Reporting in from Atlanta here:

Today's the last day of the Geoff Wolinetz 2008 Nationwide Traveling Rock 'n Roll Tour. I'm sad that it's coming to an end, but I'm looking forward to rekindling the special relationship that I have with my bed. I expect to be lying face down, fully clothed and passed out around 8:30 tonight.

It's been a good trip down here. It's always nice to see/meet the people that you work with on a day-to-day basis. When you spend a lot of time talking to people on the phone, it's easy to forget that they are actual people and not the vicious robots with bloodlust that haunt your dreams night after night, while you try to escape into the blissful arms of the god Morpheus. Man, them robots is frightening.

Um, anyway ...

Something about Graydon Carter. I haven't yet had the chance to see what all the Miley Cyrus hubbub is, but I'll always take an opportunity to take a shot at that egomaniac. Dude, you're the editor-in-chief. It's your magazine. Don't put a 15-year-old girl on the cover of your magazine like that. And Billy Ray, Jesus H. Christ, it's not bad enough that I have to periodically remember that you had a song that made me want to shoot myself, now you're letting your daughter pose like that? You were at the shoot! What's the matter with you? Maybe it you cut some of that hair, it'll take some weight off of your brain.

And now something for the people that are outraged and can't stop talking about it: let it go. The girl made a mistake. She's out there about it, taking responsibility. Cut her some slack. It's a crazy world out there and her FATHER is supposed to be looking out for her (particularly when he's right next to her).

That's it for me. I'll be back in NYC tomorrow, bringin' the funk correct, like I done since 1976.

Labels: Atlanta, Hannah Montana, Vanity Fair

According to this Fox News story, Jimmy Fallon will be replacing Conan O'Brien when he departs in 2009 to take over hosting duties on the Tonight Show.

Things that I would rather watch at 12:30am in 2009:

1) Craig Ferguson
2) Jimmy Kimmel
3) The guy with the question mark jacket that wants to sell you a book on how to get free money from the government
4) The scene in Syriana where they remove George Clooney's fingernails from his hands with pliers
5) Connie Chung's production of Fiddler on the Roof
6) Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Labels: Conan O'Brien, Jimmy Fallon, late night

It's day three of my multi-city travel adventure and I'm already exhausted. I read somewhere that Gary Player* travels a million miles a year, playing in golf tournaments, designing golf courses, wearing white pants with white shirts and whatever else he does. That's a lot of freaking miles.

*Gary Player is 72 years old. I realize he's an athlete, but still, this is the saddest thing that I've ever realized in my life: I am not, nor will I ever be and never have I been, in better shape than Gary Player is right now as I type this. Gary Player can do one-handed push-ups. Let me repeat: he's 72 years old! I'd be disgusted with myself, but it wouldn't do any good. I enjoy bacon too much.

The best part about this whole time out here was when I set my alarm for 6:45 AM ET by accident, and woke up at 3:45 AM PT screaming because I thought it was time to go to work. I was only after I got out of bed and started weeping softly that I realized I had another 3 hours to sleep.

I can see why people like to live here (weather's nice, people are reasonably friendly, urinating on the street is confined to one part of town), but it only took one morning commute for me to want to go Falling Down on everyone that I came in contact with. How are there so many cars? There are so many cars here that they give away gasoline, instead of tickets, in radio giveaways. They have commercials that talk about energy conservation equivalencies in terms of how many cars it would be the equivalent of taking off the road, as in "if you turn your computer off when you leave the house, it would be the equivalent of taking 100 cars off the road." In Soviet Russia, you don't turn computer off. Computer turns you in ... to KGB!*

*Does anyone else miss Yakov Smirnoff? I know he wasn't funny, but he made me feel like there was a sense of balance in the world.

Labels: Gary Player, Los Angeles, travel, Yakov Smirnoff

When I was younger and much more fun than I am today, I was an SNL junkie. That's partly because I relished the opportunity to stay up later than I was generally allowed, but also because Comedy Central played the repeats like six times a day.* My favorite cast was always the 1989-90 cast, right before Spade, Farley, Sandler, Schneider and Rock joined. That probably sounds crazy, but if you go back and watch these episodes, there's nothing better than them. The cast was just tight. They had been together with basically no changes for 3 seasons. They worked well together and every episode was a winner. Check it out here.

*Incidentally, thanks, E!, for ruining one of the greatest things about TV: the SNL rerun. It used to be the one thing on TV that you could always count on for a laugh or watch when there was nothing else on. The played them for a while (even showing some of the old 1970s episodes a few years back with the original cast that hadn't been seen on TV for years.

