And Then It Ended

Well, this past Tuesday around four in the morning I watched this video on youtube: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rCi17SEPgpc

The song is called Detroit '67 by Sam Roberts. I love the song and the video. And more often then not it gets my creative mind-a-going. This time in particular after watching it, I felt like I just had to a poem or something on the riots. It needed to be done. This poem came to  me in one fell swoop, word for word, while I was in my World Literature class. We were taking notes on Kafka, and well he gave us these slide-show handouts and well I used it for this:

So hear it is my first haphazard attempt to write a poem on the riots of Detroit.

And Then It Ended

The American Dream was in flames

As Detroit was in chaos

Blacks and Whites now working together

As wrecking balls

Releasing all the angst and hate

That had gotten to this point

That one week in '67

The immoveable object of Detroit

Met the unstoppable force

Of its people

And the unstoppable force won

The townspeople ripped the city

From its roots

Like a tooth from its gums

Painful to see

But even more painful to experience

The blood of Detroit spewed out 

In flames

Engulfing the memories

Burying all optimism

And burning the past

Only allowing it to be represented

In the flickering embers that floated

And littered the sky

Much like the rioters were littering the future

Of this city

But the fact remained

This was still their city

That they made with their own hands

And now those hands were tearing it down

Piece by piece

They were destroying the dream 

And they manifested it as a nightmare

That Motown would never wake up from

And then it ended

After a week

The city was bled out

As were the flames

The heart of Detroit

Seized to beat

Suffocated by its people

Left only to be a poor

Charred relic

And then ended

Pawn Stars Is A Set-Up

Okay, I love Pawn Stars as much as the next guy. Dare I say, I actually learn stuff when I watch it. But I am not afraid to say that the show is faker than Rebecca Black's career.

First look at Chumlee. Who would trust that man? He looks like Barney and Snorlax did the naughty bits and bore a child. Then the doctor ashamed of exposing the Earth to such a creature tried to just hide him and forcefully fed him Big Mac's so he only had two options.

1.) Be a Maury baby
2.) Or never get off a couch ever.

I really felt the doctor put all his eggs in one basket with option two. But some how Chumlee got a job at a Pawn Shop. And how? I do not care if he a family friend. If Chumlee was my family friend he would be exactly that. I would not think, "Hey, I should really get this guy involved with expensive things." Because I would be too concerned that he would try to eat one of those things. Costing me thousands of dollars.

Plus, I do not think he knows he exists. Or knows how to add. Or properly breathe. Have you heard him breathe? Good lord. It is like he is snoring, but he is awake. And you want to say something to him, but you kind of just cock your head and stare in amazement at such an amoebic creature.

Secondly, Rick is so damn nonchalant over everything that comes into it his shop. A person could walk in with Big Foot's last bowel movement autographed by Jesus and Enrique Inglesias, and he will act like he sees it all the time and knows everything about it. And he will always know everything about the item, except for the price.

Which leads me to my third thing that proves that Pawn Stars is malarky...

Rick has an expert for everything. A person could walk in with a Victorian Era Gold Plated Dildo operated with water turbines and he would have an expert for that. "Look I know this guy who specializes in gold plated water turbine operated Victorian Era dildos. I could give him a call and have him come in." That is exactly what he would say.

Now to exacerbate my thoughts on the gold plated dildo expert. How do you fit that on a business card? "Oh, I specialize in car restoration. But, you know if you have a spare Victorian dildo around the house I am your guy."

Okay, we are done with that.

And when ever the expert comes in, they make Rick look the ass. Everything that Rick thinks is fake is usually the thing that makes the object valuable. "Oh, the barrel looks like rust to me Dale." And the expert will say, "Actually no, if you look closely that is tobacco spit from Abraham Lincoln. This could go in auction anywhere from 6 dollars to the price of the country of Spain."

Then Rick gets that look. Where he knows he was just played like Charlie Daniel's fiddle on the fourth of July.

Fourthly, what Pawn Shop looks like that? You go to a Pawn Shop by me these will be the items in that store:

Guitar with two strings and a rubber band.
Christian vinyl records.
VHS of Jungle Book.
A stereotypical Italian or Albanian store owner.
An autograph of Mickey Mantle that the owner is really adamant is "the" Mickey Mantle. Though it was clearly signed by the store owner's cousin.
And the keys to a '64 Mustang... Not the keys and car. Just the keys.
And Playboys from the '80s.

Now that is a Pawn Shop that deserves a T.V. show.

What Happened On My Birthday (Part IV)

The last part of my memorable birthday might have been the least exciting but it was my favorite. For one reason in particular.

I got to enjoy it with my family.

And on top of that I got to enjoy some great Polish food in Hamtramck.

I had decided that I wanted to go to this place called the Polish Village. Which is basically this basement turned bar/restaurant/fire hazard/possible former Polish Mafia hang-out. And it has phenomenal food. But it is always back, because on a good day it holds 50 people.

Here, imagine you are in a elevator that is full capacity. Now, imagine that same elevator is a restaurant. That is the space available in the Polish Village.

