I Need to Explain Myself

I should probably explain myself.


I've read over my last post several times. There is at least one thing that should be completely evident to you: I wrote that post while intoxicated. It's my first intoxicated post on this website and if you're lucky, it won't be the last. Yes, it's been a while since I've been here, but I've been extremely busy. Look I don't want to fool you into thinking that I've been busy in the traditional sense. I've been busy in the drunk graduate student sense. Don't fault me for it. I've got friends that are leaving, I'm leaving, people are graduating, I'm not graduating, though I should be, it's fucking hot outside, and for some reason I thought it would be good to include D'Angelo on the mixtape I'm listening to right now. A lonely single heterosexual man should not listen to D'Angelo. It only depresses you.

Let's get to the point, the reason I'm writing. There was a statement in my last post that I didn't back up, but I nonetheless stand up to. I stated that Forrest Gump is a better AIDS movie than Philadelphia. I still think this is true and this is why. Philadelphia is a great movie with a great performance by Tom Hanks. Yes, I think he deserved a nomination for that movie. But here's the thing. What is the most important relationship in that movie? Denzel (Tom's Lawyer) and Tom? or is it Tom and Antonio Banderas (his partner)?

Look, the point is that Philadelphia does something that actually ends up hurting HIV/AIDS patients, and that is that it medicalizes them and politicizes them. And though legislation and medicine play an important role in curing HIV/AIDS, they do not, nor should they, play a role in the treatment of HIV/AIDS patients. With the advent of extremely successful drug therapies, HIV/AIDS is really no longer a medical issue, it's a social issue. And Philadelphia doesn't exactly focus on that issue. AIDS becomes an issue that is argued by a legal system based on semantics and antiquated ideas of equality. So while Philadelphia certainly fulfills a certain role, it is not the quintessential HIV/AIDS movie.

So now we come to Forrest Gump. What on Earth would possess me to say that it's a better AIDS movie than Philadelphia? Well, let me revise my initial statement a little bit. I don't think that Forrest Gump is the best AIDS/HIV movie. It isn't even really mediocre. But it does something really really well. It highlights the relationship between Jenny and Forrest. And when Jenny dies of AIDS, it isnt' important that she dies of AIDS, but it is important that love is lost. Forrest loses his love and Jenny dies just after she is able to express her love for Forrest. HIV/AIDS is not only a disease, it is about relationships, relationships made and lost. And Philadelphia forgets that. Tom becomes a court case, and within that court case, he becomes a medicalized subject. His true relationship with his partner played by Banderas is pushed to the side in favor of a legal relationship between him and his lawyer. In the end, Philadelphia is just too medicalized and legalized for me to swallow. I don't sympathize for the love lost between two lovers. I rejoice in the success of a suit even though the protagonist dies. And that is sad.

Word.

Hard Sun, Beatin' on Me

If you haven't seen this move yet, you need to. Not because Sean Penn has turned out to be some sort of phenomenal director, but because it's an important story. I haven't cried at a movie since Forrest Gump (I know, but no one has done AIDS as close to Americans as Forrest Gump, and shit, man, he was in love with Jenny for his whole life. Have you ever been in love for that long? Not me, but I can only imagine what it is like and cry about it.). Regardless, Into the Wild says a little bit more than the what it sets out to say. It's about more than abandoning our society for something better. It's about trying to find happiness, and unfortunately, McCandless doesn't figure it out until it's too late. But regardless, he has said something about what it means to be against.

He is a man that was completely against. And though he wasn't able to survive, he was able to live as a person outside of the system. And he was able to do more than just survive, he was able to live. That means avoid death, that means live when there is a
possibility you might die.

In that vein, I've been listening to Eddie Vedder's "Hard Sun." So I've done a little research and there are no technical reasons the song shouldn't have been nominated for best original song. The movie was released in time as evidenced by the supporting nomination of Hal Holbrook who was ridiculously good. As good as Javier, probably not. But anyway, there's something I must attend to.


