Why Bad Things Happen to Good People

Throughout history and across time, a few questions echo in our collective human subconsciousness with greater intensity than any others.  Why are we here?  What happens after death?  Why do bad things happen to good people?  Many religions attempt to answer these questions, some in more definitive ways than others, but after surviving a hurricane and witnessing some of the devastation first-hand here in Vermont, my mind is drawn to that last question.  Luckily for you, I have the answer.

Now, as a Christian, I can only answer this from a Christian point of view.  Were I of the Hindu faith, I would probably tell you that, through karma, what we have done in the past affects what happens to us in the future.  And you would say, well, duh.  But that doesn't really explain natural disasters very well, nor does it adequately answer the question of why bad things happen to good people.

Now, right off the bat, I have to say that this is something of a trick question.  You might also ask, why does that man over there have a beating heart inside of his chest?  Well, we all have beating hearts (at least temporarily), so why even ask that question?  Let me tell you, bad things don't happen to good people, bad things happen to all people.  Good things happen to all people too.  You can be the worst person on the planet, and I assure you that at some point in your life, something is going to go your way.  I can also guarantee you that, like Job was, you can be the most faithful and devoted, loving and giving person around, and eventually the universe is going to mess with you.

The other problem with this question is that one must decide what a "good person" is.  How good do you have to be to not have bad things happen to you, anyway?  If I am generally a nice guy, and I help my friends and neighbors out, and then my house is washed away in a flood, I'll bet you that somewhere, one of my buddies is saying that I didn't deserve to have that happen to me.  And of course I didn't  Nobody deserves to have their house washed away in a flood, and whether or not you picked up your next door neighbor's mail while they were on vacation has very little to do with what path a hurricane is going to take.

But why?  Why do bad things happen to good people?  I think what you are really asking is, "What do I have to do to be safe in the future?" and "Why didn't God do something to prevent this?"  And for that, I do have an answer.

As I said earlier, I am going to have to answer this as a Christian, so I apologize to my other-faithed followers, but I think, perhaps, this might apply to some of you as well.  The God that I read about in the Bible is not really a preventative God.  He(She) is a God of healing and restoration.  I am flipping through right now, trying to find an instance of someone coming up to Jesus and asking him to help them out with something before the fact.  No, that's not how he operates.  God is not in the business of preventing terrible things from happening.

Perhaps that is of little comfort to you, but I hope you also read the second part of my statement.  God is all about healing and restoration.  God is totally down with taking a bad situation and turning it into something great.  Look at John 11.  Lazarus was sick, and everybody was all like "Hey, Jesus, come help him," and Jesus was all like "Yeah, a little later."  Lazarus died!  And Jesus showed up after the fact and brought him back to life!  That's what Jesus does!  He heals the sick.  He does not vaccinate.  If you are praying to God for the hurricane to miss your house, well, I'm not saying he's not listening, I'm just saying that everybody else is praying for that too, and the hurricane has to hit somebody.

In 1 Kings 19, Elijah is moping about in a cave, waiting for God to reveal himself.  This is a pretty famous passage, which goes something like this: There was a terrible wind that shattered rocks, but the Lord was not in the wind.  After the wind there was a huge earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  After the wind and the earthquake were gone, there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  And finally, after the fire there was a still small voice, a gentle whisper.  That whisper, my friends, is hope.  Hope for the future, and knowledge that, even after earthquakes, winds, floods, fires, and whatever else life throws at us, we are going to get through it, and life is actually going to be okay again, if not better than it was before.  That's what God does for us.  So don't bother wondering why bad things happen to good people.  Bad things happen to us all.  It's what we do afterwards that makes the real difference in our lives.

Blog You Like a Hurricane

Hurricane Irene was not kind to Vermont.  With massive flooding and major damage all over the state, we are in disaster mode currently.  In fact, yesterday I had to evacuate my own personal house because that stupid beaver dammed up our stream and it overflowed.  Of course, it may not have been the beaver's fault entirely, but you may be interested to know that his dam is gone now, another victim of Hurricane Irene.

But let me back up a little bit.  You see, the day we evacuated was a beautiful sunny day, with no hurricane in sight.    If you want to know how the actual storm went down, well I'll tell you.

Like everyone else in the country, I spent the latter half of last week being inundated with stormageddon reports from the weather channel, the news channels, and every other channel, so I was getting excited.  You see, generally I like storms.  The last big hurricane I was in was Hurricane Bob, which blew through Massachusetts while I was visiting my grandmother.  I must have been 13 or 14 at the time, and my brother and sister and I kept sneaking outside to try and walk against the wind.  Being young and small, sometimes the wind would win, and we would be blown backwards, which was great fun for us, and near-heart-attack-inducing for my grandmother.  Eventually we had to evacuate their house and our stormy fun ended at some lame shelter, but it was fun while it lasted.

Wandering around outside during a big storm is thrilling.  I love the feeling of the wind and the rain whipping against me as nature takes its best shot in my direction.  Now, I would not go outside directly into a giant hurricane, but as I mentioned yesterday, I was not expecting the stupid thing to come and destroy my state.  We're not even a coastal state for crying out loud!  We never get actual hurricanes!  I was expecting some gusting winds and a good amount of rain, and I was looking forward to it.

I got home from making pizzas at around 12:30 am after my Saturday night shift, and I was disappointed to see that the rain had not started yet.  I went to bed, eager to wake up to a little bit of weather and maybe a day off of work.  So yes, I was that stupid.

On the actual day of the storm, Sunday, we spent the morning inside, watching it rain.  Ruby and I went outside in it for a few minutes, but the problems began when we lost power.  Now, we lose power fairly regularly out here, and so I was not that surprised about it.  I figured it would be back on soon enough, but of course it wasn't.  And when the power went out, so did the water.  When I called in to work to see if they had power, they of course reported that they did, and I had better come in and deliver pizzas.

So I drove to work in the hurricane, and then proceeded to spend the worst part of Hurricane Irene driving around delivering food to people who (rightfully so) did not want to leave their homes.  My umbrella was useless in the wind, and by the end of the sopping night, I was wishing that I owned a raincoat.  I did make some good tips though.  Most people were a little sympathetic to the wet pathetic guy standing in the hurricane holding their dinner.

Simone texted me to tell me that the power had come back on shortly after I had left, so I was excited to get home and check weather reports and e-mail and whatnot, but about ten minutes before I finally got home, the power went out again, because the power is a jerk and apparently hates me.  With only my phone to light the way, I stumbled upstairs in the pitch dark and collapsed into my bed, happy to have survived the hurricane without incident, and confident that the power would be back on in the morning.

The power was indeed back on in the morning, but when I looked out the window at the bright sunny day, I noticed that our lawn was now a lake, and that's when we decided to evacuate, which you can read all about in yesterday's post.

You will all be relieved to know that I am now sitting in my house typing this on my computer, which I am able to do via the power, which is coursing through the wires in the walls, and via the internet, which is magic.  We have water, power, TV, internet, and we're back safe and sound.  The lake is gone from our lawn (along with the beaver) and we don't really have any damage to report.  But next hurricane I think I'll fill the bathtub with water, just in case.

Evacuation Fail

I did not think that Hurricane Irene was going to affect Vermont very much. The news was full of apocalyptic predictions for New York City and Boston, but Vermont only ever gets the tail ends of these things, and I was not worried at all. I did not fill the bathtub with water (drinking tub water is gross) and I did not stock up on supplies. Then the storm hit, and we lost power and water.

