A request for fans of MJ...

So, to all the Michael Jackson fans out there, how about you give generously to the LAPD and related organizations who, already operating at a loss, spent a ton of money working out the logistics of the memorial extravaganza and are now begging for donations. Seriously, I know you all have money... the sales of Jackson's music have shot through the roof since his death (of course, silly me, I already own music by artists I like and wouldn't wait until after an artist dies to hop onto a bandwagon). Why not give money to the people who enabled this nation's biggest piece of collective insanity since the OJ Simpson trial (which, ironically, was also brought to you courtesy of the LAPD)?

For fans of vintage LA radio... KMET reunites

Two Los Angeles radio stations will be paying tribute to one of the fallen greats. From the late '60s to the mid '80s, KMET 94.7 was THE FM radio station on Southern California. Over the 4th of July weekend, KLOS 95.5 will be reuniting many of the on-air staff. Then on Friday July 10th, new station 100.3 "The Sound" will host a "Finally a Friday" featuring more voices from the past, including the return of Dr. Demento to Los Angeles. Both stations stream online. Wherever you are around the world, I strongly encourage you to take some time to listen to what both stations have to offer, even if it is just background music during your 4th of July BBQ. The "Mighty Met" was a special radio station with a vibe and an attitude that has never been duplicated.

Share and enjoy. It will be a little bit of heaven.

Michael Jackson: A more fitting farewell

I admit it. I am a child of the '80s. I recall the "event" that was the premiere of the Thriller music video. I recall the red leather "Beat It" jacket. I recall Michael Jackson on fire. But none of these things were life-altering events for me. Setting aside all (and there is an impressive list) of the whacked out aspects of Michael Jackson's life, his career in pop music has been over for some time. When is the last time any radio station played a Michael Jackson song, other than the lite-FM stations who play a few Jackson 5 classics during their kitschy "disco-retro" nights? His music doesn't fit any modern radio station's format, not even easy-listening. His death will result in some posthumous airplay on a few oldies stations, and maybe a remix or two on some hip-hop stations, but even that will be gone again in a few weeks.

I can think of two things Michael Jackson did in terms of reshaping the music scene:

1. His videos helped catapult MTV into the mainstream
2. His success led directly to the pop culture phenomena which resulted in boy bands and Britney Spears

For these two things, Jackson should not be celebrated but condemned. His style lacked substance, replacing it with a basic, danceable backbeat. He set the course of lyrical and instrument-based music back by at least a decade, championing the cause of a successful music video being more important than a well performed single.

Should he be pitied because fame was thrust upon him at an early age? Maybe, but an early age was the only time he seemed human to outside observers.

The death of Michael Jackson should not be the lead story in any local or national newspaper or news broadcast. In print, it should be in the entertainment section, just before the comics. On TV, it should follow the words "And finally tonight" as a 30 second tag to the newscast, with a simple card with his name and a picture as a few seconds of one of his songs plays under the closing credits.

Michael Jackson's death matters... to his family and his friends. It is not a devastating blow to the music industry. It does not impact society on any level. The very definition of pop culture is that it pops into and out of fashion rapidly. Michael Jackson popped out of fashion a long time ago. Had he died in the 1980s, his death might have held a small degree of social relevance. But pop music is of the moment, and Jackson's moment has passed.

I am neither happy nor saddened by his death, but I am shocked and somewhat appalled by those who have chosen to place great import on his passing. At day's end, Michael Jackson will be remembered, not for his music, but for the allegations and rumors that surrounded his later years. And I specifically chose not to write about that because, at day's end, allegations and rumors matter even less than decades old pop music.

I know a lot of people have written, tweated, and blogged that Michael Jackson should "rest in peace." I won't do that, not because of any deeply held convictions, but because it doesn't seem appropriate to the man he was (or seemed to be). So, regarding Michael, I can only quote the man himself: sham on.

The Farrah Fawcett obit you'll only read here...

Beloved masturbatory aid Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer. At least 70% of her body was 62-years-old, but the parts of her that people will remember were roughly half that age.

Perhaps her most famous feature film role was in "Cannonball Run," where she played the girl Jack Elam drugged, kidnapped, and had his way with (in a comedic way, of course) in the back of an ambulance driven by Burt Reynolds and Dom DeLuise.

She was married to the six-million dollar man for a while there, which many people thought was "really cool."

Perhaps Steve Martin best summed up her life: "She is so conceited. She has never called me once. And after the hours I've spent holding up her poster with one hand."

R.I.P., Farrah. I'd say "we hardly knew ye," but, truth be told, we knew an awful lot.

Last night's nightmare...

