THE WYMAN WEEKLY

Underemployed. Unattached. Unimpressed.

Issue 21 September 3,1996

 

 

 

The weekly has made it to twenty-one, which means it’s old enough to buy its own vices and can go to bars and spend its hard-earned money on parking, cover charges and tap beer specials. Will I be able to sleep or will I lay awake waiting for the weekly to come home? Just hope it calls me if it’s had too much.

 

THE MORE THINGS CHANGE...

 

Back in the early eighties when I was in high school, I would awake weekday mornings and begin my scramble to make it to the bus stop in time to catch my bus. The bus would take me to some big building filled with a bunch of people, most of whom didn’t know I existed. I would spend the mornings half-awake, praying that class wouldn’t end up in some discussion where the students would get involved. If so, I would not participate actively in the discussion and would bide my time by making my list of greatest albums ever, with Who’s Next as number one. I would notice that the people who talked in the discussions weren’t the brightest people - they just liked to hear themselves talk. As I wandered the hallways of the school, I would see signs for the upcoming pep rally and wondered who actually knew the words to the school song and why those people gave such a damn about “school spirit” since it didn’t show up on your report card. In the afternoon I stopped between classes to pick up my textbooks for my next class and would glance at the oh-so-cute hockey cheerleader near my locker. I would always try to think of something witty to say, but would keep my mouth shut as I didn’t want to look like the idiot I’d invariably make myself out to be. Someone would invite me to some party on Friday night and I would mumble some excuse about having to be somewhere else. I knew that on Friday night I would end up hopping in the Mustang and heading to the record store to cruise the used record racks and maybe I’d buy the latest from Springsteen, a mostly acoustic album telling stories about people down on their luck in today’s economy. I didn’t know much about politics, but I wondered why Congress would almost gleefully fall behind the President in throwing poor people out in the street. By the end of the day I would be extremely bored and I couldn’t wait to get home to listen to the new Blue Oyster Cult album and/or watch the Twins on TV.

 

Back in the mid-nineties when I worked temporary at a big financial corporation, I would awake weekday mornings and begin my scramble to make it to the bus stop in time to catch my bus. The bus would take me to some big building filled with a bunch of people, most of whom didn’t know I existed. I would spend the mornings half-awake, praying that I wouldn’t end up in a department meeting. If so, I would not participate actively in the discussion and would bide my time by making my list of greatest albums ever, with Master of Puppets as number one. I would notice that the people who talked in the discussions weren’t the brightest people - they just liked to hear themselves talk. As I wandered the hallways of the corporation, I would see signs for the upcoming quality meeting and wondered who actually knew the words to the company’s vision statement and why those people gave such a damn about “empowerment” since it doesn’t show up on your paycheck. In the afternoon as I stopped at the laser printer to pick up my reports for my next project I would glance at the oh-so-sexy financial analyst standing by the copier. I would always try to think of something witty to say, but would keep my mouth shut as I didn’t want to look like the idiot I’d invariably make myself out to be. Someone would invite me to some bar for happy hour on Friday after work and I would mumble some excuse about having to be somewhere else. I knew that on Friday night I would end up hopping in the Mustang and heading to the record store to cruise the used CD racks and maybe I’d buy the latest from Springsteen, a mostly acoustic album telling stories about people down on their luck in today’s economy. I didn’t know much about politics, but I wondered why the President would almost gleefully fall behind Congress in throwing poor people out in the street. By the end of the day I would be extremely bored and I couldn’t wait to get home to listen to the new Black Crowes album and/or watch the Twins on TV.

 

Of course, working at some big dehumanizing corporation isn’t exactly like high school. Big corporations don’t have cool stoner kids, you can’t wear ripped jeans and tee-shirts, and there’s no football or hockey teams. On the other hand, you get paid to work at the big corporation and because the company is a huge inefficient monolith they don’t keep you busy enough so you get to take plenty o’time to write notes for your writing projects and make spreadsheets that statistically prove that you do not have “a thing for blondes” as some of your female readers have claimed. Also, you don’t have any (okay be real - not as many) of those teenage hangups. No acne either.

 

ROCK ‘N’ ROLL REVISIONISM

 

A couple weeks back I ended up watching parts of one of those history of rock ‘n’ roll shows that was on The Learning Channel. In the seventies segment, the person who seemed to get the most comments was Skunk Baxter, who played (or should that be present tense?) guitar for Steely Dan and the Doobies. (I felt something was wrong right away - a session man named Skunk telling me like it was? C’mon!) The show ended with Skunk telling us that disco was killing rock ‘n roll because it was all machines but then Bruce Springsteen came along and saved rock ‘n’ roll and everything was okay. It’s neat that a show can make things that simple but I’m wondering what’s so human about Skunk overdubbing or replaying a riff in the studio two hundred times? I also wonder if the producers of the show realize that Springsteen didn’t achieve mass popularity until after disco’s demise? And if he did kill disco - even though most evidence points towards the record industry - why did he write two songs for Donna Summer? And what about the theory - not mine alone, believe me - that disco never died but was in fact eventually embraced by rock bands? The theory is evidenced by the Rolling Stones (too many songs to mention here but first and foremost was “Miss You”), Kiss (“I Was Made for Lovin’ You”), Def Leppard (Hysteria), INXS (“Suicide Blonde”), and a bunch of others that I could lamely dance to if I tried but I’m too tired from my search for a Kool and the Gang anthology.

 

A THING FOR BLONDES

 

Labor Day is the traditional end to summer and on Labor Day I got symbolic confirmation that this was one of the best summers in recent memory. The clock said 12:01 AM and while I was channel surfing on CNN I saw the blonde-and-beautiful-beyond-words Inga Hammond reading sports scores. She didn’t have her hair pulled back and glasses on like in her final days at Channel 5. (You know, trying to look smart.) She was just being the INGA I remember best and another great thing is that she wasn’t reading some serious news story, she was commenting on football and baseball and all I could think of was that I am indeed blessed.

 

THE MORE THINGS CHANGE...(PART 2)

 

I’m going to see Paul Westerberg perform this weekend in the cushy comforts of the State Theatre. It would be timely if he were to pull out “Someone Take the Wheel” with its line “I see we’re fighting again / In some fucking land” since we’re fighting again in the same fucking land he was singing about back in ‘90.