When I woke up this morning, our lawn had acquired a new water feature (I've always wanted a pond!) and the beaver dam was completely covered with water as the stream overflowed its banks. The weather reports told us that the river would be rising several more feet by this afternoon, so we decided to evacuate.

Now again, I was still not taking this stuff as seriously as perhaps I should have, and so for my first evacuation fail, I did not bring anything with me when I left. No change of clothes, no toothbrush, nothing. I was more concerned with getting out. It never occurred to me that we might not be able to get back again.

The second big fail was my not filling the car with gas ahead of time. I turned the key, saw the gas light come on, and silently punched myself in the face in my head. We pulled out of the driveway and headed south. We got less than half a mile before we hit a completely flooded out road, so we turned around and headed the other way. Sadly, that way was closed as well. With every single road closed we took the only remaining option and went up the mountain, completely in the wrong direction.

With gas running out and stress levels rising with the water, we passed some officers closing the road we were on, going back towards Richmond. So now we couldn't get back even if we wanted to, and we were wandering around with no phone signal up on a mountain. Luckily we did find a gas station, so one crisis was averted.

By going the crazy back way, we eventually made it to Nini's house (on the very dry fourth floor), which was when we realized that we had forgotten Ruby's epilepsy medicine, and not only that, but we had forgotten to give it to her this morning as we were rushing out the door. We suck at evacuating.

Thank goodness the people at the pharmacy know us. They gave us some spare medicine to get us through, and we are now all safe and dry. I am assuming that our house is too. I guess we'll see tomorrow, when we attempt to devacuate.

Ruby's Epilepsy

When one writes a blog, one must expect to reveal a certain amount of personal information in it, especially when one is writing a blog that is, at least partly, about parenting.  I have had no trouble at all writing plenty of embarrassing stories about myself and my children.  I try not to embarrass my wife too much, but the children are fair game in my mind, because, you know, they're kids!  They do funny kid things!  When they are older, I hope they will look back on this and laugh, and that they will be able to see that I'm not specifically trying to humiliate them, but rather to find the humor in the silly things that all people do.  But there is one subject I have avoided rather conspicuously in this blog.

Ruby was diagnosed with epilepsy in the early spring.  I first started noticing the seizures in February, and at this point they are (we think) totally under control.  But I have not mentioned this publicly.  We have told family members and close friends, but for some reason this seemed almost too personal to share with the world.

And I have wanted to write about it.  The brain scans at the hospital, the interviews with pre-schools in which we tried to get her in under their "medical condition" clause, the trial and error with the medicine doses, the stacks of unpaid medical bills, and the overall fear, terror, and vulnerability that come with having your "perfect" family life shattered by something like this.

I don't know why, but even though I felt comfortable telling you the crazy things Ruby says in church, how she mispronounces things, and posted pictures of a birthday cake falling on her, I still felt like revealing something like this to the world would be a breach of her privacy.  I spoke to my wife about this, and she suggested I ask Ruby if it would be okay to write about it.  To me this seemed like a bit of a cop-out, since 16 year old Ruby might have different views than 4 year old Ruby on this matter, but it did seem like the only thing to do.  So I asked her.

I should not have been at all surprised that she said it was fine, because she tells everyone she meets about it.  She is not shy.  About anything, really.  She doesn't say "epilepsy," because she doesn't know the word, but she tells people that "her ears turn off" (her term for the short seizures that she is/was subject to), and she will be happy to tell you about her "brain medicine" if you ask her.  Social stigmas are, thankfully, not yet a part of her young world.

So I am now giving myself permission to write about this.  I have almost let something slip about it in other posts (it's hard to keep it out when it affects almost every part of your life in some way), but thought it might be odd and jarring to just drop in a mention of her epilepsy medicine with no prior warning, so it seemed like a coming out post was needed.  This is that post.  I may reference this in the future, and I may not, but if I am, as one of my friends and readers said once, writing my autobiography here, I need to include the bad along with the hilariously ridiculous.

The Origins of Humor

People have been laughing since the dawn of mankind, and trying to make other people laugh is something that we have all aspired to at some point or other in our lives, but some people just seem to be funnier than others.  Perhaps you want to be funnier, but you just don't know how.  Luckily, through careful observation of my children, I have discovered the origins of humor, and I am here to share them with you.

At first glance, it does seem like the children are just giggling about nothing half the time, but upon further study, I have been able to break down what makes them laugh into three clear categories.  There is nothing closer to a pure, untainted human than a child, and so knowing what makes them laugh will reveal what makes everyone laugh.  You can get highbrow and sophisticated with it if you want, but it still all boils down to one of three things.

1) The Misfortune of Others
You can call this the "somebody falls down" style of comedy if you wish, but there is something hilarious at a very basic level about watching bad things happen to other people.  If I trip over something, Ruby and Edward cackle loudly and beg for me to do it again.  Of course, it's only truly funny if there are no long lasting consequences, but as long as everyone is fine in the end, schadenfraude is comedy gold every time.

Grownups enjoy this kind of comedy in films such as Clerks, The Hangover, The Cable Guy, most romantic comedies, and anything involving stooges.  Thank goodness it isn't us, we think, as we see other people's lives unravel in hilarious ways, or watch someone get hit with a pie.

2) The Absurd
There really is nothing funnier to children than to say something clearly wrong and out of place.  You want Ruby to laugh?  Just say, "Hey Ruby, cats say oink!"  She will be rolling on the floor for hours over that one.  Try telling her that you are going to have chairs and pillows for dinner.  Explain to her that you are going to drive the car directly into the living room and leave it there.  State quite firmly that you are going to buy shoes at the grocery store.  You get the idea.

Most comedy films use this to some degree.  Some go all out absurdist, like Spaceballs, or The Naked Gun, but even films where the general idea is to laugh at other people's mishaps generally contain some level of absurdity.  Sure it's funny watching some people wake up from a night of partying, not knowing what happened, but how much funnier is it if there is a tiger in the room!?

3)Parody/Satire
This could almost be included under the absurd, but I concede that it doesn't always have to be, so I have given it it's own category.  Basically, imitating something else, or changing the lyrics of a song, or in some other way changing part of an already established something, is funny.  Sometimes it is absurd, like if I sang "Row, row, row your car."  You cannot row a car, so it is absurd, and yet also a parody.  However, I could also sing "Moo, moo, black cow, have you any milk?  Yes sir, yes sir, three jugs full," and Ruby would laugh at this as well.  There is nothing absurd about it, other than she knows that the song is supposed to be about a sheep, so putting a cow in there is funny.  Also, milk and full do not rhyme.

There are tons of parody movies out there, from Scary Movie, to Johnny English, but the best, and funniest, movies, in my opinion, are the ones that use multiple forms of comedy, like the absurdist satire Ghostbusters (in which many bad things happen), or the aforementioned Spaceballs and The Hangover.

So what can you take away from all of this?  If you want to be funny, either say something ridiculous, or trip over something.  And if that doesn't work, try writing a biting satire of our political system or something.  But above all else, pace yourself, because, as I have just said over and over again, true comedy is just timing.

Real Estate Notes

When I was four I lived
in C Major.
I knew no sharps
or flats.  The yard was open
and full of grass, my room bright
and full of harmony.

At the age of seven
I moved away
to B flat minor.
The small house called
out in sad voices
without rest.
We had no yard
and the new dog
bit my brother.

