. A few minutes after this picture was taken, they leapt to their feet, hootin' and hollerin, cap guns a-blazin'.
Well, that was a bit of strategic miscalculation. Our little drama proved too convincing for our six year-old-guests. A couple of kids started to cry from fright. The entire production was in danger of tanking. It took a took a solid ten minutes of improvised comedy by Mrs. Mentok and me to get things back on track.
Things did turn around and a great time was had by all. As usual the take-homes were a great hit. Today we're seeing some of the neighbourhood kids riding their broomstick horses up and down the street.
I, on the other hand, have a round of well-deserved 'I told you so's coming. Mrs. M, a primary teacher, warned me that cap guns would be too alarming for kids that age. I dug in my heels because the cap gun noise made things more dramatic. As usual, shoulda listened to her!
That's a picture of her in her saloon girl costume helping out with some riding lessons.
Good times, but very exhausting!
posted by Mentok @ 2:31 PM, ,
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
I'm a total nut for my kids' birthday parties. Ever since my #1 son was about 7, we've gone all out to stage lavish (yet economical) theme party productions for our kids. The parties for me are truly a labour of love.
Some of our past themes have included spies, pirates and superheroes. This weekend for the first time we are doing a Western / Cowboy theme for #3, my youngest son.
The guiding principle with my parties is that they are not parties so much as they are interactive fantasy stories. Planning a party (which involves a brainstorming session with the whole family) begins with developing a story line aimed at drawing the guests into the fantasy from the moment they receive the invitation.
For example, the invitations for our legendary spy party was a Mission Impossible-style message burnt onto CDs. "Your mission, if you choose to accept it..." and all that. (After the mission recruitment message, the CD featured a selection of spy movie and TV themes. To this day, I have neighbourhood dads tell me that they've kept the CD and still listen to it.) Another example was the message-in-a-bottle invitations, sent out for the pirate party.
For the cowboy party, the invite is a wanted posted, featuring pictures of #3's brothers as the nefarious villains and a public call for able-bodied young men to join the posse.
Another feature of our parties is that there are no treat bags at the end of the party. Instead, the guests' take-home items are incorporated into the story, with the rule of thumb always being "if you play with it, you can take it home."
There is no minimizing the excitement this causes with kids. One of our pirate party activities was called "swabbing the deck"; the kids chased balloons with cheap dollar-store mops. This, amazingly, became the most popular take-home item. Kids exclaimed to their parents "Look, Mom, I get to keep this mop!"
Early on in my party-planning career, I discovered a guaranteed crowd-pleaser: a little activity I like to call "The Cathartic Beating of the Adult". At every party, the kids get the opportunity to whack me with pool noodles, squirt me with water pistols or (in this case) shoot me with imaginary bullets. Year in and year out, this seems to be the activity that makes the biggest impression on the guests, consistently leaving them rolling on the floor laughing.
A great deal of work and stress goes into planning these parties. Most parents, I know, would prefer to buy a store-bought, off-the-shelf party from Chuck E Cheese and other such places. To me, such parties are rather bloodless and lifeless. Nothing compares to the happiness you can give your child by being actively involved in his birthday. After all, if you can't commit, really commit to your child's happiness once a year on his birthday, when else are you going to do it?
If you're a parent and you're looking for party ideas, drop me a line. I'm always happy to help.
Now for the feedback part, dear readers: what are your birthday memories? Got any stories about either fantastically good or horrendously bad birthday parties?
posted by Mentok @ 11:12 AM, ,
Monday, October 16, 2006
We Buddhists are not supposed to believe in luck. Notions of good and bad luck are superstitious and Buddhism is above all a pragmatic, realistic religion.
Well, that's yet another thing I'll have to deal with in a future life, because in this one I've got lots of superstitions.
Readers who have been around or who know me in real life know that I'm a Grade A, certifiable Batman nut. I've got display shelves in my living room for my action figure collection (much to my wife's chagrin).
Most of my superstitions revolve around Batman paraphenalia. I like to have a Batman branded item in every room of my house and I'm always sure to take some sort of Batman good luck charm with me when I travel.
I used to have a set of good luck Batman underwear. They were a very well-fitting, comfortable pair of cotton boxers branded with Batman Forever imagery. For several years, I treated them like the Felix Felicis potion in Harry Potter. I would wear them only occasionally, only on days when I expected to really, really need some good luck.