And it really came to no surprise that when we got their it was full and their was a wait. But that was no big deal, because one thing Hamtramck has in spades is fine Polish establishments.

I called the audible to go to another on of my Hamtramck favorites, Under the Eagle. But, we walked to the car we realized that there was a Polish restaurant next door called Polonias. And we decided to eat there instead.

After we ordered our food, I soon realized it was national birthday... day. And at least three other people had birthdays and the staff of the restaurant played Sto Lat. Really, really loud. And apparently the version they had was a remix and gave The End by the Doors a run for their money as it was by far the longest version of Sto Lat I had ever heard.

After the second time it was played I told my mom, "Do not even think about it."

I had to say this because my mom likes to embarrass me. And I have had traumatic birthday salutations in fine dining establishments.

Yeah, I am talking to you Joseph's Shack of Crabs. Better known to the greater public as Joe's Crab Shack.

But more importantly known to me as the place that made a 12 year old wear a cowboy hat/vest and hop on a horse on a stick and gallop around a restaurant... On his birthday.

How fudged is that?

Anyway, I could tell my mom was chomping at the bit to tell the waitress is was my birthday. So I told her the truth. I told her that I did not want to hear a recording of Sto Lat, and that I only liked it when my grandpa sang it. Because it was tradition.

And when it comes to tradition in my family, let's just put it this way, Tevye from Fiddler On the Roof and I could definitely talk shop. I am extremely strict when it comes to my family's traditions. And I cherish them dearly.


Needless to say, my mom still told the waitress and they played Sto Lat. Really, really loud. And then I realized it really is not a birthday if Sto Lat is not sung. Though, I still wish it was my grandpa singing it and not a recording. 


And then we got the bill. Now, when my family dines out. And my grandma is there, and when the bill finally hits the table. 


The battle begins.


My grandma God bless her is the most fascinating woman I have ever met, and I love her to hell and back. She is 87 years old and absolutely takes nothing from no one. Lightning could strike right in front of her and she would just walk through it. And I absolutely adore the fact that she is my grandma.


But, I swear to God when that bill hits the table, she becomes an animal.


She adapts the reflexes of a cat and snatches the bill right off the table. One time she even snatched it out of my mom's hands.


She even argues with me about paying the bill when I take her out to lunch.


The argument usually goes like this:


Grandma: "Don't you waste your money"


Me: "Grandma, the bill is 12 dollars."


Grandma: "Well, don't you need that money for gas?"


Me: "Not really grandma."


Then she gets up to go to the bathroom usually and in those instances I take that opportunity to pay the bill and leave a tip.


This causes her to demand that I take the 20 dollar bill she is forcing on me. All the while I tell her that I do not need. Though she still demands I take it.


And this bill was no different. She demanded that my mom take 30 dollars and it ended with me stuffing the 30 dollars back in her purse only for her to find it.


Oh, my family.


They always know how to make my birthday memorable. And this time it was no different.


No matter what they do I always end up saying to myself, "I love my family."


Or as they say in Poland:


"Kocham moją rodzinę."

I Finally Did A Poem On Tiger Stadium

I have been feeling by inspired by Detroit lately and I am waiting in anticipation for Tiger baseball. And when I think Tiger baseball I think of two things: Ernie Harwell and Tiger Stadium. And after many attempts to convey my love for Tiger Stadium this finally came to me at 11 o'clock at night during an episode of King of Queens. So here it is.

Michigan and Trumbell:

All you are now is a rusted gate

Standing there like a ruin of Rome

Yet you do not fall

Because the roots beneath you

Are stronger than any bulldozer

The ground you are supplanted on

Is the most important ground

This city has ever known

Your ground used to be where

Pinch Hitters and

Ballplayers roamed

You used to be reserved

For legends

You were home to

Cobb

Kaline

Lolich and

Morris

Now you are home to

Weeds

Bottles and

Trash

The overgrown grass

Now replaces the grandstand

It sways back and forth

Parodying the humans

Who sat there during

Those championship runs

In ’35 ’45 ‘68 and ‘84

They weeds take the place

Of the thousands of people

Who witnessed “The Bird”

Electrify a team

And talk to be a baseball

On a pitcher’s mound

That is as flat

As the remaining field

That surrounds it

They are the on lookers now

But not for icons like Willie

But for everyday people like Steve

Who go there on Sundays

To play pick-up baseball

On you the ground

That used to be reserved

For immortals

They find utopia on you

Shagging fly balls in the outfield

Stretching a single in a double

And doing their best Gibson

Impersonation as they round first base

You are now their Field of Dreams

A place they never dared stepping on

In their adolescence

But as adults

You are their weekend sandlot

To them you are not enclosed by a fence

You are still the vestibule you once were

You are still Tiger Stadium

I am feeling immensely inspired to continue to write about Detroit sports all night. We shall see how this goes.

Bears Are The Sharks Of Land. Think About It. This Is Fact.

The title of this entry was a facebook status I posted yesterday I believe. This being a day after I had a conversation will my room mate Will, and had the epiphany that bears were indeed the sharks of land. A 10 minute or so debate then ensued over other sea to land crossovers. And that discussion was fun. But not as fun as the one I got into with my friend Sam, on facebook over this same subject.