Now I reside in a healthy
F sharp Major.
I have no yard
and no dog.
Just by listening
you can’t tell that the key
signature has six sharps.
It is C Major
up three steps.

An Open Letter to the Woman Whose Phone Number I Stole

Dear Annoyed Old Woman,

I am very, very sorry that I stole your phone number.  It really wasn't my fault.  I suppose it was a computer error that caused my friends, family, and the pizza place that I work at to call your phone approximately twenty times last Friday afternoon, but I know that this is little consolation.

What happened was this: when I went in to get a new phone, I was offered the chance to switch all of the numbers on my plan to Vermont numbers, and I decided to go for it.  I asked to have numbers that were right next to each other, you know, for remembering purposes, and the computer spit out what it supposed were free phone numbers, available to be transferred immediately.  I know that I only had it for a few hours, but I loved my new number, and so I can only suppose how attached you were to it, having owned it for several years prior to my stealing it.

I thought I had tested the new numbers sufficiently.  I programmed our new numbers into my wife's phone, and mine, and I called her phone from my brand new iPhone 4 (so shiny!).  Her phone rang, and my name popped up as the caller.  Hooray!  The new numbers were working.  I called everyone that I thought might need to know the new numbers that day, and gave them out cheerfully.

The first sign of a problem came a few hours later, when my wife texted me regarding her conversation with you.  I understand that you called her phone, after receiving several calls and messages from people (mostly from my mother, for which I further apologize), and demanded to know why people had been calling you all day looking for me.  You must forgive my wife's confusion, as your call came in under my name in her contact list.  She had no idea who you were, or how you had gotten her husband's phone.  I'm sure that in the future the two of you will get along much better, now that our issues are resolved.

How you and I were both able to call out from the same phone number is still a mystery to me, as is the matter of why my phone received all of the texts to that ill-fated number, and your phone received all of the calls.  I'm sorry that my mother called you upwards of five times.  I'm sorry that the pizza place called you.  I'm sorry that my sister-in-law called you.  I'm sorry for anybody else that may have called you.  I would be super annoyed too.

You will be happy to know that, upon discovery of this issue, I quickly called the AT&T store and, luckily for all of us, Josh did not pick up the phone.  I was put through to Stephen, who solved the matter almost instantly, although none of us could figure out why the AT&T computer was handing out Verizon numbers that had been in service for years.  I can't 100% confirm that I heard the AT&T computer chuckling under its breath, but I do think I heard it mutter "Heh heh, Verizon.  Yoink!"  We will be speaking to it about its behavior you can be sure.

I'm sure it will set your mind at ease to know that my new new number is working fine now, and that I am no longer laying any claim whatsoever to your personal phone number.  I hope that you can see that it was all just an hilarious misunderstanding, and that it was not my intention to have everyone I know prank call you on Friday afternoon.  So enjoy your phone number.  I know that I loved every minute that I had it (or at least part of it) in my care.

With warmest regards,

Tenor Dad

Don't Buy a Phone From Josh

I am writing to warn all of my loyal readers about a sneaky and slimy salesman at the AT&T store on Dorset Street in South Burlington, VT.  His name is Josh, and he is a giant (unprintable in a family blog).  If you get the chance you should buy a phone from Stephen, the best, nicest, and most helpful associate in the store.  He's worth the wait, believe me.

After my iPhone 3GS fell out of my pocket in St. Petersburg last spring, Stephen helped me buy my iPhone 4 about 6-8 weeks ago.  Not only was he nice and helpful, he lowered my monthly bill by $30/month while adding services.  That's the kind of great employee he is.  I also went home with a free $40 phone case.  Go to this guy.  He will help you.

Well, as it turned out, Poseidon destroyed my new phone last Friday, and I was in Massachusetts, despondent and freaking out.  I borrowed a phone, called directory assistance, and asked for the number of my local AT&T store, hoping that Stephen had some magic up his sleeve that could save my recently deceased phone.

When the call was picked up, a voice said, "AT&T Store, Josh speaking."  I asked to speak with Stephen, who had previously told me that he always works on Fridays.  "He's not in today," Josh lied.  Now, I knew Stephen was probably there, so I asked again.  Was he sure?  "Yeah, he hasn't been in all week.  Can I help you with something sir?"  No, I didn't want help from this obvious social miscreant.  I asked when Stephen would be in again.  "I'm not sure.  I don't think he's scheduled all next week either.  But I can help you with anything you need."  I hung up the phone.

So I spent the afternoon putting my phone in rice, driving around to other AT&T stores, and generally wasting my time as my phone continued its journey to the underworld.  The next week, when I arrived back home in Vermont, I decided that I needed a phone again, and so on Friday I went back to see Stephen at the AT&T store.  He knows all the ins and outs of the system, and so within minutes, I had another new iPhone 4, and did not have to pay $700 for it.

I asked Stephen if he had been in the previous Friday.  He said that he had been there all day.  I relayed to him my conversation from a week prior, and his co-worker Josh stood next to him, as a sly smile crept across his face.  Boy, if punching people in their smug, greasy little faces wasn't illegal....

Anyway, I have my phone again, and I am very happy.  And don't buy a phone from Josh.  He sucks.

Ruby's Quotes of the Day

My four-year-old says a lot of funny things.  So many, in fact, that I started a semi-regular facebook status update series entitled "Ruby Quote of the Day," which is very popular amongst my friends and family.  A few of my favorites are "I just bounced this ball so high it went up to God's chest!" and "Dad!  Baby Emergency!  Edward is getting his self all bonked up!"  Sometimes, however, there are too many funny quotes in one day to post, or the crazy conversations are too long to post as a quick status update.  While driving to my mother's house yesterday, three such instances occurred, which seemed to me to be just about the right amount of material for a blog post.  So here are a few of the things that Ruby and I spoke about in the car.

Ruby: Do you think we might ever see an angel someday?
Me: Oh, well, maybe we will.  Angels are all around us.
Ruby: Oh good.  Then we can catch it and get three wishes!
Me: Ummm......I think you are thinking of something else...
Ruby: Too bad they have so much camouflage power...


Edward: Uh oh!
Me: Ruby, why is he saying uh oh?
Ruby: Oh, he's sad cause he's not doing anything naughty right now.
Me: I don't think that's it.  Did he spill his drink?
Ruby: Actually, I think he's just talking to his hand.
Me: Ok, as long as he's not spilling his drink.
Ruby: No, he can't spill his drink, because he already dumped it out into his lap a long time ago!


Ruby: Dad!  What's your favorite song?
Me: Oh, I don't know.
Ruby: Well, which songs do you like?
Me: I like lots of songs.
Ruby: And which one do you like the best?
Me: Oh, I can't decide.
Ruby: Is your brain turned off or something?!  Just pick one!

I Have An Opinion, and That Makes it True

I have a confession to make.  Sometimes I read comments on the internet.  I know it's not healthy, and I always come away feeling worse than I did when I started, but somehow I can't seem to stop myself.  When I am finished reading an article, there are the comments right below it.  It only seems natural to continue reading.

Now, I know that they have done studies on this sort of thing, and that people feel safe and anonymous on the internet, and therefore they act like big old pottymouthed jerks.  I understand that if you are angry about something, you may not always feel comfortable expressing that anger in a social setting, and so the internet is the perfect place for you to unleash your inner demons out into the (virtual) world.  But what I'm confused about is why people get like that about everything.

