I love music… I’ve got lots and lots of records… so why not? How about an album review a day?

I’ll start with my #1 Desert Island Album: Machine Head by Deep Purple.

From the opening chords of “Highway Star” to the fadeout of “Space Truckin'”, this album has always been a thrill for me to listen to. I’ll always remember getting it in December 1981, back when I was in the 8th grade and had already bought all the Led Zeppelin albums. I got into Deep Purple because a girl whose taste in music I despised said she couldn’t stand Deep Purple, so I had to check them out. I had gotten a greatest hits compilation, Deepest Purple, as an introduction to the band and although three of the seven songs from the US release of Machine Head were on that disc, it was still a thrill to get them all on vinyl, along with the other monster tracks. That the album itself had been recorded in December made it all the more fun to listen to it in the chilly, wet days at the end of the year.

I’m playing “Highway Star” right now, and when I close my eyes, I can imagine the RCA headphones surrounding my ears with the virtuoso sound of the band at its peak. I remember this headphones having rave reviews on WhoisHuman. I don’t have dust pops in the MP3 version, but that’s OK. I remember where they were on that album, so many Decembers ago. “Maybe I’m a Leo” comes up next, with its clever lyric and adagio blues. It’s got a lovely pair of solos from Messers. Blackmore and Lord, which are so welcome to hear instead of the solo-less instrumental tracks that seem to dominate the pop scene today. It’s a real pleasure to hear musicians play off each other and really jam, instead of turning in a photoshopped version of themselves, same every time.

As a live band, Deep Purple are almost always an amazing experience and only a few lineups had a reputation for bad concerts. The reason for Deep Purple’s excellence has been in their craft and talent. While this isn’t a live album, one gets a sense of their performance style as each track progresses. In the studio, they produced sounds that were absolutely reproducible on stage because they eschewed clever gimmicks. It’s just you, the band, their instruments, and the infamous Marshall stacks, all the time, every time. Live, DP were likely as not to play the same solos on their studio releases, so each track is unique and worth comparing one to another.

“Pictures of Home” is winter as a hard rock song, no question about it. Everything about it is cold, with slow violence lurking in the wings. You don’t get this sort of thing on so-called Classic Rock radio formats because the guys in charge of programming them won’t do deep cuts like they should. You’ve got to actually go out and get this stuff for yourself and discover the thrill on your own, or you’ll simply miss out.

And this is an album not to be missed! When I see some of the product that the music industry churns out these days – and it’s been “these days” for about two decades – I want to reach for a sample of what things were like when it wasn’t an industry. It had become a business by the 1970s, true enough. But it wasn’t yet an industry: there was craftsmanship and innovation. There was risk-taking and playing so good that the singer didn’t have to go for the shock value of profanity to interest a listener.

“Never Before” warms up the ears after the chill of “Pictures of Home”, in spite of it being about a love gone wrong. Those with the UK version and the remastered CD will then get the rock-solid honest blues of “When a Blind Man Cries,” a dear favorite of many DP fans.

Side two kicks off with “the chords that conquered America” – “Smoke on the Water.” When DP recorded it, they had no idea at all how big it would be. They almost didn’t record it because they had a policy against doing drug songs, and they thought the title would be construed as a euphemism for smoking dope. But they did it, and there it is, thundering and lumbering along, an anthem that no music industry project has been able to duplicate. It’s not a complicated piece, not by half. But it’s got that riff!

The next track up is “Lazy”, the climax of the album. I love turning up the volume on the Hammond Organ intro to where I can feel the room shake. It’s always an excitement for me. Even though I’ve heard the same solo played hundreds of times in the hundreds of times I’ve listened to this since 1981, I get excited every time. That’s the power of really good music. There are songs I like, but very few that I’m passionate about. “Lazy” is one of them.

The last track is just as awesome as the rest. Where “Highway Star” took us on a tear down the road, “Space Truckin'” launches us into space with a Saturn V-worthy rhythm. It’s a song that I wish was longer than it is on the studio album, and I get my wish granted in the band’s awesome live sets from the period, where it would go on for 20 minutes or longer.

