"Dixie" Chicks or "Dissing" Chicks

Seeking: Blue state residents to subsidize multi-millionaire pop stars who have alienated fan base after down-home, "we're just like you" charade exposed. Will belittle former fans with complete indiscretion to make a quick buck. Immediatly available for recording sessions in Malibu or other California venue. Contact Natalie, Martie, or Emily.


The way I see it, these Dissing Chicks have a limited future. There're done. They piss me off. Let's go over what we know.

1. March 10, 2003 the Dixie Chicks virtually eliminated their fans with a statement in London. "Just so you know," clueless crooner Natalie Maines told the crowd, "we're ashamed the President of the United States is from Texas."
2. Retribution for the statement was swift. Country music radio stations held CD burning events and banned the group from their playlists. Pinko commies and lefties lashed out at the country music fans who were offended by the group and participated in such events equating them to the Nazi book-burnings of the 1930's-40's. ("It's the people who have gone overboard and done such irrational things that take you back to the days of book burning. That is a concern for me," band member Maguire said.)
3. The Dixie Chicks come out of two months of hiding, appearing on the cover of Entertainment Weekly in May 2003 naked and covered with words/phrases ("free speech" and "boycott" and "Dixie sluts").
4. May 2006, the Dixie Chicks release their new album retracting previous apologies and appearing in a Time magazine cover story "Radical Chicks" in which Maines lets makes the telling statement, "I apologized for disrespecting the office of the President, but I don't fell that way any more. I don't feel he is owned any respect whatsoever."

My problem with the Dissing Chicks isn't Maines's statement about the President (or the fact that it took place outside of the United States) like many of their original fan base. My problem with the Dissing Chicks is that they really don't give a shit about the millions of fans that placed them in the position to make these very public statements.

Consider this, aren't Dixie Chick fans allowed to exercise their free speech right to stop listening to their crappy music? To whom does that First Amendment right really apply? Time and Entertainment Weekly want you to believe that it is the Dixie Chicks who have been maligned.

The bottom line on the Dixie Chicks is that they simply do not represent the same values as the people who listen to country music. For that reason, their music continues to move closer and closer to pop music. They say that they "blur the line" between country and pop. Let's be honest, that's because they have to find a new fan base. I took great note on PINK IS THE NEW BLOG the other day when Trent made it known he was purchasing the new Dixie Chicks album. This is representative of the absolute necessity for that group to reign in new listeners from blue states.

The Chicks, no longer recording in Nashville but in California, are now taking direct shots at their former fans. In "The Long Way Around" Maines sings about her teenage friends who married their high school beaus and live "in the same ZIP codes where their parents live." (Entertainment Weekly follows this quote up with a heartfelt "Take that, CMT viewers!") God forbid, Natalie, that some folks marry their high school sweethearts, grown old in their hometowns, and aren't able to move about at a whim because they ripped off their compatriots earning millions upon millions in the process. I am offended. I knew my wife in high school. If I could get away with it and earn a good living back home, I would be there. Does that make me shit? Does that make me small-minded, ignorant? Here's a big "F**K YOU" to Ms. Maines.

Hey, support the President, don't support the President, I don't give a good goddamn (but you'd better support the troops - failure to do so is an unforgivable sin). Don't cut off the hand that feeds you unless you can get away with it (and if you can, be prepared for your former friends and supporters to give you the middle finger right back at you). I get the funny feeling that the new battle cry will be Remember the Maines.

(New and Improved) Deal or No Deal

I am a huge motor sports fan, but I have not yet blogged about NASCAR or Indy Car or Formula 1. And luckily for you, I'm not really going to do so today.

I was thinking about motor sports while watching Deal or No Deal on NBC tonight. I watch Deal or No Deal for the same reason novice race-goers watch motor races: the awful crashes.

I love it when those bastards on Deal or No Deal start off, apparently normal, and are transformed into disgusting greed mongers. They dance, they sing, they hug Howie Mandel. That's great. Then (my favorite part) they fall...

They keep pushing their luck. "NO DEAL!"

I really love the wives. They become frantic, crying and shit for their husbands to "please, for the love of God, take the damn deal!" And the husband will not take the deal as long as some asshole friend tells him not to (because men fall for that shit every time - oh, the peer pressure!).

It gets so bad, eventually that greedy bastard ends up with $1,750. At the end the wife claps her hands and says something like, "Don't worry, baby. This is all about the ride. I love you anyway." That's a damn lie. Okay, maybe she does love him, but she would have loved him a shitload more if he had taken the deal for $186,000 offered three minutes earlier.

