Somali family

One of the continuing missions of HumanKind is to give back in every way we can. Simple, sure, but good. My roommate / VP of HumanKind / all-around good gal Christina Rado wrote this in her blog this morning:




So, my Somali family has been off school for a week. 6 school-age kids usually receive free breakfast and lunch at school. This means over their two week holiday break, they have to make their grocery budget stretch to meet the needs of 120 meals the kids are missing out on by not being in school. I'm going to visit them tomorrow (Wednesday). If you have time today and want to bring by a snack like a bag of apples or carrots, a box of cereal, or some bread and peanut butter, I'll be at Humankind (604 Gallatin Ave #206) from 11:30 - 5:30. I realize it's last minute, but thought I'd throw it out there!

Christina and her husband Ryan work with and visit this family on a regular basis. They help teach the parents some basic skills (like how to answer the telephone) and have provided the family with a TV and DVD player to help keep the kids entertained... And, well, you get the idea. I've never met the family. I keep terribly busy (work does that to you) and I know I don't give back like I know I should. I also know that parts of the HumanKind humankind cause aren't as close to my heart as perhaps I would like them to be. I'm pushy and can be standoffish from time to time and I don't step out of my comfort zone enough... Despite my generally gregarious nature. But I figure that this is the least that I can do to try to help out.

If anyone is interested in helping out with one of the requested things (a box of cereal, peanut butter, granola bars... you get the idea), shoot me an email at stephenpbohn at gmail dot com or go on up to the HK store at the above address and drop some stuff of this afternoon.

I'm trying to do some good in the world today. Trying.

Stouts and 'ports

I'm sure by now you've all heard about the "terror" attack at Detroit Metro Airport on Christmas day. Since there are about 11 cable news chanels all clamoring for the same sandwich of a story, they did nothing but report on that one story. 'Specially FOX News. Now, none of that really matters because all of those stations are guilty of the same sort of sensationalism and also because I happen to live fivehundredsomeodd miles away from Detroit. Except for it was Christmas time, my mom and dad live a hop, skip, and a jump from Detroit Metro, and I fly all of once a year. Guess where I had to fly out of last night. C'mon. Guess. This story is already shaping up to be very "Costanza" like.

With as much coverage as this story was receiving and as many times as the news stations made sure to announce "If you are flying out of Detroit Metro Airport, prepare for increased security, long lines, and bring your patience [insert co-anchor's nervous laugh here]. The TSA is recommending that all domestic travelers get to the airport at least 3 hours in advance." I figured I'd better get there early. That was a hell of a long sentence. But get there early, I did. There was no way that I was going to get spend the night in Detroit only to wake up, catch a 6 am to Nashville, and then head straight to work. No sir. And so, I arrived 3 hours early.

Does anyone want to take a guess how long it took me to get out of my dad's car, through the security line including extra questioning (because I always get extra questioning), through the entirety of the world's second longest terminal (Concourse A measuring a full mile long), on to terminal B, and to my gate situated near the end of said terminal? C'mon... Anybody.

18 minutes.

That's right.
18 minutes. And I don't walk that fast.

I arrived to my gate 2 hours and 42 minutes before my flight was scheduled (which will become a very important word as you will see) to depart. Hell, the prior flight that was scheduled to leave from my gate hadn't even boarded yet.

So what did I do? I went and had pints. Several. If there are two things that I learned yesterday, they are as follows:
1.) Don't listen to the news 'cause they are full of hate propoganda even if there is just a handful of dudes fuckin' up air travel for the rest of the world, and
2.) You haven't lived until you've been drunk on an airplane.

Seriously. It was one of the more proud moments of my life. Suddenly the hour and fifteen minute delay that was magically tacked on to my wait (putting me at Detoit Metro for about four full hours) didn't seem too bad. Sure, I had to pee alot but, damnit, it was worth it. If it wasn't my finest hour, it was pretty close. For a a brief moment, I knew what it felt like to be Noel Gallagher... but without being cheeky, British, and lacking a god complex. I can hear you asking "But isn't he a singer, too?" Yes. He is. And after busting out a karaoke version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" [don't get too excited, it's not an actual clip of my rendition from last night], you could say that I am, as well. By the way... The Asian dudes at the bar didn't like it as much as I thought they would. Here I am trying to reach out to our brothers across the sea and spread some goodwill and all they wanted to do was drink Suntory and quietly judge me. I didn't get a single "domo arigato" from any of them. Not one.

Well, my flight finally left and arrived back home to Nashville "International" Airport. I put that word in quotation marks because I have never seen a flight listed that has been of the international variety leaving from BNA and I'm one hell of a skeptic. Upon arriving to the, uh, arrivals section, this is what it looked like for all of 10 minutes before the hellish traffic broke loose:

Or... Until I realized I was down at the Departures section. Don't judge me... The aforementioned Asian fellows did enough of that last night.

It was a long, strange adventure getting home from Detroit last night. But at least I had fun. Air travel, folks, is what you make of it. 'Cept for when dudes try to blow you out of the sky.