So why wasn't Eddie Vedder's "Hard Sun" nominated for best original song? The movie certainly made it in time. All of the music Eddie wrote and performed was original fo the movie.So it couldn't be defaulted as the music for "There Will Be Blood" was. Eddie wrote it specifically for the movie, and it was released with the movie, as the official movie soundtrack. So I am left to ask you. What happened? We can never really be sure, but we can now one thing for certain, the Bourne series is the best trilogy to be released since the Brosnan Bonds. I don't know what Bond is planning to do, but I do know that they are sort of doing a continuation of the last one. Meaning, he's still getting over Jasper and Mr. White isn't quite dead yet. I mean there's still info to get out of him. And then, of course, he has to drive the Jag away. And then move on to the Aston Martin (which has one more year in terms of contracts before re-negotiations.) Make it happen.

None of my incoherent ramblings make any sense. Just like it doesn't make any sense that "Hard Sun" was nominated instead of all that other shit from that one movie that nobody watched.

And people will argue that AIDS was done better in Philadelphia, but I will disagree with them for a myriad of reasons. But mostly because it's a political movie, a legal movie, and it attempts to humanize Hank's character, but he can't help but be anything but a walking, talking piece of evidence in the court room.

Christina Aguilera is the Sexiest Woman on Earth

by Valjina


"Excuse me, miss, you seem to be coming undone."

Yes, the basic theme of my posts to make some outrageous categorical statement that will outrage most of the 4 or 5 people who read this and begin an argument between said readers that uses no objective facts, but is based purely on illogical subjective thoughts that usually cause at least one person to write, "YOU ARE A FUCKING MORON." I'm fine with that. As you see above, I've done it again. So let it begin.

I was driving home to Michigan from Massachusetts a few weeks ago, a 10-hour drive that requires me to pass through the southern most part of the Great White North, Canada. I've done this drive many times, and it has consistently unnerved me. But yesterday, I finally figured out why with the help of Christina Aguilera. Canada is a land of contradictions. Let me explain why this is so and why this makes Christina the Sexiest Woman on Earth.

Since 9/11 it has become increasingly difficult to enter the United States. Inversely so, I've found it easier to enter Canada. In June of 2001, I got a DUI. When I tried to enter Canada I was told that I was not allowed in because of said DUI. I had to by a temporary resident permit, which cost $300, that allowed me to cross the border. This strange, because there were no restrictions once I handed $300 cash to the Canadian government. If you ask me, this is just a not-so-elaborate scheme to make some dough on the side. Since the towers fell, my conversations with border agents have gone something like this:

Agent: Hello

Me: Hello

Agent: Citizenship?

Me: U.S.

Agent: Are you a terrorist?

Me: No.

Agent: OK. Go ahead, welcome to Canada.

Me: Thanks, hoser!

In many respects, Canada is a much more advanced nation than the United States. They have universal health care; have a much lower violent crime rate despite the fact that a higher percentage of Canadians own guns; have seemed to eliminate the need for a standing military despite the fact they have the largest oil reserves and sources of lumber in the world; they sell a greater variety of much more fuel-efficient cars; they seem to be able plow away snow before it is able to accumulate on the roads, and they call gas petrol. Oh yeah, and they speak a second language, albeit it is French.

But a drive through Canada at night seems give quite the opposite impression. First of all, it is fucking dark in Canada. Electricity and the light that comes with it seems to be scarce, at least along the highways. I know you're thinking, Hey you idiot, barely any people live in Canada, thus no lights. You're right, there are less people in Canada, approximate 269,738,900 less than the United States. But the route I took passed through Niagara Falls, Ontario (pop. 82,181), Hamilton (pop. 504.559), London (pop. 352,395), and Sarnia (pop. 71,419). The highway pretty much passed through the center of these cities and yet I felt like I needed to keep my brights on the entire time. In addition, it appeared as if the reflective coating on the road signs had worn off or had been nonexistent in the first place.