The following is the actual transcript of my facebook status. Credit also goes to my Mom, Uncle Pat, and Caroline, Sam and Chad for also contributing to the randomness and taking a conversation that was going nowhere somewhere.

Status: Bears are the sharks of the land. Think about it. This is fact.


"Chad: Food for thought.


Me: Indeed


Caroline: I'm more afraid of sharks than I am of bears. I can hear bears coming.


Sam: which raises the age old question which one would win in a fight. (3 feet of water for those who are curious)


Me: What kind of shark/bear. Location. And weather conditions please.


Caroline: yeah, "European or African?"


(Side note I just Caroline's Monty Python reference and I had to go back and like her comment on Facebook)


Sam: North Australian Male Great White Shark (Carcharodon carcharias) versus a Male Mid Western Grizzly Bear (Ursus arctos horriblis). Both specimens are at peak of maturity and growth. It is a record breaking lightning storm for dramatic effect.


Caroline: In only 3 ft of water, the shark wouldn't stand a chance


Me: Well in that case lightning strikes about 80 feet away. Both animals go blind. Whale swoops in. Killing both. Draw.


Caroline: I like this story, Aaron...you should write it up :)


Uncle Pat: Aaron.....you hav an amazingly creative mind


Sam: now hold on now, 3 feet of water is just enough for the shark to swim around and the bear to stand. As for the whales well they might have trouble swimming


Me: It is a baby whale.


Uncle Pat: A polar bear would take any of the above mentioned in a fight.


Sam: whales are passive-agressive attacking only for prey (which both subjects are not) or when threatened which would not occur in three feet of water ( way out of whales habitat)


Me: Whale then.


(Side note: that was intended to be a sarcastic play on words instead of saying, "Well then."


Sam: the assumption that polar > grizzly is another much more debated topic.


Sam: Aaron discrediting by distraction is ineffective your getting off topic.


Uncle Pat: What if a hippo was involved in this?


Caroline: How 'bout the Loch Ness Monster?


Caroline: Whales also play with their prey, like cats...it would be fun to watch.


Sam: this battle at kruger scenario is out of hand. Its no longer a debate but a free for all. Good day


My Mom: what if mike ditka took on the shark, the whale and THE bear ?


Me: Ditka wins.


My Mom: Touche!"


.... And end scene.

Just Pick A Song

There is a very serious sickness that has infected most of our youth. A sickness so powerful that is can cause someone to habitually change a song before it's completion. Not once, not twice, not even three times does this normally occur, it occurs in a unit of measurement that Science only delegates to the extreme cases such as this. What is the measurement you ask? Well, it is the scientific unit called a metric F ton. And what it is this sickness you may ask? It is Musical A.D.D.

How do you know if you have it? The tell tale signs of Musical A.D.D. are quite apparent. If you find yourself in a college dormitory and you are blasting any type of music (for the sake of this story let's go with rap that makes Helen Keller fortunate) while your fellow dorm-mates are trying to nap. And instead of sticking with a song that you declare "cold" you go on a tirade of 30 second snipets that even make the bouncing ball go, "I honestly do not know where to go, I got lost after line 'Cool beans, Uhhhh Red Sox.'"

That is the most common scenario of Musical A.D.D., and in many ways that is when Musical A.D.D. is in progressed form. It is almost impossible to recover. But there is hope. I feel that I have come up with a solution to Musical A.D.D. that is so powerful it makes Hulk Hogan weep, knowing it could never be as powerful.

The only problem is this solution to Musical A.D.D. has not been tested yet, but nonetheless I will say it anyway.

My solution to Musical A.D.D. is the pill called "Play the Whole Song" You could take it listening to the radio, your iPod, iTunes, Rhapsody and really any music forum that use when playing music in public.

The only side-effect to "Play the Whole Song" and what has the FDA baffled is, that it does not exist. Why? Because it makes to much sense. I mean if you think about it too long, your brain literally jumps out of your head, grabs it's suitcase and driving hat and just leaves you. Never to return again.

Because how much sense does it make to listen to a whole song? Apparently not enough.

If you declare that a song is a "jam" well then "jam" to it. Do not hop from song to song before the second verse.

That way I do not miss out on lyric gems like, "Not to be grotesque but, Cap'n Crunch."

I want to find out what happens next in that scenario. What is grotesque about said Cap'n Crunch? I mean could the Cap'n have a checkered past? Sure, he is a man of the sea. But are his Crunch Berries grotesque? Quite the opposite actually, they are delicious.

Oh God, their Musical A.D.D. has mutated and supplanted inside my head as actual A.D.D. I can no longer type this entry without thinking about a day in the life of Cap'n Crunch. Odds are it would be glorious. But I digress.

It sounds like I should turn my dorm mates onto some "Play the Whole Song" before it spreads even more.

I heard it does wonders.

Just A Joke I Heard

Sorry for the lack of posts lately. I have to deal with that whole school thing you know.

So, I will share a little joke I heard recently to shake the rust off.

