Nobody told me there'd be days like these....Strange days indeed.....Strange days indeed....

Speaking as an admirer of the most creative mascot in all of sports, Mr. Met, if there was a baseball game in hell, of course it would be the Yankees and the Phillies. But that's not hell....Hell, its not even purgatory. Right now, it's hell on Earth. The World Series is a Best of 7. I was always taught by my Catholic fore-mothers to never pray for sports teams to win or for the dealer to throw an Ace after receiving a King. After all, gambling is a sin and Jesus has more pressing issues in the world than making sure his own Mother's university puts the ball in the end-zone with no time left on the clock. (He might have lost patience with Charlie Weis and Jimmy Clausen after we already won 3 games this season in the final minutes...Understandable....It's warranted)

The possibility of a Yankees/Phillies World Series is every Met fans nightmare. While its less-nightmarish than the 2006 NLCS and Carlos Beltran freezing on a 3-2 pitch with the bases loaded and two outs in the bottom of the ninth, I'm kind of dreading it. I anticipate two weeks of obnoxiousness that will rival that of a 21 year old Seaside Heights summer renter whose orange skin, pumped up lips and hair texture make me wonder if its Sunday at Bagatelle Brunch or a product of Jim Henson's Muppet factory.

But as these two baseball clubs are making their way through their respective championship league games and to that pinnacle of league . And as a Mets fan, I feel as relevant as the country of Burkina Faso in meetings of the UN Security Council. I mean seriously...What can I say? Its like going into a campaign and using the fact that your opponent has a few extra pounds as a issue relevant to voters.

I'm no Dionne Warrick, but is it fair to say that this is likely going to delve into one of those "culture wars" between two cities. Where every movie, cuisine and nuance is compared, mocked. How many "hoagie vs. sub" wars can we have? Or who the hell cares that I still can't figure out why y'all call sprinkles the slang term for a prophylactic. These are the things freshmen at Rutgers or any other New Jersey school fight about.

A Rutgers Scarlet Knights student could possibly be the genetic product of a mad scientist like Doc...But it's simple...its the union of a Philly fan and a NY/NJ fan (and I include NJ because the Devils...you know that team that seems to win a Stanley Cup every 5 years....Being its been 6, we're due....and not to mention Giants Stadium is located somewhere in the swamps of Jersey) It has a make up so opinionated andso brash that if it were a professional team, I could see Limbaugh owning it. But when it's Giants/Eagles, Mets/Phillies or Devils/Flyers, the common bond of scarlet that flows through the veins becomes darker than George Hamilton after a trip to Monaco.

Channelling my inner Gorrila Monsoon, I think the proper Mets fan decorum can be illustrated by the actions of the Ultimate Warrior in Wrestlemania VIII. A double Main Event at the Hoosier Dome, the first classic match pitted Ric Flair against the newly re-instated (and married) Macho Man Randy Savage. (whom after his career ending match against the Ultimate Warrior underwent one of the most bizzare comebacks in history - were you bitten by a King Cobra, Brett Favre?) The second match was Hulk Hogan vs. Sid Justice (more commonly known as Sid Vicious).

In this Wrestlemania (which like all WWF pay-per-views were not "paid for" but watched off of "the illegal box", which somehow the Peene family and many of our friends somehow had), Hogan and Sid Justice fought in a semi-even battle. But then Papa Shango (who was more famous and more entertaining later on in the WWF Attitude days as "the Godfather") came in to help Sid Justice.....Then, out of nowhere, with the match out of control...the lights of the Hoosier Dome went out and that familiar music blared through the loud speakers....and running down the aisle was a crazy man in facepaint........Yes, it was the Ultimate Warrior. (whom you apparently can have speak at your college campus or rent him as if you would rent a clown or a Power Ranger for a children's party or an "exotic dancer" for a bachelor party - in our case it was for Shenanigan's, a make-shift bar in a dirty apartment (that may or may not have contained a chicken) on Passaic Street in Garfield where I spent a year or two as "the guy on the couch". We were going to get 20 people to each give $100 so we could rent the Ultimate Warrior...True story.) The Warrior had returned to the WWF on wrestling's biggest stage to back up Hogan and bring closure to one of the most forgettable Wrestlemania's ever. (Tatanka vs. Rick Martel...c'mon)

Let's face it. The Yankees are Hogan. They say their prayers, eat their vitamins like little Hulkamaniacs....and they somehow always win in ways that make you hate them. We too were champions ("I'm Keith Hernandez"...) once like the Ultimate Warrior who have fallen on hard times (In our case - injuries and Ponzi schemes....In his case - liberalism). Think of the Phillies as Sgt. Slaughter when he turned into an Iraqi sympathizer. There was nobody you could hate more...especially when 3 days after we bombed Baghdad, he smashed a patriotic Ultimate Warrior with the Macho King's scepter.

Jimmy Rollins, because you're not with us, with the terrorists and part of the Axis of Evil. I call detente with the Bronx Bombers for the next 2 weeks. Go with the Yanks. I'll take my "New York State of Mind" over "Philadelphia Freedom" anyday.

