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Monday, August 20 2007

Which Way Do I Steer?

    The gang met up last Saturday (August 18) to finally visit Cheeseburger in Paradise, in Sterling Heights (by Lakeside Mall).  Not only did we get a chance to dine on cheeseburgers and popcorn shrimp, and sample the house brand Island Lager, but we got to see Mike’s brother’s side project Voodoo Café.  You know, Mike’s brother Jimmy, right?  He sings our theme song.
    No podcast was recorded, but Mickey (as always) documented the event, and the photos are online in our WAOTNC Photo Gallery.

Heaven on Earth

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 08/20 at 08:59 PM
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Friday, August 10 2007

Caseville 2007

    Episode 47 was recorded last Wednesday, but it might not be uploaded till Sunday or Monday.
    The boys are a bit pre-occupied right now, seeing as they’ve gone up to Caseville again for this year’s Cheeseburger Festival!

M-53 North


Schmoe enjoys a Landshark and another Riverside Roadhouse Spicy Burger


    As we said, we had the same waitress on our return visit.  You can compare this picture with last year’s.

Our favorite waitress


    And a Show Notes Blog exclusive.  We were too busy eating and drinking to shoot a proper video documentary, so here’s a bonus podcast featuring Schmoe and me watching the Perseid meteor shower:


    Day 2: we head back into town, go to the official store for souvenirs, get gumbo for brunch, meet Mike at the Riverside Roadhouse for lunch, spend some time at the beach, go to Lefty’s Diner & Drive-In for this year’s winning cheeseburger, and then go to the amphitheater to watch Air Margaritaville.  Unlike yesterday, I mainly shot video…and I think I need to buy another hard drive before I can start importing the footage for editing.
    Until then, here’s another Show Notes Blog exclusive podcast…


    P.S.: we’ve returned from our Caseville weekend, but I’m still not sure when Episode 47 will be ready to go up.

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 08/10 at 07:27 PM
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Thursday, March 22 2007

Bum Rush the Charts

    Today’s the day to show the power of podcasting.

http://bumrushthecharts.blogspot.com/ http://www.financialaidpodcast.com/bumrush/

    Today’s the day to follow this link, give 99¢, and show the RIAA the power and reach of podcasting.  Not only can you help make a statement, but a percentage of your purchase goes to college scholarships.     (Of course our putting this on our blog as opposed to discussing it in our podcast kind of muddies the waters a little.)

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 03/22 at 09:18 AM
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Friday, March 16 2007

“You Realize Of Course That This Means War”

    Holy crap!  It’s an emergency!  Those asshole announcers who do the Buffettnews.com Audio Broadcast [iTunes link] have knocked us off the iTunes page for Jimmy Buffett podcasts!  We need your help.  We hate begging for responses—we usually only beg for donations to Scott’s Paypal accout—but iTunes bases podcast popularity by comments as well as downloads, so please go to iTunes and leave a comment about our podcast [iTunes link].  Only in this way can justice prevail.

“Generations of theatrical expertise, snuffed out in the twinkling of an eye!”

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 03/16 at 09:39 PM
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Monday, March 12 2007

Episode 32: Podcast Si, Brevedad No

Show Notes:
Recorded Saturday, March 10 2007 (6:30 PM - 12:00 AM), at Casa de Schmoe, Dearborn MI
    “This week’s episode is dedicated to C.E. Smith.   Another Saturday Night podcast, although the music under review is Don’t Stop the Carnival.  Mickey, Mike, and Schmoe are present, with Scott reporting in on video chat; and with Schmoe’s and Mike’s kids in the background playing basketball.”