It begins with an unruly six-year-old in some sort of theater. I know this was not actually the beginning of the dream, but it is the first thing I can remember taking place. Her teacher handed her off to me (but not to her mother, who was also there… I found this odd). The six-year-old was cussing like a drunken sailor. I tried every passive approach I knew to get her to stop, but as I looked past her at her mother, her mother motioned for me to slap the child across the face. I could not, so I left her and wandered outside the theater, into the dark of night.

Outside the theater… there’s no easy way to say this… I divided into two identical people. I (we) had to get to a specific school, but not my own. For a while, I saw things from the perspective of both of me, simultaneously. But eventually I only saw things through my 1.1 good eyes, and I somehow distracted the other me, allowing me to be the first person to head towards the school.

I walked through what felt like a neighborhood in the city of Clairemont, CA (near where I used to live) where I used to ride my bike as a kid. I eventually stumbled onto a school, and it seemed to be having some sort of open house. I wandered into the preschool classrooms to see what art projects they were showcasing. It turned out they had taken several Beanie Babies and… well… castrated them. I remember telling one of the teachers that I had done a similar art project when I was a kid (even though I hadn’t).

My cell phone rang and the other me was on the other end of the line. He informed me that I was at the wrong school. Furious, I ran out of the classroom towards the parking lot located at the base of a steep hill. I passed several men and women in military uniform. In the parking lot, I found my car.

I peeled out of the lot and was racing down the dark road, feeling the wind whipping into my face. I reached my hand in front of me and discovered my windshield was gone. Then I looked down at where the steering wheel used to be, but found the handlebars of a bicycle in its place. When I looked up from the handlebars, I was no longer in my car but on a bike, and I no longer had headlights to help me see the road in front of me.

I crashed. I fell down hard, and I felt the pain of the fall. When I stood up, several handheld electronic gadgets fell from my pockets. None of them belonged to me. One of them was a sort of Blackberry with a flip top, which was vibrating. When I opened it up, an electronic voice told me it was mad that I didn’t answer earlier, and that it was going to get me.

Somewhere along the way (I think when I was driving in my car), I realized it was a dream. But the nightmarish aspect of it was that I couldn’t wake up from it. I found myself standing in near-total darkness, trembling, and trying to find some way to destroy the Blackberry with the creepy electronic voice.

Bill Maher's Commencement Address to the Class of 2009

Now, maybe I'm just upset because I've never given a commencement speech. Even the girls' school I founded in South Africa for disadvantaged pole dancers hasn't asked me. And I think I know why. It's because I can't be trusted to bullshit. I firmly believe if college students wanted to hear more drivel they're never going to use again, they could go to class.

So, I would tell the class of 2009 exactly what they really have to look forward to: working at Starbucks. I'm joking of course. Starbucks isn't hiring.

But, here's the speech I would give. [he puts on mortar board] Graduates, faculty, alumni and guests, I am truly honored to speak at your university. Mostly because it's a great place to score cheap weed.

Now, I've been asked by your dean to keep it brief, and by your feminist studies club to keep it humorless. So, Class of 2009, as you go out in the world, here is my message for you: Give up.

Seriously, you're about to enter the worst job market since Adam and Eve hired the very first employee. A Mexican to tend their garden. On top of that, you went through the American educational system. You wrote "Hi, Mom" on your cap and misspelled "Hi."

And if all that wasn't enough, you are the first generation to inherit an environment that's probably already toast. But, hey, maybe you can make a few bucks smearing sunscreen on old people.

Just remember there's more to life than work. Maybe now's the time to appreciate the little things: a flower, a sunset, a shopping cart full of cans.

And, so I say to you as you embark on your adult life, take a moment to look back and honor your parents. Because they're the ones who paid for your education. They're the ones who stood by you the whole time. And they're the ones who you'll be moving back in with in the fall.

So, look at them. Look at your parents right now. Or, more likely, your dad and his new wife, who is your age. And your mom and her new boyfriend, who she met on MySpace.

And after the ceremony, I want you to take them aside and say something very important to them: "This is your fault!! Who do you think it was who tanked the economy and spent all the money and melted the planet and let the schools rot?!!"

Yes, it was us. But, at least, I hope we taught you that, in life, there really is no such thing as failure. Because, if there were, we wouldn't be seeing Dick Cheney on TV everyday.

In closing, remember that, above all, that no matter where life takes you, you will always have something deep inside you of great value: plasma!

Today's Shoe

You would think it is located next door to the Hot Wheels shop...

There is a new car shop near my mom's house in Costa Mesa that specializes in fixing up cars to resemble the design styles of Matchbox cars... freakin' awesome!