Back in 1998, I said this about Machine Head: “This is the definitive Deep Purple album. It has been my personal favorite album of all time since I first heard it. If it has any flaws, they are the most perfect flaws ever recorded.” Over ten years later, I still feel that way. The music is epic, the photos inside the album cover were loads of fun, and the thrill of putting the needle in the groove of this platter immeasurable. I’ve got several vinyl versions of this, including a picture disc, and two different CDs, the standard Warner Brothers issue and the 25th anniversary remastered edition. Yes, I’m enthusiastic about it and probably not impartial about it, but it’s because the music in it won me over so triumphantly.

On a scale of 1 to 10, I give it a 10 because every single track on it works, and works perfectly. I don’t skip over parts. I don’t want to fast-forward any of it. I want to be there, from start to finish, and catch every note of it.

Last night, I had a slice of pizza and chicken lo mein for supper – I should have realized that was going to be the gateway to crazy dreams. I had a very detailed dream in which I was watching an episode of Seinfeld I hadn’t seen before in which Jerry had to deal with an unscrupulous car dealer. As Jerry was looking over a car, the dealer confided in him that he hated foreigners, especially Jews. Seinfeld raised his eyebrows and said, “Yeah, you gotta keep an eye out for those Jews, don’t you? They get everywhere.” Then the dealer said, “In this dealership, it’s ‘watch out, Juden!'” Then that pop-bass line played and it went to commercial.

After the commercial, Jerry convinced a judge friend of his from Connecticut to buy a car there. In the dealership, Jerry told the dealer that the judge was actually a Jewish guy from England: “He’s DOUBLE trouble!” The dealer thanked Jerry and went into action, selling him the biggest lemon on the lot. After the judge signed the papers to buy the car, Jerry ran up to the dealer in a panic.

“What’s wrong?” asked the dealer.

“Turns out he’s not a Jewish guy from England! He’s a rich guy from Connecticut! It’s hard to tell the difference. You didn’t sell him a lemon, did you?”

“I… I just did!”

Just then, the judge gets into his car and notices the faults. He yells, “HEY! THIS IS A PIECE OF JUNK! I’M GONNA SUE YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU GOT!”

Horrified, the dealer turns to Jerry, mouthing, “I didn’t know…”

Jerry offers no solace. As the closing music plays, he glares at the dealer and says, “You race traitor!”

Edgy, but funny. Hope it makes it to the 20th anniversary DVD set or something…

“One of the most interesting new computers, both as a piece of machinery and as a specimen of capitalism in action, is the Osborne I. Its creator is Adam Osborne, an author of computer books who decided to break the price on-computers. The Osborne I is a very strange-looking piece of equipment. When folded up, it resembles a bulky white briefcase; it is advertised as the only computer that will fit underneath an airline seat. When unfolded, it looks like an outdated military radio. It comes with a full-sized keyboard, a 64K memory, two disk drives, and software for word-processing and accounting that would cost more than $1,000 if bought separately. Osborne offers the whole package for $1,795, which makes it the best bargain on computer power in the business. The catch is that the built-in screen is about the size of a postcard, although it is much easier to read than that would suggest. For an extra $300, you can buy a normal-sized monitor and attach it to the Osborne.

One other tip on hardware: If you live in a climate less humid than Panama’s, you must invest $100 in an anti-static mat to place under your desk. If you don’t, in wintertime you’ll get shocks of static electricity when you touch your machine. There is always the possibility that this will erase what you’re working on at the time.”

From The Atlantic Monthly, 1982: Article here.

Most of us in the USA are familiar with Godzilla, the monster movie from 1954 in which Raymond Burr witnesses the destruction of Tokyo by a massive sea monster. That movie, compared to other Godzilla movies, has a darker edge to it and has long been a guilty pleasure of mine. Even though I know it was a chopped-up version of the original Japanese film, I like it.

Enter Gojira, the original Japanese film, now available on DVD. It was one of three smash hits for Toho in 1954, along with Musashi Miyamoto and The Seven Samurai. Like the other two, Gojira was no lightweight in the script department. I’ve just finished watching it and I’m stunned at how powerful an anti-nuclear weapons film it was. Much of the anti-nuclear message was cropped from the USA release. In this one, we see casualty wards, crying children, and shrouds pulled over those that did not make it. Doctors watch helplessly as they see Geiger counters go off the scale when they check survivors for radiation.