    Did I get my Spanish right?
    We were all assembled on Wednesday yet we were still unable to record.  The lounge at Zodiac was very full and, like we said during the episode, we were unable to reserve our usual recording studio room.  Even if we’d chosen to record in the main lounge, it would’ve been much too loud for decent audio.  Thus, we quickly scheduled a backup recording date for the following Saturday, at Schmoe’s domicile.  It turned into a nice little party, with plenty of beer, tequila-based Schmoetails, and lots of food. In fact, you can hear me munching away on chips as the show begins.  (I also change places many times, in the stereo spectrum, because I didn’t want to chew too closely to the microphones…and I also enjoyed moving around.)  Scott was unable to attend in person, but managed to spend a little time with us through iChat.
    Why the talk about Daylight Saving Time?  First because it’s a sham, but mainly because prepping and installing the patches for it ruined two days at work that week.  (Fortunately the actual time change went smoothly.)
    The Feedburner page for BuffettNews.com’s Buffett news podcast can be found here or you can subscribe here in iTunes.
    While checking out the winner of Radio Margaritaville’s contest, Mike took a liking to this avatar in the BuffettNews discussion boards.  It might interest Mike to know the owner of said avatar is described as a “grumpy old man”.
    Here’s the article proposing Jimmy Buffett’s material for Florida’s state song.  This is Mike’s link to learn about Wicked.  And by the way, it did not play the Fox Theatre when it was in Detroit; it was at the Masonic.  And near the end of our tour dates discussion, it sounds like Schmoe is paraphrasing Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”.
    By Scott’s request, we review Don’t Stop the Carnival this week.  A quick overview of Herman Wouk’s work can be found in Wikipedia.  The one thing that struck me most when reading Don’t Stop the Carnival was how episodic it was, with a hotelier’s worst-case-scenarios cropping up one after the other like a weekly sitcom.  It almost reads like a precursor to Fawlty Towers.  I was thus interested, when doing my research for the podcast, that TIME Magazine had noticed the same thing, in their review from 1965.
    We have a Best Buy promo CD called Calaloo but nothing from Target.  (I seem to recall something from Target though, but maybe I didn’t get it since it had nothing unique or original on it.)  Scott mentions “Cairo”, from the Best Buy CD, which is also available on Club Trini’s Margaritaville Cafe New Orleans: Late Night Live.  And the character I was trying to remember from South Pacific is of course “Bloody Mary”.
    My iMix of Buffett covers can be found here [iTunes link].
    Where is Joe Merchant? was approximately six years old when DSTC came out.  And by “revolutionize” I meant “revitalize”.
    Wikipedia has this to say about “calaloo” as a food.  This episode’s excerpt of “Calaloo” comes from August 9 1997.  (Jimmy mentions “Miami” because the preceding song was “Everybody’s Got a Cousin in Miami”.)
    “No DRALS” was the slogan of the 1991 Outposts tour.
    Hear the noises off to the left that sound like a basketball game?  That’s Schmoe’s kids outside.  My microphones picked it up with almost three-dimsional Holophonic™ quality—and it drives me crazy!  (Later on you can hear Schmoe’s kids on the right side, playing video games.)
    In our defense, the connection between G.E. Smith and Jimmy was established in 1994, when they collaborated on “Six String Music”, hence our natural assumption that “C.E. Smith” was simply a misprint in the liner notes.  And I don’t want to point fingers, but we’re not the only JB fan site to have made this mistake.  I’m disappointed it took us so long to make the correction, that the “Kinja Rules” vocalist is not only really C.E. Smith but that he was also part of the original theatrical cast; but my PowerBook was being used for Scott’s audio which prevented me from doing any web searches while we recorded.
    Here’s my page on my 1064-step climb up Mt Saba.
    Norman Paperman needs H2O but some people actually want to ban it.
    Here’s more about the wandering comma in “God, Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen”.  The noises Mike is making are an ode to the inimtable Victor Borge and his invention of Phonetic Punctuation.  (There’s another cute clip of the routine here.)
    I promise to digitize my “Green Flash at Sunset” video but until then here’s a cruder copy (in RealVideo) plus some other images from that Antigua trip of mine.

DSTC Phone Card, from Best Buy

    Our big finish was blatantly stolen from comedian Todd Barry.


       Download Episode 32

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 03/12 at 01:19 AM
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Tuesday, October 10 2006

New Album’s Out and I’m Fresh On iTunes

    I couldn’t wait for tomorrow and I bought the new album from iTunes.  Tipping the scales was the fact the iTMS version has a video I hadn’t heard about.  It’s not the “Here We Are” song; it’s a mini-doc on the making of “Party at the End of the World”.  And it culminates in some live footage reportedly shot at Pine Knob!
    If so, that means you can see me in this final shot.  I’m the one applauding…way at the back…in the dark spot.

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 10/10 at 03:58 AM
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Sunday, September 17 2006

Scott’s Corner

    The time has come to reveal the spectacular wonderment that occurred the night of the concert.  I truly wished to immediately put pen to paper and construct brilliant prose to justly describe the night’s events, however my dad asked for permission to take on the task.  Feel free to send him comments (good ones) at polwonder [at] wideopenwest.com.