It is my basic assumption that, egged on by the media, people posting comments at the end of a politically or religiously themed article are going to fire off angry, one-sided remarks to anyone that dares post an opposing viewpoint.  It is the norm these days, and if our reporters and journalists can do it, why can't we?  Where I did not expect to find such vitriol was at the end of an article asking if HD technology made people look too "real" on TV.

My word, you would have thought we were debating whether or not the holocaust had actually happened.  A quick scan of the comments did not reveal posts such as "In my opinion, you can never get high enough definition," or "Yes, I agree.  In my experience, I have noticed a distracting amount of facial detail on the characters in my soap operas."  Oh, no.  Every comment was something along the lines of "HD is 4 LOOSERS and if U like it, U R N idiot!" or "Anyone who doesn't like HD is an uneducated troglodyte who clearly doesn't know how to operate a television."

Why?  Why do we feel the need to assert our personal opinions as if they were sacred truths?  For Pete's sake, we are talking about a picture quality setting on our televisions!  What does it matter to you if the guy down the street doesn't watch movies in HD?  Are you concerned that television manufacturers will stop making the kind of TV you like unless everybody else likes it too?  Do you just have a pathological need to be right about everything?  Are we all just whiny losers on the inside, and only now do we have the socially acceptable tools to express our true selves in every forum?

I wish it were just HD TVs and politics and religion.  Sadly, I see the same ridiculous online posturing everywhere, be it in a discussion about the debt ceiling, or under an article announcing a new Justin Bieber album.  Look, it's perfectly fine to be angry about the debt ceiling negotiations, and you can be even angrier about the new Justin Bieber album, but just be polite about it, okay?  And anyone who doesn't want to be polite SUX HARDCORE!

Explaining to Your Children Where Meat Comes From

The other day, Ruby asked me what meat was.  This was a fair question, as we were eating it at the time, and I explained to her that meat comes from animals, just like vegetables come from plants, and that life must consume other life in order to survive.  Plants consume nutrients from the soil that come from dead plants and animals, and animals either eat plants or animals or both for their food.  I thought that it might have freaked her out, knowing that she was eating a cow or a chicken, but she was surprisingly fine with it.

On the one hand, I couldn't help but wonder how she hadn't made the connection in the first place.  She knows what a chicken is.  Old MacDonald has scores of them on his farm, with a cluck cluck here and there and everywhere.  And she knows that what she gets from old McDonald's is chicken as well, albeit in McNugget form.  Had it never occurred to her before that these might be the same thing?  But then, when you think about it, we have a lot of words with more than one meaning in our language.  She knows that we can park the car, as well as take a walk in the park, and that we can ride a horse or have a hoarse throat, so maybe it is plausible that we could eat a chicken and see a chicken at the farm and have those be two different things.

Regardless of whether or not it should have been obvious, the fact that we were eating animals was news to her, and not horrible news either.  She asked what kind of animal bacon was, and I told her it was from a pig.  "Eating pigs is my favorite," she replied matter-of-factly.

The most disturbing thing for me was when she sat me down to play restaurant.  Ruby loves her kitchen set, as you might imagine from watching her cooking show, and she loves to have me sit down and order from her restaurant.  Normally, she brings out a blank piece of paper, or a book, and has me order from the "menu," but the other day, after discovering what meat really is, she brought me over her farm book and opened up to a page full of cute cartoon farm animals staring back at me.

"Ok, now you point to which animal you want to eat," she said firmly.  I gazed down at the happy creatures and reluctantly pointed to the anthropomorphized chicken.  "Ok, chicken?" she asked, pretending to write it down.  "And, do you want any bacon?"  I nodded.  "That's him," she said, jabbing her finger down onto a very friendly looking pig.  "Now, do we eat sheep?" she asked, pointing at some sheep dancing around in their pasture.  I told her that we do, and we call it lamb.  "Ok, some lambs too, how about some cow?"

One by one, we went through her book of jolly farm friends, and ate them.  I guess I was very convincing in my whole "circle of life" speech.  Now I just have to re-convince myself. 

Rap Music Is Music, But It's Still Okay To Hate It

Back in the arrogant days of my youth, I firmly declared to anyone that would listen that rap was not real music.  Where were the notes?  Where were the pitches?  It was all just yelling and thumping as far as I was concerned, and I have heard this argument repeated by many other grumpy old people as the years have worn on.  But now, having various degrees in music, and realizing that my younger self was kind of an idiot, I have come to a better understanding of the subject of rap music, and why I still think it generally sucks, and why that's okay.

On the way to earning my degrees, I learned that music consists of a variety of elements, including, but not limited to, pitch, rhythm, timbre, dynamics, texture, harmony, and form.  I learned that rests in music are equally as important as the sounded notes, and that a musical composition can have as many, or as few of these elements as the composer wishes.  Some pieces call for a lot of dynamic change, and some for not much at all.  Other pieces may have a lot of interesting rhythms, but not much going on harmonically.  One could hardly argue that the drum solo at the beginning of "Wipe Out" by The Surfaris is not part of the song and is not music.  But what if the whole song was just a drum solo?  Would it still be music?  The answer, of course, is yes.  A musical composition can consist of rhythm, dynamics, texture, and form without including changing pitch.  So technically, if you just yelled rhyming lyrics in a rhythmic way over a thumping back beat, that would be considered music.  Case closed.

So rap music is indeed music.  And I like music.  Why, then, do I suffer so much at the end of my pizza shift, as my co-workers blast the musical stylings of "Lil' Wayne" aka "Whizzy Q. Baily" aka "Junior Birdman" aka, well tons of other things apparently, over the radio?  I must say, I do not enjoy the type of music in which someone is basically talking in rhythm over a beat or a hook.  Even if your rhymes are clever (and they generally are not), I would respond to them in a more enthusiastic way if you could at least write a little melody for them.  And honestly, most of these songs end up sounding like the rhyming game I used to play in college with members of my a cappella group, in which we would annoy all the other members of the group by changing the last word of a lyric over and over again, until the rhymes were so ridiculous that everyone wanted to punch us in the face.

Sample College A Cappella Lyric:
I made up my mind, Ain't wastin' no more time.  I made up my mind.  I'm fallin' over you

Sample Rhyming Game:
I'm fallin' over shoes.
I'm fallin' over glue.
I'm fallin' over dudes.
I'm fallin' over kangaroos.
I'm fallin' over Winnie the Pooh.
I'm fallin' over *POW* (that was us getting punched)

This, as you can see, was very annoying.  But just look at this sample lyric from Small Wayne!
...damn, pardon the gram
...feel like I’m a part of the fam
...like some sort of exam
...lions, horses and rams

What?  Rams?  Okay, you are really stretching for a rhyme there buddy.  Anyway, the point is, for whatever reason, I am not a fan of this musical style.  Now, to explain this I am going to have to make some broad generalizations, and for that I apologize in advance, but here I go.

People of African descent generally like rap music more than people of European descent.  I know, I know.  I'm sorry white people, I know some of you like rap music, and yes, Eminem is a fine rapping gentleman, but as I said, it is a broad generalization, with many exceptions I'm sure.  But why is this (broadly) so?  What is it about African Americans that makes them good at rapping, and more inclined to enjoy it, than us white folk?  Because even though I am saying that rap is kind of terrible, I am readily admitting to liking tons of terrible music myself.  I loves me some cheesy pop music.  Give me a dominant followed by a tonic and I am in heaven.  And if a sub-dominant precedes it?  Well!  You've got yourself a song!  I-IV-V!  I-IV-V!  Why do I love it so?