Now, E! never runs them anymore, and when they do (Saturday nights at 10pm and 1am), they play the newer, crappier episodes featuring some idiot (read: Hilton, Paris) and 15 horrible sketches. Can something be done about this? Can we file a class action suit or something? Can someone tell me when this contract is over, so we can get these back on the air?

But if I was making a list of my all-time favorite cast members, Chris Farley would have to be near the top of the list. I'm a huge fan of physical comedy, when it's done right, and for my money, you can't do much better than Chris Farley. The guy was a genius. His death was both shocking (because he was just 33), but also not (in light of his addiction issues and because people like him just always seem to die young). It just seemed like something was chipping away at all the things that I loved when I was a teen: Kurt Cobain shoots himself, Chris Farley dies of an overdose,

And now, a book about Farley, and one that doesn't paint him (or the people around him) too well, is about to hit the shelves. According to this article in the Daily News, the book portrays Farley as a really troubled, lonely guy who constantly sought the approval and attention of those around him. And as he spiraled deeper into his own shame and fell prey to his demons, the people that supposedly cared about him most did nothing to help him out.

There are a lot of interesting quotes, but the Lorne Michaels' ones stand out as really telling:

"As soon as I heard it was heroin, I was having none of it. I had been through it with John and I wasn't doing it again."

Damn, help a brother out, Lorne. Chris Farley made Lorne Michaels a lot of money, whether he's ready to admit that or not. I don't know what went on between them and I don't know if Michaels tried to do anything. But it sure seems like he cut the cord. And it sure seems like that didn't do the good that Michaels thought it might.

[Tip of the cap, Defamer]

Labels: Chris Farley, Defamer, SNL

I was supposed to fly out to LA today, but that's been pushed back to next Monday (as noted in the Where's Wolinetz on the right). Instead of going into the office, I kept the day off and went and played some golf. Good times for me.

Anyway, there's going to be some significant travel over the next few months. I'm in LA beginning Monday. I'm flying out to Atlanta on the following Monday, back in the office that Thursday. On May 14th, it's off to Myrtle Beach until May 18th. I'll be in Marco Island at a conference from June 8-11. And finally, a wedding at the end of June in Barbados.

All of this is not meant to make you jealous (although you should be, and for more reasons than my travel schedule. I just rule like motherf'in King Olav V). It's merely to say that posting around these parts may be sporadic of the next little bit. If I have anything completely unimportant to say, I'll be sure to say it here.

Labels: golf, Los Angeles, ruling

I can't be the only one that loves the fact that the guy who invented the Hoveround motorized scooter for the elderly is named Tom Kruse. Whenever I see his name, I think of Ben Stiller's impression of Tom Cruise and I laugh. Then someone walks into the room and thinks I'm laughing at immobilized elderly people and I have to explain that I'm laughing at Ben Stiller's impression of Tom Cruise because of Tom Kruse.

I kind of wish there was a Tom Krews or a Tom Crews, but I guess I'm getting greedy.

Labels: Tom Kruse

The cover of the book has been finalized! Hooray! Three sentences in a row that end in exclamation points! Now, four! OK, I'm finished. Anyway, the book is also available for pre-order at Amazon.com. In fact if you act now, in addition to the Amazon savings, you can get an additional 5% off.

The book's blurbs are on this page, as well as the back cover copy. It's really cool. It's being edited to add my name at the top, which is an odd omission, but that should be taken care of reasonably soon.

Labels: books, Underrated

As usual, I'm late to the party, but I got an album by a band called Rogue Wave the other day that I'm really enjoying. It's called Asleep At Heaven's Gate and it came out last September.

The music sounds Brit-poppy to me, but it turns out the band is from Oakland.

Anyway, if you're looking for music advice from someone that knows very little about music released after about 2002, you should check this band out. They're going to be on Letterman tomorrow night.

Also, I picked up the Black Keys' most recent album, Attack and Release and it's outstanding. It's a departure from their usual sound and I'm loving it.

Labels: music

It's that time of year again. Although the golf season really picks up in March, the Masters truly represents the escalation of the season into full swing. For you, this probably means nothing (or very little). To me, it means more things to do at work and even less time to make sure that I do all of those little things that I like to do, like eat lunch and go to the bathroom.

