The Revisiting

I shit on many things that don't stand the test of time or that I get sick of. I always believe that this is justified. But have you ever done the revisit? Because the revisit can be awesome.

I talk about the revisit often with my friends Thornton and McLaughlin and my bro and sis. This past weekend, I had the opportunity to revisit Dear Leader in concert. When Dear Leader was The Sheila Divine (and let's admit... They don't sound that different), I saw them all the time. They helped me with the post college transition years. If it weren't for The Sheila Divine, rubyhorse, and Big Wreck, I may have been stuck going to The Harp between the ages of 22-25. Thankfully, one night in Newton, I saw The Sheila D open up for rubyhorse and my indie music snobbiness was born.

And when The Sheila Divine broke up, I was sad, but shortly after that, they united with a few other members of Boston bands who had experienced a modicum of success (Tugboat Annie, Orbit) and formed Dear Leader. Like The Sheila D, I saw Dear Leader just about every time they played in Boston. I listened to their two CDs frequently and "Raging Red" and "Nightmare Alleys" always show up on my gym playlists.

But in recent months (years?), I haven't listened to my Dear Leader CDs and I haven't seen them in quite some time. This past weekend, they played two shows at TTs and on Friday night, I was busy seeing friends I hadn't seen in ages (thats you Waidehi, Steve, Susan, and Seth) and when a rainy Saturday night rolled around, I wasn't sure I'd be able to motivate. But word on the street was that this might be the final show for this foursome, and so with a little help from Marissa, I managed to motivate. And I was treated to a phenomenal show.

Did they sound any different than they had previously? Probably not, although Aaron did seem to sing with a passion I didn't remember. They had no new material and there was no guest appearance from Matt Beringer. So what made me enjoy the show far more than I thought I would at 6 pm Saturday night? Why, the revisiting of course.

Revisiting can happen with anything. You can revisit an old movie, book, band, girlfriend (although this could be disastrous), restaurant, sporting event (pop in that NESEN 2004 Sox video sometime), friend, or store.

Personally, I'm a huge fan of the revisit. While it can be painfully disappointing (watching old TV shows is never good and boy was The Breakfast Club bad), the revisit can be phenomenal. And it was most certainly phenomenal with Dear Leader.

I mean, you are always going to know the things you love (Se7en, Pulp Fiction, High Fidelity) and you are always going to know the things you hate (Led Zeppelin, Dane Cook, coconut), but there is all sorts of stuff that you may have forgotten about.

During the summer, I have more spare time than a retired grandmother so I get to spend an inordinate amount of time revisiting things. I can't believe how much I enjoyed Back To the Future (a virtually perfect story), The Crow (I love revenge stories- unless they are that recent Kevin Bacon one), and The Untouchables (the scene on the stairs at the subway station is tension perfection). The Cadillac commercial this summer helped me realize how much I like "Stars" by Hum and leftover lunch always allows me to revisit a classic tune (Pulp's "Common People," When In Rome's "The Promise"- And thanks Napoleon, you helped here too). And nothing beats the rereading of a great book. People are always recommending great books to me, but I tend to read the same eight over and over. I've often wondered why this is, but I realized that the books I reread have NOT been made into movies and so it is MY world I can go into when I read these books. The characters, places, and scenes are all mine; like the rosebush story was all Captain Miller's in Saving Private Ryan.

The revisit can also be planned to. For instance, I sometimes don't watch Empire Strikes Back for long strecthes of time, then some night I come home drunk, I'll pop it in and be overwhelmed by it's perfection. I also do this very frequently with food and restaurants. I love shakes and I could get one everyday (and look like Vince Wilfork), but other than the 1200 calories, part of the reason why I like shakes so much is because I don't have them all the time. And if we went to The Capital Grill every night, we probably wouldn't like it as much as we do. Well, maybe that's not a good example...

