Mullet Fu, Total Poo, and Blake Lew

Why doesn't anyone watch this show, anymore? Survivor used to be the talk-of-the-town. The subject of radio morning shows each and every Friday. Contestants were made celebrities. Survivor-themed parties were held in the lilly-white suburbs as everyone watched the finales.

I miss those days.

I can probably also guess a couple of reasons why? Because Survivor is cruel. The weak survive. Every damn time. And the strongest contestants don't win. Never. The weak, lying, useless, lucky-to-actually-be-physically alive people ride the coat tails of the Ruperts, Dietzes, and, now, the Jameses. I'm thinking every show needs a "fan vote" so that the truly deserving win the million dollars.

Is there any doubt that Skeleton-Girl and Elf-Boy would've perished days ago had it not been for James, personally, winning challenges, hunting, gathering, fishing, cooking, and lifting heavy things?

Last night's episode will always be remembered as the night-James-was-screwed and we'll always remember November the twenty-ninth in the year of our lord two-thousand and seven. Right? It's not often I yell at the characters on my TV-screen ...like ...maybe only two or three times a week. Last night at tribal council was a yell-at-the-TV moment. "Jamesssss! Play the Immunity Idol!!!! Pleasssssse! Don't trust them!!!" My words fell on deaf ears. Well, my wife's ears were not deaf and she heard me loud and clear. And I think she was yelling something back at me ...like ..."stop yelling" and "you'll wake the kids" and "did you take your meds?!?!?"

James is gone. There's nothing I can do to bring him back. I am sad. Every season there's a night like this where I vow that I won't watch the rest of the season. I'm vowing, now, that I'm done with Survivor: China! But ya know what? James wasn't mad, so why can't I follow his lead? Yes. He's right. He said, "I'm not mad. It's just a game." Well said.

I'm still mad. So mad that I wish I was like Quick-Learn-Girl from Heroes and I could have watched Mullet-Chick and immediately become a Kung Fu expert. I'd kick some serious butt, today. Survivor taught me something last night: the mountainous, excluded Chinese Kung Fu palaces featured in hundreds of movies over the years actually exist. I wished they would've shown us the fallen American fighter pilot whom the Kung Fu monks found, near death, in the mountains, and were nursing back to health with tea and wet bamboo leaves for his wounds, all while incense burned in the back ground. They'd've had some nickname for him that included the words "white" or "pale." And, likely, he would've fallen in love with a local girl. Sadly, the monks would've only been keeping him alive to give him his honor, but fully planned on killing him. Except for one wrinkle - the dojo master, or sensai, or whatever you call him, would become his friend. He'd see the American is not so different from the Chinese, afterall. And then he'd come to find out about the American's love for the local girl who, get this, is actually the sister of the dojo master. Last night, while American TV camera's rolled, would've have given Pale Fu the perfect opportunity to return to the United States - only he would've rejected the capitalist, Western world he once knew for his new home in the China mountains and the love of his life.

Where was I? Oh, yes. I'll miss James.

LAUGHING: At Cris Collinsworth and Bryant Gumbel. Oh, and at the NFL. And the NFL Network. I'm laughing at quite a few people. I'm sure early on in 2007 the NFL Network asked for a semi-marquee game that they could air late in the season and try and drum up subscriptions. Somehow, miraculously, the NFL said, "sure you can have the Packers v. the Cowboys." People at the NFL Network were probably high-fiving and puttin' back a few beers. What a win. These teams, even in down years, draw fans. Brett Favre, Tony Romo, and Terrell Owens. Perfect.

Some pimply faced intern probably said, "Who are we going to get to announce the game? We need a play-by-play guy and I suggest..."

The NFL Network people would've interrupted him and have blown cigar smoke in his face and said, "relax, Pointdexter. We'll get somebody - there's plenty of time. Don't worry." Then they probably poured a beer over his head and they all laughed at him. The intern has since quit and is making six figures at The Big Ten Network.

Today, however, I suspect someone at either CBS, ESPN, NBC, or Fox will be fired and the guy who green-lighted this match-up at NFL Headquarters is going to be reprimanded.

There were now two "must-see" games in the NFL this year. The first: undefeated Indy v. N.E. three weeks ago. The second: last night's 10-1 Packers v. the 10-1 Cowboys. The game ended up being fantastic, but the announcers, the broadcast, and the fact that it will be the lowest viewed prime time game of the entire season was pure comedy gold.

LAUNCHING: Blake Lewis launched his official website (like I needed to tell you that). Check it...

http://www.blakelewisofficial.com

I just got head-shots done and TOTALLY should have used a pose like this one.