However, this weekend turned out to be a good one. I went down to Atlantic City to play some golf and lose some money. I only did one of those things (play golf). I also won some money. Take that, Donald Trump! And amazingly, in my first round of the year, I broke 100. Granted, it was 99, but it's better than you, so suck it.

It's difficult for me to talk intelligently about the Rangers game last night, so here are the three things that I hate most in that game (in reverse order):

3) Blair Betts' stick
2) Brendan Shanahan's stick
1) Marc Staal's stick

That's right: the Rangers put three deflected pucks in their own net. And before I go to Best Buy to replace the television that I shot out last night, I should say that it's a good thing I sold those tickets. If I was there, I would have been so disgusted that an area Devils fan would have borne the brunt of my frustration.

Anyway, hopefully back to a normal posting schedule this week.

Labels: Atlantic City, golf, New York Rangers

If you like sports and you're not reading Joe Posnanski's blog, his columns or his book, you're doing yourself a disservice. He's doing it better than just about anyone out there these days.

I have added him to the links on the right as well.

Labels: Joe Posnanski

Because I'm usually an insufferable asshole, I thought I'd buck that trend and link this article from ESPN's Page 2 by Tim Keown about John Calipari, who I eviscerated on this blog yesterday. Keown writes about Calipari's graciousness after his team's collapse on Monday night. Money quote:

There was a perspective at work that isn't always on display from a winner, much less a loser. He talked about the missed free throws without blaming his players. He saw the bigger picture -- the pressure of the game, the youth of his players, the intensity of the moment. He discussed the situation late in the game -- up nine with less than three minutes, up three with less than five seconds left -- and took his share of the blame.

And to be totally fair, he's right. Nobody wants to lose, but guess what? Everybody does, at one point or another, and there's nothing wrong with giving your opponent their due, lamenting what you could have done differently, and then moving on. There's something to be said for losing graciously, and Calipari deserves credit for that.

Postscript: The real enemy here is Billy Packer, who either needs to retire or be forcibly removed. I don't think he said even one thing that made sense Monday night. Not one. I'd write one of his more ridiculous statements (there's one in the article), but I'm usually white with fury while listening to him, so it's hard to remember exactly what he says. Maybe next year, I'll keep a pen and paper by my side.

Thus endeth NCAA finals coverage.

Labels: Billy Packer, ESPN, John Calipari, NCAA basketball

I've got no real gripe against Memphis, specifically. They had a great season, and they played really well tonight for the most part, except in the one area that everyone (except their coach, ironically) knew could cost them.

I've never met John Calipari. I know people that worked for him when he was at UMass, and they were all rooting for Memphis tonight, which says something, I suppose. But this guy comes off as a cocky, smarmy ass in nearly every interview that he does. He makes it really hard to root for him. I saw him on a number of TV programs this year discussing his team and their two Achilles' heels:

1) Their weak conference (this didn't cost them, as their out of conference schedule was very difficult, and they played very well throughout the season and tournament)

2) Their free throw shooting (which is the reason that they lost tonight)

I don't begrudge Calipari for defending his team. But his outright refusal to force his team to take thousands upon thousands of free throws until they got better at it is mindboggling. I know hindsight is 20/20, but I'll repeat this anyway: IT COST THEM THE FREAKIN' NCAA TOURNEY CHAMPIONSHIP. I saw him on Pardon the Interruption once during the season, where he said, "My teams never shoot free throws well, but they make them when they count." Yeah, do they? Free throws cost his team their only regular season loss at home against Tennessee. Rather than go back to fundamentals at practice in preparation for the tournament, Calipari ignored the only real flaw in his team. Hubris at its finest. So what happened?

Missing free throws that "matter" handed them their second loss, in their most important game of the year.

And what's worse, this whole team won't be there to try it again. Freshman Derrick Rose will almost definitely declare for the NBA Draft in the next week or so. Joey Dorsey is going to graduate (or at least, his eligibility is expired). Chris Douglas-Roberts and Robert Dozier are both juniors. They'll both probably stay, but maybe not. Without having access to their recruiting class at my fingertips and being too lazy to look it up, I'll go out on a limb and say this was their best shot at it.

Memphis had a great team and they were 9 points up with a little less than two minutes left in the game. They should have won. But they didn't. And that's no one but John Calipari's fault for being a pompous ass. I'm not glad they lost. I'm glad that he did.

Labels: John Calipari, NCAA basketball

[For An Odd Memory, Part I, click here]

I'm sitting at my computer looking at my fantasy baseball team and this popped into my head, so I'm typing it down now, because I know I'll forget.

