Yankees Suck

I want you to do me a favor.

Turn off the television or any music in the room. Now, close the windows and fasten your hands tightly over your ears. Listen. What do you hear? That's Yankee fans. That's Yankee fans with their big, fat fucking mouths shut.

Why?

Because, right now, the Yankees truly SUCK.

There's no need for the chant at Fenway Park or Camden Yards or anywhere else in any baseball park in America or Toronto. It's superfluous. The Yankees really suck. Might I burn in these words come September? Possibly. But doubtful. This is the truth. The Yankees, literally, SUCK.

And what do you hear from Yankee fans? This is a rebuilding year (translation: we never should have let go of Joe Torre).

A rebuilding year? Really? So why do the Yankees continue to have, by far, the largest payroll in baseball? Injuries, right? Um, what big game player is currently out of their line-up? The Yankee Way---pursuing aging, big-market players in the attempt to field an All-Star team--- can officially be deemed a veritable bust. They haven't won a World Series since 2000 when they wielded a home-grown dynasty. Since, they have signed players such as Jason "The Steroid" Giambi, Gary "The Steroid" Sheffield, Alex "Mr. Playoffs" Rodriguez, Randy "The Big Eunuch" Johnson, Johnny "Cut My Hair and Turned Into a Pussy" Damon, Kyle "Superstar" Farnsworth, and, oh, the list goes on. If only Detroit had learned from the Yankees near-decade of brain farts.

If I'm wrong here, then I deserve all the shit in the world, and I'm sure I'll get it come October should The Yankees mount a comeback. But if a team with Ching Ming Wang as their ace and Mike "The Fossil of a Moose" Mussina at the top of their rotation believes they're going to make it deep into the playoffs, if they think they can even compete with Tampa's starting rotation in the AL East, then, let me say, I have a Brooklyn Bridge for sale. I can only imagine that Hank "Just as Much of a Douche as Dad" Steinbrenner Jr. is wishing Brian Cashman pulled the trigger on the Johan Santana deal about as much as John McCain is wishing he never hugged George W. Bush.

The big question here: Is this hubris? Are The Red Sox, staring at the possibility of losing Big Papi for the season, getting a little too comfortable? Possibly. But the fact remains that Phil Hughs and Ian Kennedy and even Joba "Give Me Some Bug-Spray" Champalian might be a form of rebuilding, as might Melky Cabrera and Robinson Cano (destined to be one of the best hitters in the game). Sure, they might be "rebuilding." But when you have the highest payroll in baseball, there's no justifying it.

Fact, right now: The Yankees suck. And I'm loving it.

And the Winner Is...

So here it is, the top three Classic Rock suck-ass bands according to my own uninformed, bitter, and judgemental opinion.

3. Fleetwood Mack. Already, I've gotten in heated arguments with close friends over what we call "The Fleetwood Mack Issue." And, yes, you Mack-heads are probably lacing up your umbrage gloves from what you consider the sheer audacity of their inclusion in this list. My response to you, in the words of Izzy Stradlin in the Gun 'N Roses classic "It's So Easy": fuck off. First, I have a hard time considering Fleetwood Mack a rock band. Basically, they're the television show Friends with instruments. But what about Rumors, you say? Rumors, according to Rolling Stone, is one of the best albums ever. Big fucking deal. The band paired up and broke up and if I wanted relationship drama I'd go to a Danielle Steele novel. Lindsay Buckingham, a great musician, should have been banging groupies, not the group. And Stevie Nicks, in all her smoking hotness, was NOT worth the headache. Personally, I don't want a chick in a flowing white gown standing in front of a bay window. I want the trash, the leather miniskirts and the stripper pumps and the fishnet stockings and the low-cut blouses with their breasts falling out. And as a rock star, you're entitled to that. Why, dear God, get involved in relationships and write crap-ass songs about it? Fleetwood Mack is the musical equivalent of a chick-flick. In the name of all that is sacred and rocks, in the holy name of Black Sabbath, please spare me the pain of listening to "The Chain" and "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow" ever again. Amen.

Note: The ONLY thing keeping The Eagles off this list is Joe Walsh and the fact that The James Gang existed.

2. The Moody Blues. Instead of persevering, allow me to quote this little spoken word poem at the end of "Nights in White Satin":

Impassioned lovers wrestle as one;
Lonely man cries for love and has none.
New mother picks up and suckles her son;
Senior citizens wish they were young.

A new mother "suckles her son"? Could you force a rhyme any harder? Listen, there's nothing wrong with being gay and being in a rock band. Fine. But, for the point of comparison, let's put Rob Halford at one end of the spectrum and The Village People at the other. Where do The Moody Blues fall? Here's something I can guarantee you will never hear passing my lips: "Let's get some beers and crank up The Moody Blues." I don't get them. I don't get their appeal. I don't get their raison d' etre. See? I start writing about them and already I'm using gay-ass terms like raison d' etre. I'm disgusting myself. Between Fleetwood Mack and The Moody Blues, the next thing you know I'm going to start talking about my feelings. As if I have feelings. Why don't I just go downstairs and ask my wife if we can have a heart-to-heart and discuss our relationship, how I can be a better husband, and whether or not her hair looks better back or down on her shoulders? This, my friends, is what happens when you listen to suck-ass bands with pussy-boy lyrics. Not good. No,no, no. Very bad.