Those who've read Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince know that the effect of the Felix Felicis potion is partly psychological. Characters are shown to have good luck if they merely think they have taken the potion, even if they have in fact been given a placebo. It's all just a confidence thing. I know that, rationally.
But then one day something terrible happened. I was going through an especially trying time at work, so I foolishly committed both a superstitiously and hygenically repulsive act: I wore the lucky underwear for two days in a row!
Well, that cooked it. It drained the luck right out of it. From that day forward, my beloved Batman Forever boxers had the exact opposite effect: wear them and whatever I did that day was doomed from the start.
What's worse, it had a spill-over effect. Now my entire collection of Batman underwear is cursed. Sixties Batman, Batman Returns, animated series Batman, even just the plain old Batman logo boxers have all turned into harbingers of bad days.
It breaks my heart, I tell ya.
And how about you, dear reader? What are your superstitions? Don't try telling me you don't have any. We all have a few, even if they're small and subconscious. So 'fess up...believe me, you'll feel better for it.
posted by Mentok @ 11:06 AM, ,
Friday, October 13, 2006
Man, was that a bad cold. I was seriously delirious there for awhile. All better now though.
It's funny - when I was a kid, I actually enjoyed getting sick once in awhile. I got to hang out, watch some daytime TV, hone my skills at Pong (yes, dagnabbit, all's we had was Pong when I was a kid ... and we were thankful!). My parents let me eat pretty much anything I wanted, 'cause you know you can't argue with the cravings of sick people. Sweet!
My oldest son recently reflected this attitude when he mused that his "favourite" illness was pink eye:
"They won't let you in the door of the school, but otherwise it doesn't slow you down at all."
Sadly, the subtle joy of illness are yet another thing that is robbed from us in adulthood. Society just doesn't let you indulge yourself with a nice long bout of non-threatening illness. There's no pleasure in bailing out on work, parenting and household chores because everything in the adult world conspires to make you feel guilty.
As a kid, your mom actually did want you to stay in bed until you were totally sure that you were better (at least mine did). As an adult, your boss may say out loud "That's OK, you just worry about getting better" but you can practically hear him whisper "you're costing me money, ya slacker".
My departed father used to tell a funny disease story. In his senior year of high school, he had fallen in with the wrong crowd and had pissed away most of the school year shooting pool and playing cards (since they didn't have Pong back then). Two weeks before his final exams, he contracted a horribly contagious ailment which required him to be placed in a good old fashioned quarantine. Alarmingly, his family locked him inside a grain bin for the duration. So, lacking anything else to do, he studied for his exams around the clock and ended up totally aceing them.
I vaguely remember a story about some Hollywood star who was fat as a child but trimmed down after a long and severe bout of stomach flu. Was it Matthew Broderick? Anyone remember?
How's about you, dear reader? Got a favourite ailment? Got a funny disease story?
posted by Mentok @ 11:56 PM, ,
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
I'm wickedly sick today, but still happy because I got a contribution in with Contrast Podcast.
The theme this week is Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy.
I went retro and contributed the Eurhythmics' 1984 hit Right By Your Side, off of a raggedy old party mix tape that I'm pleased to say I still own.
As always at CP, there are lots of great tunes, so give 'er a listen.
posted by Mentok @ 3:51 PM, ,
Last night I caught up with the third season opener of the new Battlestar Galactica.
I nearly wept. I really did.
When I first started watching the new BSG, I thought it was the best science-fiction series ever made, hands down.
But by the second season I had changed my opinion. By then I had decided that it was one of the best shows of any genre currently on TV.
Now, with the start of the third season, I'm adjusting that again. This show without a doubt is one of the smartest and bravest dramas ever made in the history of television.
If you haven't watched the show, if you've blown it off as just a "geeky" sci-fi show or if you've watched one or two episodes and given up because you couldn't follow the story, I can tell you without a breath of exaggeration that you are depriving yourself of one of the greatest cultural gems of the early 21st century.
What sets this show apart is the sheer depth and complexity of the issues it is willing to tackle. It uses the science fiction genre in the best way, as a tool for building allegories about modern times or the human condition in general.
The show has tackled religion, philosophy, crime, politics and the entire flawed nature of humanity. But underlying it all has been a very thinly veiled allegory about the war of civilizations currently going on between the West and Islam.
The start of the third season has signalled that war issues will be an increasing focus of the show.
