Power and Greed and Corruptible Seed

Bob’s Quote of the Week: I’m just thankful I can play on stage and people come to see me. Because I couldn’t make it otherwise, I mean if I went out to play on stage and nobody showed up that would be the end of me. I wouldn’t be making records, I’ll tell you that. I only make records because people see me live. As long as they’re coming to see me live, I’ll just make more records."

Star Trek Quote of the Week: "Joy can be many things." Dr. Miranda

Editor’s Note: We are proud to present our first sports column (unless you count Jason’s Super Bowl predictions) and probably our last (this is a retail music newsletter by golly. Enjoy.

They were simpler times. We used to go to the park with a mangled, slightly lopsided baseball (it did make it easier to throw a curve ball) and spend our weekends playing ball. We used a frisbee as first base, a tin can as second base, and one of the "guy’s" jackets as third.

As a kid, (and admittedly I wasn’t much of a kid) I lived and breathed baseball. I memorized the stats, studied the nuances, imitated all the symbolic gestures (to spit like a pro is all in the timing) and above all dreamed of the day of my major league debut. Many kids have imaginary friends but how many have twenty-four of them? (the number of teammates on my imaginary baseball team-we were a bit weak at shortstop).

This topic comes to mind for a couple of reasons. I had a Kirby Puckett baseball card hanging up at my desk at the state (provided some relief after an exasperating phone call). Last week one of the women I work with said her daughter was in a desperate search for a Kirby card, hounding her classmates with escalating trade offers. So I sent it home to young Tasha (and got a sweet thank you note) figuring it was worth more to her than me. Well, another co-worker questioned my generosity, telling me the card would someday be worth some money.

I used to have a fairly impressive baseball card collection and I suppose it is worth some money these days. But I didn’t collect for that (just like record collecting, don’t tell me how much my Sinatra collection may be worth, it’s all in the music man) reason. The cards were another facet to the game I found so fascinating. I loved being able to match a face with the box scores I scoured every morning. The fun facts on the backside of the cards made these heroes seem, well heroic. "In the off season, Alex farms potatoes." "Jim’s favorite soup is stew." And I loved the smell of bubble gum. I have a nephew who collects cards and can tell me how much each card is worth in monetary figures. He doesn’t know much about the players, so in my way of thinking he doesn’t know the "real" value, or what they are worth. Baseball card collecting has become a lucrative business, so unfortunately for most kids that’s all it means. The joy in getting a Brock Davis card comes only in finding how much it can sell for.

I took my nephew to a Timberwolves’ game Friday night. Having been to only one other game (back in the Dome days) I was a bit apprehensive going to a sporting event and being bombarded with so many commercial messages that overwhelm the senses. The Timberwolves are if nothing else, a corporate diversion. But despite the Star Tribune blimp, the Reebock performance team (babes), and the disappointment in losing out on a free Big Mac cause the fighting Wolfies came 1 point shy of a 100 point victory night, I must say I enjoyed the game. The NBA is fan-tastic.

The good news for Wolves’ fans was Christian Laettner was the best player on the floor, followed closely by Doug West. The bad news was the opposition was the Mavericks, kind of like comparing your best with a green tag Air Supply LP.

After the game we spent two hours searching for my car. Damn if all those Target Center ramps don’t look the same. The state of being perpetually lost, lacking a sense of direction, there is almost a comforting feeling in that. There is an energy in trying to find your way home.

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Did anyone watch the Grammy’s? I didn’t get the chance what with my busy social calendar. I did get a second hand report. I was told Billy Ray Cyrus has mastered the L7 hair flip, using it to maximum dramatic effect. I also heard Michael Jackson made a great quip about forcing Janet to be Ginger to his Fred.

Did anyone catch Wayne and Garth’s "Rock A Go Go"? The snippets were a bit too brief and how could they not show Dylan’s 78 performance of "I Believe In You"? Top five rock babes sans Susannah Hoffs?! Give me a break.

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In response to some of what Mark has recently written here is the vision I have for the year 2000:

David mutters his last word, "Gibsonian" as in not so young Deborah.

The Twin Cities merge into one big city, and change locations to the brand new mega state, "Dakota". Al now owns all the buildings in town finally overcoming the label "real estate neophyte" dubbed by the City Business newspaper.

And I hate to be a Gloomy Gus, but did anyone else notice the prediction Notredamus had about the demise of a country whose symbol is an Eagle, where the first of a chain of events leading to the end is an explosion in the "New" city?

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I think it is an excellent idea to alphabetize our stock without categorization. If there is one thing I stand for it is fighting the urge to define people by putting them in a "category". If I ever write my masterpiece I don’t want it labeled as the work of an "American Asian" writer nor do I want it defined as being the work of a short, near sighted man who likes to wear hats. I think it is insulting that we attempt to define styles of music. How can we say the Byrds or the Jayhawks are less country than Steve Earle". What exactly is "Women’s Music"?

I am now known as "Mr. Freeze" cause I’m so darn cool. Please address me as such.