Creepy much?

Just about everyone I know has been asking the same question lately:  “Huh?  ‘Karate’ Kid?  Shouldn’t it be ‘Kung Fu’ Kid?”

With the massive ecological disaster in the Gulf of Mexico, controversy over illegal immigration, high unemployment, the still-tanking world economy, collapsing European nations, growing government bureaucracy, multiple wars, poverty, starvation, and Lindsey Lohan, America is getting bored and needs something real to worry about.  Enter “The Karate Kid.”

Why “Karate” instead of “Kung Fu?”  It’s obvious that it was done for brand name recognition.  Hollywood normally presumes that most Americans is even stupider than they is, and don’t want to bewilder the monkeys.  Can you imagine the confusion over naming a remake of “The Dukes of Hazzard” something like “Them Crazy Rednecks?”  What would’ve happened had the writers of “The A Team” remake not inserted the line “… this Alpha Unit, or ‘A-Team’” so that the viewing public wouldn’t get uneasy with all that jargony Army stuff?

I wouldn’t be surprised if the makers of “The Karate Kid,” hip to the throngs of people asking why it isn’t “The Kung Fu Kid,” didn’t throw in some dialogue to placate the herd:

• Fresh Prince, Jr.: “Hey, you’re just like Mr. Miyagi, and I’m like the Karate Kid.”
• Jackie Chan:  “No.  Not Karate.  Kung Fu.  See, Karate comes from Okinawa.  The Japanese later adopted, Japanized, and spread the art through the world, but it’s originally an Okinawan art (which, by the way, originally came from China).  Kung Fu means ‘hard work’ in Chinese, and it is a Chinese art.  I am Chinese.  I speak Chinese.  We are filming in China.  Do you understand the words that are coming outta my mouth?”
• FPJ: “Whatever, man…  you crazy.”

Or something like that.

Here’s a history/language lesson for those who give a crap:

Karate was originally developed in Okinawa, but has strong Chinese roots.  In fact, the Chinese characters originally used to write it are 唐手, which means “China (T’ang Dynasty) Hand.”  (Interestingly, the Koreans still use this nomenclature in the form of Tang Soo Do – 唐手道 – way of the China Hand.)  In most areas in Okinawa, the art was often referred to by the name of the region in which it was practiced, e.g. Naha-Hand, Shuri-Hand, etc.  After Funakoshi Gichin brought the art to Japan, the Japanese said, “Uh… yeah… we’re not comfortable with all that ‘China’ stuff, so if you could just go ahead and change that first character, that’d be great, mmmkay?”  So, it was decided that they (the Japanese) would use another character which was (and still is) also pronounced ‘kara.’  Enter 空手 (empty hand).

Kung Fu is written 功夫 in Chinese, and basically means something like “skill earned through hard work.”  I like to think that this name actually originated from a joke.  Imagine some white tourists shlepping around the Chinese countryside, when they happen upon some monks training in the fields.  One corpulent tourist asks the tour guide, “Hey… what’s that stuff?”  The tour guide replies, “Kung Fu (snicker).”  The tourist is so pleased with his new knowledge, that he fails the notice the tour guide elbowing the bus driver in the ribs, saying, “Did you hear that?  I told him it was ‘hard work.’  Now he thinks that’s what the art is called!  BWAAAAHAHAHAHAHA…”

Wushu is more likely what they’re doing in the movie (just speculation, as I haven’t seen it yet.)  This is where things get weird.  Wushu is written 武術 in Chinese.  (In Japanese, that word is pronounced Bujutsu.)  Wushu literally means “martial art,” but is more often used today to describe the showy, gymnastic-y, flashy stuff that came about after the Communists killed off, or drove into exile, all the truly powerful Chinese martial artists, only to later realize that they needed something culturally uniquely Chinese in nature to show the world how awesome they are.  In China, Wushu is for showing off athleticism.  In Japan, Bujutsu describes the “old school” combat systems.

I blame Mao.

Me: Guitarist/Songwriter/Recordist.  Can sing if I absolutely have to.  Living in Chandler, AZ.  Burnt out on the band thing for a long time.  Not getting any younger.  No interest in partying.  No drugs, cigarettes, or booze.  Cover songs OK, but not my focus.  Interested in writing, playing, and recording.

You: At least 30 years old.  Live relatively close to me.  Similar influences.  Bassist, singer, drummer, and/or songwriter.  Over the rock star ego, attitude, drama, and partying bullshit.  Interested in music.  Not afraid to look/sound stupid.