But that was only the beginning. My trip home requires a four drive through Canada. So at the very least I need one bathroom break. Welcome to Canadian rest stops. The good part is that the bathrooms are always clean. The bad part is that it's not always apparent where the bathroom is. Most times it's hidden the darkest corner of the given truck stop you've decided to stop at. Once again a lack of electricity is a problem. But that brings us to the truck stops. There are a lot of them. Which is probably good for truck drivers, but terrible for me. I'm the type of long distance driver that freaks out that I won't make it to the next rest stop/gas station, so I end up stopping at every single one. This ends up being ridiculous in many ways. Not only does it end up prolonging my drive by at least an hour, but I embarrassingly stand at the urinal without peeing because I just went 15 minutes earlier.

But lets get to the point. Canada exudes the past. And what I mean by that is that no matter how old you are, you always feel that Canada is 10 years behind. That is why I bought a Christina Aguilera album, because 10 years ago I thought she was the hottest thing on Earth. The funny thing is that this time I was right.

So I bought Christina's newest album, Back to Basics at the next truck stop. I'm not going to do a complete review of the entire album, but I will say this: I LOVED IT! Christina is easily the most talented singer of the current generation and maybe even of the generation before her, including Whitney Houston and Celine Dion (and I hate saying that Celine Dion is a good singer mostly because I hate Celine Dion, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she is Canadian, but mostly due to the fact of Titanic and the weird convulsions she has when she sings). But let me tell you exactly why Christina is the Sexiest Woman on Earth.

On her album she has a song entitled, "Nasty Naughty Boy." This song is a sonic BlowJ. Musically, but even more lyrically, Christina commences to suck the shit out of your cock-a-doodle and you begin to wonder why you spent all that money on Internet porn when all you had to do was buy (or download for free) Christina's latest album. You remember Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love?" Well imagine that sort of lyricality and sexual innuendo from the fine looking lady above.

That's all I have to say about that. Listen to the song, look at the picture above and make your own decision. But I stand by mine. Christina Aguilera is the Sexiest Woman on Earth.

I Hate Billy Joel

by Valjina



For an instant I tried to come up with a witty title for this post. But I decided that all my emotion would be lost in translation and that really brutal honesty would best serve me here.

For some reason, Billy Joel came up in conversation amongst friends the other day. I added my two cents by stating the exact title to this post, I hate Billy Joel. I guess I was really not prepared at how offended my friends would be at this statement. They were livid and vexed. They just couldn't understand where I was coming from. The first question posed to me was the obvious one, How could you not like Billy Joel? This was , I guess, a rhetorical question because I was not given the chance to answer, but instead was immediately asked, You mean you don't like "Piano Man," how could you not like "Piano Man?" At his point I felt my very legitimacy as a human being was questioned, and how do you honestly convince people that you really are a human being and not a cyberkinetic bio-organism. So I just shrugged my shoulders and said that I thought he was a wanker. Now this was an odd response that was met with a few awkward seconds of silence. The reason being is that I'm not British, and neither is Billy Joel (though sometimes it seems his New York accent wavers between Long Island the British Isl(and)e's). I'm not quite sure why I chose that word. I almost called him a douchebag but realized that would be slightly harsh and kind of move my hatred of Billy Joel from him as an artist to him as a person. Wanker seemed like a good term at the time since it is not a term that we Americans use very often and is therefore relatively harmless.

Anyway, the silence was soon lifted when my friend Kevin then asked me what I still think is the most perplexing question I've ever been asked. He looked me straight in the eyes and asked, Well, then who DO you like? As I said, this question was mind-numbingly perplexing, but also one of the most interesting questions ever asked of me. It was simultaneously extremely vague and extremely specific. I could answer the question in any number of ways. I could have went through my entire catalogue of favorite bands/artists or I could have named one band/artist that I did like. But neither of those answers would have satisfied Kevin. His question, though worded broadly, was actually much more specific. He wanted to know that if I couldn't possibly like Billy Joel, who on Earth could replace that special place in his own heart currently occupied by Billy Joel. Or even if it wasn't that personal, who could possibly take Billy Joel's place in Kevin's perceived idea of the American musical canon. It was obvious that to Kevin and the others that Billy Joel was an artist of consequence, someone who mattered, someone who, in effect, changed the world we live in (i.e. the world would be much different if this person had never existed), someone who was irreplaceable. Now, though Kevin really earnestly wanted an answer, the fact was that his question was virtually impossible to answer. It became completely obvious to me that no matter who I mentioned, that person could never take the place of Billy Joel for Kevin. I was stuck between a rock and hard place. So I chose to take the route of fake misunderstanding. I asked what he meant by the question and then faked frustration with the question by saying, What! You want me to just name my favorite bands? Fine. And then I proceeded to name whatever bands came to the top of my head and have since been slightly embarrassed by my list: Pearl Jam, Stone Temple Pilots, and Poison. The reason I'm embarrassed is that I realize that this answer was completely unsatisfactory for Kevin and that in reality these bands don't hold a candle to the lyrical abilities and music talents of Billy Joel.