There were four people (a scientist, a surgeon, an old man and a 9 year old boy) on plane that was about to crash. There were only three parachutes, so one person would have to go down with the plane. The surgeon immediately sprung up and said, "I save peoples lives, I need this parachute." So he grabbed a parachute and jumped out of the plane. Afterwords, the scientist exclaimed, "I am the smartest person in the world, people depend on me to teach them." So he too grabbed a parachute and jumped out. Leaving the young boy the old man and only one parachute. The old man in a moment of reflective wisdom looked at the young boy and said, "Go ahead and take the last parachute, I have lived a full life already. Go ahead and take the last parachute." The  young boy looked at the old man quizzically and said, "What are you talking about?" The old man again reiterated that there was only one parachute left. The young boy the leaned over at the parachutes and then looked back at the old man and said, "No, there are two left. The worlds smartest man just jumped out with my backpack."

What Happened On My Birthday (Part III)

Craig and I entered Showtime Detroit, and were greeted by a man who really needs no introduction (but for the sake of story I have to introduce him). We were greeted by the one the only, Showtime Dan.

"Hey don't worry about our doors, they close themselves. What I thought it was funny. God damn, laugh." That were the first words we ever heard him say. And they were enough for me to gauge him as the single coolest person to ever walk the Earth.

"This your first time here... of course it fucking is." He then uttered. Craig and I were just staring in awkward awe. He asked if we were in bands, I of course answered no. But Craig is actually in a couple of bands so he answered yes. Showtime Dan quickly demanded, "Well, take off your shirt and let's try some stuff."

Craig took off his positively 1970's velvet-ish orange shirt, to reveal his Muppet's Abbey Road t-shirt. Which Showtime Dan deemed "The coolest fucking t-shirt ever."

From there Showtime Dan was given things to Craig to try on, and making smart-ass remarks. All the while looking at me and saying, "What the fuck are you looking at." After the personal fashion show concluded, we joked some more and talked shop.

He casually named dropped all the bands that had come through the store, and pointed to a vest and made note that the Rockets bought a few of them. Again Craig and I were just in awkward awe. Then Craig leaned over to me and said, "Get my notebook, I have to interview this guy."

So I ran to Craig's car to grab his notebook and trust me, I ran. Because I did not want to miss anything Showtime Dan had to say. I retrieve the notebook and Craig then revealed he was on a high-school newspaper. And by the look on Showtime Dan's face, you could of swore Craig just said, "Hi, I am Chris Hansen from How to Catch a Predator."

Mood killer.

"Whoa, you guys gotta be 18 to be back here."

But, instead of kicking us out and leaving Craig without an interview he just took us to the check-out area and  let Craig interview him.

Craig started off easy by asking him if he knew of Glenn Beck. Which he did. And he asked him he had seen Glenn Beck's rant on Detroit. Which he did. So Craig asked him what he thought about it. His answer, "It's all bullshit... See he has never been to Detroit... He doesn't know what Detroit is about... There is something about the people in Detroit that makes it special, that other cities don't have, he would notice that if he came here."

Then he looked up and gave the quote that every journalist prays for. The attention grabber. The one that pulls together the whole story. The quote that MAKES the story. And that quote was, "You know what, Glenn Beck can fucking suck my dick man." Craig and I once again looked on in awkward amazement. Then Showtime Dan pointed at Craig's notebook and he said, "You can print that."

After the interview, Showtime Dan chatted with us some more and told us a story about people coming back to Detroit. "You know people are coming back after twenty or so years after going to school here and are coming to my store for the first time, and they are saying 'Oh we never knew this store existed.' And I just say of course you didn't cause there all fucking lame."

Craig and I then thanked him for making this the greatest moment of our collective lives and grabbed business cards on the way out.

And all I could think about was what Showtime Dan said about the how the people in Detroit make the city special.

Boy was he an example of that.

From there, Craig and I went to the Record Graveyard in Hamtramck. Because Craig had surprisingly never been there before. So, we got to go to my little Polish haven. We cruised Jos Campus and passed the wide array of Polish Bakeries. We also passed our new favorite place to get taxes done. "Mo Money Taxes."

I thought Craig new where he was going and so I left him do his thing. He passed the Record Graveyard and I figured he was just looking for a place to park. Then he just kept on going until he said, "Did we pass it yet?"  To which I replied, "Well, yeah like awhile a go."

Craig turned around and had a few choice words for me. And then we finally parked and went it. They were having a half off sale. So I was ready to run a train on the records there. I usually have a certain artist or band in mind when I go record shopping.  But, not today. I snagged Cheap Trick: Dream Police. Quiet Riot: Metal Health, Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band: Against the Wind, and a Dave Clark Five Greatest Hits record for 50 cents apiece.

I only had my debit card on me, so I had to use it to purchase the records. The only problem was that the total was under 10 dollars so he could not do it. So he did me a solid and tossed in Pink Floyd: Meddle for me. Not a bad throw in.

From there Craig had to call his mom and tell him about her about the legend that is Showtime Dan, as we made our way down I-94 and back to the Shores.