All of this seems pretty obvious given the fact that we do get sick of things. In fact, there are some things in our lives that are built in "revisitors" like seasonal beer and clothes. But the revisiting is more than just staying away from something because of seasons, financial reasons, caloric reasons, or because you want it to be a treat. Revisiting is about challenging yourself, or even better, just plain, old enjoying yourself. Be it a film, band, book, or restaurant, we sometimes automatically hate, mostly because we are salty Massholes. Often times, our hate or dislike of something is justified (Curt Schilling), but other times it's about a mood or a time in our lives. Or it could be something simpler. Maybe we hated a movie because we were seated behind a giant head or because the couple behind you kept asking questions. Or maybe we hated a song or CD because of where we were when we first heard it or who it reminds us of. But if you can put any of that aside- it ain't easy, I know- then you might end up appreciating something you never thought you could appreciate. Or, if you revisit something you remember liking, but not loving, you might end up finding a classic.

So with a long weekend and cold weather approaching, revisit something. You could start by revisiting The Sixth Sense, french toast (seriously... just put some powdered sugar on it and get good bread), Collateral, or Blink 182's self titled final CD.

Me? I'm gonna revisit apple picking.

Right...

Betcha' Didn't Know The Impact He Had On Me

I know you've heard my rants on writing. Who I admire (Matt and Ben! And you Chuck K!), who I find irritating (your plot twists are so stupid Jodi Picoult), who everyone hates on yet is such an unbelievable writer (my Curly Haired Boyfriend) who I defend like she were my sister (Emily Giffin), who I hate on because I'm better than (I think he wrote Garden State), who I'm jealous of because I wish I thought of his idea first (Bill Simmons), and who just plain sucks (whatever Diablo Cody's real name is).

But I don't think I've ever touched on how much I enjoy and truly admire those people who write song lyrics (except for you Jim Morrison and lead singer of Sublime).

Why? Because you could lock me a 10x10 square foot room with all the writing playlists I need, endless vodka drinks (I like enjoying those while I write), Antonios pizza, Emily Giffin books to inspire me, and Empire Strikes Back on repeat (for periodic breaks) and I would STILL not be able to write one single good song.

I've tried it before and crashed and burned like Maverick hitting on Charlie. All writers (which I'm not) have a fear of letting people read their stuff, but as you can likely deduce by reading this, I have overcome that fear like I overcame the fear of talking to Ginger in high school.

But there's an outside chance I'd prefer you to pull out my fingernails Syriana style than write a song and have ANYONE read it, because it will be worse than something Gunner Nelson wrote.

Which is why, despite my occassional (no really, it IS only accassional!) hating on lyricists, I love lyrics.

I first discovered lyrics when I first discovered music. I had no older brother to give me Foreigner records (why weren't you giving me Iggy Pop and The Clash albums Julie?!?) and I never heard Credence until "Fortunate Son" ripped through the Vietnam scene in Forrest Gump (for serious). I can remeber memorizing the lyrics to "99 Red Balloons" (not the German ones) and I also remember knowing the lyrics to "Every little Thing She Does Is Magic" and having to correct Ted Bibeau when he idiotically said at the bus stop that every little thing she did was actually, plastic. I think that he beat me up after I said that. He often beat me up, but at least I was smarter than him.

But lyrics really changed for me when I discovered the Pretty Woman and Top Gun soundtracks. And although I rarely get embarassed, I have no intention of sharing with you which lyrics got to me from those albums, but rest assured, it was NOT Playing With the Boys.

Thankfully, I grew out of that wretched stage and discovered gems like Cheap Trick's "The Flame." Eventually, I put myself out of my musical taste retardedness and moved onto the lurical genuis wrought by the alternative scene. And when I wasn't shedding tears to "Black," I was contemplating ways to kill myself while listening to "Pictures of You" in the dark.

In case you haven't noticed the pattern here, I like songs about relationships/failed relationships/missed opportunities in relationships/true relationships, and breakups- both messy and otherwise. Like Rob Gordon said, "What came first, the music or the misery? Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"

And while listening to the most recent Death Cab For Cutie CD, I realized that lyrics (Cath... She stands with a well intentioned man... But she can't relax with his hands...On the small of her back... As the flashbulbs burst she holds a smile... Like someone would hold a crying child) still mean a lot to me. Whether it's nearly tearing up on the treadmill (a certain Coldplay song about a certain family member) or getting overwhelmed by the passion of Dave Grohl (Has someone taken your faith... Its real, the pain you feel... The life, the love... You'd die to heal...The hope that starts... The broken hearts... Your trust, you must... Confess) when I've had too much to drink, lyrics have always done it for me. While I cannot say at this time that the following are my all time favorites, I can say that as of right now, these are my favorites. And so that should be good enough for you because the following cheese ball lyrics will give you plenty of opportunity to dispute my statements and, in turn, shit on me.