Here's the new and improved Deal or No Deal. I propose the combination of Deal or No Deal with Divorce Court. That way when hubby screws up his formerly-loving wife can march him to the next studio where Judge Mablean can divide the marital estate and yell at the man for being such an ass. I suppose that would be a better project for Fox than NBC.

Sadness at the Preakness

Today was a sad day at the Pimlico, site of the Preakness Stakes. I don't follow the ponies too closely, but I like to watch the Triple Crown races. Today poor Barbaro fractured his leg both above and below the knee ending his Triple Crown dreams and endangering his life. America will have to wait at least one more year (totaling 28) for a Triple Crown winner.

While I am saddened for Barbaro, the sadest thing at the Preakness was unrelated to horse racing altogether. I was terribly saddened by the Maryland state song - "Oh Christmas Tree."

I kid you not. The Maryland state song, which they call "Maryland, My Maryland," is "Oh Christmas Tree."

I suppose it is not too surprising that a state would have such a song as its official theme. It could be worse but not by much. I can think of some other terrible song choices, most notably during the 2000 Democratic National Convention.

There was a song played at the Demo's pow-wow that year that came out the prior year entitled "Mambo No. 5." "Mambo No. 5" detailed a list of women in his life... Beginning the list was the phrase "a little bit of Monica in my life," and then was a list of seven other women. Not a great choice following Monic-gate and a bit off-color for any politico really. I can't help but wonder if they had chosen a better song Florida might have given up 537 more votes to Gore...hmmm.

"It's definitely sucking..."

Does anyone else understand these ads? As all of you know, I am greatly enamored of television. That goes for advertisements as well. But some of this new stuff is just shit. There are three ads that I especially abhor and two of them belong to the nice folks over at Volkswagen.

Let's start with the VW ads:

Surely you have all seen these. I'm thinking of the ones that have nice folks chatting and then WHAM! their ass gets stomped by a clueless driver. This is not an advertisement. This is a scene that was cut from the last installment of Final Destination. My friend told me he liked the ad. Again, wrong answer. [View ad here]

One tap on one of these cars and I'm telling you, you better hope your insurance adjuster totals the car because it won't drive again (to be fair, it will putz around for a decade but won't be anything you will want to be seen in).

Tag Line: Safety Happens.
21st Amendment Review: Bullshit - absolute bullshit.

On top of that wonder, VW has the great ads with that crazed asshole shooting cars out of catapults and dropping 20' containers on them whilst screaming "Unpimping!" or other such intangibles.

"Time to umpimp the auto," he proclaims before flashing his fingers in a "VW" symbol that would make Sammy Sosa or a gang-banger proud. [See ad here and here]

Really, how many of us have purchased something because of its fine German engineering since 1989? I think it's a reasonable question.

Tag Line: German engineering in da' house, yeah.
21st Amendment Review: Bullshit - absolute bullshit.

Lastly, let's discuss the Gatorade ad with the US Soccer team set to "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." Is Gatorade trying to convince us that Soccer is the All-American Game? Is Gatorade confused by the words in that song, "and it's one, two, three strikes your out..."? I haven't played soccer for years, but I never remember striking out at the soccer game. Funny how the memory fails us. [View ad here]

Tag Line: It's a whole new ballgame. Is it in you?
21st Amendment Review: Bullshit - absolute bullshit.

Has anyone seen a good ad lately? Let me know...

Life of Reilly

I thought he was dead. Honest to God. I have watched him for years. I smile every time he does an impression. He's overblown and legendary. And he is not dead.

True enough, Charles Nelson Reilly (CNR) is alive and kicking. Most of my three readers will not remember CNR. He's one of the great TV personalities of all time. If you know him, you know him from Match Game. He sat up in the upper-right corner with a captain's hat and pipe and somehow found a way to make any answer risque.

Classy. CNR isn't down and out. Evidently, CNR has a one-man show on Broadway, Life of Reilly (a great title) detailing his life. Hillarious. "I was told I'd never be allowed on television. Now I want to know who you have to f**k to get off?"

Classic television. I am am TV fiend. FIEND! We have terrific shows on today (Who would be willing to help me with that petition to bring Louie Anderson back to Family Feud?). I can only imagine the junkie I would have been thirty years ago.