THE DAY GOD INTRODUCED HIMSELF TO THE PIESTRAKS



    Some people meet God on their death bed where they repent and regret many of the things they did.  Others see Him in a dream where He gives them this week’s lottery numbers or tells them to blow up the abortion clinic that’s around the corner.  I have strong reservations about the validity of those “messages from Heaven”.  On the other hand, there’s our experience.  Most of those others can be explained through a simple explanation like mayonnaise that got too warm, or a bowl of chili that had a little too much “BAM!”  We were neither asleep nor near death, so there’s no other explanation other than the obvious one that’s left: Divine Intervention.
    To fully appreciate the story I’m about to relate, you have to be a Parrothead: a strange breed of creature who appear in their full and colorful regalia on a few occasions around the Western Hemisphere that seem to coincide with the appearances of their spiritual leader, Jimmy Buffett.  He can’t be pigeonholed into any particular genre.  He’s the occasional: redneck philosopher; party animal; drunk; musician; children’s author and one of the few adult authors who have had books on both the New York Times fiction and non-fiction best seller lists.  His followers often track the party-creating crusader across the country, and occasionally to treks out of the country to a variety of Caribbean destinations.  The followers cover the age spectrum from children to the card carrying members of AARP.  It’s in this atmosphere that God chose to show Himself to us; thus reaffirming that God is everywhere, even at a hedonistic semi-rock concert.
    To say you had to be there is an understatement.  After Buffett’s three year absence from the Detroit area, we did our duty, standing in line and getting a lucky number that would let us have a chance at getting tickets to the only concert of the year that counts for a Parrothead.  Then there were the months of anticipation and then finally the day of September 12.  A thick cloud of gloom crept into our minds, only equaled by the dense, dark clouds that filled the skies.  Unfortunately, the frequently wrong weather forecasters seemed to have hit this one on the head.  They had promised rain, and in some areas, heavy downpours.  On this night, Clarkston, Michigan would be one of those areas.
    After arriving in a light mist, we ate our dinner and began to absorb the atmosphere around Pine Knob (aka DTE Enery Music Theater) on the day of a Buffett concert.  Buffett music mixes with the sound of blenders humming throughout the parking lot as Parrotheads attempt to transform the DTE parking lot into Margaritaville.  Men in grass skirts trying in vain to outdo women in grass skirts suddenly become a normal sight.  A half-hour before the concert, the bad news begins to be delivered.  The clouds are the messengers God sends.  They open up and try to drown the excitement of the beach loving Buffett crowd.  It almost worked on us.  We later confessed that we all wondered if it was worth going inside to sit/stand on the hill with our lawn tickets.  Scott gave up first.  His saner side took over and he approached a man who was trying in vain to peddle a third row seat he had purchased for $350 for the “bargain price” of a hundred.  “Let me know when you get down to $60,” were Scott’s last words to him.  It wasn’t much later when the drenching rain drove the man to taking a big loss so he could go inside to enjoy the dryness of the pavilion.  We decided we’d share the ticket, taking turns to enjoy a respite from the downpour while actually seeing the concert.
    Scott went down to his seat and reported by phone that his seat was terrific. Only three rows from the front of the stage, it was a dream few Parrotheads ever realize. Meanwhile, Jeff and I, clad in our dollar plastic ponchos, slosh our way to the concert area. Walking uphill, waves of water wash over our shoes as if we were on a stroll at the beach. We settled on standing in front of the hill. Although we had no hope of sitting, we were standing on solid cement and the thought of sitting on a rain-soaked mix of mud and grass wasn’t very appealing.
    If you wear glasses and are trying to see something in a pouring rain, it’s not easy.  Glasses just don’t come with wipers—yet.  Seeing the stage clearly was a challenge.  Once again the gloom, disgust, and questions floating on the raindrops, ran through our minds.  Can this be possibly worth it?  No, was the honest answer, but there we stood.  I vowed to make the best of it.  Then, the cell phone rang.  Could that be God calling?
    As exciting as that could be, it wasn’t. B ut it was darn close—it was indeed news from God.  Scott was on the line.  The gregarious Scott began noticing empty seats in the row around him and began talking to a couple next to him. “Are you expecting some people to join you?”  It was then that Scott’s vision was drawn to the man’s shirt pocket where several tickets were peeking out.  The unexpected response was that the couple’s friends, obviously not true Parrotheads who deserve tickets to this sacred area, had canceled.  Weakened by rain, they sat home to watch some stale rerun of Diagnosis Murder.  When the gentleman responded that he had tried to sell the tickets outside, but finally gave up as the rain got harder, Scott made his move.  Many would have never made the inquiry, feeling that it would be sort of rude or brazen.  Having no shame, Scott uttered the words God had told him to say,  “I have two people who are standing in the rain who would love to come down here.”  The next thing was amazing.  The man gave him two tickets.  When I answered the phone and heard the words,  “I have tickets for you and Jeff,” I was sure that my approaching dementia was causing me to hear strangely.  Then he repeated it and seconds later he was in front of us with tickets in hand, leading us to the promised land where your permission to enter the next level is checked and rechecked every six steps.  There we were!  The land of milk and honey and at that time, more importantly, dryness.  It was hard to believe that only seconds earlier we had been standing in the downpour full of gloom.  It was deliverance; our glimpse of how the chosen ones enjoyed things on this night.
    Scott pointed out to me the couple who were our benefactors.  As I waddled in front of them, I was carefully trying not to brush up against them with my water-carrying poncho.  It was then that the prophetic words came to me.  Looking at the middle-aged, attractive lady,  I uttered, “So you’re the people God sent.”  I swear I don’t know what made me say that.  I had only a busy few minutes from the time I received the news to the time I said those words.  Her reaction was what finally sealed my belief.  A large warming smile came across her face.  That was it.  It was as if she said, “I’m glad you realize who sent me.”  She said nothing else.  Then, the house lights went down and the show started.  Those were to be my only words to her.  They departed with just a few songs left in the concert. I’m sure they left Pine Knob to go back to the wonderful, warm place whence they came.
    I now know how writers feel when they have a story inside them and nothing will stop it from coming out.  I really never had this feeling before.  Divine inspiration is nothing new.  Dante’s Inferno and Handel’s Messiah have no real explanation other than help from the big author in the sky.  I don’t begin to equate my effort to theirs, but for the little Polish kid from Fordson High, I figure this is as close as it gets.  After telling a friend this story, she cleverly responded with, “I’m glad He didn’t call you up and give you the tickets personally.”
    Me too.

 

Bubba from the third row

Posted by .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address) on 09/17 at 07:28 PM
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