The answer, my friends, is history.  Hundreds of years ago, people in Africa were listening to stuff like this:

What were the Europeans listening to?  This:

So is it any wonder that white people are terrible at rapping, and often don't get it?  The closest to rapping that white people ever got was this:

So if you don't like rap music and you are white, don't feel bad!  It's not in your tradition!  And if you do like rap music and you are white, hey, this is America!  The great melting pot!  We can listen to, and enjoy, music from all sorts of fun cultures.  Good for you for expanding your horizons!  I wish I could join you, but I just can't seem to get into it.  And that's okay.

Life Without a Phone

On Friday I went into the ocean to test the waters, fully clothed and only up to my knees, when an errant wave attacked me from behind, soaking me completely and getting salt water into my phone.  Although it was not fully submerged, my phone started vibrating erratically, and then turned off.  Forever.

I drove to the phone store for advice.  I put it in a bag of rice for three days.  I held a prayer meeting for it.  But, as the guy at the AT&T store told me, salt water + iPhone =  instant death.  So now I have no phone.

Life without a phone is strange.  Since the phone is only a month old and I had to renew my contract for 2 years to buy it, a new identical phone would cost me $675 (and honestly, even if I did have $675, I would not spend it on a phone), so I am not going to buy a new one.  I'm not sure what my plan will be going forward, but for now I just don't have a phone, and it is at once liberating and frightening.

I have read many articles online (sent to me by my wife) explaining to me how smart phones rewire our brains, and we become addicted to them.  It is totally true.  Every time I check my e-mail, or my facebook, or my blog stats, I get a little jolt of happy brain, and so I tend to check my phone as often as possible, sometimes without realizing I am doing it.  But with my phone gone, I find that I have a lot more time to do other things, like mope about the loss of my phone.

I am definitely going through some sort of withdrawal.  I have been phone-less for 4 days now, which seems like a short amount of time when I type it here, but it feels like an eternity.  I keep thinking I feel my leg vibrating where my phone used to sit in my pocket.  I reach for my phone constantly before remembering that it is not there.  I am vaguely sad all the time.  It kind of makes me not want to have a phone at all anymore, seeing what it has done to me, but on the other hand, if you don't give me your phone right now, I will cut you.

The most ironic thing of all is that the one thing I don't really miss is, you know, the phone part.  I don't actually use the calling people function all that often.  Over the past four days I have maybe wanted to call someone once, but I have wanted internet access, the camera, or the GPS many times, and cried a little inside when I could not have them.  O brave new phone!  That had such features in it!

I suppose I can't really function forever without a phone.  People will need to get in touch with me eventually.  But for now, I am trying to learn to live without my third arm.  Maybe I'll go outside.  Maybe we could go for a walk or something.  Except it's raining.  Well, let me just check the weather for the afternoon.  I have a weather app that.....  oh.  right.  *sigh*

Cookies S01E02 - Peanut Butter

Back by popular demand, here is the second episode of Ruby's cooking show "Cookies."  This time with guest appearances by Bear and Edward!  Enjoy!

And in case you missed episode one, you can watch it here.

What We Teach Our Children

I started off life, like most 5-year-olds, as a socialist.  Over time I morphed into a liberal, and then arrived at my most recent state of fairly moderate.  As there is no moderate party, I tend to default back to my liberal views when having to make a choice, but I have definitely become more conservative as I age.  Then, suddenly, and without warning, I became a parent and everything changed again.

When I think about the lessons that I want to teach to my children, they seem to be pretty standard: Share, Play Nice, Treat Every Person With Respect, etc.  But when I look at the real world, these don't seem to actually be the values of our society in practice.  Sure, maybe in theory, but aren't the real values that we practice: Don't Share (Unless you have way way too much more than you can possibly use, and even then, only share a little), Play Nice When People Are Watching (the only crime is getting caught, right?), Some People Deserve Respect (but we should mock, abuse, or ignore those with whom we don't agree), etc.?  I'm not saying that you personally live your life like this (I try not to), but as a society, this is the message I am getting.

On it's surface, good old American capitalism would seem to be the most fair system of all, and we all learned that fairness is important in kindergarten.  You get what you work for, right?  If it's yours, you get to keep it, and if you have the best idea, or the best product, or the best anything, then you will succeed and prosper.  But...what if you don't have the best idea?  What if you have a good idea that is second best?  We don't talk about that much in our praise of capitalism, and if we do, then we say that those people can get a new idea, or else work for the guy with the best idea and everyone wins.  In theory, the man on top has been taught by his kindergarten teacher to share, play nice, and respect all human life, but in practice, capitalism becomes a very scary game for a lot of people.

I suppose one could argue that kindergarten is just a bunch of socialist propaganda.  All that taking turns, and sharing crap?  Why would we teach our children that?!  Damn liberals.  But why do we teach them that?  These ideas aren't facts that are absolute, or fantasies that they can indulge in because they are young.  We are teaching our kids morality, and the way we currently teach it tells them that all people are worthy of love and respect.  Kindergarten is anti-greed, anti-hoarding, anti-partisan politics, anti-prejudice, anti-violence, and pro-happiness.  And the more I think about it, so am I.

I am not going to teach my children anything I don't personally believe in, and I hope you aren't either.  The more I think about how I want my children to live, learn, and behave, the closer back to socialism I move.  Not pure socialism of course, because that isn't fair either, and I don't really want to live in a commune and let everyone use my stuff, but certainly not pure unbridled capitalism.  I want my children to grow up in a world where everyone shares what they have with everyone else, to a point, but they still have an individual responsibility and incentive to strive for success.  I would never punish my children for failure, as long as they were trying hard.  Why should we punish each other?  Why are people trying to eliminate all the safety nets?  Because they are expensive?  Because people abuse the system?  (Give me an example of a system that people don't abuse, and I'll build you a utopia)  Because it basically amounts to forced sharing by our kindergarten teachers government?

The scenario that I keep coming back to is this: if a kid walked into a classroom with a huge tub of cookies, what would common sense and shared social values dictate happen?  Should the kid be allowed to sit and eat all the cookies?  No.  Should the cookies be divided up equally among everyone?  No.  Everyone should get some cookies, and the kid that brought them should get more.  And once everyone has had enough cookies, the extras go home with the kid as well.  That's what we teach our children.

Are these childhood lessons just an ideal to strive towards, or something attainable?  Are they a fairytale we tell them to protect them from the cruel reality of the world?  Are they hippie commie BS, and we really ought to be teaching our kids to take whatever they can get and if the weak dumb kids can't make it, well, fair's fair?  I don't know what they are, but I do think that, as a society, we ought to believe what we tell our children.  Or else stop telling it to them.

Edward Does the Dishes

Edward, like Ruby before him (and possibly like every one-and-a-half-year-old), loves to put things in other things and take them out again.  Packing and unpacking boxes, putting toys in and out of the toybox, and taking clothes out of the drawer, unfolding them, and then stuffing them back in are all activities that he enjoys on a daily basis.  This makes unloading the dishwasher the perfect chore for him.

The only potential problem that I could have envisioned with Edward unloading the dishwasher (aside from the fact that he cannot reach the cabinets) is the smashing and complete destruction of every one of our dishes, but I felt that, by closely monitoring him and assisting as needed, I could take care of that problem.  There was just one issue that I hadn't counted on when I started letting Edward help with the chore.