Thrice - "Beggars"

All is quite in the Bohn household this fine Sunday morning... Except for my older sister's cell phone alarm that has been going off for the past hour and a half waking me up at 6:30 and causing her to roll over from the couch, hit "snooze", roll back over only to have to do it (I kid you not) three minutes later. Brighton is a very sleepy town right now: cold, cloudy, constant snow... Very little to do other than wake up (due to the aforementioned alarm clock) and get on the internet / watch fishing shows on ESPN2, even though I rather dislike fishing. Even I don't understand that one.

I was thinking of a way to kill some time without waking the rest of the family. My original plan was to write my annual "Crybabies Beware" best-of list for 2009 chronicling my experiences with music, movies, and the minutia of my life over the past twelve months. For some reason, that just seems like vanity this year and I don't think I liked all that many albums to warrant such a list. To get some inspiration, I headed over to Large Hearted Boy's aggregator of sites that had the best-of 2009 listed. I read through several of these list and realized two things:
1.) I hadn't heard half of the records on the list and therefore could not make a truly educated list based on my opinion, and
2.) A large percentage of the records that I heard that were on those lists (largely of the "indie rock" variety and one would think right up my alley) were records that I thoroughly didn't enjoy. Brand New's Daisy and Lucero's 1372 Overton Park, I'm especially looking in your directions on that one.

It was a seriously lackluster year in the world of music. I've never seen so much drivel get so much play. That Education Connection commercial was catchier and better written than anything Lady Gaga did this year. The caveat to that previous statement is that the melody line to her song "Paparazzi" is catchy as hell even if she can't write lyrics to save her gender neutral ass. Another example? Sure... how about "The Climb" by Miley Cyrus? I know I'm not the only person that wants to see her fall off of that mountain she's trekkin' up. Another one? Sure!!! How 'bout "You Belong with Auto-tune Me" by Taylor Swift? I could go on like this for a while.

There were plenty of good pop songs that came out this year. And yes, some of them were from the aforementioned offenders ("Party in the USA" by Destiny Hope Miley Cyrus, "Love Story" by Taylor Swift, and [hell] "TiK ToK" by KE$HA is catchy). But as far as complete records which no one seems to release anymore these days, it was a decidedly down year.

I did actually start on a list this morning before I got too bored and had to stop when I realized that I had a hard time thinking of a few records that were much better than Phoenix's new record which, let's be honest, is nothing more than a few singles and a bunch of throwaway tracks. It ultimately disheartened me enough to stop...

Then I remembered that Thrice released Beggars and flat out forgot about how crappy most of the rest of the year in music was.

Watch this. Be amazed.


That's it. That's my "Crybabies Beware" list for 2009. Thrice's Beggars. Everything else fell woefully short. Yes, that includes Pearl Jam's Backspacer which I really would have enjoyed except for the AWFUL ballads that appear on it.

Do yourself a favor... Go buy the Thrice record. Take that money you were going to spend on Animal Collective or Adam Lambert or (God forbid) Owl City and get this instead. You'll be listening to this one for years to come.

[That was far too many words to get my point across, I know. When I get to the airport this afterevening, I'll likely be doing my Best of the Decade list...]

Fairytale of New York (part 2)

My favorite Christmas song:

"Oh, you don't need to buy me anything for Christmas."

If only my grandma really meant it when she said, "Oh, you don't need to buy me anything for Christmas."

For the first time ever in the history of the life of Stephen P Bohn, I am all but done shopping for Christmas gifts multiple days before Christmas Eve. I would like to thank amazon.com and their 'free 2-day shipping to anywhere in the United States' thing they've got going on. Saved me over $200! As an addendum... Mom, Dad, Jessica and Eric... If any of you happen to be reading this, don't peak inside the multitude of boxes being shipped to the Brighton homestead. Especially the one that reads "Not Steve Martin's All Natural Penis Cream®" in big red letters. Definitely not that one.

She's 80-something years old and likes to cook, reading, Chruch and being passive aggressive. If only I could find somehow find a copy of The Christian's Ultimate Guide to Making Quality Meals for Heathens but every place I look seems to be sold out. It's rivaling Elmo's Tickle Hands in terms of popularity. By the way, that gift is not as erotic as it sounds.

What to do? I'm on the verge of a massive accomplishment for myself: getting Christmas shopping done this early. I'd be so proud of myself. Hey! Maybe that's what Grandma wants! She wants me to be proud of myself! But how the hell can I do that if I can't get a gift for her? Oh, fate, thou art cruel.

I've been asking around the office what I should get my Grandma for Christmas... I keep hearing the same things: Chocolates. Flowers. Tickets to a monster truck rally. None of these suggestions really strike me as quality "grandmother" gifts. They strike me as awesome first date ideas; I know I'm single and all but I don't want to give Grandma the wrong impression. Nary a woman in the world can resist the temptation and raw sexual power of Grave Digger and all that its 1500hp engine implies. And ain't no way am I walkin' down that path with Grandma Bohn.