16. The Features- "Someway, Somehow": I'll never let you down,... I'll keep you safe from harm... Someway, somehow... Know you can count on me... I'll always be around,... Give everything you need... Someway, Somehow. Who is this written to? A son or daughter? A significant other? I don't know, but I love that this song makes no promises. It just says it'll be done, someway, somehow.

15. Feist- "I Feel It All": Oh I'll be the one who'll break my heart... I'll be the one to hold the gun... Mostly because it's me always fuckin' shit up...

14. The Samples- "Did You ever look So Nice?": We were children in our places... With the world beneath our feet... And growing up was on our faces... I remember yours so sweet... A song about being a kid? If it's not a song about relationships that gets me, it'll surely be a song about being a kid. Man it sucks to think my life peaked at ten...

13. Powderfinger- "My Happiness": It seems an age since Ive seen you... Countdown as the weeks trickle into days... I hope that time hasnt changed you... All I really want is for you to stay... And then a song about somebody coming back for someone? You are aware that most of the books that clog my shelves are of the chick lit genre, aren't you...?

12. The Pushstars- "Any Little Town": Everytime you smile... It takes me quite a while to recover... And everytime you cry... I find I'm searching for the rock I can crawl under... Imagine you thought to write this song for your girlfriend/wife? You could pretty much do no wrong... Now why couldn't I come up with that..?


11. Buffalo Tom- "Torch Singer": There are some things I've got to say... She won't understand anyway... There are miles between our hearts... There's salvation in false starts... I've always got something to say. Usually I do, except when when it's a "she" involved. The hundreds of dollars I've spent in therapy tried to fix that and while it's gotten better...

10. Dave Matthews Band- "Lie In Our Graves": I cant believe that we would lie in graves... Wondering if we had spent our living days well... I cant believe that we would lie in graves... Wondering what we might of been... Along with all things relationships, lyrics about regret get me. Not so much because I have regrets, but lyrics about regret can be weirdly nostalgic to me. And as I write this, maybe it's the nostalgia of Lie In Our Graves that gets me... Of course, it doesn't help that this album was released second semester senior year at The Greatest University In the Nation...

9. Iron and Wine- "Trapeze Swinger": Please, remember me... Seldomly... In the car behind the carnival... My hand between your knees... You turned from me... And said, "The trapeze act was wonderful... But never meant to last..." I think it's the seldomly that gets me. I sometimes think about not being remembered. 100 years from now, I won't be. None of us will be. And that's sad. And this song captures that perfectly.

8. Sinead O'Connor (But Lyrics By Prince)- "Nothing Compares 2 U": It's been seven hours and fifteen days... Since you took your love away... I go out every night and sleep all day... Since you took your love away... Since you been gone I can do whatever I want... I can see whomever I choose... I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant... But nothing... I said nothing can take away these blues... I think we've all heard this song and we all know what it's about (who knew Prince had it in him), but really, it can be about losing anyone or anything. The passion with which she sings this song doesn't make it any less likable either.

7. Matthew Sweet- "Sick Of Myself": Theres something in your eyes that is keeping my hope alive... But Im sick of myself when I look at you... Something is beautiful and true... In a world thats ugly and a lie... Its hard to even want to try... And Im beginning to think baby you dont know... Again, likely about a girl, but to me, it's about anything that's ever kept you alive. Which reminds me. When I was a kid and heard that George Lucas was eventually going to release three more movies (actually, he said nine), all I hoped was that I lived long enough to see them all. I'm three years past my best if used by date.