Edward licks every dish as he takes it out of the dishwasher, and then hands it to me to put away.  I don't know if he feels that they are not clean enough and that he is helping out, or maybe he just likes the taste of clean dishes, but either way, I wish he would not do that thing.  Plates?  Licked.  Silverware?  Licked.  Sometimes sucked.  Cups?  Licked.  Now, if I grab them from him quickly enough, I can often prevent the licking, but not with forks.  He loves forks the most, at least for licking purposes, and he will not give up a fork to me until it has been properly coated in saliva and ready for the drawer.  My gut feeling is that this is not sanitary.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the help with the dishes and all, but isn't the fact that the thing was in your mouth half of the reason we are washing it in the first place?  I tried to explain this to him, but he didn't seem to care.  So now Ruby helps too.  She is on lick patrol.  Edward picks up the dishes, Ruby snatches them out of his hands, and I put them away.  It's not a very efficient system, and it often involves crying, but at least the dishes are getting done and my children are not destroying anything else, and isn't that all a parent can ask for, really?

Don't Give the Girl a Microphone

It has finally occurred to me why parents embarrass their children so much during the teenage years.  It is payback for what the parents have to go through during the precocious pre-school years.  This was never more clear to me than on this past Sunday morning, when the pastor made the rookie mistake of giving Ruby the microphone during the children's time.

Ruby is very eager.  This is a general statement that applies to almost anything, but it specifically applies to church lately, and when the time came for Ruby to head to the front of the church, she was all smiles and waves as she dashed to the altar.  There is nothing Ruby loves more than her adoring public.

The topic of the day was fear, and what we are afraid of.  As a list of possible fears was being drafted, the dark was suggested, and Ruby raised her hand vigorously.  She wanted to inform everyone that she was afraid of the dark (which was news to me) and that she always had to have her night light on (which is not news to me).  She then went on to describe in great detail her bedtime night light routine, completely hijacking the service, because, well, she had a microphone.  She ended her story with the accusation that Mommy and Daddy often forget to turn her night light on at night and she is very scared.

Well, this drew great laughs from the congregation, and the pastor mock-scolded us for terrifying our child as I silently vowed to pull out my worst dance moves at Ruby's first middle school dance that I was now definitely chaperoning.  The pastor then proceeded to bring up the fact that we forgot to turn on Ruby's night light about six more times over the course of the service.  It fit in well with his theme that God is the light in our lives and with Him we don't have to be afraid.  He is like the night light that we forget to turn on or something.  The thing is, I have never forgotten to turn on Ruby's night light.  Simone says she forgot once.  Luckily for us, Ruby remembers everything.

After the service I asked Ruby why she was afraid of the dark, since I had never known that before.  She said "Well, when it's dark you bump into things, like the corners of things, and it might hurt, so I like to have a light on, because I'm scared of bumping into corners," which, I suppose, is a pretty legitimate fear.  Better than monsters or boogeymen anyway.  But all of this is really just to serve as a warning to other pastors: if you see Ruby coming, don't give the girl a microphone.

Dragon Boats

Yesterday, as we struggled through traffic on the way to church and then struggled further to find a parking spot where parking spots are usually plentiful, it occurred to us that we were in the midst of the dragon boat festival.  As I was very curious to see flying boats that shoot fire, we decided as a family that, after church of course, we would go and check it out.

Now, you may not believe what I am about to tell you, but as it turns out, these "dragon boats" neither flew, breathed fire, guarded treasure piles, had scales, nor kidnapped a single princess.  Apparently I was confusing dragon boats with "Boat Dragons," which are something else entirely.  No, dragon boats are just long, skinny, flat boats with a dragon's head mounted on the front of them.  Rather grisly, but hey, whatever floats your...oh nevermind, it's too easy.

We walked down to the waterfront (for as we all learned from Puff, dragons live by the sea), and there we saw a bunch of boats that looked kind of like this:

So, still pretty cool, even if they weren't actual dragons.  We got to see a couple of races, and I think we got the basic idea of how these things work.  First you fill your boat with rowers.  This is to make the boat go.  Then, you put a guy up front on drums, Ben-Hur style.  This is to make the rowers go.  The rowers row in time with the beating drum, so basically whoever has the fastest drummer, wins the race.  This is why, traditionally, all races are won by Animal, the popular drummer from The Electric Mayhem.  Since Animal has a very busy schedule, what with his new movie coming out in November and all, he is generally unavailable to be on one's dragon boat team.  To compensate for this, the drummers try to channel the spirit of Animal by dressing in outlandish costumes while shouting and growling as loudly as possible.  We saw several great costumes out there, including one person dressed as the sun.  Here is a good shot of someone dressed either as a viking, or an opera singer:

There was also some sort of festival attached to the races, with a lot of nice smelling tents, but as we did not have any cash on us, we were not able to snack in the manner in which we are normally accustomed, so we left in search of lunch.  I'm sure the rest of the festival was fun, and perhaps we will go back again next year, but the point of all of this is just, don't except real dragons.  Or even flying boats.  And bring cash.

Recycling Music

I am trying to clean out my house.  I have x amount of space, but it seems like I have 2x amount of stuff, so half of it has to go.  The problem is, I hate getting rid of things.  Everything I own has some sort of memory attached to it, and I must confess to being more sentimental than I would like to be.  But even knowing this about myself, I was not prepared for the reaction I had when I tried to clean out my music boxes yesterday.

I have a lot of music.  From opera scores, to choral works, to choir anthems, to photo copies of random things I sung once, there are boxes and boxes of music sitting upstairs, and shelves and shelves of it sitting downstairs.  How did I get so much music?  Well, it's easy when you never throw anything away.  So the time has come.  Time to cringe and purge.

To start with, I decided that I was not going to get rid of any opera scores.  For one thing, they are expensive to replace, and for another, one never knows when one is going to have to sing any given opera, so those all stay.  Next I went through all of my choral works, and since I had purchased most of these, and generally enjoy them, I kept all of those as well.  Hmmmm, this is not going well.

But then I got to the largest section of my collection: mountains of unfiled white sheets of paper that ostensibly had music printed on them.  Intermingled with all of this music were contact sheets, rehearsal schedules, seating charts, and a variety of other singing paraphernalia that I will never need again.  Ok, this was easier.  All random seating charts from concerts I did 8 years ago are getting recycled, even though they do bring back fond memories of whatever event they were from.  Same goes for rehearsal schedules and whatnot.  But then that brings us to the music.

Something deep in my soul cannot stand the thought of recycling a piece of music, even if it is a photocopy on a torn piece of paper and I will never sing it again.  It seems almost sacreligious in a way.  I know that I am never again going to sing the large stack of men's Finnish songs that were photocopied for me back during my brief stint in that all-male Finnish choral group, but can I really just toss them into the recycling bin?  I don't think anybody else would want them, and they are taking up a lot of space, but....it's music!  Somebody composed it, and I sang it, and now I am going to destroy it?

But what is music?  Isn't it more about the sound that is produced, than our meager attempts at capturing that sound in writing?  I can't ever destroy a song by throwing a piece of paper into the recycling bin.  As long as someone is around to sing it, it will always exist.  But how can they sing it if they don't remember how it goes!?  They need the printed photocopy that I just erased from existence!  I just killed a song!

Perhaps this is all irrational, but it's how I feel anyway.  I separated the music into a small stack of songs that I might sing again or really enjoyed more than the rest, and then a much larger stack of things that I don't really need anymore.  The recycle stack is still up there, waiting in musical purgatory for me to grow a pair and send it off to die.  I'll get to it.  One of these days.