Every year, my elementary school had several assemblies, wherein they would enlist some portion of the student body to perform for the rest of the student body. Participation was not optional. There was one time that my 4th grade class was forced to perform a Thanksgiving play, in which the general plot was regarding the origin of turkey as the bird of choice for Thanksgiving. When one of the Pilgrims left the chicken in the oven too long, an Indian tribesman came to the rescue with a turkey. I also remember:

a) there were some really corny songs involved, and

b) a line in the play was given to the nicest girl in class who also happened to have a very, thick Latino accent of indeterminate origin (I think somewhere in South America). Anyway, when she noticed that the bird was overdone, she exclaimed, "The shee-ken! Eet's boorned to a creesp!" This sent the audience into an uproar.

Amazingly enough, this isn't what popped in my head first. This only came to me while I was writing about these assemblies.

No, what I remembered before also happened when I was in 4th grade, but as an observer, not a participant. This was right around the time that rap music first gained real mainstream consciousness, so we're talking like 1984 or '85, and rap was still very much Run DMC and very little 50 Cent or The Game (editor's note: if those two people are dated references to popular rap artists, insert a more current artist). The 6th grade class was about to leave to go to Junior High and they were asked, as one last gesture, to perform a graduation performance. The main song of which, was a really, really kind of innocuous rap song about getting ahead that had a line like, "We're talkin' 'bout opportunity, when you try real hard in the land of the free."

And at the end of the line, one of the larger members of the class did that loud "huh uh-huh uh-huh" thing that rappers did back then. It's hard to type or describe, but if you heard it, you'd know what I mean, Anyway, I started laughing really hard. Not at the performance (which, admittedly, probably deserved it), but more at the sound. My teacher started yelling at me to be quiet, but that just made me laugh harder. It got contagious, and eventually seven or ten of the people around me started laughing, including one girl notorious for wetting her pants when she really got to laughing. Of course, she managed to wet herself now, which made us all laugh harder and also made them stop the performance, while they got us under control and took the girl out to go change.

Man, elementary school was really awesome in the '80s.

Labels: 1980s, random thoughts

William Miller: So, Russell, what do you love about music?
Russell Hammond: To begin with: everything.

You know how sometimes you go a long time without seeing a movie, and then you watch it and you realize that you've forgotten just how amazing the movie is? I saw Almost Famous again recently, and I was shocked at just how good it is (as an aside, shouldn't Patrick Fugit be more famous? He's outstanding in this film). It also gave me the opportunity to fall in love with Kate Hudson all over again. Katie bear, if you're still reading this, please call me.

But one other point: what the hell happened to Cameron Crowe? How could the guy that this movie also make Elizabethtown? I'm not as down on Vanilla Sky as everyone else is. I think it makes a valid point, and frankly, it's basically a shot by shot remake of Abre Sus Ojos. If you like that film and not this one, it's noly because you're a hipster doofus looking to come off more intelligent than you actually are. But let's take a look at the guy's career (with Almost Famous as the dividing point, and I'm including him as a writer to get Fast Times and The Wild Life in here):

Pre-Almost Famous:

Fast Times at Ridgemont High
The Wild Life
Say Anything ...
Singles
Jerry Maguire

Post-Almost Famous:

Vanilla Sky
Elizabethtown

In fairness, he's only made two movies since the year 2000, and the first set of movies represents two decades of work. I can't find anything about him having anything in development now, which means that he won't have a new movie out until late 2009 at the earliest. I always loved that he took time between films, so he wouldn't make drek, but now he's taking time and making drek. Methinks that's a deadly combination for a career.

Labels: Almost Famous, Cameron Crowe, movies

Here's the proof.

Labels: How I Met Your Mother, TV

I caught part of an episode of The Golden Girls the other day (don't ask), and he was the guest star playing Dorothy's love interest. The guy was downright charming and really a good actor.

My problem is that I fear he's remembered primarily for two things:

1) One of the most ridiculous lines in movie history ( "When I'm wrong, I say I'm wrong." Let me get this straight: he says that when he's wrong, he says he wrong, but then never says it. I think my eyes just started bleeding.)

2) Law & Order

But check out the list of trivia in his IMDb profile. Jesus, he originated three landmark Broadway roles (although the Fantasticks was off-Broadway for the large majority of its run). The guy was an acting legend. Not to say anything of his association with mob boss Joey Gallo.

And frankly, Law & Order isn't the same without him.

Labels: Jerry Orbach