1. Foreigner. I'm not sure this is even subjective. This might be a veritable fact. What the hell happened here? What sort of cultural breakdown occurred in the 70s and early-80s that allowed this total lame-ass, turd-sucking shit band to sell millions of albums? At what point did the listening public decide "Hot Blooded" was acceptable for the airwaves? At what point did deejays decide that "Jukebox Hero" should be spinning in the studio? The truly amazing thing about Foreigner was their tenacity at sucking. And it's not like Chicago, who rocked in their early days then fell off the deep end and started cutting tracks for The Karate Kid movies. Foreigner sucked from the start and just steadily kept sucking more and more. "I've Been Waiting For a Girl Like You." Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, anyone who bought the album with that track on it is complicit in this crime against humanity. Mick Jones, shame on you. And Ian McDonald should have been banned from playing in public venues after The King Crimson debacle. And Lou Gramm flat out sucks the big donkey wad. I realize that 99 percent of pop music is simply insufferable, and Foreigner was a pop band. Fine. And people at the time were wearing nut-hugger jeans and denim jackets and this could possibly explain the absence of decency. But why do people continue to play this shite on the radio? Why is this band frequently considered Classic Rock legends? More importantly, why have taken all of this time to compile this list? Seriously. Homeboy needs his head examined.

Note: Anyone who would like to reprint this list, contact me at ngrazio5@yahoo.com. It's important that we all work together to STOP THE SUCKING.

The Ultimate List of Suck-Asses (4-7)

(Drum roll, please.)

7. Aerosmith (post-rehab). Listen, if you're in a rock and roll band, it's never a good idea to go into rehab. I can't think of a single band whose music didn't suffer because of it. It's best to either overdose or drink yourself to death and leave a rocking legacy (a la Hendrix, Joplin, etc.). Aerosmith is unique in the sense that just continue to suck and suck and suck some more. Prior to rehab, you had a band capable of pulling off a cover of The Yardbird's "Train Kept A 'Rollin" and following it with a jamming version of "Mama Kin." What do we get after they go clean and sober? "Angel" and "Love in an Elevator". At what point, when they were laying down the tracks for "Dude Looks Like A Lady", did they not look at each other, perfectly sober and coherent, and say, "Wow, this song really blows"? Jesus, Mary, Mother of God. Where is their sense of decency? Will someone please give Joe Perry some heroin? And Steven Tyler, you have officially reached "freak of nature" status.

6. Rod Stewart. If Rod Stewart's entire musical career consisted of the song "Maggie May", he would not be on this list. Unfortunately, for all of us involved, he decided to continue recording. I'm not sure I can say anything that would compare with South Park's ribbing of this King of Suck-Ass songs. Tight pants and a British accent does not a rock star make. Fuck off, Rod.

5. Heart. If you happen to be a feminist, please skip ahead to Number 4. I'm going to start this with obligatory disclaimer: I'm not a misogynist, BUT chicks really have no business being the frontMEN in a rock and roll band. Chicks are groupies; they've always been the groupies. THAT is their role. Chicks are blues singers with booming voices, like Joplin, and on rare occasions, bass players (think Talking Heads). But they are NOT the centerpieces of a band that kicks ass and takes names. I don't get. Were Robert Plant, David Bowie and Mick Jagger not sufficiently feminine enough? What made the Wilson sisters want to sully their pretty selves (before becoming blimps) in the business of hard rock? And can someone please explain the song "Barracuda" to me? Heart stands as evidence that you don't need testicles, only a guitar, to suck huge ass.

4. Meatloaf. Ugh. Meatloaf. Really, do I have to say more? When I hear "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights", it goes into extra innings---an infinite, insufferable game of Little League baseball where there are never clean base hits, only error upon excruciating error. Why didn't the game end after The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Please, God, tell me that. Why didn't the bat of Hell just stay there? I don't understand. Meatloaf. Ugh. Meatloaf.

The Ultimate List of Suck-Ass Classic Rock Bands

I have no problem admitting that I listen to Classic Rock radio stations. In fact, if you were to peruse my I-tunes (wow, a wicked white statement) you would find a lumberjack's portion of Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, The Grateful Dead, Bob Dylan, Neil Young and other staples of 70s rock world, as well as some side orders of Billy Squier---no, he's not on this damn list and if you think he should be, then you have an open invitation to lick my ball-bag---The Allman Brothers, CSN&Y, Jimi Hendrix, etc.

Okay, some of you may be wondering why I slipped Billy Squier in there. Again, ball-bag, tongue, lick...

However, there are some bands that have become ubiquitous on Classic Rock stations that make water-boarding seem preferable to having to sit in a car listening to their musical and lyrical diarrhea shart out from the speakers. This list, I realize, is highly subjective, and I invite anyone reading this to feel free to chime in with their dissent.