This last sentence may confuse you slightly. Look, just because I hate Billy Joel doesn't mean I don't recognize his talents as a musician. So then, why DO I hate Billy Joel? Well, I couldn't really put my finger on it until I read what Chuck Klosterman had to say about him in his book Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. Klosterman, a Billy Joel fan, highlights the uncoolness of Billy Joel:

Nobody would ever claim that Billy Joel is cool in the conventional sense, particularly if they're the kind of person who actively worries about what coolness is supposed to mean....

...by and large, the musical component of rock isn't nearly as important as the iconography and the posturing and the idea of what we're supposed to be experiencing. If given the choice between hearing a great band and seeing a cool band, I'll take the latter every single time; this is why the Eagles suck. But it's the constraints of that very relationship that give Billy Joel his subterranean fabulousity, and it's why he's unassumingly superior to all his mainstream seventies peers who got far more credit (James Taylor, Carole King, Bruce Springsteen, etc.). Joel is the only rock star I've ever loved who I never wanted to be (not even when he was sleeping with Christie Brinkley)....

...What I'm saying is that there are no conditions for appreciating Billy Joel. I'm not sure loving an album like Glass Houses says anything about me (or about anyone). And in theory, this should make it a bad record, or--at best--a meaningless artifact. It should make liking Glass Houses akin to liking mashed potatoes or rainy afternoons. You can't characterize your self-image through its ten songs.

Now, I agree with Klosterman on his assessment on the lack of Billy Joel's coolness. The picture above is from Glass Houses. He is being so unironically cliche that it is completely un-fucking-cool. The furtherst away from cool as you could possibly get. Where I disagree with Klosterman is that this what makes him great, that his music is completely unrelated to his coolness factor. To me that will always inseparable from the relatively greatness of an artist. You cannot be a great musician without being cool, no matter how you go about getting that coolness factor (e.g. humor; irony; being self-consciously uncool; campiness; or just plain old sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll).

Somehow, Billy Joel has manufactured (I suspect, unintentionally) a completely benign personality. Sure, he's a drunk and often drives drunk, but he does so on Martha's Vineyard and that makes it completely innocuous because Martha's Vineyard is a completely imaginary place for me and for many Americans I suspect. If his music is coming from a completely benign place, a place that is virtually invisible, I have a hard time valuing it. Billy Joel is an artist of no consequence. While he is talented, in the end he doesn't matter. The world would not be one iota different if Billy Joel had never existed. That is why newer artists such as Alicia Keyes, John Legend, and Vanessa Carlton will usually leave Billy Joel out of their lists of influences and instead artists that aren't necessarily anymore talented than Billy Joel, such as Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, and Elton John, but do matter to Rock 'n' Roll, will always get the credit.

Regardless of all this, I would still like to answer Kevin's question as to who I do like in place of Billy Joel. Ultimately, I don't think I can in a way that would satisfy both me and Kevin, but I can make a better attempt than my last answer of Pearl Jam, STP, and Poison (God, that list is still completely and utterly embarrassing). My new answer to Kevin is Phil Collins. Am I completely happy with this answer? No. But it's the best I can come up with now, because Phil Collins does matter, at least more than Billy Joel does. And at the very , very least, if I was given the choice to play Glass Houses or No Jacket Required, it would be the latter every time.