In the first episode, the show accomplishes the awesome and terrible task of taking a North American audience inside the mind of a suicide bomber. By the end, you will feel sympathy and support for even the most brutal acts of terrorism.
Some will ask, Why would I want to understand such monstrosity? Because, no matter whether you are a hawk or a dove, no matter whether you are trying to defeat your enemy or make peace with him, understanding how your enemy thinks is important to a successful outcome to war.
Unfortunately, this landmark episode is intimately interwoven with the plot of the series of over the last two years. I say "unfortunately" because I think the world would be a better place if more people watched this one episode.
As it stands, if you watch the episode on its own, you will get maybe 60 per cent of what it is trying to convey. To appreciate its full emotional power you will need to invest a few weekends catching up with the previous 30-odd hours of the show (all of which are currently available on DVD).
Since few people will do that, allow me to recommend a short-cut: at least watch the original four-hour miniseries and the last 2-3 episodes of the second season. You will still miss a great deal, but it will give you a minimum grounding to appreciate the third season.
Just because I'm such a crazy evangelist for this show, I'm even prepared to offer until Christmas a limited-time Mentok the Mindtaker money-back guarantee. If you watch the episodes I've recommended and you don't agree that BSG is one of the best and smartest shows ever made, just email me a copy of your DVD rental receipts and I will refund your expenses.
OK, dear readers, I promise this will be the last BSG freakout I pull this season. Probably. ;-)
posted by Mentok @ 8:44 AM, ,
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
I have a little mind-taker rule-of-thumb I use when I size people up. When a person is bold enough to declare a personal quality, 70 per cent of the time that person is really the exact opposite of that quality.
I wish I had a dollar for every time I've been told "I'm pretty smart, you know" by people who have turned out to be utterly brainless.
Or how about "I'm kinda crazy", typically spoken by people who are as plain as toast.
Or "I love people", often declared by the snobby, cliquey and judgmental.
I could go on, but each quote reminds me of someone and they're always unpleasant memories.
As frustrating as this is, I have come to view this sort of thing as a fundamental and essential nature of humanity. We humans have a tremendous and endearing capacity for self-deception, for being able to believe something even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.
It's a strength and a weakness, I figure.
Tales of self-deception are, if nothing else, good for a laugh. Not a mean-spirited laugh, but a good-natured "aren't we all silly" laugh.
So let's hear your anecdotes. Do you have a boss who's a self-declared "detail person" with an impossibly messy desk? Do you have an unmarried sister-in-law who "loves kids" but clearly can't stand being around them? What's your favourite story of human contradiction?
posted by Mentok @ 11:40 AM, ,
Monday, October 09, 2006
Happy Thanksgiving, you turkey-logged Canucks.
I've often wondered about the history of the Canadian feast day. It turns out there isn't any. There are about 20 different secret origin stories, which means that all and none of them are true. It's a harvest festival plain and simple. Since I'm an avid vegetable gardener, that's good enough for me.
As promised, I've finally tuned up my various links areas. Home Base has my general list dedicated to my readers and favourite bloggers. There is no order to it, so please don't look for one. Your rank in the list has nothing to do with your rank in my affections. (I wish some clever blog programmer would come up with an easy way to randomize link lists to eliminate such perceptions.)
On the other pages, I have links relevant to the subject. Take a minute to check them out 'cause some of these new links are pretty cool. Some reader links make duplicate appearances on sub-pages where warranted.
We're already deep into the left-overs at our house. We had duck last night. Anyone else do anything special or different for the long weekend?
posted by Mentok @ 12:26 PM, ,
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Since I had several posts building up to the Stones concert, I expect you'll want me to do a review.
Regular readers will forgive me if I end up getting pompous and over-analytical. I don't want to start out that way. First and foremost, a Stones stadium concert is a tremendously satisfying entertainment spectacle. Pyrotechnics, multi-media show ... hell, if I was deaf I would have still enjoyed it as much (possibly more).
One very much gets the sense that these shows are all about Mick's obsession (and/or contractual obligations to Satan) and that the rest of the guys are just along for the ride, rather grudgingly. The rest of the Stones resemble those animatronic bears in the band at Chuck E Cheese.
Jagger's onstage vitality is every bit as extraordinary as it is hyped to be, but the question I couldn't help but think was "At what cost?" To create this two hour illusion of youth, Jagger must invest the rest of his time in a strict regimen of diet, exercise, rest and physical therapy. It really makes you wonder what motivates him, since it clearly isn't money.