So, I'm hoping and praying that something falls into my lap in the next few hours or so. Something that will fit into my carry-on luggage or can be shipped directly to a door in Michigan. Maybe I'll just get her a flask, a bottle of whiskey, and tickets to the all-male revue. What? That doesn't sound like a good gift for a grandma?

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

I was talking to Jeff Zuehlke at Ryan Parrish's Christmas / Birthday party last night about how much I don't like Christmas music. I'm a bit of a bah humbugger to begin with so I'm sure that has something to do with it. I don't get (in general) get excited for Christmas much anymore. I'm sure I've written about this before. I am also entirely convinced that there are all of 29 Christmas songs ever written in the history of mankind... and that any time anyone releases one it's got about a dozen or so of those 29 on them. It's very disappointing for the most part. Especially that insufferable "Little Drummer Boy" song which, if I weren't such a gem of a guy, would inspire me to find the last unicorn of yore, slit its throat and watch children, most women, and 43-year old dudes who play World of Warcraft all night long cry many tears.

Again... gem of a guy. But I'd consider it as evidenced that I've told you all about my plan.

Every once in a while, a musical group decides that they are going to think outside of the proverbial holiday box [like what I did there?] and perform a record of mostly original holiday music. This generally turns out to be a bad idea, as well. Need proof? I implore you to click here and prove me wrong. By the way, you can still get this delivered in time for Christmas if you order it now. Thank you, Amazon.

It's a peculiar predicament in which to find oneself: the label has got to be breathing down the artist's neck to make a record that will move 198,000 copies by Christmas and then sell 30,000 each year thereafter and we allare stuck with these Michael Buble sound-a-likes and Amy Grant copycats crooning and non-offending their way into the hearts of post-menopausal women across this great land of ours. I didn't mean for that to sound so misogynistic but there it is. Although, I do hate Amy Grant's voice so I'm not sorry for that part at all.

In the Christmas spirit and in an effort to try to break the mold and overall tone of most of my blog entries, I would like to present you all with a Christmas gift... of Christmas music. That's right.

My friend Aimee and some of her friends recorded a Christmas EP under the moniker Haunting Party. Download it here for free. I'm all about free music and most of my methods for acquiring music for free are completely illegal. Of course, that would mean that I recognize the authority of the RIAA and Lord knows that I don't. Diatribes aside... She and some of her friends recorded this six song EP as a Christmas gift to their friends and family... And, well, to the rest of the world. They're giving it away. It is Christmas after all.

I told Aimee that I'd download it because, well, I am a hell of a guy even though I've made mention time and time again my disdain for Christmas music. Strangely enough, I find my self here sitting on my computer listening to these songs and really enjoying them.

'Tis the season, as it were. Or is. Whatever.

Anyway... Enjoy the tunes. I am.

Big Bottom

I was reminded this past weekend how small the internet can make the world these days. I tend to forget but every once in a while (like when your boss comes across your blog because you mentioned her shoppe in one of your postings and big brother Google Reader fed her the information that someone somewhere in the world wrote about it... for instance) I am reminded that there is no more privacy anywhere any more. I'm not complaing. I play Nintendo Wii when I'm naked on a relatively frequent basis.

There. No privacy at all.

Bearing all of that in mind, I want to tell you a little bit about a band that I saw last night. They are called Big Bottom. They, unfortunately, sound nothing like the Spinal Tap song from which their name is clearly derived but they are every bit as sophomoric in a completely unintentional way. If any member of the band happens to be reading this, and based on the fact that several of them wore vests over their t-shirts and had gelled faux-hawks, I wouldn't be surprised if they are strokin' their... uhhh... egos to the internet by searching for themselves.

Let me harp on their image a bit more if I may... Sure, they all look like the kinds of guys who shop at Lucky Brand Jeans [writer's note: I actually really like Lucky's jeans] but they are the kind of guys who go there for the accessories. In the picture above, homeboy on the far left is wearing a cap with a skull and crossbones on it. I've done my fair bit of pirate research and I've never come across an authentic illustration or drawing or, hell, even a 17th century woodcarving where a pirate was depicted wearing a stylish cap they just spent $37 on at the mall.

And then the music. I specifically said last night the following quote about the band's songs:

"Their music sounds like it should be in a commercial for Wrangler jeans or a Cuba Gooding, Jr., movie." That's not a compliment.

At several times during their set, they advised the crowd to "get grunk". Listen, motherfuckers, the only person in the world who's gonna tell me to "get crunk" is Lil' Jon... not five white dudes who look like they smell like Really Ripped Abs.

Big Bottom (like The Mary Nails) represents everything that's wrong with the Nashville rock scene. We all know the country scene is just pop with a twang and 6 guitars on stage.

There are so many more deserving artists that deserved to be written about by me. So many talented rock bands. So many talented musicians. But I'm an ass... So I mostly write about stuff I cant stand. Congrats, Big Bottom... You're now on that list.

I'm sure you're all probably really nice guys. You've got grandparents that are proud of you. Your parents think that it's great your playing a gig in Atlanta this week. You probably go to church. You may even donate money to the Nashville Rescue Mission. But you're not writing songs worth a damn.

Also, your tattoos suck.