A guy today told me that he once tore some muscles in his leg and was laid up on the couch for a few months. This, evidently, angered him immensely as he called himself an "exercise-aholic." This is crazy talk. Exercise-aholic. That's funny. I told him that I was a "couch-aholic." If you had your choice, what would it be? The couch or exercise? To fly or to be invisible?

I throw these things out there like there is an actual choice. Answers: Couch and invisible.

QEII and Busch Gardens

We took some time off yesterday afternoon and headed down for the first Busch Gardens trip of the year. We had a blast. I haven't been down there in almost a year. It was a bit busier than I had hoped, but the lines were manageable.

What's up with those people who feel the need to skip lines at amusement parks? Those people piss me off so much. And they're everywhere like coach roaches on skid row. My friend went ahead and asked two girls who were jumping line why they were doing that. The girl replied, "My brother was in line." My friend asked, "Was in line or is in line?" The girl responds, no shit, "My brother's gonna be waiting for you after the ride."

Excuse me?! First off, it is a valid question. I mean, really, if you aren't going to shit your pants, there is probably no pressing reason to jump line. You can wait out the hour or hour and a half to get through line. The rides we go on are for people over 54 inches. That excludes those who cry and whine every hour if they don't get their "sippy cup."

Secondly, are people really willing to throw down for this shit? I mean, screw fighting for someone's honor or something worthwhile. Today, we're willing to trade blood if people don't let you skip ahead in amusement park lines. Wow.

So after a few brews at the Festhaus, I had a question: has Queen Elizabeth II ever been on a rollercoaster? I think it's a fun question. I just can't see it unless it was one of those little tiny things that the royals set up in the Windsor Castle parking lot. She could be hip. Rumor has it she has an iPod Mini. I just can't see it. What do you think?

Lastly, rollercoasters are a funny thing. Movies like Batman and Superman are made into rollercoasters. Where is the rollercoaster for Forest Gump? It's never going to happen, right? Or The Waltons? I just don't think that cuts it either. And that's a shame really.

Placemats, Anthony Hopkins, and Jimmy B

I was at the store today and there were these kids' placemats. Some of the placemats had fun things (Disney characters or whatever) but most of the "kids" placemats had things like various maps of the U.S. with state capitals, facts about the Solar System, and my personal favorite, the U.S. Presidents.

The thing that really sticks with me is that I'm pretty sure that our 15th President, James Buchanan, must have been played by Sir Anthony Hopkins. Don't take my word for it, check out the portraits.

Sir Anthony

Jimmy B.

Ain't no lie. Casting problem solved. Too bad no one even remembers this bastard was a president. But everyone still thinks Ben Franklin was. All we have to thank Jimmy for was that Civil War...

Top Chef & Amazing Race

And now for the obligatory reality TV recap...


Let's start with "TOP CHEF" over on Bravo. What a week! All week I've been questioning the loss of Stephen. To be fair, we all knew that his time was limited. I defer to the previous post on his pairing with the long-gone Miguel. Then there is Dave. I could have sworn that Dave would have been gone weeks ago. It has become apparent that Dave is the surprise of the show.

When it came down to the challenge, Dave was the only chef to give a damn about the key ingredient, black truffles. No other chef brought out the flavor. Now, it may be the altruist in me, but when you get an assignment, do it. Don't screw with the directions. Chance are, the guy that gave you the assignment knows what the hell he is looking for. That's all too common, not giving the boss what the boss wants. It'll bite you in the ass every time.

Lee Anne, favored in my household to win the competition, got the boot. That leaves Harold, Tiffani, and Dave for the Las Vegas finale. I'm willing to put good money on Harold at this point. Tiffani is overly combative and gets hyper-cerebral about her food. It's to eat, Tiffani. Make it taste good, know your clientele, and cook. I know I couldn't do what you do in the kitchen, but I don't make small children cry with my evil glances.

Dave is simply overmatched. There's no other way to state it. If Dave pulls it off, it's an instant flop.


Over on the great "Amazing Race" the finish was a close as could be with three teams (Joseph & Monica; Tyler & BJ; and Eric & Jeremy) hitting the mat at virtually the same second. Tyler & BJ had a jump on Joseph & Monica (neither team could keep up with Eric & Jeremy) but one of the Hippies (BJ) decided to be a smart ass and take a short cut instead of following the pack closely. This left the Hippies in the last place, for which Phil had the news that it was a non-elimination round.