After jamming out to the Clash I finally arrived back home. I shook Craig's hand and rushed inside, as I could not wait to tell anyone who was home my story.

That first person was my dad, who wished me a happy birthday and asked how Detroit was.

All I could do was shake my head and say, "You do not know the absolute amazingness that just happened to me today."

After I rattled off everything to my dad, he just laughed and said, "Wow."

Then after I came back down to Earth, all I could think about again was what Showtime Dan said about the people of Detroit. And how they were special.

And as I set-up Lady Soul on the turn-table and Chain of Fools came on, I just kicked backed and realized why Showtime Dan's quote was stuck in my head.

It was because through all the adventures Craig and I embarked on, we met people who made Detroit special. And together proved one thing.

Showtime Dan was was right.

Detroit is a special place.

New Rules

Last year when I was on my high school newspaper (The Husky), I had this amazing teacher. Her name was Linda Bejma, and in many ways she changed my life. She gave me so many opportunities in the short time I knew, and one of those opportunities was a column I got for the last two issues of the paper last year.

The theme was based off a segment on Bill Maher's show Real Time With Bill Maher. A segment New Rules. In the segment he talks about things that get on his nerves and gives comical rules that people who do those things would have to do adhere to from then on.

Bejma thought that kind of thing would be right up my alley and asked me to do my own. And I did.

So in homage to Bejma every Wednesday on this blog I will do my own New Rules. 

Since I am a little rusty this week will be a Greatest Hits of sorts from one's that I did while I was on the Husky.

New Rule: People who wear UFC, Tapout, and skateboarding t-shirts who do not participate in those activities should be forced to. Wearing a t-shirt does not make you a barbaric cage-fighter or a bragadocious skateboarder. It makes you a wanna-be.

New Rule: Barack Obama is not a communist, nor is he a socialist. Do not get in argument with me about socialism when you do not even know the definition. In that scenario I have every right to take you to the nearest chalk board and have you write out "I do not know what socialism is" 1000 times on that very chalkboard. Afterwords, I can show you examples of actual communist and socialistic societies and show how our constitution is fundamentally based on socialistic ideals.

New Rule: Stop telling me that Universal Health Care comes with death panels. Universal Health Care does not come with death panels. Well, because there is no such thing. Just because a former politician says it on a blog, it does not make it true. No, your grandparents will not be refused care. In fact, Universal Health Care means just that- an all encompassing Health Care system that does not neglect or segregate. And actually does away with the real death panels, the insurance companies and their get out of jail free card... pre-existing conditions.

New Rule: Young Tea Partiers. It would help your cause if you actually knew what exactly your proposed “revolution” involves. Obama did not invent taxes, so stop acting like it. Under Obama’s watch taxes have actually gone down five percent for most middle class families, and 95 percent of Americans would get a tax break under his economic plan. John Lennon once said it best, “You say you want a revolution. Well, you know. We all want to change the world.” But the fact is you are not changing the world and you are not starting a revolution. You are in actuality de-revolutionizing; you are stalemating any progress that can be made. You are halting any change that could happen. Any change that needs to happen. Much like your Republican counterparts in Washington.

New Rule: Elder Tea Partiers. The big bad health care boogeyman is not coming to get you. The majority of you who already have Medicare and collect social security checks will be safe. Ironically, you will be protected with government sanctioned health care. The same government sanctioned health you do not want even though you already have it and have been getting for years. Much like your younger constituents you really should do your homework. It might help your cause if you new what your cause was.

New Rule: Justin Beiber. Nobody cares about how your last name is pronounced. Because by the time everyone pronounces it right, your fifteen minutes of fame will be over. Before you jump into the rap game and start rolling with your posse you might want to take the training wheels off you bicycle. If you want to be a rapper at least hold out until you have a license, and your mother let’s stay out until midnight. You know because that gives you some street cred.

 New Rule: Bro. Hey man. Dude. Listen I have to tell you like the sweetest thing ever. Like this thing was like dude and like it was like dude and bro I was like dude. Stop. When the word dude and like accounts for 95-98 percent of your description. It might not be the sweetest thing ever. 

New Rule: Person with gum. I know it was not your last piece, I know you did not leave it at home. I know it is not in your locker. It is in your pocket. I am just asking for a measly piece of gum. Not a million dollars. I am just asking for a little tropical flavored treat to get me through the day.

New Rule: To all you Ernie Harwell detractors. He is not just an announcer. He is the single most important sports figure in Michigan history. Sure there are the Howe's, Lindsay's, Kaline's, Cobb's, Dumar's, Lanier's, Yzerman's, and Sander's. But there is and will only be one Harwell. He personified what being an athlete and professional was all about. And he never actually donned the old English D. He just described the people who did. If you grew up a Tiger fan, you grew up with Ernie. And now there will be a generation that will never get to experience the voice of summer, but they will forever get to indulge in the vast history that was so eloquently reverberated to us through the voice of Ernie. 

What Happened On My Birthday (Part II)

After Detroit One Coney Island we wanted to hit up a few record stores in Detroit, and one that Craig had written down was right next door to Detroit One Coney Island. That record store was People's Records. And it opened at 12. It was only 11:45 ish and we had time to kill.