If Mike Scoscia pinch hits for the Dodgers and they win (another Met nightmare).....disregard everything I just said.

A jilted Joe Cool is too hard to root against.

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Dear Mr. Fantasy, play us a tune....

Last night's Eric Clapton/Steve Winwood show at the Brendan Byrne Arena (to you youngsters: Izod Center) was amazing. This was my 2nd time seeing the greatest living guitar player in the world today. The first was the last of the 3 night CREAM reunion shows at MSG 3 years ago.

A few observations:

1. Steve Winwood had a pretty good face-lift and is truly "back in the high-life again".

2. This was the ultimate "trophy-wife" concert. I have never seen so many late-50s, early 60 year old men with women 20 years or younger since I had dinner at Cipriani.

3. Getting "Layla" at an Eric Clapton show is always an amazing treat. But, getting Layla acoustically is kind of like....well, disappointing. My friend Fred, a huge Clapton fan and a veteran of many shows, put it this way: "you go to see Clapton play the electric guitar...not the acoustic guitar". "Layla" is one of the greatest songs of all-time, hands down. From the opening chords of Clapton's Fender to the last note on the piano, its music at its finest. I would have loved to have seen Steve Winwood jam on that too.

Clapton on the electric guitar made the cover of the Hendrix classic "Little Wing" the highlight of the night in my eyes.

However in an oxy-moronic way, the acoustic version of the Blind Faith classic "Can't Find My Way Home" was unreal.

Whenever there's someone of this caliber on tour and you haven't seen them, skip the Hot97 Summer Jam and go.

And below is why you want Clapton to play the electric guitar version of "Layla".





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Hey, hey, hey....WHAT is going here?

I've never really been a fan of Jimmy Fallon. I always thought Tina Fey was the brains behind the Weekend Update team and my favorite part of Fever Pitch was when they played the Dropkick Murphy's version of "Tessie". But, however, Jimmy Fallon (check that: Executive Producer Lorne Michaels) is on to something with his quest for a ratings bonanza known as a Saved By The Bell reunion. (see the clip here)

Basing this pronouncement on sheer volume, no show of the 1990s was as quotable, other than Seinfield. (To all you java lovers at the Central Perk, not even close) "Saved By the Bell" produced teen-idols that will continue to stand the test of the time, because the show was THAT beloved by members of our generation. I was a 11 year old watching Saved by the Bell. From "Oh, Artie Boy...the bugs..the bugs..the bugs" to "Friends Forever". I wasn't alone. There have been many classic nights on campuses across the country throughout the years when individuals have stumbled in from a night out and played Saved By The Bell drinking games..From bad fashion to Violet to Stacy Kerosi (whom I think made out better than anybody on this show), it has as much 90s cultural significance as Pearl Jam and Magic Eye puzzles.

I consulted my good friend who was in college during the early part of the 1990s and "Saved By the Bell" wasn't a blip on their radar screen. The trials and tribulations of everyday life at Bayside High & in the booths of the Max didn't appeal to them....And why would it when the crews of 90210 and Melrose Place were snorting coke, stalking each other and wolfing down milkshakes at the Peach Pit? (That would be a great Food Network "Iron Chef" match...Nat vs. Max) The show gained its ultimate popularity and cultural significance in re-runs...so its hard to pinpoint the age range that the cultural significance has been at its peak. I'd have to estimate and say anybody who graduated high school from 1993 on have somehow been given varying degrees of honors from Bayside High School.

Hands down, Elizabeth Berkley was the hottest woman on the show. While Tiffani Amber-Theissen did go on to greener pastures (and evil ways) as Valerie on 90210, Elizabeth Berkley gave every male in the midst of puberty the gift of "Showgirls". (her "acting" in the movie...that's the equivalent to the kid sitting on his bed reading Playboy and having a scantily clad woman dressed as a bunny land on his bed...."Thank you, God!")

While I referenced it in an earlier post, the shot Frank Laranko & myself did with an overweight Dennis Haskins at the Olive Branch in New Brunswick is still one of the great moments in my life.

So many great moments have been ingrained in pop-culture, it is impossible to discuss them all. Hell, you can have a 2 day symposium regarding the Here are some questions, I'd like answered at the reunion (please feel free to add some in the comments section):

"Does Slater still harbor any resentment towards his father, the General, pushing him too much when he was younger and how has it fucked up his life thus far?"

"Can Slater & Jessie, perform "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You" for old-times sake?"

"Is Rod Belding, the non-bald Belding, who wanted to take the class whitewater rafting on a sex-offender list somewhere?"

"How the hell did Zach get a score of 1502 on the SAT when the SATs were scored in increments of 10?"

"Did the gang ever get to see the U2 ZooTV tour in the aftermath of the ticket mishap at the mall?"

"Did The Attic ever get shut down for lax policies when it came to admitting underaged patrons?" (you know Jeff was snorting coke back there....you just know it)

"Is Mr. Carosi dead of a heart attack?"

"Mr. Belding, how is your teacher's pension doing now that California is completely broke?"