From Wentz I Came

ATTENDING: The Fall Out Boy concert on November 20th at The Palace of Auburn Hills even in the face of much ridicule. Prior to the show I was asked if I was 14-years-old. If I had any musical taste, whatsoever. If I was having a mid-life crisis and/or am I some sort of perv? The answers are no, no, no, and no.

Though, me and the missus did do shots of Pucker and slam beers in the parking lot and followed-up by sneaking in Jim Beam to pour into our Cokes. And I was wearing my Blake Lewis t-shirt. What is wrong with me?

Since the break-up of Weezer, I was desperately searching for a new band to call "my band." This band needed some angst, couldn't take itself too seriously, needed a "so-what" sense of style, good videos, and catchy music. Enter Fall Out Boy. They came at me in a perfect storm of all the qualities described above. I saw their video for "Dance, Dance" and downloaded their CD. Their lyrical focus on self-loathing, missed opportunities, lost loves, and the path not taken took me aback.

She says she's no good with words but I'm worse
Barely stuttered out
"A joke of a romantic" or stuck to my tongue
Weighed down with words too over-dramatic
Tonight it's "it can't get much worse"
Vs. "no one should ever feel like.." - opening lines of "Dance, Dance"

Why do these themes resonate with me? Who knows? I'm Gen X and I guess, deep inside, I'll always be angst-ridden. An angry, confused teen for life. That's me.

The performance was phenomenal. For a band that reached super stardom only two years ago, their arena presence blew me away. Lead vocalist Patrick Stump was so good I would swear he was voice tracking or lip syncing. But for only a few flaws and lyrical ad-libs, I would have said he did lip sync. He did not.

For those who like this sorta thing, here's the Detroit show set list.

1. Sugar, We're Goin' Down
2. Our Lawyers Made Us Change the Name of this Song So We Wouldn't Get Sued
3. Grand Theft Autumn / Where is Your Boy?
4. Hum Hallelujia
5. Of All the Gin Joints in All the World
6. I Slept with Someone in Fall Out Boy and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me
7. A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More "Touch Me"
8. The Carpal Tunnel of Love
9. Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?
10. I'm Like A Lawyer with the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You)
11. The (After) Life of the Party
12. Golden
13. Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner
14. Thriller
15. The Take Over. The Break's Over
16. XO
17. Mr Brightsides (cover of The Killers)
18. This Ain't a Scene, It's An Arms Race
19. Thnks fr the mmrs
20. Dance! Dance!
21. Saturday

OBSERVATIONS: Cheesy banter between songs is long dead. David Lee Roth and Paul Stanley wrote the book on the subject. The last book. Apparently modern day rock stars haven't read that book because the current banter consists of telling the crowd to "f' off" and that they "suck." We, the audience, were told at least 30 times how lame we were and to "f' off." Interesting approach. But the kids-these-days responded as if to show both Gym Class Heroes and Fall Out Boy that we were, indeed, worthy of attending their show. And what right does the lead singer of Gym Class Heroes have that he spent 3 or more minutes between each song talking about himself? Who are you? Henry Rollins? Shut up and play the 2 Gym Class Heroes songs I know and let's get to Fall Out Boy.

MOSHING: Kids-these-days don't mosh. They don't slam dance. In fact, I wonder what they even call what it is they do for the 30-seconds they do it. Fall Out Boy resorted to sending a 7-foot roadie into the crowd in an attempt to ramp up the mosh pit, and even then only about 11 people were actually moshing for no more than 1-minute. The punk teens of the 80s invented it, the angst-ridden 90s era Gen Xers perfected it, and I fear the mosh-pit might be slowly dying. God bless these kids, but they simply aren't angry. They see no reason to fatten someone's lip whilst getting their nose bloodied in return.

WONDERING: As in, one-hit-wonder. Poor, poor Plain White-Ts. This band might've had some promise as a rock band, but then "Hey There, Delilah" rocketed up the billboard charts and I'm prepared to pronounce this band dead on arrival. Sad, really, because their other songs are quite good - but sound nothing like "Hey There, Delilah." The Plain White-Ts realize this. They muddled through 8 songs and then gave us a 7-minute version of "Hey There, Delilah." Complete with one chorus that said, "hey there, Detroiters ...what's it like in the Motor City." The crowd, predictably, went crazy. This song closed their set as it is inevitably closing their careers.

Plain White Ts? You're sitting with Verve Pipe and Semisonic at that table over there near the kitchen. Sorry 'bout that.

Even after all the lead-singer verbal abuse, my friends laughing at me, and the feeling-old feelings, I would go see Fall Out Boy, again. Maybe someday they'll have enough albums and hit songs to actually have an encore.

Encore! Encore! Encore!