6. Rod Stewart- "Ooh La La": I wish that I knew what I know now... When I was younger... Because who doesn't?

5. The National- "Mr. November": I wish that I believed in fate... I wish I didn't sleep so late... I used to be carried in the arms of cheerleaders... You knew they'd show up here, right (and Mr. November was the original name of this blog, but it was taken)? In all seriousness, the regret here is palpable. And while I was never carried in the arms of cheerleaders, I did lead the Pee Wee League in hitting in fourth grade...

4. stellastarr*- "My Coco": I sat alone and I didn't care ... I sat two years in the same old chair ... I saw three roads and I didn't know ... Which way to go-go-go... Who hasn't known which way to go? Where do I go in work? How do i get to The Cape? Which college? Time Out, Delanos, or Mike's Westview? Life is full of these choices... I was glad to hear Shawn had some trouble with them too...

3. Bruce Springsteen- "Tunnel of Love": It ought to be easy ought to be simple enough... Man meets woman and they fall in love... But the house is haunted and the ride gets rough... And youve got to learn to live with what you cant rise above... If you want to ride on down in through this tunnel of love... Quite possibly the best song about a relationship ever written. Leave it to the old guy who has been through his share of relationships to have them so perfectly figured out. While everyone waxes poetic about "Born To Run," it was the lyrics to this '80s gem that blew it away. Good work Boss...

2. Coldplay- "Fix You": Tears stream down on your face... I promise you I will learn from my mistakes... Tears stream down your face... And I... Lights will guide you home... And ignite your bones... And I will try to fix you... Yeah, I've mentioned this to you before. And if you don't like this, there really is something wrong with you. I'm serious. You have no tear ducts or something. Or you are an emotionless, iceman on par with a Terminator. Or you're a sociopath. Ted Bundy was a sociopath...

1. Oasis- "Wonderwall": And all the roads that lead to you were winding ... And all the lights that light the way are blinding ... There are many things that I would like to say to you ... But I don't know how... You were expecting something else? Please. I wake up everyday because of these lyrics. All I hope is that I can be someone's wonderwall. You available Megan Fox?

I Hate You Bill Simmons

It's my dream to write. You all know this. I already have the best screenplay acceptance speech for No Long Term Plan (that's my manuscript) written. I thank all of you loyal blog readers in said speech- by the way- for supporting my pathetic dream. You'll all get an individual shout out. I'm serious.

But onto more pressing issues.

Fuck Bill Simmons.

Well, not really, because it's a money piece. But shit, I HAD IT FIRST!!! I had it BEFORE the olympics and if you had the unfortunate pleasure of actually having to be around me between August 8th and August 24th of this year, you know that THIS IS ALL I TALKED ABOUT!!!

Some of you laughed at me for staying up that Saturday until 2:30 to watch my boys. But I saw it. I watched Doug Collins put on the best color man performance of all time. I watched Kobe destroy a four point play where I think I was actually more excited than I was when JD stroked that homer last October. I watch Coach K coach the shit out of that game. I watched twelve European stiffs get smoked by my boys. And then I watched my twelve boys receive their medals. All the while, I drank my PBR Tall Boys and smiled until 5:30 that morning.

And I did because I loved them. I loved Lebron, Kobe, Melo, Kidd, Howard, Bosh (my fave), Deron, CP3, Tayshaun, D-Wade (The MVP), Redd, and twelfth man Boozer.

And what happens? Some dude with a big fancy column on a big fancy website that gets probably 50 million hits a day goes and swipes my piece.

Granted, his entire article was way better than anything I could have written. And this is probably why he has a byline on ESPN and I have... A blog that I was happy to see got twenty hits today...

Anyways, when you're at a cocktail party this weekend and the topic of USA basketball comes up- which it will absolutely not- just remember that it was your chuckah friend Gerard that wrote the piece before the most read author on ESPN wrote his.

In the words of Chucky, I don't know much, but I know that...

PS- Here it is by the way... And it's awesome!!!

http://sports.espn.go.com/espnmag/story?section=magazine&id=3575385

I'll Miss You Pal

Sometimes, I surprise myself.