"Jesse, did you hit the pills at Columbia like you did in high school?...I mean Bayside wasn't exactly Columbia..."

"Screech, when did you lose your virginity?" (tapes leaked by your alter-ego, Dustin Diamond, do not count)

"Is miniature golf still a varsity sport at Bayside?"

"Is Tori now getting drunk in biker bars somewhere along Route 66?"

"If y'all go back for the annual "Bayside vs. Valley" football game, is a reunion really neccessary?"

"Did your experience watching Johnny Dakota do illegal drugs translate to you doing illegal drugs, even after your appearances in the "No Hope With Dope" ads?

"Mr. Belding, can we see some pictures of your baby son, Zack, that was born in the elevator?"

"CalU...what the hell was the deal with that?"

I mean, these are obviously questions that someone would ask at a "Real World" reunion show hosted by John Norris.

Any show where the characters can get away with smashing a Lexus with a slap on the wrist deserves a reunion.

And I for one will be watching.... (with an after-party consisting of Bud Dry and "The Best of Firehouse") Thank you, Jimmy Fallon.

Gets me every time...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZ7ZpLgkVxA


I'll be back in a few days to blog about what I've been up to....For now...Enjoy!

Where have you gone.....Kurt Loder? Our nation could use turning it's culture-lonely eyes to you.....woo woo woo..

Remember when MTV News had actually news (let alone music videos)? Over the past 25 years, I whole-heartedly believe one of the most unheralded members of the media has been Kurt Loder, the man we all know from his news updates, MTV specials on everything from UFOs to "Choose or Lose" (of which to retrospectives on music, political and pop-culture history. Over the past few months, I've become pretty nostalgic about the early 1990's from listening to the Spectrum (Channel 45) on Sirius/XM. I mean, 10,000 Maniacs, Pearl Jam, R.E.M, the Proclaimers, Nirvana, Jesus Jones, Axl Rose, Weird Al...Color Me Badd. It brings back those memories of "Reality Bites" soundtrack and Soul Asylum. MTV News (and MTV itself) mattered because Kurt Loder was a trusted source in a time where young people were marginalized in the mainstream media. In addition, they were able to present controversial issues at a time the networks avoided them like former juicers do to Jose Canseco at a card show.

The man whom broke the news of Kurt Cobain's death in a live-break in, Kurt Loder is now writing movie reviews for MTV.com. What a waste of his talent. The case could be made that Carson Daly ruined MTV, because "Total Request: Live" totally took over the channel and catered to music videos of the Hanson sect. Loder, a former editor for Rolling Stone, was obviously much more talented than that. So it seems he was phased out ala Ted Koeppel at ABC.

Have you seen some of the crap that MTV has put on over the past few years? Before the Hills and True Life specials (one of which wasn't the Jersey Shore I go to, I know and I love), there was The Real World. At the time, the show was revolutionary. 7 strangers...Picked to live in a house...and have their lives on tape. And the strangers were picked in an era where certain social prejudices and stereotypes were more prevalent. (sidenote: The Real World was one of those shows I wanted to apply to because I wanted to be the token Conservative who everybody stereotypically thought was a prick, but as the season went on would change the hearts and minds of all in the house....basically a nicer version of Rachel Campos. As of last September 23rd when I officially turned 26, the dream has ended) It was good TV. The MTV "Choose or Lose" interview with Governor Bill Clinton was a major reason youth were convinced to exercise their democratic right. MTV was societally more relevant then than any "Hills" spin-off or "True Life" will ever be. I miss those days.

I think the closest thing to Kurt Loder that I had as a college professor was T. Corey Brennan, a professor of classics at Rutgers. While much was made of his stint as the original guitarist for the early 90's alternative/pop band, the Lemonheads, his class had to be one of the most fascinating and interesting classes ever. We were able to write our papers on ANYTHING. At Phi Delta Theta, we took classes in the same manner that women go to the bathroom....in packs. Once "Rate My Professor" became a pre-req for choosing classes junior and senior years, not to mention I believe someone had taken him before, it was one of those classes where it mattered more that you took something away from the class, rather than the grade. The class was "Greek Civilization". Where else could you write about how Oedipus and Marty McFly in "Back to the Future" were both romantically interested in their mother and how they were in common? (which Frank Croce did) Professor Brennan is now on a 3 year stint at the American Academy in Rome. Kudos to him and let's hope someone writes about what Antigone had in common with Tori Spelling.

Side note: SNL Season Finale: After watching Will Ferrell & ensamble (Norm MacDonald, Amy Poehler, Maya Rudolph, Tom Hanks, and the human mutz ball himself, Arthur Lange, Jr.), I have a greater appreciation for the song "Goodnight, Saigon". It was always one of those songs that I'd skip over on the Greatest Hits CD or thinking what Billy is going to play next at a show during the faux helicopter opening. I've already played it a few times from the "2000 Millenium Concert" since then.

Side note two: Sal & Richard's "Tradio" calls make it impossible for me drive in the morning. I almost had to pull-over this morning or risk initiating a pile-up on the NJ Turnpike because these calls are so damn funny.