P.S. Peter S. Scholtes wrote a very short piece defending Billy Joel. I don't think it's very convincing. I mean he argues for "Allentown" over "Pink Houses," which is ridiculous not because I think the Coug is better than Joel, but because the Coug is a complete abomination and really just an insult to Americans. I'm always afraid to make fun of people from other countries because I feel they can just mention the Coug and I would never be able to recover from that blow. Regardless I thought I should be fair and provide a reference to someone who does like Billy Joel.

Internet Radio Killed the Radio Star

by Valjina




I still listen to the radio. I have CDs in my car, but I don't have one of those nifty devices that hooks my car stereo to my iPod. So for the most part I listen to the radio. Generally I'm too lazy to keep switching out CDs (this is where a multi-disc changer would be handy) so I rely on the four "local" radio stations for sonic entertainment on my drives out and about town.

Generally this really doesn't present a problem for me. I'm able to shuffle stations (I have them programmed) relatively easily and save for the occasional time when all four are on commercial break, I can usually find some music that I find tolerable for at least 30 seconds.

I always assumed that this methodology provided me with the most up-to-date music knowledge until I met my current roommate Nate. Once I moved in with Nate, my self-perceived music prowess went down the tube. Our conversations would often go something like this:

Me: Hey, have you heard that new Kanye album? I just heard the single off of it, "Stronger." It's pretty dece. I'll probably buy the album when it comes out.

Nate: Yeah, actually I downloaded it three weeks ago. It's pretty dope. There's no doubt that he'll beat 50 cent out.

Me: What? Oh, wow. Yeah, that's cool. Could you burn me a copy of that? I'll probably still buy it, you know, I'd feel guilty if 50 Cent won and I didn't buy the album.

Nate: Yeah, no problem. I also got [insert highly anticipated album from any critically acclaimed artist here] if you want it.

Me: Yeah, whatever. Just leave it on my desk. I'm going to be straight up jammin' on this p'zone for a while.

My point is that the radio is lame for a number of reasons, but most importantly it's lame for the introduction of new music. If you have a computer you have the ability to be "ahead of the curve" in terms of acquiring new music. It's legitimate that you have the ability to get a new album of whatever artist before critics do, which makes you a more important critic than anyone else if you're dedicated enough. And let's not kid ourselves, your dedication does not rest in your knowledge of music but merely in just how soon you can get your hands (and ears) on the new album. I'm convinced that most critics are able to hold their positions merely on the basis that they get listen to new albums before the rest of us do. Therefore by telling us what to think of an album they are able to seal their subjugation of thought upon civilization before we even get a chance to formulate an opinion, thereby completely annihilating free will.

Have I lost you? I hope not. Basically I started writing this post because of my frustration with radio. But just not any radio, it's Internet radio that I'm frustrated with. I've gotten over regular radio, I've learned to deal with the shitty DJs, the corny commercials, and the repeating playlists. But the Internets is supposed to be a place of freedom. A place free of regulation, where radio can play whatever the fuck it wants for however long it wants. Under these conditions, metal Internet radio stations should be the best thing ever. But they aren't, as I discovered tonight.

I've been listening to NetRock101 which claims to play "80s heavy metal, hair, glam, new rock." Now I'm really not going to get into the nitty gritty of these categories, for the most part it's an unsolvable argument. These categories are largely subjective. But I do have a problem with "new rock." If we consider the other categories, "80s heavy metal, hair, glam," it's safe to say that these are fairly specific categories and there is generally no confusion about which bands fall into these categories. Interestingly enough, one could argue that all of these categories fall under 80s metal. So that would mean that "new rock" encompasses anything released by any band that had one electric guitar from 1990 onwards. And that is lame.

It's almost as if the radio station is afraid to define itself by the first 3 categories and therefore includes "new rock" in order to legitimize itself. The ironic thing is that I think that most of the music that they play under the category "new rock" is completely illegitimate. It's bad poetry combined with trite guitar riffs. Which I suppose you could argue is what most of 80s metal is, but at least 80s metal put on a show. At least it was unquestionable that the people playing the music were people fans could never realistically be. They created personas that were so unattainable by their audience that they elevated themselves beyond human beings to concepts, or ideas, or dare I say ideologies.