As a society, we probably always surprise ourselves. People are probably surprised that they like a certain movie, song, or book. I remember my friend Shaun was surprised when he liked Collective Soul's "Heaven Let Your Light Shine Down." As a classic rock freak (it surprises me we are good friends), he heard the song on the radio when it was brand new and he figured it was some tune from the early 70s. When he found out that it was from the then present day of 1994, he surprised himself by liking it. Molly and Mike do this with movies all the time. In particular, they do it with movies I have seen and liked. They assume they will NOT like it (or maybe they don't want to like it) because I liked it so much, but then they do. You can all probably think of a 1001 examples of something you thought you wouldn't like and then did.

But has the opposite ever happened?

Have you ever HATED something so much, wished for its' demise so strongly, rooted so hard AGAINST said thing, wanted something so terrible to happen to someone? Have you wanted their careers, lives, 15 minutes of fame, and general being to get blowed up? What am I saying? Of course you have. In fact, a few of you who read this probably root against me.

Now, I- being one of the angrier people in the land- probably wish this a little more often than most of you. Over the years I have wished awful things to happen to Dane Cook, Zach Braff, Fred Durst, George W. Bush, Pacino and De Niro, Curt Schilling, Trot Nixon, Troy Aikman, Donald Rumsfeld, and Roger Clemens.

Needless to say, be it a bum shoulder, the horrific buzz of Righteous Kill, a resignation, a string of straight to DVD movies, a 29% approval rating, the end of a musical genre, a .220 batting average with 7000 men left on base, or a "misremembering," I have pretty much got what I wanted in each and every case.

And strangley, when bad karma eventually strikes these cretins, I feel extremely... Unfulfilled.

I'm not sure what type of person this makes me. Maybe it makes me an idiot for caring/hating/expending so much energy on people that will- eventually- lose their spot in peoples hearts. Maybe it makes me an overly angry person. Maybe it makes me a person who should hate less. Maybe it makes me a hypocrite. Maybe it makes me a person who lacks passion. I'd like to think it makes me this really, great, forgiving guy. But we all know that is pretty unlikely.

What I do know is that, in my old age, I'm hating a lot less these days. How do I know this? Why, because in all honesty, Tom Brady out for the year actually makes me feel a bit badly for him. Really, I should be reveling in the glory of a lost season for the Patsies. But I'm not. And there's a very specific reason for this.

Remember in Swingers (I know Molly and Matt, it looks old and boy is that fashion dated) when Mikey's friend Rob was describing the loss of an ex? He said this...

"You know how it is, man. It's like... You wake up every day, it hurts a little bit less, then you wake up one day and it doesn't hurt at all. And the funny thing is... This is kinda weird, but it's like... You almost miss that pain, for the same reason that you miss her. Because you... you lived with it for so long."

Well, I'll miss the pain. I'll miss the pain of hating Tom Brady.

Just like I miss the pain of hating Curt Schilling. I mean, Schilling is now just a fat, old guy with a blog and a mullet (did I just describe me?). Granted, he's a rich fat, old guy with a blog and a mullet. But all in all, he's just really... A regular old dude. Like the ones who work at Fidelity or ride in the elevator next to you. And unless said guy has committed some horrible fashion crime like wearing pleated pants, what is their to hate about a regular old dude?

And for the next five, horrific months that are football season, Tom Brady will just be a regular old dude. Well, as regular as an Esquire cover boy, super model dating, perfectly dressed, multi city condo owning, rich prick (ah, the hate is not ALL gone) can be.

But seriously, for the next year, he won't be the record breaking, super bowl MVP, guy whose life I'm totally jealous off, dude that I'm used to him being. He'll be invisible. He'll be invisible as... Curt Schilling. And, with the exception of his stupid Manny comments, when was the last time you hated Mr. 38pitches? And in his invisibility, he won't be hateable at all because he'll just be a really dreamy dude, wearing perfect suits, hanging out in SoHo and slaying the world's hottest girl (why do I hate him again?).

And who- other than really jealous dudes not comfortable with their own sexuality- hates that dude?

This whole "knee injury" (Shaugnessey's line about what the Pats would call a quadruple bypass surgery was awesome) should make me happy. But it doesn't. Because I'll miss the pain. I'll miss the pain that Tommy Boy has caused me.

