Musical Mayhem

I came across an online article entitled The 30 Harshest Musician-on-Musician Insults in History. It is definitely worth reading for anyone who considers himself a historian of rock music, or in general a music snob, like me. I note that most of the insults involve alternative rockers; classic rock stars, particularly the British ones, generally seem to be friends with each other.

The article contains a lot of NSFW language of the kind that rock stars would use to insult one another. It also contains the names of various alleged, presumably English, rock stars such as "Richey Edwards" and "Alan McGee" whom I've never heard of and who didn't seem worth taking the time to research.

In the article's funniest quote, David Lee Roth said of Elvis Costello: “Music journalists like Elvis Costello because music journalists look like Elvis Costello.”

And Elvis Costello said of Morrissey: “Morrissey writes wonderful song titles, but sadly he often forgets to write the song.”

And Morrissey said of Bob Geldof: “Bob Geldof is a nauseating character. Band Aid was the most self-righteous platform ever in the history of popular music.”

That's a complex chain of hate.

Despite the adage that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, I doubt that these quotes can be construed to mean that David Lee Roth and Morrissey are in any way allies.

Also of note, Robert Smith said of Morrissey: “If Morrissey says not to eat meat, then I’ll eat meat — that’s how much I hate Morrissey.”

So perhaps Elvis Costello and Robert Smith are allies, if nothing else allies in the fight against Morrissey.

Ironically, though, despite the hostility, both Robert Smith and Morrissey have trilobites named after them.

The Dawn of Indentation

In resolution to a problem that I noted near the start of this blog, I notice that in my last few posts, Blogger has finally started letting me use the tab key to indent the start of paragraphs.

Summer, Summer, Summer

Summer, it turns me upside down.

The Cars sang these words long ago, when the world was young.

Summer has been taking its mandate to turn me upside down a little too literally recently with the historic Virginia earthquake. As someone who works in the field of geology, I observed the earthquake with a certain detached interest, except for that period of about two seconds when I thought that the building that I was in would come down and I would die.

Once again, of course, I am tardy in my blogging; everyone has forgotten the great East Coast earthquake, and moved on to the great East Coast hurricane. I am unsure what will happen here next; I am leaning toward either meteorite or volcano.

But, once again (again), summer, it turns me upside down.

And indeed it has been a very long time since the Cars released that song. In fact, as I understand it, it was originally intended as a duet between Ric Ocasek and Dimetrodon.

Summer is the most tightly constrained of the seasons. Like all seasons, it has an astronomical definition (a period starting on the summer solstice and ending on the autumnal equinox) and a meteorological definition (June, July, and August). (The meteorological definition is superior, and I could explain why, but that sort of serious science writing is not what I'm going for here.) What makes summer tightly constrained, though, is not its scientific definition, but its public perception. Summer is popularly viewed as the time between Memorial Day and Labor Day, or the time between the end of one school year and the beginning of the next, or even the time between the end of one network television season and the beginning of the next. There can be an early winter, but there can't be an early summer, because winter can be seen to start when a certain threshold of cold is reached, but summer can't start until certain benchmark date arrives.

Now summer is almost over. A while ago I was watching Jimmy Kimmel's show, and he said that, even though he hadn't gone to school for years, he still felt sad when he saw the back-to-school sales. I feel the same way. (I usually did pretty well in school, but I hated it.) In the unlikely event that I ever have any children, I don't think that I will be sad about them going back to school, but I will be sad about everyone else's children going back to school.

Skink Adventures

I thought that it was time to put the scaly back in Scaly Distractions, to do some serious herpetological blogging rather than making lame comments on lame elements of popular culture. I don't often blog about incidents from my daily life, because my daily life consists almost entirely of working and sleeping. But earlier in the month I took some time off from work, and had several skink-related adventures. (In case you didn't know, skinks are lizards of the family Scincidae).

(In the spirit of skinks, I began the post with a photograph from 2003 of an adult male Five-lined Skink in breeding coloration. See the full-sized original here.)

On Friday, August 5, I went to Leesylvania State Park, in search of the Eastern Fence Lizard. I saw sixteen Five-lined Skinks . . . and one baby Eastern Fence Lizard.

On Monday, August 8, I explored some locations in Loudoun County, where I encountered more skinks. I will have to analyze my photographs to be sure, but I think that one was a Broad-headed Skink, which would be the first member of that species that I've ever seen, and also the first verified record of that species in Loudoun County. (As to why I went to Loudoun in the first place, that is a skink of a different color. Perhaps I will tell the story one day.)