So, we decided to leave the coney island and walk up and down Woodward.

Right as we left there was a homeless man outside the door. He asked if we could spare him some change, so he  could get a cup of coffee. Right when he asked us, I immediately thought of my mom's reaction whenever I told her that I gave a homeless person in Detroit money. It is always the, "They probably used it for drugs, alcohol, etc."

And every time I hear someone say that to me all I can think is maybe. Maybe they did use it for drugs or alcohol. But, maybe they used it for coffee they said they were going to use it for.

Needless to say, I did not have any spare change. I did however have about five bucks. So, I gave it to the man. All I could think was my mom rolling her eyes when I told her I gave five dollars to a homeless man. Just on the hope that maybe he would spend it on that cup of coffee. And as we were walking away and the homeless man said, "God bless yall." I looked over my shoulder and saw the door to the coney island open and that homeless man that I just gave money to was entering it. To get his cup of coffee.

I can go on about how well that event can cross into a metaphor for Detroit. But I will not. I will just say one very general thing. When you give something hope, when you show something or someone that you actually care. Prepare to be surprised. Because that is when unbelievable things can happen. That is when the good in people come out, and that is when good people can build something memorable.

After conversing with the homeless man, Craig and I walked up and down Woodward. Two white kids in broad daylight in the heart of Detroit strolling down Woodward Avenue. And wouldn't you know it, we did not get mugged, or stabbed, or even abducted.

It was finally noon and the record store was open. And right when I stepped in I looked around to get a feel for it, and my first thought was, "Oh my Mo-Town." I mean Marvin, Aretha, Temptations, Four Tops, everyone was covered.

Craig and I were like two kids in a candy store. Craig pointed out a Van Morrison record (Blowin' Your Mind!) It was four bucks and I figured why not. That was until I saw it. Aretha Franklin: Lady Soul. Now, I can not put into words how it feels to find such a good vinyl record. I got the feeling when I found Dark Side of the Moon, I got it when I found Sgt. Pepper. And I got that same feeling with Lady Soul.

Then I got it with another record there. Iggy and the Stooges: Fun House. It did not have a price, but it said poor condition. I looked over and Craig looked it over and figured it was worth a shot for the right place. So we went to purchase our finds and got to confront Mr. Hipster Man who was working the cashier.

He was going to over-charge me for Fun House and tried using his knowledge acting as if he knew more about records than Craig and I combined. "Oh yeah, damaged sleeve... couple scratches..." He thought he was king of the castle. Until Craig said, "Yeah we already knew that."

I ended up getting Fun House for about two bucks. Victory.

From People's Records we departed in search of another record store off of Woodward. The name escapes me, and it really does not matter because it turns out this place does not exist. Or it was using the church at its supposed location as a front.

On the way we got sort of lost. We did not know quite where we were, but you are never really truly lost in Detroit. As the city is practically a grid. If you drive long enough you will hit Jefferson or Woodward and be un-lost.

And that is exactly what we did. In our side-tracking voyage we got to see Russell Industrial, a few spots in Detroit that I had not even seen before, like this neighborhood that was full of mansions, and we drove past a Pawn Shop and were about to stop, but there was no where to park.

After our failed record store trip we decided to go to this place that Craig wanted to go to for a long time. The place was called Showtime Detroit.

We got out of the car, walked through the wooden doors and we were greeted by one of the coolest men ever to walk this Earth.

I mean when you think of all the cool things that have walked the Earth you get a lot of things. For example, the T-Rex, Mike Ditka, Emilio Estevez, Tom Hanks and Santa Claus. But none of those had anything on this man.

None of these had anything on Showtime Dan.

What Happened On My Birthday (Part I)

I honestly do not know how to start this entry. Because, I as go through my mind looking back on all the immense random awesomeness that occurred, I get in the favorite Beatle song complex. Meaning, when I state a favorite Beatle song, I immediately in my mind say, "No, wait this one!" And then after I say that one, I get the same thought.

Actually, I lied. I do know how to start this entry. I will start it by saying that this entry will boldly cross over from the innocent witty blog, to a blog that contains some "choice" or "adult" language. Not because I want to, but because I have to. All because of Showtime Dan.

They day started with me waking up early. Not because I was all geeked up for my birthday, but because I was going to go to Detroit with my friend Craig. You may be saying that going to Detroit on a Saturday morning is no way to spend a birthday. You could not be any more wrong. And you clearly did not experience what Craig and I did.

I should introduce Craig, yeah that is a good idea. Craig is a smashing young fellow to say the least. He plays in a few bands, has amazing taste in music, and also has quite the vinyl collection. He is also a contributor to my alma mater's (Lakeview) newspaper, the Husky. He wanted to go to Detroit because he was doing a story on Glenn Beck's comments on Detroit, and he wanted to interview people from Detroit to get their take on his comments on their city.

There, now that we are all filled in we can truly start this journey.

A journey that began around 10:30 in the morning when Craig picked me up. He already had a few places in mind where he wanted to go and we both agreed to just go with the flow. And then we were of to a place aptly known as "The D."