In the end, the injury still makes me happy, but not because it happened to Tommy Boy. It makes me happy because now maybe the Patriots will suck and everyone will see that Belichick is the worthless douche that he really is (although WEEi's foursome of Big O, DeOssie, Fred, and Pete tell me he is the second coming of Gandhi). It makes really happy because the goons that are Patriot Nation are in full melt down mode. And then it makes me really, REALLY happy because now maybe people will see- as the Patriots muddle through 14-10 games against The Dolphins- that the NFL really IS garbage and that the only thing that saves it are Fantasy Leagues and gambling.

But strangely, I'll miss Tommy Boy. I'll miss peeking at the Sportscenter Ticker to stew at his 31-40 for 346 yards and four touchdowns line. I'll miss hating how goddamn good he looks in a simple zip up hoodie at his post game press conferences. I'll miss envying his pocket squares and perfect coiffe as he strolls off the bus for a road game. I'll miss wanting to punch him right in the stupid chin dimple when I see him show up with Gisele at some black tie gala.

So healy quickly Tommy. I need you. I'm a shell of a man without my ire and you have brought me so much over the years.

Come back soon, Bud. Until then, have fun in SoHo.

Well, At Least I'm Younger Than Them

I'm old.

There's much to write about these days. I could write about all the black people at the RNC, but that wouldn't be long. I could also write about how Dustin Pedroia has become the best player in baseball. I could even write bout the worthlessness of Fantasy Football, but happily, I feel the backlash to that idiotic activity these days. Like poker, it's not as big as it once was. I could also write about how I may be wrong about those fading Rays (but I'll be right, you'll see!) or shred the new Pacino/De Niro certain flop (it makes less than 10 million, I guarantee). Or I could discuss the awesomeness of this fall's live music scene. Or lament the fact that Heidi Whatney may be banging a big assed, flat topped, .210 hitting Jason Varitek.

But I couldn't get juiced up for any of those because I was busy feeling bad for myself because I realized I'm old. When did this realization come to fruition? When I made a reference to The Breakfast Club and a student of mine said it was "mad old."

Old? What? Are you kidding me? No way. In fact, I disagreed so wholeheartedly that I got really pissed. I spent the rest of the afternoon cursing the stupidity of today's youth and their non appreciation for all things great. I mean, could they turn off Gossip Girls, shut off their iPod, and get off of Facebook for a few seconds? Can't they appreciate all the greatness that has come before them because if they thought superbad Superbad was funny, then they know nothing! Funny was the eighties and nineties I tell ya! Funny was Marty McFly, Lloyd Christmas, Farley and Spade, Fletch (that's for you Hayes), Caddyshack (that's for you Wall), Animal House (Thornton), and The Big Lebowski (Mike). Those are (were?) funny! And by god so was (definitely WAS) The Breakfast Club!

But you know what? My new student was correct. The Breakfast Club is old. And to this young woman- who was born in 1992- The Breakfast Club is indeed, Mad Old. And once I thought about it, not only is it old, but it's not that good. How do I know this? Why, I watched it just five days ago.

While The Simple Minds are great, Principal Vernon is hilarious (I can't believe that I related to him the most!) and the general story of teens from all walks of life is a classic, the movie is far from funny. There are painfully dated lines (Barry Manilow's wardrobe), the "dramatic" parts aren't that dramatic and there's been a glut of recent high school films that surpass it (my binkie Napoleon, Mean Girls, Can't Hardly Wait to name three). And worst of all is Judd Nelson. He is virtually unwatchable and his tough guy of a character is so beyond outdated that it is hysterical (there just aren't "skids" anymore people).

And that got me to thinking. To this girl, this movie is ANCIENT. It came out a full seven years before she was born. That may as well make it Citizen Kane to her.

Think about the year you were born. For me, that was 1974. Now go back seven years from said birth year. That puts me at 1967.

In 1967, there was no baseball playoffs, just the World Series. There were no Walkmans, let alone iPods. U2 were just recently gametes. No one had heard of something as simple as Pong. The Cosby Show and Family Ties were decades away. Hell, even Jaws and it's comical mechanical shark was too futuristic (it arrived nine years later). And wikipedia was a word that would have got you put into special ed classes if you said it too often. Only there weren't special ed classes either. And heres a car from 1967:


I'd rather have a club foot than be seen driving in that piece.