On Tuesday, August 9, I didn't feel like going anywhere major, so I just walked around in one of my favorite wildlife-watching areas of Alexandria. I randomly encountered a Five-lined Skink in the middle of a paved bike path. There seemed to be something wrong with the lizard, because it was having difficulty moving and its right front leg seemed to be missing. I tried to pick it up. The skink eluded me, until it ran under the upturned front of my shoe, and I was able to catch it (the skink, not my shoe). I discovered that the right half of its body was coated with a tar-like substance, and the right front leg had become entirely glued to the side of the body. I walked around holding the skink for a few minutes, not sure what to do, during which time the skink bit me two or three times. I thought about taking it home, but that wouldn't have worked for several reasons. Fortunately, the animal shelter was located only about two hundred yards away, and I dropped the skink off there.

A while later I was walking in the other direction when I got to where I had found the skink. The veterinarian from the animal shelter came out to release the skink, which had been cleaned off with mineral oil. She (the veterinarian, not the skink) said that Five-lined Skinks were frequently seen on the external walls of the animal shelter building. I mentioned that in 2006 I had seen a Ground Skink in the area, but had never seen one again. The veterinarian said that Ground Skinks have been found in the shelter's dog exercise yard.

(This is the Ground Skink from 2006. See the full-sized original here.)

Harry Potter

Three weeks ago the final Harry Potter movie had its opening weekend. (I meant to blog about it then, but I don't have the energy to stay current.) Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows—Part 2 made huge money and received inescapable media coverage, which was at least marginally more interesting that the debt ceiling. I, unfortunately, did not care.

I'm down with all the major topics of nerd entertainment—Star Wars, Star Trek, Stargate, Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings, Dungeons & Dragons, comic books, X-Files, Buffy . . . But I don't find myself having any interest in Harry Potter in any form. Will Thimblethorpe find the magic thugwump? I don't know, and I don't feel like reading several thousand pages to find out. And I also don't feel like watching several hours of film to find out either.

Maybe Harry Potter is too silly for me. I know that there are elements of Star Wars, Star Trek, etc., that are silly, but the Harry Potter series looks entirely marinated in silliness. And I know that the Harry Potter series is in large part a gigantic fight to the death. But it's silly people having a gigantic fight to the death.

Or maybe I've just passed my nerd expiration date. Maybe I've gotten too old to absorb anything new in the science fiction/fantasy category.

I do, however, enjoy the new Seven-Eleven LARPing commercial.

Some Random Thoughts Involving Music and Biology

The New York state government is battling Giant Hogweed, a conflict of the type chronicled by Genesis in their early Seventies song The Return of the Giant Hogweed.

This news prompted me to do some research and learn that hogweed is a completely different thing than pigweed, which is referenced in a Mark Knopfler song.

The question also came to mind as to why British art rock bands always get biological nomenclature wrong, which is to say that they get it wrong in the two examples of which I am aware. The scientific name of Giant Hogweed is Heracleum mantegazzianum, but Genesis (as I confirmed from the CD booklet) gives it as "HERACLEUM MANTEGAZZIANI". Along similar lines, Yes has a song called The Fish (Schindleria Praematurus), which is apparently named after a real species of fish, whose correct name is actually Schindleria praematura.

The Wikipedia entry informs me that the English name of Schindleria praematura is Schindler's Fish . . . which should not be confused with Schindler's List . . .

More Celebrities and Some Confusion

It has been a long time since I last blogged. The Sudeikis/Helms episode of Saturday Night Live came and went without any mention of an uncanny similarity between the two, leaving me to conclude that I am the only one who sees that similarity.

In other television news, several weeks ago the world witnessed the departure of long-time Entertainment Tonight host Mary Hary. In the spirit of confusing celebrity pairs, I am reminded of days long ago when Mary Hart shared the airwaves with Mariette Hartley. Whatever happened to Mariette Hartley? Well, okay, one can read the linked Wikipedia article to find out whatever happened to Mariette Hartley. And of course in even bigger departure news, Oprah Winfrey ended her talk show. Could someone please explain to me why people go crazy over Oprah? She seems as if she could be the only person on television with even less talent than Carson Daly, if such a thing is indeed possible.

And Clarence Clemons has died. He made a lot of music with the E Street Band over the decades; what stands out most in my mind is his work on Dancing in the Dark. From the perspective of synesthesia, the synthesizer that forms the backbone of Dancing in the Dark is a smooth, gleaming gold, whereas the saxophone is a contrasting fuzzy gold. Even more remarkable is the sense of musical detachment created in that saxophone solo; it isn't a part of the song, but instead floats above the song and outside it.