The makers of Gojira wanted to produce a strong antiwar movie. They had survived the firebombings of World War Two and some had also witnessed firsthand the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In their Gojira, Tokyo is destroyed by fire for the second time in ten years and we have chances to bond with the people of Tokyo, only to see the monster Gojira make them casualties of his wrath. The destruction of Tokyo is not mindless: it is purposeful, and terrible.

As I watched Gojira, I considered it to be the first anime film. Parts of it are animated and the premise certainly fits with the mature tradition of Japanese animated arts. If one suspends disbelief around the actor in the monster suit – which isn’t campy in this version – one sees the potential for what could have been an epic anime feature. Given today’s technology, Gojira could be redone with satisfyingly realistic special effects. But in the hands of a Hollywood team, the deeper themes of the film would be lost.

At its heart, Gojira is a true protest film. The monster Gojira himself is something out of the Shinto world, a force of nature turning on a humanity that forgot its own bond with the world. In Gojira, I saw the beginnings of some of Hiyao Miyazaki’s work, especially his films Nausicaä of the Valley of Wind and Mononoke Hime (Princess Mononoke). Parts of the film also came uncomfortably close to Grave of the Fireflies, the anime that deals with the firebombing of Tokyo in May, 1945. The film is not light entertainment. It is heart-wrenching and makes one ponder about man’s inability to turn away from violence.

Gojira is not a metaphor for nuclear destruction – he is nuclear destruction. The prophecy at the end of the film that continued testing would create a new Gojira has come to pass. In the 56 years since the film’s release, we have seen new Gojiras arise in the form of unstable nations with nuclear powers, such as North Korea and Pakistan, as well as in the spectre of a possible terrorist-spawned nuclear attack. Like the victims in Gojira, we stand helplessly, unable to truly halt a calamity, should it visit us. Perhaps we should be more humble in our ways, lest nature take on an aspect of terror and provide us with a nightmare designed to destroy the proud.

I’ve lived here almost 20 years and haven’t had “My Italian Restaurant” since Siciliano’s moved to north Garland and raised its prices. Sali’s on Garland is good, but… just not quite my entire style… Tony’s is just up the road from me, but it’s crowded and its pizza was marginally better than Little Caesar’s across the street. Rockyano’s is take out/delivery only, and I haven’t ordered there since giving them a second try about 10 years ago and not being happy with the results.

So I did the Google search for a pizza place near my house, and decided upon Roma’s, on Greenville. Picasso’s on Skillman is closer to me, but I decided against it for a few reasons. First, prices. I was going out with my family and I didn’t want to get mugged for just one pizza. Second, reviews. The good reviews weren’t specific and the bad reviews weren’t written by kooks. Third, the menu. It’s HUGE, with cuisine ranging from hamburgers to Thai food. That’s a bad sign in my book. Stick with what you’re good at and be excellent at it.

Roma’s had a few dings in its reviews, but I decided it was the one we were going to try out. It’s casual there, so we put on our sandals and drove on out.

My son ordered the “Chicken Judge’s Special” and I split a medium pineapple pizza with my daughter. Mom was at training, which is why I decided we needed to go out. I’m glad we did, and I want to go back with everyone some day.

The bread came out first. It’s unlimited rolls there, but you want to make sure you save room for the main courses. The bread is good quality, the garlic topping was flavorful without being too salty, a peril that besets many a roll. The marinara sauce for dipping had good flavor. I would have preferred more sweetness, but that’s me. I’ve had other marinaras, and this one stands on its own merits.

As we waited for the main courses, I reflected on the service (great) and the atmosphere (kinda dark). If you want a place lit up like McDonalds, sorry. On the other hand, if you like the lighting relaxed and Italian crooners singing their melodies, come on in. Me? Hey, Frankie don’t tell you no lies, capice?

The pizza and the entree showed up and, man! First, the pizza. On a scale of 1 to 100, with 1 being a cracker dipped in ketchup and 100 being the best pizza I ever ate, this place gets a solid 92. It’s got a great crust and more than once, I stopped myself from hitting my drink because I wanted to savor the flavors more. I’m giving my rating on the cheese pizza parts only. The pineapple, by the way, was properly drained so we didn’t wind up eating a swamp. The crust was thin, but not like a cracker. It had a great balance with the sauce and cheese, and the sauce had some great herb notes in it. My daughter, who’s young, was able to eat it. I like that. A real, adult pizza that a kid can approach and enjoy.