Right now the radio station is playing a song by Three Days Grace called "Home." I'm bored. It's definitely heavy, probably pretty hard, and definitely metal, but it is not even close to what Warrant was able to create with "Cherry Pie," and that's probably the worst example I could have come up with. The best would of course be "Welcome to the Jungle" by GNR.

But do you want to know the song that I heard that influenced me to write this post? It was a Bon Jovi song. "Awesome," you say. With that clue alone, I would agree with you. Slippery When Wet is possibly the best hair metal album ever released. And as I've stated before, this is primarily based on records sold, singles released, longevity of singles (i.e. still getting regular rotation at Frat parties), and number of singles available at any given karaoke bar. Appetite for Destruction would have to be the best metal album critically wise, and probably most influential in terms of committing crimes. And lets be honest, that's what metal was all about, committing crimes and fucking as many as women as possible to music that made you want to commit crimes. But it wasn't any single from Slippery When Wet that was played on this Internet radio station. It was Bon Jovi's (fancy Ally McBeal haircut and all), "My Life." The weirdest part is that it was immediately followed by Megadeth's "Sweating Bullets."

The problem here isn't playing Bon Jovi before Megadeth, but playing the new Bon Jovi before Megadeth. The funny thing is that lyrically, and even musically, the new Bon Jovi isn't that much different from the old Bon Jovi. So I would say that the problem doesn't lie in Bon Jovi's ability to write catchy metal tunes, but it has to be the haircuts. I would be an idiot to refuse to acknowledge that one of the biggest reasons 80s metal was such a success monetarily and culturally was the image it portrayed. 80s metal peaked during the trickle down Reagonomics period, so it naturally embraced the gratuitous nature of the time. However, most of that gratuity involved sex, drugs, and alcohol, not fancy cars and golf memberships. But to get back to brass tax, the thing that separates old Bon Jovi from new Bon Jovi is exactly that. The gratuitous lifestyle: the hair, the lack of clothes, the alcohol, the drugs, the women, the sex. Since Jon got a regular spot on Ally McBeal and everyone went sober, Bon Jovi the band has become less metal. Not lyrically, or musically, but rather in terms of image. I'm no longer a 14-year-old with braces trying desperately to get Suzy to kiss me behind the bleachers. Jon Bon Jovi is no longer a young, long-haired alcohol-fueled sex freak. Therefore my attempts to get women to kiss me are seen as lame. Therefore Bon Jovi's attempts at producing metal are seen as lame and is therefore passed off as average pop/stadium rock. Nothing more, nothing less.

A Touch of Whiskey'll Do

by Valjina



There's something about metal that allows it to hold a special place in my heart. There was a time in middle school when I was completely into metal, and it was the hard core metal. Not Poison, or even Motley Crue. I bought a Megadeth CD. I thought Metallica was too soft. Well, the Megadeth CD came in the mail (I bought it from Columbia House) and as soon as my mom saw the cover (Basically a collection of skulls) she made me throw it away and she closely watched my music selection from then on. What is strange is that she thought it was completely OK that I belonged to a money sucking organization like Columbia House, but was completely against CDs with human skulls on the cover.

Don't get me wrong, I don't value metal as a genre that is valuable in terms of "art." I don't even know what that means. But like Chuck Klosterman, I realize that it has a cultural relevance that most people are just plain afraid to admit. The reason they are afraid is pretty typical. It's usually because they know all of the lyrics to every single that came off of Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet (this would be the part where I would list the singles, but you already know them, remember?). While Guns 'n' Roses's Appetite for Destruction may have been the best metal record ever, Bon Jovi might be the penultimate metal band in terms of popularity (which includes records sold, concert money accrued, and videos made; I would even argue it includes number of songs found at a typical karaoke bar). That being said, I have something to say about a band that came before the normaly accepted time of metal (hair and all).