My incomplete list of influences:

• 70′s classic rock
• 80′s pop and hair metal
• Beatles
• Billy Joel
• Boston
• Budgie
• Dr. Demento
• Dreams Come True (Japanese pop)
• Dream Theater (“Train of Thought” album)
• Feel So Bad (Japanese metal)
• Frank Zappa
• Heart
• Indigo Girls
• James Taylor
• Joe Pass
• Joe Satriani
• King’s X
• Led Zeppelin
• Metallica
• Nuno Bettencourt
• Queen
• Queensrÿche
• Rush
• Sasagawa Miwa (Japanese pop)
• Southern All-Stars (Japanese rock)
• Steve Vai
• They Might Be Giants
• Tom Lehrer
• Van Halen
• Weird Al Yankovic
• Zemfira (Russian pop rock)

If any of this sounds like you, hit me up.  If not, I’m sure there’s a Linkin Park cover band somewhere in the valley that needs a keyboard player.

I rather enjoy watching military-related programs like NCIS and pretty much any action/spy movies with a high SBU factor.  In other words, pretty much anything with Matt Damon beating the holy living shit out of someone with bad-ass Krav Maga moves.  I swear I’m not gay, but I’d consider taking his Bourne Ultimatum into my Green Zone… if you know what I mean.

Anyhoo, listen… while I have your attention, I have one request.  Please stop making your actors explain acronyms.  Seriously.  It makes you sound retarded and makes us feel like you think we’re retarded.

For example:

• Mel Gibson:  “Oh noes!  It’s the NSA!”
• Random Douchebag:  “You mean the National Security Agency???”
• Mel Gibson:  (Stares blankly at Random Douchebag.)
• Random Douchebag:  (Stares blankly back at Mel Gibson.)
• Mel Gibson:  “No, dumbfuck.  I mean ‘Noodle Slurpers of Armenia.’  Did your parents drop you on your head straight into a pile of yak shit when you were a baby?”

How about another:

• LL Cool J:  “Looks like our dead Marine was former EOD in Iraq.”
• Random Douchebag: (Knowing nod) “Explosive Ordinance Disposal.”
• LL Cool J:  “Look… how’d you like me to shove this block of C4 up your urethra and blow it up remotely via an unnecessarily elaborate cell-phone-based detonation process?”
• Random Douchebag: (Pauses) “You said ‘blow’…”
• LL Cool J: (boom)

I think you get the idea.

Seriously, stop it.  The bottom line is that we, your mind-numbed viewing public, are not stupid.  At least, not as stupid as you are.  Many of us have actually done some of the things your actors are pretending to do on screen.  Face it… if “the people” are too stupid to get it, they’re too stupid to watch your show.  They belong on E! watching the Kardashians (Armenian reference #2) wax their forearms.  You don’t need them.  You don’t want them.

That is all.  Thank you for your service to our country.  USA!!!  USA!!!  (Not the channel.)

I finished a bit of work this afternoon and, with nothing better to do, decided to wander around.  On my way home, I stopped by Changing Hands Bookstore to look at their second-hand foreign language book collection as I am wont to do.  To my chagrin, there was a large crowd there to hear a speaker, and my language book section had, as usual, been relocated to some unknown location.  At first, I was a bit annoyed, but I’ve become accustomed to this happening when speakers were there.  As the speaker was introduced, my ears perked up.

I have been studying Third Reich history since I was a small boy.  But I had never met a survivor… until tonight.

Ernest W. Michel survived several Nazi concentration camps, including the death camp at Auschwitz.  He told us that shares his experiences, “not because I enjoy it… this is very hard for me.”  He shares because he has a responsibility to bear witness to what he had endured.

These were no stories from some history book.  These were the stirring words of a man openly sharing the most horrific experiences anyone can imagine.  This was a man sharing his life.  Ernest Michel’s words were open, honest, and searing.  His words were just as much a part of his flesh as the number 104995 on his left arm.

He shared personal stories from Kristallnacht, the camps, and of his escape.  He told us of writing down the names and numbers of the countless dead, and of carrying their bodies to their eventual destination: “up the chimney.”  He also talked about his involvement with the Nuremberg trials after the war, including meeting several famous reporters who were covering it for the various world news agencies, such as Edward R. Murrow and Walter Cronkite.

One story that particularly struck me was of his meeting with Hermann Göring, formerly the 2nd most powerful man in the Third Reich.  Apparently, Göring had been reading Michel’s news articles in the German press.  Having heard that Michel was present at the trials, Göring asked if he would be willing to meet with him.  When Michel entered the cell of the former Reichsmarschall, Göring stood to greet him, offering his hand.  Michel refused to shake the hand of the top living Nazi, instead asking the guard to allow him to leave the cell.  The last thing he saw was Göring standing there, hand outstretched.

Mr. Michel openly fielded questions from the crowd, including those asked by two young boys.  Through a welcoming smile that did nothing to hide the seriousness of his words, he admonished them: “Learn, young man.  Learn history.”

Despite all he had been through, he told us that he cannot live with hate.

When my opportunity came to talk to Mr. Michel and ask him to sign my copy of his book “Promises Kept,” I reminded him of his Hermann Göring story.  He looked up.  I asked, “Would you do me the honor of shaking my hand?”  He smiled broadly and gave me a hearty, warm handshake.