On the pop culture scene, The Graduate, In Cold Blood, Bonnie and Clyde, and In The Heat of the Night were big films of that year. I've seen all four. $50 and a six pack pf PBR Talls wouldn't get me to sit through one of them right now.

Have you seen a television show from 1967? You probably have... For about five seconds because some of the shows that were on in 1967 were Hogan's Heroes, Gunsmoke, Bonanza, The Carol Burnett Show, and Beverly Hillbillies.

Those shows aren't good.

And it's not that they are not good because they are old, they are not good because they are not good. Just as, upon further review, The Breakfast Club is not good.

I frequently get in this argument with people, especially when it comes to music. Because a song or band is old and was an essential part of our youth, doesn't mean it was good. I bet the first time your older brother gave you Foreigner, 4 (add "Urgent" to the songs I immediately switch off), you loved it. Not so much because you liked the music , but more because you liked the fact that your brother was actually being nice to you and not giving you a charlie horse (or drowning you in the pool, right Molly and Mike?). But have you listened to it in comparison to the music that is out these days? These guys wouldn't open for Cold War Kids, let alone headline a tour in 2008.

Because if you can push aside for a few minutes all the nostalgia that comes with something old, you may realize that these movies, TV shows, songs, bands, cars, video game systems, and gadgets were just plain bad.

And so that young lady in my class doesn't hate The Breakfast Club strictly because it's old. She hates it because it's bad and unfunny. The actors are of no relevance to her and Don't You Forget About Me is a song she may or may not have heard covered on One Tree Hill. Instead of being the geek icon that he was in the 80s, to her Anthony Michael Hall is just some old dude that hasn't been in a relevant movie in twenty years (although he was seen pissing off a balcony in Entourage recently). Molly Ringwald is no one to her and Emilio Estevez? C'Mon. She probably knows his dad better from those re-runs of West Wing.

I wrote in a very early post that old TV shows on DVD should not be watched because they aren't good. The same can be said for all pieces of pop culture, not just TV shows. And while old isn't always bad ("So Lonely", Iggy Pop, 2001: A Space Odyssey, To Kill A Mockingbird, "Take Another Piece of My Heart", Monopoly), so much of what we loved is really, REALLY bad.

Take for instance Atari. I've had a habit of buying for Playstation old Atari games (just to give you a sense of the memory on those old school cartridges, you can get about fifty games on one Playstation CD-ROM) and you know what? They suck. There's a reason why people invented Intellivision, Colecovision, Nintendo, Sega, genesis, N64, Playstation, and XBox. Why? Because each of these were way better than their old, outdated, worthless predecessor!

And just as we understand that this is a GOOD thing when it comes to technology, we should also understand that it is a GOOD thing when it comes to entertainment too. Because while three guys slapping each other and poking one another's eyes may have been funny at some point in our lives, I'm certainly glad we progressed from that to Ferris Bueller's Day Off (still weathers time), to Pulp Fiction, to Napoleon Dynamite, to Flight of the Conchords.

But guess what? I like lots of old things, like Seinfeld. This past May marked the tenth anniversary of Seinfeld ENDING! Can you believe that? For anyone in high school, that Thursday night when no one got the button joke means absolutely nothing! Neither, frankly, does the return of 90210. Why? because to a teenager, Jennie Garth and Shannon Doherty are just two old beat chicks moving staggeringly close to cougar status. They are part of no current drinking games as they were to many of us in college and teenagers certainly have no idea what the phrase "Donna Martin graduates" means.

So the next time I make a Frank Constanze joke and it falls flat (as it did the other day), I need to realize that- in the words of good ole Constanza... It's not them, it's me.

I need to start making Gossip Girl references and instead of talking about the hotness of a now 43 year old Brad Pitt, I need to say how dreamy The Jonas Brothers are. I need to get it together because my circa 1997 jokes are really not good and you know why?

It's because I'm old.