Nazareth's "Hair of the Dog" has to be in the top 5 most bad ass metal songs of all time. When I listen to that song--well, first I always crank up the volume to a blistering level that is certain to make people turn their heads and exclaim, "What the fuck is that?!?" At which point if I were to stay true to the message of the song I would be smashing a guitar over their heads for asking such a silly question. Anyway, the song makes me want to smash guitars over the heads of people who give me dirty looks. Of course it really doesn't make me do this, but it just seems like that is what I should be doing.

What's also interesting about Nazareth is they have an album titled Razamanaz, which I think is the closest any metal band has come to uttering the word "razmataz," which is of course completely un-metal. Then you listen to the title track and they actually say "razamataz." It's incredible. Now, there is no dictionary entry for "razamataz", but "razmataz" is in the dictionary and means "an exciting and complex play intended to confuse the opponent," in the same vein as "razzle-dazzle." Nazareth uses the term to indicate that they are going to have sex (i think that's where the extra "a" comes in) with a woman (and I do mean they as in the entire band plans on having sex with one woman). And when you listen to the song, it does seem likely that they will use a few exciting and complex moves that will confuse the woman. Maybe this is where the wine mentioned in the beginning of the song comes in, as well as the dancing mentioned later.

Nazareth also seems to have had an obsession with shotguns in 1973.

Welcome to Top Gun

by Valjina



I'm going to defer to Tom Skerrit for an introduction to this here blog. Take it away Tom, er, I mean Viper.

"Thank you, son. Good morning, gentlemen, the temperature is 110 degrees."

Umm, actually it's 61 degrees.

"Top Gun rules of engagement are written for your safety and for that of your team. They are not flexible, nor am I. Is that clear?"

Well, yes, but we started this website with the intention of breaking the rules, sir. You see, the idea is make people think and laugh and in order to do that you have to break-

"Let me ask you something, if you had to go into battle, would you want him on your side?"

Who?

"Damn this kid is good!"

Uh...

"In case some of you are wondering who the best is, they are up here on this plaque. Do you think your name will be on that plaque?"

I don't see how this applies to me.

"That's pretty arrogant considering the company you're in."

I wasn't trying to...

"I like that in a pilot."

Sir, I have to tell you, I'm not-

"I flew with your old man. V-51, the Oriskany."

Where? My dad is a is a history teacher.

"You're a lot like he was. Only better...and worse."

Thanks, I think.

"He was a natural heroic son of a bitch that one."

I'm not sure I know what your talking about.

"Yeah, he did it right. Is that why you fly the way you do? Trying to prove something?"

I don't know.

"Yeah your old man did it right. What I'm about to tell you is classified. It could end my career."

Well, then maybe you shouldn't tell me. I mean, are you sure you have the right guy?

"We were in the worst dog fight I ever dreamed of."

Sometimes I dream that dogs are biting me...

"There were bogeys like fireflies all over the sky. His F-4 was hit, and he was wounded. He could have made it back. He stayed in it, saved three planes before he bought it."

Uh, my dad is alive. He dropped me off here. I'm supposed to call him when we're done. Maybe you should put that bourbon down.

"I was there. What's on your mind?"

Well actually, now there's a lot of things, like I'm thinking that your crazy, or at least very drunk. But the real reason I came here was so you could explain to our readers what Top Gun means, what the intention of this website is. I mean, I like where it's going, but what do I do next?

"Simple. First you've acquired enough points to show up tomorrow and graduate with your Top Gun class, or you can quit."

Quit?

"I didn't say that."

Yes, you did. You just said it.

"The simple fact is that you feel responsible for Goose and you have a confidence problem."

Goose?

"Goose is dead."

What? What in the holy hay are you talking about?

"Now, I'm not going to sit here and blow sunshine up your ass, Lieutenant. Up there, we gotta push it. That's our job."

Up where? Push what? You are making no sense. Look maybe I should just go. Sorry for bothering you.

"It's your option, Lieutenant. All yours."

Yeah, thanks, freak.

"No problem. Good luck."