The many perks of big city life...

Coming from Iowa, there's not much you can hang your hat on. Sure we may have had the stars of both "The Stupids" and "Cheaper by the Dozen" (only the brilliant first one, not the much expected, but inferior, sequel), and I may have come from the home of the world's larget bird seed and bird seed products manufacturer, but Fort Dodge, Iowa just doesn't carry the mystique of a New York or Chicago, especially in music.

But all that's changed, now that I'm an official big-city kid. Turns out my favorite bar, the world-famous Triple Rock Social Club, has been immortalized in song by NOFX on their recent EP "Never Trust a Hippy". Now I realize that NOFX is a largely derivative and unimaginative pop-punk band, (even thought I whole-heartedly agree with their politics), but still. The T-Rock (as we locals call it) is not only my favorite bar, but only a block away from my front steps, making it my "neighborhood bar." Not in the sense that Applebees is "America's Neighborhood Bar and Grill," but in the literal sense that it's in my neighborhood and I see my neighbors there.

God, I'm a so much cooler than everyone else, now that I'm a big-city kid.

I get drunk here and you don't, which means you're not as cool as me. Has your bar every been immortalized in song?

Congratulations!

Lucky you, the one whom is viewing this humble li'l weblog at this very moment, for you are in all likelihood the 1,000th person to ever view this page! Whoot!

This blog was established in the year of our Lord, 2005 on the 19th of February. Ahh, those were heady times, were they not? I was still a humble, small-town Iowa boy, the nation was unaware of illegal wiretaps and other such scandals, and an aging Joe Piscapo was contemplating a run for the governor of New Jersey. It felt like we, as a nation, could accomplish anything, and this blog was borne of that spirit. I like to think it carries a little of that bright-eyed optimism forward to this day.

1,000 visitors since that day also means (by my caculations) that I've been averaging roughly 2.7322404371584699453551912568306 visitors per day, which isn't too bad for a guy with very little interesting to say. But it must also be noted that I was out of the country for 5 weeks with little access to computers and no time for blogging, so you could actually reconfigure the number to be more in the area of 3.0211480362537764350453172205438 visitors per day, but that would be kinda splitting hairs.

In short, it is you, the faithful, the people, the true believers, that have made this all possible. Here's looking to thousands more visits!


YOU

What's in a name?

Ahhh..the magical cycle of life. Children grow from being helpless little people who must be fed and cared for, to being independent adults, back to being little old people who must be fed and cared for. It's a magical cycle of which we are all a part. So, too, is my name.

The name Wozniak is similar to the English surname Carter, meaning a person who drives a cart. It is belived to have been derived from the root woz, meaning wagon or cart. Thus, my humble little nickname has grown from Woz up to Wozniak, and then paired back down by protestants who have the inability to recognize anything unlike themselves and cannot pronounce anything that does not end in "son" back down to Woz. Ahh, the cycle is complete.

In other possible interpretations, it has also been said to have been derived form Wozny, meaning a town crier. Here's where in my younger days I would have included some sort of hard-core agit prop statement about how I'm still the town crier, waking the masses up from their brainwashed slumber, but now I realize that would make me look like a douchebag, so I'll stick with the cart story.

Too good to be true...

Dick Cheney has just "accidentally" shot a man on a quail-hunting trip.

Accidentaly? While quail hunting? Or did this particular man know too much...

No, I'm not really that crazy. But I am too mentally tired after trying to do statistics all day to figure out something hilarious to write about this. Come up with your own funny quip, and post it as a comment. It will be the first ever "Entertain Yourselves, Damnit!" contest on this little blog o' mine. Winner to receive congratulations, losers to receive years of scorn. Or are you too afraid to try?

In other news, Howzi has pointed out that, unbeknownst to me, Gene Keady has retired. Now we are left only with Coach Crazy E of the Harts Creek (WV) highschool basketball team. Let's hope he gets hired up to the next level.

The cycle of life...

In yet another turn in the revolving door that is collegiate coaching, central casting movie villen/Chris Uggen's brunette doppleganger Quin Snyder has stepped down form Mizzou's head-coaching job. Where does this leave the world of college basketball? I'll tell you where--this leaves us with only Gene Keady's hilariously inept comb-over to provide us with some sideline excitement.

A sad, sad day indeed for basketball coaches with humorous appearances.

I would die 4 him...

One of the miracles of living in Big City, U.S.A. is that there's all sorts of neat things to do. The kind of things you read about in books and wonder if those things actually happen or if they're just literary devices. One such instance is the weekly saturday mindnight screenings of old-school and classic movies at the Uptown Theatre. This past weekend, they played the undeniable movie classic, Purple Rain, the semi-autobiographical story of Prince. You may have seen the more recent remake, but as always, the original is the best.

And not just for the gratuitous shots of the now world famous First Avenue and other Minneapolis notables. Sure, the acting is terrible, the plot is even worse, and Morris Day shouldn't be allowed near a camera, but it reminds us all of a time when Minneapolis' own son, a man who changed his name multiple time and was more than once spotted wearing assless pants, was a relevant musical icon. Hell, he was even tapped to do the Batman soundtrack.

Let's see Morris and Jerome pull that off.

For more information, please go to prince.org which, I shit you not, actually does exist.

R.I.P. F.U.K.

It's a sad, sad day as the long-running FUK garage has finally been shut down by the authorities both as a fire hazard and illegal bootlegging operation. A sad day for D.I.Y. culture and for punk music, both in Iowa and general. There was really something magical going on in there. Much like the stove-pipe hat to Frosty the Snowman, this magical little place put a pep in the step and a sparkle in the eye of all Iowa punks, not to mention a nice little stop for so, so many awesome, awesome bands. A sad, sad day.



the mattresses that song long offered protection, a force for ramming people, padding for crazy aerobatics, and mops for sweat. they will be missed most of all

R.I.P. F.U.K.

It's a sad, sad day as the long-running FUK garage has finally been shut down by the authorities both as a fire hazard and illegal bootlegging operation. A sad day for D.I.Y. culture and for punk music, both in Iowa and general. There was really something magical going on in there. Much like the stove-pipe hat to Frosty the Snowman, this magical little place put a pep in the step and a sparkle in the eye of all Iowa punks, not to mention a nice little stop for so, so many awesome, awesome bands. A sad, sad day.



the mattresses that song long offered protection, a force for ramming people, padding for crazy aerobatics, and mops for sweat. they will be missed most of all

Who let the president write his speech?

Apparently several White House staffers thought it would be hilarious to let the president write a paragraph or two of his State of the Union address. "What's the worst that could happen?" they asked themselves, chuckling heartily at the appearance of another "misunderestimated" or "is our children learning" coming out of him and improving his image as a folksy village drunk/idiot.

But then the terribly unforseeable happened.

In a moment of stupidity/drunkeness/coke-fuelled rage, the president and former owner of Arbusto Oil (literaly: Shrub Oil) announced his intention to cut foreign-oil imports by 75% by the year 2025. Such a bold stance from an oil man and fella who doesn't seem to care too much for the environment.

Well, it turns out that he may have been exaggerating. His much calmer and much more well-informed advisors have been quick to point out that the number of 75% was just an example and that he didn't mean it "literally".

Ah! So that's it! It was all metaphorical. Like when a professor gives you a 95 on a test and tells you that you got an "F", explaining that he didn't mean 95 literally, you dumb-ass flunkie.

Because I know you don't read the newspaper...

Mother of dead soldier/new political activist Cindy Sheehan wasarrested last night at the State of the Union for wearing a t-shirt. Meanwhile, Alito has been confirmed.

Say goodbye to this and this.