Victim of Textual Assault

When we last left Tenor Dad, he was unsuccessfully making his way to Carnegie Hall, but not to worry dear readers!

As it turns out, the recording session I was doing was not at Carnegie Hall at all, but at a recording studio near the Bowery, nowhere near the actual Hall.  I made it just in time, even after my subway train went out of service with me on it, and spent the day recording all of the tenor choral parts from Carmina Burana.

Let me tell you, this was not an easy job.  For one thing, it is very difficult to sing middle harmonies by yourself in a padded room in a studio.  The melodies were a little easier, but with no other parts there to guide you, singing the Tenor 2 line was often a challenge in the staying in tune department.  There is a reason all of the parts are sung together. 

Recordings are also pretty unforgiving.  Little blips and wiggles that no one would ever notice in a live performance are exposed, stark and bare, for all the world to hear and analyze on a recording.  This is why, after every take, the conductor, the pianist, the recording engineer and I would play back what had seemed like a flawless performance to our ears, and then proceed to find ten little things that I had not sung perfectly.  I imagine that this must be rather what it is like to receive a colonoscopy in front of your in-laws and co-workers.

But the worst part of all was the fact that Carmina Burana has so many dang words.  I felt like a victim of textual assault.  Certain movements (I'm looking at you, In Taberna) have so much text, and move so quickly, that it is nearly impossible to get it all in there perfectly.  Now, in a concert, when there are ten other guys singing your part, as well as an orchestra playing, and the audience is sitting a respectable distance away, no one would ever notice if you accidentally sang the word "et" instead of the word "est," but when you are alone in the recording studio, well, let's just say that some movements took a lot longer than others.

At this point I would like to answer your most burning question, which is "Did you get a free lunch?"  And the answer is yes, I did get a free lunch.  I had a filet mignon panini.  No kidding.  I am an artist.  I can eat whatever I want for free lunch.

And so, after 8 hours of singing (and if you don't think 8 hours of straight singing is exhausting, try it some time) and one hour of free lunch, we had completed the project.  Now high schoolers all over the country will be able to listen to me singing their parts on their practice CDs.  And if I mis-pronounced anything, well, too bad.

How Do You Get To Carnegie Hall?

So Carnegie Hall called me on Saturday and wanted to hire me for a recording project.  Obviously I said yes, and so here I am in New York City once again, trying to find the dang place.  I asked one guy how to get there, and he said "Practice," so I sat on the corner for a while doing some vocal warmups and going over my music, but that didn't seem to work, so now I need some new ideas.

It's kind of a cool project.  I guess they have a program in which hundreds of high schools kids from around the country get to come do a concert at Carnegie Hall, and these kids need to learm their music ahead of time, so they are sent a learning CD with just their part recorded on it.  That is where I come in.  I am on my way to record all choral tenor parts for Carmina Burana so that Carnegie Hall can distribute them to all the young tenors around the country and they can listen to me sing.

If I could just find the dang place...

Tune in Tomorrow for more exciting adventures with Tenor Dad!  Does He Find Carnegie Hall?  How Does The Gig Go?  Do They Give Him Free Lunch?  These questions and more will be answered next time on....Tenor Dad!  (cue theme music)

(fade to commercial)

My Latest 25 Mix - August 2011

Way back in November I wrote a post about my Latest 25 Mix, and talked about the different pop songs that had caught my ear for one reason or another.  Well, here we are in August and I have finally cycled through all of the songs on the list, removing Glee's version of Teenage Dream today to make way for Coldplay.  I didn't set out to do this, but I have decided to keep you all updated on the list as it renews itself.  Pop music is as much a part of my life as opera music, but I never get to talk about it, so bear with me as I explain to you why you should (or should not) listen to what I am currently listening to.

1) Fuck You, by Cee-Lo Green - Yes, I try to keep this a family friendly blog, but I am not a fan of censorship.  I refuse to listen to "Forget You," because it loses so much of its impact.  The whole point of the song, to me, is how easy going and cheerful the music is, combined with the pure shock of the chorus.  So I don't listen to a lot of things with explicit lyrics, but when I do, I want to hear what was intended, not what is safe for the radio.  I do skip this one when Ruby is in the car though.

2) Firework, by Katy Perry - So sue me.  I like Katy Perry.  Everything she sings gets stuck in my ear, and she is Ruby's favorite singer for sure.  From "California Gurls" to "Waking Up in Vegas," Ruby has loved Katy Perry for years now.  I blame myself.

3) Dog Days Are Over, by Florence and the Machine - What can I say about this song except that it rocks.  The slow build, the crescendo, the assurance that the dog days are over, and yet the warning that you better run.  I can't hear this song enough.

4) Backin' Up Song, by Schmoyoho/The Gregory Brothers - Almost everything these guys autotune is pure comedy gold, but the extended iTunes version of this song is funny and catchy, and Ruby requests it all the time.  Walk Off the Earth also does a great cover of this which we listen to a lot as well, but you can't beat the original.

5) Raise Your Glass, by Pink - Ultimate nerd anthem?  Check.  Loved by and frequently sung by my wife?  Check.  Two sure fire ways to get onto the Latest 25 Mix.

6) Kill The Director, by The Wombats - This, to me, is a clever twist on all the songs moaning about how hard love is.  The constant yelling of "If this is a rom-com, kill the director" is matched only by the later shouting of "This is no Bridget Jones!"

7) What the Hell, by Avril Lavigne - I like Avril when she is angry and chanting about something.  This song reminds me of my other favorite Avril song, "Girlfriend," (which I play at top volume and sing in an embarrassing manner while speeding down the highway) and even though "What the Hell" is not quite as good, I still enjoy it.  And to prevent Ruby from learning naughty language, I convinced her that Avril is singing "Walk the Cow."  Thank goodness for poor diction.

8) Rolling in the Deep, by Adele - This is the only song I have ever put onto the mix without listening to it first.  Adele's new single?  It's going on the list.  Now, I know that people are complaining that it is overplayed, but luckily for me I never listen to the radio.  Also, this is definitely Ruby's favorite song at the moment.  She requests it all the time, although she calls it "The Trash Heap Song," because she is under the impression that the trash heap from Fraggle Rock is singing it.

9) Cooler Than Me, by Mike Posner - I know this song is a little old, but I had never heard it when it was performed flawlessly by Groove For Thought on The Sing-Off.  I downloaded the original and put in in the mix, but I still wish it were the Groove For Thought version every time I hear it.

10) When I Get You Alone, by Robin Thicke - Any song that includes "A Fifth of Beethoven" by Walter Murphy is going on the list.  I'm just saying.  It's just too bad he didn't include that kickin' hammond organ solo.

11) Marry You, by Bruno Mars - So I got that Bruno Mars album, and I kind of liked it, especially this song, maybe because I heard it on Glee first.  But anything is better than that terrible song about the grenades.  You can't use the colloquial "Ya" for "you" when you are accenting it!  It sounds terrible!  You can say "Let me get that FOR ya," or you can say "Let me get that for YOU," but if you said "Let me get that for YA!" it sounds either like you are doing karate, or like you are an idiot.  But Marry You is a good song.