Watching Jagger prance reminded me of watching a stripper. It all seems very alluring until you remember that he's done the exact same moves hundreds of thousands of times and that any creativity and emotion these moves once contained has long since vanished.
Stretching the sex trade analogy a little further, being an audience member at a Stones concert is like having sex with a hooker. You must bear the shameful subconscious frustration that, no matter what you do, no matter how much you scream and shout and cheer, nothing is going to make this particular performance any better or more memorable to the Stones themselves than any other performance they've ever given.
For me, the single most pleasant surprise of the evening was listening to Keith Richards do his all-too-few solo bits. I had previously regarded Richards as nothing but a joke, a self-parody. I came away with a new respect for him as a blues and bluegrass performer. There is a little sadness here that serves to make his blues music that much better. One can imagine an alternate quantum reality where Keith Richards became a successful solo artist and rose to become the peer of Bob Dylan. But in this reality, he is doomed to live his life in the shadow of a preening rooster.
Well, aren't I just a regular ray of sunshine! These are just my over-thinking musings after the fact. At the time, I was hooting and hollering like a lunatic. I had a great time. The show is a truly magnificent experience of 21st Century stagecraft and spectacle. It's well worth seeing if you get the chance, especially if you can get discount tickets.
posted by Mentok @ 5:00 PM, ,
Friday, October 06, 2006
The Rolling Stones are in town. Flew in last night. Last night and today, the town is swarming with wanna-be groupies, like rats in a disease-ridden medieval city.
Mrs. Mentok's and my regular tavern (the venue of the aforementioned delightful but inappropriate back-scratching) is kitty-corner from the hotel where the Stones are "staying" and has an excellent view of the hotel's front door. (I put "staying" in quotes because it is likely that only the road crew and not the Stones themselves are staying there.)
I happened to drive past the bar last night and, sure enough, the patio was loaded with over-madeup women of all ages, all of whom looked rather sloppy. Except one...
One young woman stood out. She was a true beauty. She sat straight and tall at her perch, nursing a cocktail. Wearing an elegant black party dress, she was much better dressed than her peers. She was perfectly and professionally coiffed and made-up.
She did not look like some stupid bimbo. Far from it. Her eyes, fixed unswervingly on the hotel entrance, shone with the fierce, ruthless intelligence of a vulture. Sleeping with the Stones, or more likely a Stones roadie, appeared to be a deep seated, soul-consuming goal for her.
How sad, I thought. How sad that this young woman, who seemed to have a lot going for her, would have set herself such a degrading goal.
So while I again repeat that this is not an MP3 blog, here's a few variations on a theme in honour of that young woman (who probably went home alone and cried herself to sleep) and all others who suffer from the endless wheel of craving.
PJ Harvey and Bjork - Satisfaction
Brittany Spears - Satisfaction
Devo - Satisfaction
[I'm including the Spears version to enhance the irony, not as any sort of endorsement of her as an artist.]
posted by Mentok @ 10:17 AM, ,
Thursday, October 05, 2006
...Crazy 'cause she's married to me. It was Mrs. Mentok's birthday on Wednesday. I did, indeed forget to post it, but I did on the other hand spend an hour on the day of her birthday sending her a number of ecards equal to her age, so that should count for something...right, honey?
Anyway, for those of you who didn't know, please feel free to send her a belated greeting via her blog.
posted by Mentok @ 11:48 PM, ,
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
When I was a younger man, I used to have supreme contempt for middle-aged men who allowed themselves to be manipulated by cynical, black-hearted twenty-something hotties. Now that I'm over 40, however, I find myself pleasantly surprised by the maturity and wisdom of young women aged 19 to 25, especially those in the beverage service industry.
No, really, to be brutally honest, I'm appalled and a little resentful of the sheer cynicism displayed by many young women when they interact with men old enough to be their fathers. Let me give you a couple examples:
Last weekend, Mrs. Mentok and I were out at a popular bar we frequent. This waitress came up behind me, drew her nails across my back, swung her face around inches in front of mine and breathily asked "Hi! What can I get you?", whilst looking at me all googly eyed.
Right in front of my wife! Can you imagine if a male waiter acted that way?