We jetted down I-94 listening to a plethora of music, ranging from garage to mo-town and pretty much everything in between. And before you know it we got off on our exit and badda bing, badda boom we were cruising Woodward Avenue.

Now you may say two white boys cruising Woodward in the heart of Detroit is a bad idea. But, as Craig said best, "I mean how could you not like this? Just look at that skyline." And I did. We were miles away from the Renaissance Building, but it felt like if I stuck my arm out long enough from where I was in the car, I could touch it. Even as an avid supporter of Detroit, I found myself saying I loved this place and truly meaning it. Like the first time you realize you love your significant other. You do not realize it when they do a great act, it hits you when they do the most mundane thing. And staring at that skyline was that one mundane thing that made me say, "I love Detroit."

Our first stop was at Detroit One Coney Island (a.k.a first Wayne's World-esque Gratuitous Plug of a Detroit Establishment). Now, if you want a burger for dirt cheap, that tastes like you are eating heaven condensed into a sandwich, go to Detroit One Coney Island and get the Bacon Cheeseburger, and when I say go I do not mean tomorrow. I mean right this instant.

Then Craig and I started talking. He then remembered it was birthday and told me he was paying. I told him I would not hesitate to projectile him through the window we were sitting next to. And I told him, "I swear to god you will make the news for all the wrong reasons if you pay." He kept on playing the birthday card and I caved.

It was also around this time that we tried calling our friend Kelvin. Whom when reached on his cellular device sounded like Louis Armstrong gargling Listerine. He apparently had quite the Friday night. And needless to say, he did not join us.

Finally Craig got in interview mode. And then he knocked over his water accidentally and it spilled all over the  floor. And the waitress came to clean it up. Craig looked at me and said, "What do I do? Should I still interview her?" To which I dickishly replied, "Well, already broke the ice literally." To which he just blankly looked at me and said, "Funny."

Like a true scholar he pressed on with the interview. It turned out the waitress did not know Glenn Beck or live in Detroit. And I glanced over and I saw that Craig had that look. And I knew exactly how he felt and what was going through his mind. As I had been in his position before. The position of participating in a failed interview. It is one of the worst feelings in the world as a journalist. On the outside you keep your cool, but on the inside you are just shouting, "Just give me one fricken quote, just one please, for the love of god."

Things I Anticipated To Have Done By My 19th Berfday

People have bucket lists. That should come as no surprise, but some people actually set deadlines on certain events on their bucket list. Now that I am a fine and smashing 19 year old fellow, I began to look back at things that me at say age 7 er so would have that I would have done by now.

1.) Be on GUTS and or Legends of the Hidden Temple and completely devour the competition and punch a Temple Guard in the face. Because, I never understood how if you were running through the Dark Forest and a Temple Guard grabbed you, how you would not instinctfully punch him in the wedding jewels. Because I took D.A.R.E. and I learned if a stranger grabs you in a dark place, it is : Step 1: Nutcracker. Step 2: Run. Except in Legends of the Hidden Temple terms it would have been: Step 1: Nutcracker. Step 2: Win, and receive a life time supply of Sketchers, an N64 and a hundred dollar gift card to Toys 'R Us. Which at that point in my life was on par to a gazillion dollars.

2.) Fly

3.) Play for the Red Wings, Tigers, Pistons, and Packers. Logistically, this seemed possible as I acted like I was a member of each said team when I was 7 and acted out games in my yard and drive-way. Realistically, at age 19. Kind of impossible, now I can not fault myself on this one. But, I if do not do this by the time I am 20, then it was a failure.

4.) Be a member of the Mighty Ducks. Not the Anaheim Mighty Ducks. The movie Mighty Ducks. As a 7 year you could  not convince that it was not real. I actually hoped to one day play only side Charlie Conway and be coached by Gordon Bombay. But then I found out Bombay was Emilio, so I dodged that bullet.

5.) Be a Ghostbuster.

6.) Have 100 dollars. Now, I did do this. But at the time (being a 7 year old) and having an income based off of Birthdays/Christmas/Easter/Random Acts of Family Donation. I thought having a C-note to my name was big stuff.

7.) Invent a sport involving roller skates, football, soccer, basketball, and deep sea fishing. Do not even ask.

8.) Be a sports announcer. I always used to act like a commentator whenever I played sports games. Still do, so the dream lives.

9.) Be the next Beatles. Then I learned that they were actually four separate. I was stunned.

10.) Be on Mr. Dress Up. Greatest show ever produced by the Canadian Broadcasting Company.

12.) Not have an 11th thing that I hoped to accomplish by now.

13.) Be a firefighter or police officer. I mean why not. Come to thing of it though. If I indeed did become a Red Wing/Tiger/Piston/Packer/Mighty Duck/Beatles/Police Officer/Fire Fighter, I would of have no time to of been of GUTS.

14.) Be John Travolta's character from Grease. Again, do not even ask. Actually, I will elaborate. I saw Grease at thought it was amazing, and I had this little leather jacket and I used to rock it, I also had this Big Wheel at my grandma's. And I always used to wear my jacket and ride up and down the street thinking I was a Greaser.