That leaves the Hippies once again with the clothes on their backs (note that BJ had no shoes on) and no money.

Here's the gripe on the whole "non-elimination round." Why do wealthy Americans who can take a month off from doing whatever the hell they do to go travel around the world and duke it out for a million dollars end up in a foreign country begging for money?! That's ridiculous.

Then the whole, "we need to get there as soon as possible. It's an emergency!" every time they step up to a ticket counter at the airport. Are you kidding me?! I love the show; I'm completely at its mercy. But I'm pretty sure it's a ploy by Aussie Phil to perpetuate the image of the "ugly-American" throughout the world. How's that for a conspiracy?

Distractions

It's funny how easily we can become distracted. After I discovered the joy of blogging a few weeks ago, it was so easy to set it aside for over a week during the "thick" of exams. Now that exams are over (and fearing the loss of my three readers), I have returned to blog.

Distraction does not just extend to all things academic. I was thinking about some of my most oddly distracting moments. One especially stood out. It was just after I returned from a stint in the Middle East with the Army. I was lucky and was stationed in Kuwait while a unit to which I was once assigned was located in northern Iraq, in Mosul.

One night, after hearing from my father about the importance of reading "edifying" literature and alternating trash with the classics, I picked up my grandfather's copy of the Travels of Marco Polo and decided to give a glance. Chapter 6 of Book 1 details Marco's experiences in Mosul. Marco writes, "Mosul is a large province inhabited by various descriptions of people, one class of whom pay reverence to Mahomet [sic], and are called Arabians. The others profess the Christian faith..." His description is brief and pointed.

Not ten minutes after reading this description, close to the beginning of his commentary, there was a news flash on CNN which was left on in the room detailing an attack on U.S. troops on Mosul that day. I was scared. I was worried about the people I had served with for several years who I knew were in harm's way. Then it happened...

The next news flash was about Paris Hilton, damn Paris Hilton. In that instant it was gone. The concern, the fear, the fright had vanished and I was instantly concerned solely with the heiress's misfortune, or self-produced porno, or new car, or whatever it was the placed her in the news. I was embarrassed.

The sad thing is, it isn't just me. That's the way we work anymore. Our concerns aren't just the significant things, the concerns of the nation now at war for three plus years. We are as likely to be concerned with the miniscule as the grandiose. The minute we have a serious concern, some dick cuts you off on the highway and it's gone, your concerns have shifted to the worthless problems we have made ourselves painfully worried about.

I guess I got it right ultimately. I don't remember why Hotel Paris had a sound bite. I'm sure it was "hot" and "sexy." It's gone now. Thankfully, I still remember well my friends who served with me and far more valiantly than me. I thank them every day.

"You Can Get Anything You Want..."

"At Alice's Restaurant."

That's how the song goes. I mentioned the song to a few of my friends and they had no idea what I was talking about. It got me thinking about differences in age and upbringing. I could hardly believe it. This crew had never heard of Arlo Guthrie and "Alice's Restaurant." Are you frickin' kidding me with this shit?

Now, since I've been back in school, most of my school friends are just out of college. I mean just out of college. They're great, but they've never done a damn thing in their lives. Am I really that different from them? "Alice's Restaurant" is one thing. I will chalk their utter lack of cultural literacy to upbringing and parents who clearly have forgotten their hippie backgrounds. Here's a better example: the Facebook.

Alright, the Facebook. Second day of school this year, a classmate tells me that another douche had "Facebooked" her. I immediately thought that the girl had rocks in her head since the facebook had not been published; in fact, they had only taken our pictures the previous day.

No, the Facebook is a lovely site that has the same basic premise but on a national scale. Take a look, it's the perfect way to put all your shit out there on-line for would-be stalkers to pick you out and wouldn't-be employers to see pictures of you with a beer-bong/spring-break lover and choose to not hire you.

I had no idea. And to think that I graduated from college a mere half-decade ago...

When I tell my friends that the first time I used the internet was as a freshman in college, they think that I am lying. It makes me appreciate the thousands of times I've heard by grandparents say, "it wasn't always like this..." or "back in the 30's we used to..." or "I remember the first time an airplane flew over the farm..." You can't look to the sky and not see an airliner cruising at 36,000 feet anymore.

My grandfather, well past 80, has kept up to date. He writes e-mail, uses a DVD player, and can name all five members of "The Simpsons." That's a talent. Let's up we all have it. If not, it could be a boring and uninteresting life.