(Yeah, of course I gave the girl a huge tip. What am I, a block of wood? )
And then there's the new receptionist at the business centre where I work. She looks and acts like a model. She's developed a routine of delivering job-security-enhancing flirtatious morning greetings. Her first week on the job, she did this bit where she would dip her head bashfully, bat her eyes upwards and say "Good morning Mentok" in an extremely sultry tone.
The first time she did this to me, I thought it was pretty cool; after I caught her doing it with every other guy on the floor, it just aggravated me.
But she's one step ahead of us on that score. See, she now varies her greetings so they don't become worn out. Her new one I call "Japanese school girl". When she sees her target, she sort of shrugs, averts her eyes, lashes all aflutter while saying "Good morning" in a geisha-like giggle.
I suppose I shouldn't complain, but there are things about these situations that bug me. First, I just don't like being manipulated. I'm realistic. These girls are for sure not interested in me that way. If some foolish guy ever let his guard down and actually reacted to such flirtations, he would automatically get reclassified as 'old creepy guy', and I'm not inclined to sacrifice my self-respect in that way.
So, all in all, it amounts to a big game of keep-away, which is just cruel. It would be like someone driving up to my house in a Mercedes-Benz convertible and yelling "Hey, wanna go for a ride? Well, you can't! Ha, ha!"
Not that I would want a Mercedes-Benz convertible anyway, because middle-aged guys in convertibles just look ridiculous if you ask me. My Toyota Corolla still looks good and it's engine still has many good years left in it, if you catch my meaning.
What do you think? Am I out to lunch on this? Anyone out there got any outrageous anecdotes about encounters with the Hottie Gestapo?
posted by Mentok @ 4:53 PM, ,
Monday, October 02, 2006
Not only is it fellow blogger Ashley Chairiet's birthday, but it is also a year ago that I first met this inimitable, charming hillbilly princess. Most regular readers either know her or know about her, so be sure to head over and wish her a happy b'day.
posted by Mentok @ 4:37 PM, ,
I forgot to mention a good omen from the Mentoks' hard-rock weekend.
While the boys and I were shopping for KISS costumes at a thrift store, we came across a complete set of Osbourne family dolls - mint and in the original packaging.
Ebay here we come!
posted by Mentok @ 10:21 AM, ,
Sunday, October 01, 2006
This is rock and roll week at the Mentok household.
First, there was the Halloween shopping. I'm a big kid at heart, so Halloween preparation is always serious business for my boys and me. Ever since my #1 son has been old enough to walk, I've always participated in theme costumes with my boys. Past classics have included the Marx Brothers (Groucho, Chico, Harpo and Karl) and the male cast of Gilligan's Island.
This year there will be a bit of a sad note to Halloween. My #1 son, who's 12, is now too old and too cool to come out with us. They don't warn you enough about all these crushing heartbreaks when you start out as a parent.
But, my other two sons and I are cruising ahead with this year's KISS theme. After two hours of sifting through bargain shop / thrift store offerings, we managed to put together costumes that are a total bomb: leather jackets, platform shoes, studded neck chokers ... the works!
We plan to regale the neighbours with a Halloween medly of KISS tunes:
"You say you want to hear us sing,
Well give us candy and we'll begin
You drive us wild, we'll drive you crazy
I wanna trick or treat all night,
Eat candy every day
I wanna trick or treat all night,
Eat candy every day.....
Mom, I hear ya callin'
But we can't come home right now
Cause me and the boys're trick or treatin'
Halloween's begun and we want some fun,
Do you think we're going to find it?
You gotta give us treats or we'll trick you one
Do you need to be reminded?
Shout it, shout it, shout it out loud
Shout it, shout it, shout it out loud"
My #2 son, who has the talent for singing and has the longest tongue, gets the privilege of being Gene Simmons.
I can hardly wait.
In other rock news, regular readers of my wife's blog will know that we've got tickets to the Rolling Stones next weekend. I'm not a huge Stones fan; I frankly find the notion of sextogenarian rockers absurd. But, this is a small city so a big concert like this has made the whole city crap its collective pants in excitement. Since they're practically going to be shutting the city down for the concert anyway, I figured the party would be fun if nothing else. Besides, I got my tickets half-price.
So, while I still maintain this is not a mp3 blog, here's a few tunes related to this post.
Kiss - Rock and Roll All Night
Kiss - Beth
Kiss - Shout It Out Loud
Rolling Stones - Paint It Black
posted by Mentok @ 12:24 PM, ,