Amoeblog

(In which Job answers fan-mail.)

I've been getting a lot of fan-mail from you readers lately, for which I am both humbled, grateful, and confused.

Confused because many, if not most, of your mail asks me which character from "Hill Street Blues" I most identify with.

First of all, this seems to me an absurdly obtuse line of questioning. As a reference for psychological profiling, the cast of some cop show from the 1980's, now lost in a sea of copycats and time, is hardly an adequate tool. It's as equally preposterous to me as say, concluding that I must be "really romantic, a good match for people born under the sign of Aquarius, and inclined to keep trophy-cuttings from those I kill," simply because I was born in the month of October.

While I appreciate that said TV show (the first two seasons of which are available on DVD at your local* Amoeba Music store) is chock full of humanity, likeable and endearing characters, realistic police procedure and deft dialogue, I balk at your insistence that I be summed by any one of its cast. I am unique! I am an individual!

It reminds me of the episode wherein Officer Joe Coffey tries to convince fellow officer, Lucy Bates, of his true feelings for her. She doesn’t believe him and by the end of the episode he gets shot. You see? It doesn’t pay to pigeon-hole.

Is this a veiled promotional spot for “Hill Street Blues”? Could I be so square? So out-of-touch or quaint?

Well, you can have all your so-called "reality TV". None of them glitter and sparkle with the luminousness of a young Veronica Hamel's glossy kisser...



...Come to think of it, she does kind of look like me...
Posted by Job O Brother on May 4, 2007 at 12:00am | Post a Comment

(In which Job kills the radio star.)

I spent the best and most embarrassing years of my life in the Pacific Northwest, specifically, a tiny Gold Rush town called Nevada City (located in the state of California – don’t make a fool of yourself at the next cocktail party, acting like you’re all hip to the Nevada City scene, then make the common mistake of assuming it’s in Nevada).

The population is less than 3,000 people. About 2,500 of those people are young folks, and 2,000 of them are musicians, but only about 1,580 of those musicians are geniuses.

Sure, I’m bragging. But I’m not exaggerating. I promise on my eight inch rod.

…of yarn. I knit. Why, what did you think I meant?

Anyway, dirty bird, it behooves me to introduce one particular singer/songwriter that is, how you say, rad. His name is Adam Kline, and his band is Golden Shoulders. And here is the video for one of his songs, off his album “Let My Burden Be”. But don’t stop here, enjoy his other recordings, too.

You rabid Joanna Newsom fans will get particular joy in the backing vocals. Aw, yeah.

 
 

Posted by Job O Brother on May 2, 2007 at 06:44pm | Comments (5)

(In which Job is a commercial.)

I’m always on the lookout for two things: hilarious TV and a man with an African-shaped birthmark on his right shoulder. Hilarious TV because it lowers my stress level and inspires me; the man with the birthmark because he orphaned me at age eight and burned my farm down.

Both are equally difficult to find.

Thanks to today’s plethora of cable TV stations (Hot Glue & Margarine Channel, anyone?) there has been an outcropping of novel shows. I tend to enjoy comedy that pushes the boundaries of acceptable (South Park, Strangers With Candy) or are chock full of non-sequiturs (Monty Python’s Flying Circus, Aqua Teen Hunger Force). You get me, right? We’re all on the same page here.

One show that many of you don’t seem to have seen/noticed is “Upright Citizens Brigade”. It’s not brand new. It ran for three seasons on Comedy Central (1998-2000). One star of the show many of you will know is Amy Poehler, who my friends tell me is on something called Saturday Night Live? I dunno, I’ve never heard of it.

Anyway, the premise is that a team of four people, the Upright Citizens Brigade, are waging a secret battle against all-things-average and mundane in the world. They bring chaos to conformity. (In this respect, they mirror the customers who shop the DVD section of Amoeba Music Hollywood.)

It’s sketch comedy. The material is garnered from the troupe’s live shows, originally based in Chicago, now in NYC. In this respect, the show is similar to The Kids in the Hall, though the style of it – the way it ebbs and flows – feels more like Monty Python’s Flying Circus.

If you like any of the titles I’ve dropped above, I would expect you to also adore this too-overlooked gem. Unfortunately, only season one is available on DVD.

Do yourself a favor and snag a copy. Then do me a favor and, if you see the man with the birthmark, shoot a tranquilizer dart in his neck, restrain him, and give me a ring-a-ding. Thanks!

Posted by Job O Brother on May 1, 2007 at 11:08am | Comments (3)

(In which Job implicates himself in torture and recommends a movie.)

There’s this film that I love that no-one seems to have seen or even heard of, despite the fact that there’s some high-profile people involved with it.

But before I tell you what it is, allow me to reiterate, for those of you scoundrels that don’t read each and every blog I post, that I am still at the mercy of an ear infection and, worse than that, at the mercy of my ear infection medication.

This is important because it will help you understand why I write sentences like this one, which begin simply and clearly enough, but suddenly go off on a tangent about those drivers who begin honking at the person in front of them when they’re both waiting to make a left turn at a typical LA intersection. The person in front is waiting for oncoming traffic to clear which is the sensible thing to do seeing as how oncoming cars tend to totally ruin the bodies and vehicles that get in their way, but the person behind them has decided that the person in front hasn’t pulled out into the middle of the intersection ENOUGH, and therefore proceeds, not to toot his horn, but LAY ON IT AND KEEP PRESSING ON IT UNTIL THE PERSON IN FRONT GETS THE MESSAGE AND PULLS FIVE YARDS FORWARD, which somehow is a matter of life and death for the second driver.

I am a pedestrian. I don’t own a car. When I tell fellow Los Angelinos this, they look at me like I just said, “I’ve never actually seen a cat. I dunno, I’ve just never been anywhere where they are, I guess.”

Huh?

But I keep seeing this road-rage phenomena, and it rattles me. Which is why I’ve started taking action.

Now, when I see a driver honking his horn like a crazy person, I take it upon myself to sneak in front of his car. I pop my head up enough so that he can see me, and therefore doesn’t drive forward (very important detail), but the drivers behind him can’t.

Posted by Job O Brother on April 29, 2007 at 09:11pm | Comments (4)

A Midsummer Night's Dream


               INT. CORPORATE OFFICES - NIGHT

               A large corporate office space with many cubicles is
               deserted; quiet.

               Desks littered with papers and personal affects.

               Minimal, after-hours lighting.

               CLOSE UP OF CRICKET ON DESK.

               The cricket begins to play his night-song.

               More and more we see many plants and trees in various spots
               in this office.

               Further shots reveal that this office is actually dense with
               an unusual amount of plant-life.

               A NIGHT-WATCH MAN enters in uniform.

               He walks through the maze of cubicles until he reaches a
               small area reserved for making coffee.

               Sitting on the ground gracefully is DORIS. She is beautiful
               and wears glasses.
Posted by Job O Brother on April 27, 2007 at 08:03pm | Post a Comment
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