Avalanche of TR Content

Inspired by the tiny dictator’s last comment, while we await TR’s reviews of the Topps baseball card sets of the 90’s here is some TR content to hold you over.  Post count!!

Stuff You Slept On, Alternatively Titled "layzman's filler" -- A Recurring Post

There are a number of albums I love that no one else seems to know about. It occurred to me that there are innumerable such albums, albums that are beloved by a only a few people and that deserve more spins. So I decided to shine a light on this stuff that we slept on, while simultaneously harnessing the immense power with which I am clothed via my G:TB platform to crowd-source content. To that end, I surveyed about a dozen of our twelve person readership for hidden musical gems. The resulting layzman's filler will trickle out as needed. First up is TR's response:

Warren Zevon's Excitable Boy turns 40 this year. The song he is most known for (Werewolves in London) is on this album, but it is far from his best song on the album (IMO).

Excitable Boy is a fun rocker with an oldies tilt, but that's not the tune I'm gonna pimp here.

Lawyers, Guns and Money is also on this album. I have loved this song for the last fifteen years, since I first heard Widespread Panic cover it. The lyrics are like something Hunter S. Thompson would write, which is high praise from a guy with a Gonzo tattoo and a son named Hunter. "Now I'm hiding in Honduras. I'm a desperate man. Send lawyers, guns and money. The shit has hit the fan." Giddyup.

The other tune I'm gonna pimp is Night Time in the Switching Yard. I vividly remember when I first heard this. I was driving to Saratoga early on a Friday morning for Sammy the Bull's BP in the mid aughts. I was near Woodstock and found a great classic rock station. This was pre-Sirius, when you had to work to find tunes. This song came and I quickly turned the volume up to 11.

YouTube link is here. You have to embed this video or you won't be my friend any more:



If nothing else, Werewolves, Excitable Boy, Lawyers and Night Time highlight Zevon's tremendous musical range, lyrical prowess and potential as a rock superstar cut from the same cloth as Petty and Springsteen. Ultimately, his numerous personal demons proved to be too much of a limiting factor on his professional success. But he put it all together on one tremendous LP. I own it on vinyl. You should too.

Is zson really TRson?

TR likes to joke that he's really my son's father, and I'm starting to question whether that's a joke because over a five day span last week zson did the following:

1. At his nursery school graduation (which I did not attend due to work commitments and my general view that this wasn't a big deal, which apparently was not shared by many other dads who took off from work to be there and probably think I'm a heel), while everyone else was singing songs and reciting poems in unison, zson and his friend Danny yelled the closest things to expletives that 5-year-olds know. Stuff like "Underpants!" and "Butts!" and "Poop!" and "Penis!" zwoman was mortified.

2. After his nursery school graduation, zson and Danny and some other kids went to a nearby pizzeria with their respective moms. Danny dared zson to pick his nose and eat it. zson obliged. zwoman was mortified. This has become one of his signature gross-out moves.

3. He pulled the dry erase penis coloring stunt. I almost fainted.

4. He announced that when he grows up he wants to be a rock star or a baker.

5. I asked him why he was walking funny and he said "I'm stretching my balls out, they are sticking to my legs." He was going commando because that's his thing lately.

6. Later that day I was in the kitchen and he yelled from the living room "Daddy I pooped but don't worry my pants are clean." I asked how that's possible and he replied "The poop is on the floor." Apparently he was trying to make himself fart and instead he shat. His commando status allowed the (inordinately large) shit in question to fall nearly unfettered out of his shorts and onto my floor. He remained unfazed throughout. zwoman was mortified.

7. We went fishing and about 15 minutes in he announced that he had to poop. The closest storefront was a vintage car store that I've always wanted to check out so we hustle over there. I haven't showered yet that day so I'm oily and stinky and we both smell like sunblock and unwashed armpits. We walk in, zson bent over with intestinal distress, and the young guy who works there greets us and asks if he can help us. I point to the to-die-for-beautiful tangerine 1972 Porsche 911 RS lightweight (which is worth something like $1.4 million) and say "I'd love to buy the RS but I can't. My colleague here could really use a bathroom though."

He points us right to the impeccably clean loo. Immediately upon mounting the bowl, zson rips a monstrously loud fart, a deep basso booming blast of a thing that I'm sure was clearly heard in the showroom. He then announces (in his outside voice) that he doesn't have to poop after all, and it was all just a fart. So we get cleaned up and come out to the showroom and the young guy is laughing at us and he knew that I knew cars from my whole line about the RS and we talked about all the beautiful stuff they have in the showroom, including an old 356, some newer Ferraris, a Ford GT (which another sales guy started up and goosed the throttle so a potential buyer could listen to its angry engine note), and several other less audacious 911s. At some point I turn back to the RS and see the bottom half of zson sticking out of the passenger side window, his upper half firmly planted inside it, squirming around and torquing on 44-year-old irreplaceable car parts. Mercifully he was wearing shorts with no zipper or buttons, otherwise he would've scratched the door all to hell, but I still almost had a heart attack and pulled him out of the car. None of the worm guts on his shirt wound up inside the car, as far as I could tell. The young guy was not fazed and continued to talk about cars they're getting in, cars they used to have, etc. and when I turn around again zson is wiping his greasy paws on the 2007 GT3 RS (which is worth a mere $200k or so), trying to pry the driver's side open and getting kidprints all over the thing. As I pulled him off the car he announced "This is my favorite car here" and the young guy said "Me too! This is the best driver's car we've ever had, in my opinion. You have great taste in cars!" We were even invited to come back anytime we want. Despite ripping hellacious farts, sullying over a million dollars worth of cars, and generally acting like a jackass, zson charmed the daylights out of some total stranger while giving me palpitations.

zson has TR written all over him.

Fitness is Dumb

A spinoff from the wildly popular "Fashion is Dumb" segment. Thanks, TR:

More filler content:  Fitness is Dumb
And make sure to wait for the 25 second mark:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsL8dGj0BLU