The Chicken Judge’s Special was amazing! That got a 95 or more, but I didn’t eat it, so I can only dream about it. I had a bite and I realized from the first taste that if supper was a contest, my son won it with this order. The olive oil-garlic-basil-oregano sauce on the pasta blew me away. Great aroma and my son was thrilled with the chicken. This guy knows his chicken, too, and he says this bird was all good.

The prices were all right, too. We could have overspent at some other joint, but this place has great prices that let you tip the great staff generously. I finally found my neighborhood Italian place.

I loved the finale for Lost, up to about the last five minutes. Then I felt a sense of deja vu as I watched a guy move through time and space to connect lives and make them better… but the guy was apparently dead all along? Oh yeah, that was Quantum Leap’s ending. It’s also the ending for Roseanne, come to think of it. Jimmy Kimmel did a spoof with Newhart ending, which I felt worked a lot better.

It’s not like the writers had themselves in a corner or anything. There were probably several good ways to end the series, and they were hot on a truly great ending, but then dropped the ball on it. In my version, we keep it right up to where Hugo and Ben are left in charge of the island, then we cut back to LA 2004. There, Jack sees his father in the coffin, remembers everything, and then goes into that chapel. Hugo thanks everyone for all they’ve done and, as we see a scene of Jack watching the plane take off, tells them they’ve all made their choices and to live their lives in peace and as much happiness as they can share… because one does not own happiness. Sawyer makes a wisecrack about what Hugo will do with his millions, and Hugo says, “They’re all yours.”

Stunned, the castaways watch on as Hugo explains they all get a little piece of his fortune, as he doesn’t need all of it. “I’ve made my choice. I don’t need a whole lot for where I’m going. And, speaking of going, I’ve got a flight to catch. But, frankly, there wasn’t any way I was going to be able to spend it all in my lifetime. Help me do that, willya?”

Everyone says goodbye to Hugo and has a good time with each other in the chapel, realizing their lives have been changed for the better from their suffering on the island. We watch as Hugo goes to LAX and boards a plane for Hawaii. He sits next to Ben. There’s some ominous turbulence, but the plane lands just fine. In Hawaii, Hugo buys a boat and Ben helps him sail it… to the island. Hugo looks at his new home and says, “This is a better way of getting here, don’t you think?” Hugo’s girlfriend steps out of the cabin, looks things over with Ben at her side. Hugo says, “Well, let’s start with fixing that statue.”

Cut to Jack going back to look at his father one more time. He opens the coffin, to see it empty. He looks up in wonder.

Back to the boat. Ben says, “That’s a big job. Who’s going to help us?”

Hugo points at the beach. “They are!”

Cut to a scene of everyone that died on the island standing to greet Hugo, with Jack’s father in the center. The End.

Credit where credit’s due: my son came up with the last part, where Jack goes to the empty coffin, as we were driving to school this morning.

Just saw this movie. It’s a true gem of a picture, and it’s a dirty shame Hollywood doesn’t make any more like this. Bollywood does, and maybe that’s why I love both classic American cinema and the masala films from India.

It’s a beautiful story without any sort of Hollywood ending. Feeling the pain at the end made it all the more special to me. That, and the beauty of Rome and its people. I need to head that way, one day, and it made me thankful that I live next to a major airport. During the mad whirl Peck and Hepburn enjoyed, I saw myself and my wife doing the same things, minus taking a dip in the Tiber. Or getting a haircut. But the gelato looked amazing, even in black and white. And at the end of it all, I’ll still have the one I love, so I’ll be one up on Gregory Peck, which is pretty cool, all things considered.

I’ve read his Solaris and am reading his Memoirs Found in a Bathtub. He’s genius. I especially appreciate his ability to create bodies of commentary about his invented worlds. He’s a great author and well worth reading.

1. Exxon Mobil
2. Wal-Mart Stores
3. Chevron
4. ConocoPhillips
5. General Electric
6. General Motors
7. Ford Motor
8. AT&T
9. Hewlett-Packard
10. Valero Energy

Surprised to not see Bill Gates or a Walton or Warren Buffet on the list? Those persons have nothing on the persons listed above. Bear in mind, that, thanks to a bit of perjury before the Supreme Court by the author of the 14th Amendment, corporations are persons in the USA. That makes Mr. ExxonMobil the richest person in America. Move over flesh and blood, there are richer persons than you’ll ever be that walk abroad in the land.