Should we talk about the weather?......Should we talk about the government?

Here's something to mull.....

During the Presidential Election, it was well-documented that then 1-term junior Senator from the Land o' Lincoln, Barack Obama promised his kids that if he was successful in his quest for the Presidency, that his two young daughters Sasha & Malia would be blessed to welcome a puppy into their lives.

And so we got Bo (and don't be fooled that it's named after Bo Diddley....Bo knows) the Portuguese Water Dog.

Now, I was pondering hypothetically today with my brother....Say lightning struck, Sarah Palin was the American version of "the Iron Lady" and Obama was defeated on November 4th.....

Would Sasha & Malia still have gotten a puppy?

And since we're on the topic of Bo...Does anybody miss Bo Jackson like I do? Growing up, there was no better athlete to look up to, no better Nike commercials to watch than those with Bo Jackson, and no better player in the history of Tecmo Bowl.

Got brass....in pocket? (or in your bra)

Out of the darkness...Into the black....The newest invention to come out of nowhere (or out of Kramerica) is a bra. Today's New York Post (my daily beacon of enlightenment) has shed light on the emerging revolution amongst nagging, biological clock driven women looking for a catalyst to put their life-partners back on the chain gang. It's not your standard mammary support structure that has evolved as tastes, culture and Madonna has changed.

We sometimes wonder whether the rest of the civilized world is passing us by. Coming out to Japan is the newest way to induce a marriage: The Konkatsu brassiere. While it doesn't have the diamonds that Heidi Klum did on her $8 million dollar support device, this bra has a few things that a woman could use to speed up the commitment process: a ticking clock, heart shaped oven mitts (perfect for those breakfast in bed mornings), and when a successful proposal is garnered, a place for when the diamond or ring pop is accepted to put it in, unlocking a serenading of "Here Comes the Bride" ("Canon in D" will be available in future models). Frankly, with all those bells and whistles, I don't think even MacGuyver himself would get picked off heading to 2nd base with a lady wearing that thing.

With the economy tanking faster than Hanson's career after the summer of 1997, conventional wisdom (& probably Dr. Hibbard) states that people have been re-examining their priorities. Instead of "me", there's a focus on being able to share in the joys of selflessness and commitment.

As humans, we hate to be pressured to do things we know we are going to get around to when we feel like it. Not to sound overly simplistic, but when your mom used to (or still) implores that you clean your room. You don't do it that second, drop everything your doing to go and do it. You do it when it's time. There are many reasons that the divorce rate is staggering in this country. If any good can be seen in this economy, maybe individuals will say "I Do" because they're in love and not because he fits some sort of checklist-like criterion, as well as provide the house in Sag Harbor and the token

Now here's relationship advice from the 26-year old who has only had long-term relationships with the only label worse than communism in a Giants fan's eyes: Philadelphia Eagles fans. I don't think we need a fem-bot bra to tell people it's time to get married. (but maybe it will come in handy in proper cookie baking times) I guess, when you know, you know. Dating is in many respects like the favorite game of my youth: Super Mario Brothers. You keep on going to different levels and through different levels. Sometimes you fall in the pit and sometimes you're told after you get to a level or two by the Mushroom-headed Toad, "Thank you Mario, but the Princess is in another castle".

I don't know what level of the classic game that the nuptual-catalyst bra would fit in. But, if I had to guess, I'd probably place it in the "Game Over" category.

Slow down, you crazy child....You're so ambitious for a juvenile....

Mother's Day without your Mother. While in many respects its a Hallmark Holiday (only because everyday should be Mothers Day), my parents are in Napa. Away from the kids, in the pre-eminent wine region of our great nation....So I guess that is a true Mothers day. (sans children) Not some Hallmark fabricated, but totally sincere groveling. Just some cab. Merlot, and Pinot. Not to mention great food.....For the week. Godspeed, Vicki & Neal. You deserve it.

The night before a few of us were honored to have dinner with the Bishop of the Diocese of Paterson, Arthur Serratelli in Madison. It was a fascinating & enjoyable night. Then the Bishop left....the spirits kept flowing...and continued to the nuovo chez Sushi Lounge until we were kicked out because the staff wanted to leave.

I wished my mom an early-Happy Mothers Day when I bid them adieu in the drop off area of Terminal B of EWR. At 5 in the morning. After having gone back and forth from DC in that very terminal for two years, I told them that being they subscribed to every carry-on stipulation they'd be fine even if they got there at 6 for a 7:15 flight. But I dropped them off and had 2 and a half hours to kill before I continued my road race habit and ran the Newport 10k in Jersey City.(I'd be remised if I didn't say the Riker Danzig Newport 10k....I do some work with them and they're awesome people).

So what do I do? As a purveyor of all things New Jersey and off the beaten path. (Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives is a reality show to me...except that "Guy" looks more like a singer for the Rascal Flatts than a Food Network celeb) Jersey City is 2 miles away from Newark. As a purveyor of NJ culture, I realize the oldest true diner in America is in Jersey City....The Miss America. So I decide to park my hungover rear there.