15.) Go on Sesame Street and fight Big Bird. Alright, when I was 7, before all this Team Jacob/Team Edward stuff. There was in my mind Team Big Bird/Team Kermit. I was on Team Kermit. Still to this day I do not trust or like yellow birds. Especially one's who are 6'7 and tell me what the letter of the day is.

16.) Have a red Mustang, with a tan drop-top and drive my grandma around it in. Because at 7 years old there were three things I loved.

1.) Baseball
2.) Bubble Gum
3.) My grandma/other family members.

And I still love them all.

17.) Go to a Tiger's game with my neighbor Eleanor. I love you and miss you Eleanor. You were the best neighbor ever. It is because of you I am addicted to Swedish Fish and listening to Tiger baseball on the radio. Because like you always said, "The Tigers just sound better when Ernie is talking about them." I cherish those times when you baby sat me and I would always sit on that green chair, and you would sit on your recliner and we would just talk about whatever a 7 year old would talk about. And how you always called me a handsome young man. Again, I love and miss you.

18.) Solve a rubix rube. F those things with a tuba. I digress.

19.) Find Carmen San Diego.

20.) Be on All That/Not poop myself during Are You Afraid of the Dark. Now to clarify. All That was my Saturday Night Live as kid, I so badly wanted to be Super Dude or REPAIR MAN MAN MAN MANNN MANNNNNNNNNNNN. And as for the not pooing during Are You Afraid of the Dark. I never did soil myself just by watching the show. I did however find myself answering the question of, "Are You Afraid of the  Dark?" With, "Yes, clearly I am."

So you could say I may have not accomplished anything, but I just saw Inception for the first time. So in a parallel universe I did do these things in my mind. Or I was dream chased by Leo.

Which leads me to the next thing I wanted to do by the time I was 19....

I am kidding. I never dreamt of being dream chased. Or did I?

Oh god, I am getting Inception-ed.

Bumm, bummm, bummmm!

I Think I Am A Horrible Person Now...

Today was just one of those days. You know, the kind of day when you look in the mirror, or go to Culver's with friends and realize, "Man, I am just a horrible person." And boy did that realization sting a bit. But, I realized if I am going to hell in a hand basket, I will probably have to scoot over to make room for my friends Craig and Alex.

The jokes they say at times can make even Andrew Dice Clay go, "That is messed up." Their Helen Keller jokes  are even more obscene. They push the boundaries of what is considered ethical. They conjure the proverbial O-M-G. They have no reason to be said in public forum, yet they same them. And I laugh every time.

I absolutely have to share my three favorite Helen Keller jokes that were said today (and if you are thinking, "How dare you be so insensitive!" May I refer you to the entry title... Plus, you know you want to read them too.)

So here they are:

Craig: "Hey did you hear about the knew Helen Keller toy? Yeah, you just pull a string and it runs into furniture around the house."
Alex: "Why couldn't anyone hear Helen Keller when she jumped off a climb? Because she had mittens on."
Craig: "How did Helen Keller's parents punish her? They made her read a basketball. What did that say Helen? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA..."

And I laughed at every single one. Openly exclaiming through my laughter, "That is sooooo bad, but damn it it is funny." And each time I laughed I had the epiphany that I may be turning into a horrible person.

What confirmed it was later in the day when I picked up Chinese food for dinner.

Now, okay I love it when cashiers/waiters/etc. are sociable. I enjoy it, in fact I appreciate it. But, I hate it when cashiers throw in the curve-ball salutation when I am leaving. Like instead of saying, "Have a nice day." They roll with, "Enjoy your food." Because I am already mentally programmed to say. "You too."

To further exacerbate this I will share a story about why I hate, or should I say really do not enjoy when cashiers throw in the curve-ball bye-bye.

This story took place in the C-Store at my college SVSU. The C-Store is like our campus 7-11. I purchased a bag of chips and a beverage, and this cashier who I had befriended was at the register. Every time she said, "Have a good night." and I always said, "You too." This time she switched it up, and went with, "Enjoy the food." And since it was already mentally on deck I said, "You too." And I immediately followed that with, "Wait, what no that makes no sense how could you enjoy my food." I felt like a real jackal.

Now after Taratino-ing it there for a second let me reel you in back to the Chinese restaurant. Same exact thing happened. Instead of, "Have a nice night" it was "Enjoy the food" Here you would expect me to mentally call an audible and respond with, "Thank you, and have a good night." And I thank you for expecting that I am capable of that, but I of course blew it and said, "You too."

Then in the car on the way home I thought to myself, "Huh, people think it will be bad when robots get human emotions, but what if humans get robotic with their emotions?" But then I mentally rushed through every single robot movie and realized as long as the human race has Will Smith we are good.

And after my dad and I ate the delicious chinese food, my brother came home. And what is the first thing I did? Told him the Helen Keller jokes. All the while in the back of mind all I could think was, "I think I am a horrible person now."

But my brother laughed at the jokes too, so by joke laughter association he is going to hell too.

So if I am going to hell, I think I am going to need a bigger hand basket.