THE WYMAN WEEKLY

Underemployed. Unattached. Unimpressed.

Issue 19 July 31,1996

 

 

 

This issue is dedicated to Kirby Puckett. “It’s like T.K. says...”

 

STEAL, BUY OR BORROW THIS BOOK (JUST NOT FROM ME)

 

I just finished reading High Fidelity by Nick Hornby. It’s a novel about Rob, a guy in his mid-thirties who constantly fucks up his relationships with the opposite sex and then obsesses about his fuckups for months and/or years. He owns a record shop and he and his clerks spend their time making Top Five lists and asking philosophical questions like “should people be judged on what they like or on what they are like?” In short, I want to be this guy. This book had me laughing out loud in parts as Rob made his maybe-more-grownup Caulfieldesque observations. This book is HIGHLY recommended to all of you out there. Now I can get down to presenting you with some of my Top Five lists (an annoying little habit I had long before reading this book.)

 

My Top Five Songs of All Time                          My Top Five Songs of All Time

(as I’d probably tell the folks from Spin:)            (when driving around in my car:)           

 

1) “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” The Rolling Stones        1) “Louie Louie” The Kingsmen

2) “Candy’s Room” Bruce Springsteen               2) “Psychotic Reaction” The Count Five

3) “IOU” The Replacements                              3) “Nobody But Me” The Human Beinz

4) “Smells Like Teen Spirit” Nirvana                  4) “Wooly Bully” Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs

5) “Lodi” Creedence Clearwater Revival            5) “Dirty Water” The Standells

           

USA! USA! USA!

 

“In your July 29 Scorecard you state that ‘the Olympics should be about competition, and Dream Team games are not.’ If the best players from other countries can't compete with our best players, it's their problem - not ours. They have four more years

to go home and practice some more.” So goes the Email I fired off to Sports Illustrated the other night. America should crush other countries in basketball. Not only is it our right, it is our duty - we invented the sport. Other countries get to kick our butts in ski jumping, table tennis, judo, badminton and a bunch of other events that most people only give a damn about every four years and you don’t hear me crying about those countries and their unfair advantages. This is one example of Ugly Americanism I won’t be ashamed of - in fact I’m proud of it! Remember back in ‘92 when we were playing Angola in the first game of the Olympics and were on like a 38-0 run and the only reason it was interrupted was because Charles Barkley threw an elbow and the Angolan made a free throw? Well, my Olympic hero is once again Sir Charles. In ‘92 he refused to shake hands with opponents before the games “because I’m here to win a gold medal, not to make friends.” This year he was asked if he would be hitting anyone and he said "those players from other countries are dirty, I will do what is necessary to win." Another great Charles quote: “The Japanese may make better cars, but basketball is something we and I can control.” Before the Olympics he was asked which team posed the biggest threat to the Dream Team’s chances for gold in basketball and responded: “the United States women’s team.”

 

The other night I was sitting in the Uptown Bar (finishing off a trifecta, i.e. the third time that week I had been there) watching the Dream Team play China and the Chinese got off to a 2-0 lead before we stormed back to take a 9-2 lead capped off with a two-on-one-break where the Chinese guy just ended up standing there watching. (I could hear Keith Olbermann on SportsCenter: “That’s for Mao Tse-tung!”) Unbeknownst to me, the couple next to me was in a little argument, or more specifically, the gal was laying into the guy for something he had apparently done wrong. “Pour it on!” I said loudly in reference to the basketball game and the couple shut up and stared at me. They must have thought I was talking about her. The guy looked like that bearded weasel on thirtysomething and the gal looked kinda like a dominatrix (like I’d know) and she had a German accent and they were giving me The Look like I invaded their space, so I meekly said “sorry, just commenting on the game.” I left the bar shortly thereafter and by the time I got home NBC was showing who looked to be Kate Moss prancing around to music on an exercise mat.

 

STUFF THAT HAPPENED, I.E. MY LIFE

 

Was at the Entry the other night checking out the Silos (which is what Lem calls sixteen-ouncers) and get this - not only was I not the oldest guy there, I was maybe the scruffiest dressed. It was like those weird dreams you have where things are recognizable but in slightly different forms. So as sucked on my Leiny and tried to adjust to all of the clean cut couples with their specialty beers and designer clothes, I realized that right there in the Entry were tables with candles on ‘em! Like they took the Fine Line and tried to fit it into the Entry. But it turned out all right, as somehow the table reduced the traffic that usually bounces me around so I didn’t spill my beer once and the Silos sang “Caroline” which I’d been trying to sing to myself for a couple of weeks but couldn’t remember how it went.

 

Recently I saw the movie Lone Star, which is playing at the Lagoon Theater and as I’m standing in line for a ticket and looking forward to my supper/movie snack of popcorn (plain, natch) and big ol’ soda pop the couple (a couple, not that there’s anything wrong with that) of guys in front of me showed up at the wrong time or at the wrong place and their movie isn’t playing so one of the dudes asks me what I’m going to see and I say “Lone Star.” and he asks if it’s any good and I say “John Sayles wrote and directed it.” Blank look from the guy. “Eight Men Out?” I say and shrug but I also wanted to say: “Matewan?” except I don’t know how to pronounce it. (Yes, I know I should have said “how do I know if it’s good - I haven’t seen it yet!”) (What I truly wanted to say was “Eight Men Out? The greatest baseball movie ever made?” so that the Lagoonites know I’m not one of those people who shows up for those “grand” movies - there was a preview for one of ‘em before Lone Star with Brad Pitt’s girl in it - that take place in England one hundred years ago and they’re either tragic because someone loves someone for forty years and never confesses said love or else it’s some sort of comedy that doesn’t look funny and you can always judge bad movies by their previews. I’m proud to say I’ve never seen one of those English movies with the gorgeous scenery - doesn’t it rain there all the time anyway? - because the trailers bore the hell out of me.) Anyway, Lone Star is an outstanding, understated movie and it takes place in Texas, so when you’re taking a break from reading High Fidelity you should go check it out. And the Lagoon has cup holders better than Metrodome’s!

 

CO-OPTED MARGINALIZED INC.

 

I spend issue #11 praising Iggy Pop and then he and the Stooges turn around and sell “Search and Destroy” to Nike to sell shoes. So Iggy’s richer and Nike has helped sell out punk and I’m left wondering where exactly the demographics of Iggy fans and Nike wearers overlap.