I don't exactly train for these races like Steve Prefontaine. And I was crankier than David Hasselhoff without a cheeseburger to cure the hangover blues. So when at the Miss America and you need fuel to run your race, you order the #12: 2 eggs, a hamburger and fries....not to mention copious amounts of coffee and a thorough reading of the New York Post.

But fastforward to now. Did a 10k in a better time than I thought I'd do. Went to a 1st communion with the best people and awesome food. (Congrats Isabel....and I don't know if the Market Basket mac n' cheese was meant for adults but I certainly had my fill) The red wine induced an early bedtime. Than I woke up the next morning to repeat the cycle...This time hoping the Mets can extend their streak to seven.

I love CitiField. Sans the absence of all things that are glorious about the New York Mets of New York town. The fact that I can walk about the stadium and at every turn stand in the lower bowl as if I was at a bar & gorge on Danny Meyer fare while watching my team is something that sounds a little too manufactured for this old-school, baseball purist.
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So my friend Hughey and I sample beers across the stadium in multiple locations. By the time it was the "Pepsi T-shirt" launch, we were up on the "Pepsi Porch". All the sudden, in a flash, a t-shirt comes whizzing towards us. The guy in front misses and in a Charlie Hustle type way, I caught the t-shirt. (which was then left on a Main/Bergen Line NJ Transit train) CitiField has been pretty good to me. On my first visit, a Ryan Peene cameo was made on SNY....Me at the Shake Shack picking on fries waiting for my burger. (Another similarity between George Louis Costanza and myself....though it was nothing like his US Open excursion)

But still no foul ball. I think everybody who attends baseball games on a regular basis longs for that moment. Its the one little thing that can make a person feel that "Man, things just went my way for a milli-second" (unless you take the foul ball off the head....than that's life)

I got home. Plopped on the couch. On-Demanded Frost/Nixon. I was out cold by 7:45.

So...I can see no reasons...Cause there are no reasons.....What reasons do you need?

Ohhhhh....Tell me why....




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Come in, she said, I'll give you...shelter from the storm...

Back in the Summer of '69, I wasn't a blip on anybody's radar screen except for the "Big Man" upstairs (Clarence is thankfully still with us..so we'll refer to him as the "Big Man" downstairs)...But during those times, Koosman and Seaver were in the midst of a season that would lead the Mets to a World Series upset over the Orioles, Muhammad Ali was getting paid to speak at colleges instead of box (who knew Ali and Dennis Haskins had something in common?), Heileman's Old Style could be found not only in Green Bay and Wrigleyville but across this great land, and of course, John married Yoko and proceeded to spend most of the year traveling to various hotels "bedding in"...but it was the highway jammed with broken heroes (and stoned ones too) heading up to a field in Bethel, NY for what turned out to be a weekend to be remembered (only by those who weren't there...those who were there remember rainbows and leprechauns) as arguably the most significant one-day event in music and social history. Woodstock.

In an age of the entrepreneurial spirit, where we find everybody and their grandmother putting a label on and selling a nautral resource that encompasses 75% of the planet earth, not one person has announced plans for an all-out Woodstock '09, complete with 3 days of great bands and a message that ties the spirit of the old with the reality of the new?

Every great big idea has to fill a need....OK... Our generation NEEDS a Woodstock. People try to put us down, but we shouldn't talkin' bout my "Generation Y" like some of the others that have come before us. We're a paradox to many. While extremely self-absorbed, we are more socially-conscious (and less angry) than our flannel wearing, Dr. Marten rocking, Eddie Vedder worshiping predecessors (OK, they didn't have that the latter wrong..Dr. Marten's either) Using the faux sociological degree that I earned through one course at Rutgers (it's more training than Mark Consuelos had to serve as Rev. Mark Consuelos for a day to officiate the wedding of Howard Stern to Beth Ostrosky) to so much of it has to do with September 11th - more than we'll ever know...And after '08, where many (OK...maybe more than many...remember what circles I travel in) peers ushered in the era of "the One" with their votes and persistence. We've done just as much to rebuild New Orleans with our sweat and beer money as the government. We "Teach for America" in districts across the country whom need role models. In the midst of our material trappings and mini-dramas that we lose ourselves with daily , we have a heart. Sure, there were Woodstocks in 1994 and 1999...but aside from a few fires and outrage over $4 bottles of water and mass-marketing on Pepsi cans was there any lasting impact? Can your average "person on the street" even remember what bands even played?

Music has always been an outlet for social commentary all bands, even for those who are the most commercially successful. Hell, even going to your local arena to see Neil Diamond, you'd hear about his favorite song about immigrants and how they changed this country. Bono hawking white bracelets for the ONE campaign. Bruce imploring the people of Asbury Park to rise up to rebuild their city, as well as legions of concert goers who at first sound are seemingly booing him (but they're really saying "Brrruuuuccceee) to donate to the Community Food Bank of Monmouth County..and let's not forget is assertion that the government seems to f*ck up a lot. And let's not forget Britney Spears imploring her audience to support the President.

