Right On Blogger

Blogger now allows me to schedule posts for the future. This feature will come in handy when I take vacation to the in-laws house in Florida later this year. They're a no Internet household. My father in-law goes to the library every week to check his stocks and email and that's good enough for him. But I digress.

Thank you blogger for allowing me to post into the future. In fact I wrote this missive yesterday but it's just now getting screen time. Nifty.

Western Civ Final 1984

The closest thing liberal arts students ever came to a Law School exam was the Western Civilization final. One needed to know a long list of thinkers and ideas from Plato to Aldous Huxley to score high. The Western Civ department knew it was a hard test, and they sponsored a balls-out review in dueling lecture-toriums at Wescoe Hall in the middle of KU campus one night a few days before the final exam. 700 sophomores scribbled notes for three hours while TA after TA presented snippets on DesCartes, Niechtze, and St. Thomas Aquinas to name a few.

My friend Shanahan and I sat 30 rows up from the stage with a jam box between us. Shanahan recorded the session on cassette tape so he didn't miss anything. Lecturers went back and forth between the two auditoriums, doing their tight-five on the big minds of history for each group of 350 students, like they do with Blues shows in the Kingston Mines in Chicago. Oh, wait, that's the reverse. The audience moves between two stages there. Never mind.

Some tweed jacket was late starting his set and the crowd in our auditorium grew restless. Shanahan didn't miss the opportunity. He popped in the Talking Heads version of Take Me To the River and turned up the blaster volume. Everybody started groovin' and when I say groovin' imagine a bunch of white kids from the suburbs of Kansas City doin' the flat shoe boogie. I mean, I don't want to overstate it. There was serious head nodding going on, and about the time the vocals kicked in, 60 seconds into the song, Professor wildhair with the notes on Machiavelli showed up. We shut it down, even though we didn't want to, but Shanahan broke the tension in the room, and I didn't care as much about the Western Civ final after that, in fact this story is about the only thing I remember about the evening. I think I got a B.

Sunday Night Show

Kansas City's answer to John Peel, Robert Moore, presents a tribute to The Go-Betweens this starting at 8pm this Sunday night (5/18) at Record Bar in Westport. Hyperopia opens at 8:30. Ghosty, Softee, and Eric Voeks are also on the bill.

Wall of Space Nuts

My daughter and I watched a few Sid and Marty Krofft credit sequences on YouTube and I think the opening song for Far Out Space Nuts sounds a bit like Wall of Voodoo, especially the first half of the song, before the "Step Right Up" verse. The later half sounds like a soft drink commercial, but the first half sounds like Wall of Voodoo. See what you think.

To the Top of the Power & Light

25 years ago this month I graduated from high school. We were on top of the world in more ways than one as this essay explains in today's Kansas City Star, written by yours truly.

Last Night at the Ballpark

My son played baseball last night and he rapped an RBI single his first time up. Later he belted a double down the line at 3rd base and eventually came around to score. I think his team lost. They don't have a scoreboard. But it was fun to see him hit the ball.

The Breeders Tonight

I wish I was going but I'm not. I'm surprised its not sold-out. Heck, maybe it is.

Replacements Sing on British TV

I've been blog slacking this week. In the meantime, enjoy this vintage Replacements performance from 1986:

Another Reason to Love Lawrence

My old KJHK radio comrade Sunshine Dunham and her husband Martin share business space in Lawrence. Now you can get a new house and a tattoo in one stop. Read Gavon Laessig's profile of the hip couple from Lawrence.com.

Philippe Petit

This crazy Frenchman walked across a tightrope strung up between the twin towers of the World Trade Center back in 1974. Everyone in America knew the name of Philippe Petit for a brief time that summer. Now there's a documentary about his amazing feat, a stunt that will never be duplicated for obvious reasons. Looks cool!