So here it is: The Ultimate List (every list of anything Classic Rock starts with the words "the ultimate") of Suck-Ass Classic Rock Bands.

10. Bad Company (pictured). Originally, Paul Rodger's group was an orphan that Led Zeppelin's Swan Song label tried to save from suck-dom, but their Jimmy Page knock-off riffs and painfully cheese-filled lyrics are too much for any rational human being to tolerate. Despite the fact that one of my first carnal experiences occurred with the song "Rock Steady" playing in the background, I can find little that is redeemable about this band. However, I have noticed that the word "lunch" can be substituted for word "love" in the title of any of their songs with, perhaps, significant improvement in the content, i.e. "Feel Like Making Lunch," "Ready for Lunch" or "Can't Get Enough of Your Lunch." Did I own 10 from 6 as a teenager? Yes. Yes, I did.

9. The Steve Miller Band. Okay, so who hasn't gotten high at some point in their life while listening to "The Joker"? And, yes, it was oh-so amusing when Homer Simpson did it on The Simpsons. But even if you try to make a case for a few of The Steve Miller Band's songs not sucking the pulp out of a lemon, it is instantly off-set by the song "Abracadabra." And few classic rock songs make my soul hurt quite "Take the Money and Run" or "Fly Like the Eagle"; the latter of which posts a cliche only matched in its lack of imagination by the music itself. If you're between the ages of 16-19 and looking for some decent stoner music, try The Mothers of Invention. As for Stevie "Guitar" Miller...excuse me, I just burped up my dinner.

8. Thin Lizzy. I'm almost hesitant to include this band because they only had one song that I know: "The Boys Are Back In Town." But it's been played so incessantly that I've developed a legitimate hatred for it and its creators. Coming out well before U2 made it onto the scene, it almost seems as if Ireland wanted to the show that they could produce wankers at the same clip as The Brits. They weren't about to sit pat and let their nemesis do all of the sucking, so they conceived Thin Lizzy, a band whose stupid name is almost as bad as their music. I said "almost."

Coming soon: #7-4 on The Ultimate List of Suck-Ass Classic Rock Bands. In the meantime, try to get some sleep.

I'm invincible!

Maybe, it just me...no, actually, it’s not just me. It's me, millions of voters, the pundits and the politicos from all walks of life that must be starting to notice the striking similarities between Sen. Hillary Clinton and the “invincible” Black Knight from Monty Python and the Quest for The Holy Grail.

At this point, Hillary is wobbling on her last leg, having both arms and her other leg severed by Obama. Perhaps, next she’ll try to bleed on him. With one more swift swipe of the sword (holy alliteration, Batman!) Obama will effectively reduce her to a bloody trunk, at which point, she might call the election “a draw.”

For me, I’m sick and tired of looking at and listening to Hillary. In her speech following the North Carolina and Indiana primaries on Tuesday night, I felt myself becoming simultaneously incensed and deflated by her stubbornness, her Black Knight’s inability to admit she has lost. Apparently, she’s invincible!

And did anyone happen to catch Bill standing behind her, looking oh-so-Botoxed, and clapping at seemingly random parts of her speech. Maybe Bill was hearing: “And when I’m president, I’ll be so damn busy that my husband will have free reign to bang all the fat chicks in the greater-D.C.-area.”

Clap, clap, clap, Seal-Boy.

Hell, Hillary, personally—and maybe Keith Oberman won’t come right out and say this, but I will—I don't wanna talk to you no more, you empty-headed animal food trough wiper! I fart in your general direction! Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries!

There. Take that, Hillary. I just blog-slapped your ass, you Black Knight bee-atch.

Calling Natty

I have a new story titled "Calling Natty" on Zygote In My Coffee. It's my first Natty/Cracker piece since the chapbook Men of Letters came out. If you put your ear to the screen, you can still hear it landing with a resounding thud. By the way, there's a website for Men of Letters, and if you're interested in picking up a copy, I have a box of them in my closet. At this point, I'll send it to you for the price of shipping or give you one in exchange for a beer. You choose.

Except for rare copies on Amazon and Powells, the other two chapbooks in our Idiot Trilogy, Idiot Warriors and Chickenshits, have sold out. Seriously. But I'm thinking of sending the extra copies of Men of Letters to Burma to use as toilet paper in the relief effort, if the Burmese government will let me.

Please drop me an e-mail if you're interested or respond in the "comments" section (that makes me feel popular).

McSweeney's Joke Book of Book Jokes

I have a review of McSweeney's Joke Book of Book Jokes in this week's Hippo Press. For anyone reading this blog who is a writer, an avid reader, or has farted around in an English program at some point in their life, this is absolutely hilarious must-read. I won't get all long-winded on yo' asses, seeing there's a review that explains it.

It's only four days until Amateur Night #3. Following up New Year's Eve and St. Patrick's Day, Cinquo de Mayo is the third biggest night for clumsy amateur drunks to go to the bars and strut their lack-of-stuff. Prepare for a night full of stumbling sluts, belligerent testosterone-junky douche bags and vomiting at the bar. Oh joy!