There are so many great festivals across the country. From Austin City Limits to the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival (I've been twice..missed this year, but definitely will not next year) to the numerous others out there. People gather for something larger than the music. Whatever message it is now, we need it. So many of us losing our jobs. Reality is setting in and we're finding security back in the houses we grew up in. (which in many other respects is an excellent thing in regards to family, but that's something for another time) Things are seemingly falling apart around us and it's not only affecting my best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend who heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl that saw Ferris pass out at 31 Flavors last night. And yes, its pretty serious. We need something to believe in regardless of who is in charge down in Washington and our own lives. Want to unite us? It's simple....Put us in a field with a bunch of kick-ass bands and beverages. Consider it like a confirmation retreat...We'll enjoy each others company and listen to songs that make us examine our lives, except for the fact we will team build through "flip-cup" and not trust-falls.

On the site of the original festival today lies the brand spanking new Bethel Woods Center for the Performing Arts. Yes, there will be a concert with some of the acts such as Jefferson Starship and Levon Helm (see him live at least once in your life) on August 15th, but I don't want to go with my friends and listen to stories about how things used to be. Our generation didn't have didn't have Live Aid which had some amazing performances set in London and Philly. Live 8 in 2005 doesn't count. Live Earth was a total Al Gore/celebrity blow-hard, carbon off-set laden sham.

But there's hope. After all, the man with one of the biggest known egos brought his quartet to the campus of Fordham....(on the other hand, he/they did play all new stuff). So that begs me to ask the question that makes me want to cry: What's so funny about peace, love, and understanding? (other than that this is coming from a pastel pants wearing Republican)

Right now.....It's been 16 years since my last Crystal Pepsi...

In the great Pepsi/Coke debate, I've always been a Pepsi man. My earliest memories were watching the "Must-See TV of the mid-80s": Family Ties, The Cosby Show & Cheers...(I was sleeping by L.A. Law, so therefore, Corbin Bernsen will only be remembered for Roger Dorn in Major League) There was this great commercial with Michael J. Fox (whom still is the most influential actor of my childhood...Family Ties, Teen Wolf, Back to the Future series, Doc Hollywood...and later on in life Spin City...) that aided me in making Pepsi "my choice for a new generation". (Another time, I'll write about the parallel lives that Alex P. Keaton and me have led)

So...Random thought floating through my mind that I feel like venting...Was Crystal Pepsi really that bad? I mean, honestly....Why didn't it catch on....I'd ride my bike to the old T&A Deli (The "T" and "A" stood for Testa-Adams...but yes, I know you thought it...) on Lafayette Ave in Hawthorne where I'd get Crystal Pepsi in those little glass bottles. It was marketing genius. I was prey. Van Hagar song in the ads. Cindy Crawford. You got me. And I drank. And then by the next year...It was gone...At least it lasted longer than Coke II.

Just think about how healthier we'd be if we drank a wonderful clear, caffeene-free, calorie free carbonated beverage?

Hence somewhere in between my love for Diet Pepsi, San Pellegrino has become my choice for the yuppie generation.

Human sacrifice....dogs and cats living together... mass hysteria!

What the hell is going on in the world? And it's not because I read the New York Post everyday, which happens to accentuate and perpetuate the stories that some who read the "Gray Lady" daily (and I do too) shoo away as meaningless. (I think the fact that Kiefer Sutherland founded an indie record company and was seen drinking J&B scotch in Boston is interesting news). But let's do my version of "Best Week Ever"...(even though its more like worst week ever)

1.) Craigslist killer - I've bought furniture off of Craigslist and Cubs tickets off of Craigslist. Philip Markoff (you say Markoff, I say Madoff...), whom seems to have the world by the cahones decided dragging his lovely bride-to-be from Little Silver to tax-payer subsidized casinos with comp points and free trips to the buffet. (You truly know Grey's Anatomy has "jumped the shark" when people have stopped referring to the medical book of the same name with the spelling of Meredith Grey's last name.

2.) While nothing could concievebly follow that, the Long Island man whom knowing he was about to be busted in a $20 mil ponzi scheme drove down to Loyola on what was billed as a visit to his 19 year old daughter's lovely campus, but ended with all four of them dead in a hotel room in a murder-suicide was disturbing to say the least.

3.) Turmoil at America's pre-eminent Catholic university (and for all you BC people, your administration wanted to take crosses out of your classrooms and you left the Big East to be the only Catholic school in WASP enclave of an athletic conference), especially now that former Ambassador to the Holy See Mary Ann Glendon has declined (courteously) the Laetare Medal, which is the highest honor given during commencement at the University of Notre Dame. And oh yeah, POTUS happens to be speaking too....and many Catholics and alumni have a problem with that for good reason because of his fundamental differences with some key points is in conflict with some major tenants of the Catholic faith. For many others, just another excuse to play politics...which in this case, I don't agree with.