Tonight, I shook the hand of the man who refused to shake the hand of Hermann Göring.  Tonight, I shook the hand of Ernest W. Michel, Auschwitz Survivor #104995.

The names have been released, so let’s take a look at who we have to look forward to seeing this year:

Pamela Anderson
“Actress”
Age: 42

One word:  “ew.”  Seriously?  Pamela Anderson?  Am I the only man in this country who isn’t turned on by plastic and peroxide?  Even if she were ever “hot,” that had to be at least 30 years ago. This is why the terrorists really hate us, folks.

Erin Andrews
ESPN Reporter Babe
Age:  18 (butt) / 31 (everything else)

I don’t watch sports.  At all.  So I have no idea who Ms. Andrews is.  That said, she has my attention.  I tried finding a picture of her face on the internet, but it seems that the only photos out there are of her butt.

Shannen Doherty
Actress
Age: 38

Oh, come on… you’re only doing this because Jennie Garth did it first.  In all seriousness, I hope she blows a gasket and picks a fight with Niecy Nash.  I wouldn’t pay to see it, but I’d be willing to TiVo it and skip over the commercials to watch it.

Niecy Nash
Actress
Age: 40

Go on with your bad self.

Nicole Scherzinger
“Singer”
Age: 31

I have no idea which one she is, but I’m sure she’s probably one of them.  Even if she’s the ugly one, I’ll probably still watch.

Kate Gosselin
Reality TV personality / Baby Factory
Age: 34

Don’t they make a cute couple?  I’m really pulling for them.  I bet their babies would be cute.

There are apparently a bunch of guys on the list, too, but… [yawn]

FAWM stands for February Album Writing Month. Each February, hundreds of people all over the world are spending the entire month writing, recording, and releasing music. The goal is to complete 14 songs by the end of the month. Given that February has only 28 days, that’s a new song every other day! But the real goal was probably stated best by Jack London: “You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club!”

For more information, check out the FAWM website: http://fawm.org/

What'choo talkin' 'bout, Willis?

Child actor and noted gollum Gary Coleman was arrested in his Utah home on charges related to domestic violence.

Waitaminute… UTAH?  Seriously?  Wow.  I’d never have seen that coming.  UTAH???

Still… it would’ve been so much cooler if he’d been arrested for murder or something really sick and brutal like tax sodomy or serial douchebaggery.

I can almost hear the lyrics to the Diff’rent Strokes theme song now…

Hey, man... you gonna bogart that whole thing?

Oh, Elders, fleet and strong and wise, appear before my seeking eyes!  Why have you ruined my childhood?

On a whim of misplaced nostalgia, I decided to watch the old “Shazam!” TV show from the 1970s.  When I watched it as a kid 30-some years ago, it was cool as hell.

Holy Moley, What The Frack happened?  The show sure sucks a lot more than I remembered it sucking in the 70s!   It’s predictable, formulaic, preachy, cheesy, obvious, and just plain awful.  No wonder humanity is screwed.  My generation was brought up on this crap!

I used to think that this show was the best.  Billy Batson was just a normal punky little pipsqueak (as was I)… wearing the same clothes every day, living out of an RV with a creepy old guy, and talking to cartoons (as did I).  But all he had to do was yell “Shazam!” and he turned into a superhero… tall and muscled, with chiseled good looks and great 70s hair, able to fly, and old enough to buy beer without being carded (which would explain Captain Marvel’s slurred speech).

Remember back in the 70s when TV music was just TV music?  Well, now you can’t hear it without imagining some half-clothed pizza delivery guy showing up at a lady’s house asking, “Did someone order a pizza?”  Juxtapose that with the image of an underage boy traveling the country in an RV with an old guy, and things start feeling sticky.  And what’s with calling the old guy “Mentor?”  I can’t imagine anything that could possibly creep me out more.  “Hey there, musssssscley armssss…”

Batman had a kickass car.  Wonder Woman had an invisible plane.  Captain Marvel had a shitty, beat-up RV with a “Shazam” sticker pasted on the front.  What a ripoff.

The best part of every episode was the smug post-rescue lecture.  Didn’t pretty much every 70s Saturday morning kids show end with getting chewed out by some superhero, cartoon Army guy, or anthropomorphized vehicle?  “Hey kids… Speed Buggy says ‘Don’t be a Douchebag!’”  Oh, and all the meddling.  Ah, the joys of meddling in the affairs of others.  Have you noticed that there hasn’t been much “meddling” going on since the 70s?  What’s up with that?

Finally, let’s address the so-called “Elders.”  Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles, and Solomon.  Wait… SOLOMON?  Greek Gods (albeit, Hercules’ name in Greek is actually Heracles), a sorta-demi-god warrior, and a former King of Israel?  I don’t get it.  Weren’t any of the Greek gods super-smart?  And while I’m at it… if the “Elders” were really all that badass, why did they have to call Billy on that crappy Rubik’s Cute/LiteBrite thingy?

Oh, mighty Isis… nothing makes sense anymore.