12) The Lazy Song, by Bruno Mars - One of my unwritten rules of the list is that when I get a new album, I can put two or three songs that I like onto the list, but I try not to put more than three on, or else the list starts to get too homogenous.  However, if some song gets put out a few months later as a single, sometimes I will use that as an excuse to add it posthumously.  I can't do that with Doo-Wops and Hooligans though, because I think I am late to the Bruno Mars party and all of these songs have been released as singles already.  Anyway, I liked The Lazy Song and Marry Me the best at first listen.

13) Animal, by The Glee Cast - This track is actually by The Warblers, which means it is actually by the Tufts Beelzebubs, which means it is actually awesome.  If you are new to this blog, I am a huge a cappella nerd.  You have been warned.

14) Country Girl, by Luke Bryan - This is, perhaps, the worst song ever written.  As someone who hates country music in general, this song contains almost every single thing that I hate about country music.  It references a southern state.  It specifically mentions a tractor.  It has the word "country" in the title.  It is degrading to women.  He sings about his truck.  He sings about his boots.  The word "critters" is included.  He specifically dedicates part of the song to rednecks.  And yet, I feel like perhaps it is so bad of a song that it has circled around again to become a good song.  Honestly, if you change a few of the words and sing it up an octave, I'm pretty sure it could be an Aerosmith song.  When I listen to it, I pretend I have just written a comedy musical and the two stock "redneck" characters have just met, and this is what the guy redneck sings to the girl redneck, to great laughs from the audience at this perfect satire of country music.

15) Can't Keep Johnny Down, by They Might Be Giants - TMBG is probably my favorite band, and this opening track is exactly what I love about them.  It's fun, it's catchy, it's kind of about some random mundane thought or feeling, and they had a fan video contest for the official music video.  The winning video is kind of awesome, and you can watch it here.

16) Perform This Way, by "Weird Al" Yankovic - As always, Weird Al never fails to deliver on up to date parody and clever satire.  Is he making fun of Lady Gaga, or defending her?  Either way, my favorite part of the song is the "Express Yourself" being sung by the Madonna in the background.  But the video is a little terrifying, so be warned.

17) Deer in the Headlights, by Owl City - I'm not sure if it's cool or uncool to like Owl City at this point, but I love Owl City.  The lame puns, the silly wordplay, and the fact that it's just one guy sitting in his parents' basement - I feel like he's living my dream!  I didn't really like his first single off the new album (Alligator Sky), but the rest of the album is on repeat for me constantly.

18) Galaxies, by Owl City - If you listen to this track after its predecessor on the album, it becomes a memorial for the Challenger disaster.  If you listen to it on its own, it becomes an affirmation of God in troubled times.  At least it does for me.  One of the things I love about Owl City is the very clear references to his spirituality in the music, without it becoming a religious album.  His belief in God is just a part of who he is, and the music reflects that.  I wish more of life could be that integrated.

19) Angels, by Owl City - Again, you could either take this in a religious way, or a romantic way.  Depending on my mood, I hear it differently every time.

20) If That Isn't Love, by "Weird Al" Yankovic - This is by far my favorite track off of his new album.  It sounds like Hanson, but it's another classic twisted love song, as sung by a man who really doesn't know what love is.

21) Party in the C.I.A., by "Weird Al" Yankovic - One of things that I love about Weird Al, is that he can take songs I don't actually like, and make me like them.  I really hated "Party in the USA" when it came out, but switch the words around and make it about assassinations and water boarding?  Perfect!  It even made me like the original song a little more than I did before.

22) Tonight Tonight, by Hot Chelle Rae - I can count the number of chords they use on one hand.  Ah, yes, this is what pop music is truly about.  Taking a couple of simple chords and repeating them over and over while singing about partying.  Pure summer time bliss.

23) Let Your Hair Hang Down, by They Might Be Giants - Finally, the new album came out!  "Can't Keep Johnny Down" was great, but I needed more!  The whole album is pretty good (it reminds me of their earlier stuff while still sounding new), but this is one of my favorites.

24) When Will You Die, by They Might Be Giants - The best part of this song is when they name each member of the band personally, and announce that each of them are waiting for you to die.  I love peppy music combined with macabre lyrics.  It works every time!

25) Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall, by Coldplay - This should have gone on this list earlier, but I honestly wasn't that into this song when it first came out a few weeks (months?) ago.  However, the more I hear it, the more I like it, and today I finally added it to the mix.  If you, for some reason, do not like this song, I encourage you to listen to it a few more times.  Unless you listen to the radio a lot and the reason you do not like this song is because they are overplaying it.  In that case, stop listening to it immediately before it is ruined for good.

So that's it.  That's what I listen to driving back and forth from home, to the pizza place, to auditions in New York City.  And in another nine or ten months, maybe we can do this again with songs that none of us have heard yet.

The Ten Tenors

This past weekend I participated in a concert with the American Bel Canto Association called "The Ten Tenors."  Now, to be clear from the start, this number ten was arrived at in a very loose sense.  For one thing, one of the tenors was sick and didn't come, so already we are down to nine.  For another thing, one of the tenors was the accompanist and didn't actually sing anything in the concert (although his playing was quite lovely), so I'm not sure if we can really count him.  I guess we can count him as half, so we are currently at 8.5 tenors.  Finally, one of the tenors was the lowest tenor I have ever heard.  He must be a tenor profundo or something, because he sang only bass arias which, while again very lovely, would seem to disqualify him as a tenor.  I am going to give him 25% tenor status to be nice.

So it would seem that I was part of a concert that included, by my calculations, 7.75 tenors, one of whom was the organizer of the concert, but since he did sing on the program I am granting him full tenor status.  The concert took place in a renovated barn somewhere in what people from Manhattan call upstate New York, but which I, being from Vermont, will call downstate New York.  This was a pretty cool barn, and on the second floor there was a wonderful place for singing a concert.  And so we did.

Before we could sing, however, we had to set up the space.  This meant mainly moving the piano into the proper performance position.  The only issue was that the newly renovated barn had beautiful hardwood floors, and we had been asked to make sure the piano was lifted from one place to another, and placed on large rugs rather than ever touching the floor.  I guess that would have been okay if we had figured out where we wanted the piano to go before we started moving it, and if the piano had not been so dang heavy.  It took all 7.75 of us to lift it, and we moved it from rug to rug and back again, trying to find the perfect spot.  When we finally finished our game of heavy hopscotch, we realized that the rug was facing the wrong way under the piano, so we had to move it back and start again.  This was disastrous for, as you probably already know, there is nothing a tenor hates more than hard work.

Well, the concert was a big success.  We had anticipated an audience of about 5-7 people, but far more than that showed up; so many, in fact, that we ran out of programs.  The barn was bursting with opera lovers that day, and they did not go home disappointed.  But enough about that.  Let's skip to the part where we all got to go to dinner afterward.

We all got to go to dinner afterward.  I don't remember the name of the place that we went, only that the food was good and the service was slow, just as one might expect from a place such as that.  I don't think other people's service was as slow, as many tables that came in after us seemed to leave before us.  I assume the waiter just saw a table full of tenors and decided to avoid it for the most part.  This did rile us up though, as we were very hungry after all of that piano moving and aria singing.  My favorite comment of the night was when the waiter, after 20 minutes of trying to get him to refill our waters, finally came over with a pitcher and some cups and told us we could pass the pitcher around the table.  The pianist/tenor quickly shouted "Oh, and should we just tip ourselves too?"  Yeah, it was that kind of dinner.

Overall the concert was a big success, and I believe we will be doing more of them in the future.  We finally have the piano where we want it, so it would be a shame not to return.  All we need now is 2.25 more tenors.