When I was at Rutgers we didn't exactly have this problem. In 2005, Mario Batali was my commencement speaker. While he regaled us of "Carpe Diem" references, his contribution to my gastronomic life has been one of the most simplistic, yet ultimate dining experiences ever. A porkchop with balsamic & hot cherry peppers may sound simplistic and something any restaurant can do....None I've ever had were this good. The Barolo it was paired with could have had something to do with it, or the fact I got a kick that former Senator & current New School President Bob Kerrey was on a double date.

4.) The NY Jets keep their fans from jumping off the balcony at Radio City Music Hall, which has been the past time-honored practice in late-April's past by making a trade with their recently fired head coach to garner a much-heralded quarterback who played one year as a starter.

5.) "The Irish Riviera" experiencing weather reminiscent of mid-summer form.

6.) Swine-flu....Sounds like the medical term given to what I'm afflicted with after my Oktoberfest tailgates....The other could be "hangover". Seriously though, medical epidemics like this are freaky...and will lead to over-parenting, as well as a reduction of playmates all across suburbia. (and another out for suburban moms to give their kids when they don't feel like dropping them off at someone's house whom they don't approve of)

And now...Deep Thoughts...

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I get by with a little help from my friends...

The Wonder Years...Is there any other show on television that every week had . We all knew a or had a Paul Pfeifer, the best friend. We all had (or still have) a Winnie Cooper. We had "the dream girl". Maybe some of us had a Becky Slater, whose aggressiveness and hostility towards men who "steal" a girl's best friend. We all knew that life within a family unit wasn't all laugh track humor and "gee, golly" prefacing a climax in plot structure...Though it would have been pretty cool if Daniel Stern could narrate my life after every episode.

The past year has given my generation the first "reality check". The Arnolds were a microcosim of the American family that had to deal with the Vietnam War, changing social trends, and the whole re-definition of the American family. Our generation received it's first reality check back in 2001, when in my first week of school, I didn't expect to be able to see from my dorm room smoke billowing from lower Manhattan 40 miles away. We were thrust into the true first challenge of a generation. "The Wonder Years", no matter the differences of the times, was a general statement about growing up. We didn't neccessarily "like the same music, like the same bands, and like the same clothes" of our parents...But in hindsight, (and the fact that no short amount of time in American history produced so much great music over a short period of time), we are connected more than we think.

No show has had a better compilation of music to go with the story. And it's almost tragic. The musical soundtrack that helped us connect to the show is the reason that Kevin Arnold, Paul Pfeifer and Winnie Cooper have not been able to grace our DVD racks with their presence.

I like to think that I'm still "livin' the dream". I did happen to hit 2 Mets games, a Dave Matthews concert this week & ran in a relay marathon down the shore. On a beautiful day that proved that the days of salmon shorts & flip-flops are almost an everyday occurance, I ran a 6.5 mile leg and still happened to gain weight....It was probably water weight...All of these shore races are thrown for people who run to drink..)

My good friend Mike accompanied me to CitiField this weekend. We lived in the same house for 3 years. Drinking beers, sampling the Danny Meyer fare (having a Shake Shack so convenient now is a wonderful touch), and just laughing the day away about everything from "the Century Club" to the time he broke up with his now fiancee and he had to share custody of their cat. But each day that I get a wedding invitation or a birth announcement from someone who was a part of those "wonder years", its an amazing thing to be able to share those life experiences that were the furthest things from our minds. And while the seeds of friendship were planted back then, nothing is more rewarding than what "blooms" from those life events.

A season of the Wonder Years would be the perfect solution for a rainy Saturday down in Sea Girt....I can wonder, can't I?

"Stacy's Mom" needs a new place to buy a lawn ornament...

Part of the reason New Jerseyans are a proud people is that we thrive on our minutiae. We love the obscure little things and places that you would only know by living and growing up here. (Though, the entrepreneurial spirit of Weird NJ has brought things like "Midgetville" and "Gravity Road" to the masses) The roots of this rant started when I was driving along Route 46 West on Tuesday, I passed Fountains of Wayne like I have on so many occasions. This time though, I couldn't help but feel sad. Now, why do I care that an institutions which for decades has sold the oddest and sometimes most hideous lawn ornaments on the planet? Why is such a store that I've never shopped at in my life important? Because it's part of our cultural fabric. It was the backdrop for a great Sopranos episode where Charles S. Dutton guest-starred. Hell, it even was the name of a band who sang about every adolescent's Cougar fantasy.

As Bill O'Reilly and other talking heads have done for many years in fighting their own "culture wars". (How can we forget John Gibson's "The War on Christmas"....and it wasn't about Washington crossing the Delaware either) I fight my own little war on a daily basis. It's a "culture war" of my own. It's the "I'm sick of seeing an Applebee's, Lowe's or Papa John's pop up on every street corner war". The "chaining of America" has always hit a nerve with me. I think much of it dates back to the fact I grew up watching how hard my parents worked owning and running a restaurant.

For those of you who don't know, much of my early formative hours were spent drinking "Shirley Temples" fixed by my father at the bar. My parents owned a great little restaurant/tavern in North Haledon known as "the Rathskeller". It's hereditary to despise the fact that a certain segment of the population thinks that assembly-line kitchens are the way to go.

I'll never forget the time that my grandfather took me to the Great Falls in Paterson (which this week was christened a national park) and we went for a hot dog afterwards at Libby's (one of those true institutions in New Jersey that have stood the test of time...and I bet you didn't know New Jersey is the true home of the "Texas Weiner" ). I find it hard to get that same feeling going to a Subway or somewhere else. There's a reason that places like Libby's, The Star Tavern, and Jersey Freeze are still around. The food is damn good. But also its because they connect us to those generations before us. Our grandparents took us there. Or we went there after little league games. Or maybe you took date there. (Libby's might not be your best choice then) So many of life's moments happen in these places

So my friends, when given the option, think about your local New Jersey institution next time you're out and about. The only way we can maintain the cultural fabric that binds us together and makes this state the best place to live in America is because we have places like this. I mean after all....and here's the new "Red Scare"...Imagine a world where you'd have to consider the Olive Garden a true Italian meal? (which is already the truth in many towns and cities in America)

Support your local pork store and bakery. Support your farmer's market. That's a true economic stimulus that will help ensure that future generations won't have to go to Casa Bonita to experience culture.

Oh..."the big race"..

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When in the course of human events, there are certain events that just reach beyond the realms of this galaxy. American ships getting hijacked by Jack Sparrow, Rutgers football ranked in the top 10 for a period of time, and Paul & Ringo sharing a stage together at Radio City Music Hall. But there’s something even more earth-shattering. Ryan J. Peene will be running in a half-marathon on May 3^rd. For many years prior, "I choose not to run" was my mantra. (as you can tell from the picture to the left, taken many hours before the Giants walk through the "Canyon of Heroes" last year)

Next Sunday is the 1 year anniversary of when I ran my first 5k. My father recruited me to run the Lincoln Tunnel Challenge with him. Father & Son, plodding along together, taking in the toxic fumes that would make Ed Begley, Jr. drop dead. I finished....in 36 minutes and change. A few weeks later, I looked out my window from the 3rd floor of the Parker House and I saw all these people with their Spring Lake 5 t-shirts on. My goal would be to run in the Spring Lake 5 next year. Well, after a summer of running in the shadow of the "golden dome" (graduate school was also known to some of my friends as "Catholic fat camp"), plodding through various towns on the Jersey shore like Forrest Gump, and aided by the cardiovascular benefits of the game of squash, I brought my time down 9 minutes to 27 in the beginning of October (and 30 lbs too). Stumbling across the line of the Spring Lake 5 would indeed be a reality.

But things change. One of those people in my life that had that make a lasting impact found his way back home to the Garden State. Father Geno Sylva returned from Rome having been studying in the shadow of St. Peter's Basilica for the past 3 years . Many of you know of him from his time at DePaul or at St. Anthony's. Many of you have also likely been inspired by him one way or another in your own right. The Diocese of Paterson assigned him to the daunting task of bringing Catholics back to a church which has fought some losing PR battles over the past 20 years. Where the Bailey-Ellard mansion stands (and the high school once populated) on 26 acres in Madison is the future home of St. Paul Inside the Walls Center for Catholic Evangelization at Bailey-Ellard.

At the first meeting I attended, Father Geno was putting together a team for the New Jersey Half-Marathon. On that day in early February, I said yes without much thought. I thought it would be a great challenge. So I've been training. Like Hawthorne's own "Anorexic Annie" before me, I've been making my way across the major thorofares in the Hawthorne,Wyckoff, Ridgewood, Glen Rock and Franklin Lakes area. (God, I wish it would get warm already)

The Catholic Church, over the past 30 years has lost 30% of its membership, and roughly 10% of all Americans are former Catholics . (startling statistics for us Catholics) St. Paul's Inside the Walls has the goal of reaching out to many constituencies who have been neglected or driven away from the perceived coldness of the Catholic church. From youth, to single parents, to the disabled, to Catholic lawyers & politicians, to veterans, as well as educators, will all be brought in to help bring people back to the faith, as well as establish the center as one of the pre-eminent places for Catholic thought. Please help me make this a reality.

On May 3rd, I'll be running with (check that: likely behind) Father Geno and other members of the St. Paul team as we all descend upon Long Branch and run the 13.1 miles that constitute a "half-marathon".

Consider helping me out (just for the sheer sport of knowing that). I don't want to stand in front of the Market Basket with a used coffee cup that says "We're Happy to Serve You" in an Asian-type font. All I'm asking for is $10. Thats less than the cost of a foo-foo drink in a martini glass at any bar in Manhattan or now, even New Jersey. Its less than the cost of a pound of fresh mozzarella at any great italian specialty store. Heck, its less than a movie at any theater. I'm not going to have a thermometer, or a page tracking my progress, or any of those other artificial fundraising methods employed by large organizations that drive me crazy. This is it.

Though, if you want to buy me a beer at Harrigan's in Sea Girt after, that's fine too.