Ryan O'Connell

I’m jealous of people out there who have yet to experience the Beastie Boys, to be able to take a fresh-faced dive into their discography and fully appreciate all of its splendor for the first time. Listening to the Beastie Boys for the first time is like thumbing your nose at gravity or any number of other tenants of polite society. It’s an unforgettable experience. For folks of a certain age (i.e. those getting a little long in the tooth,) we were blessed to be in the catbird seat as the group grew, matured, and expanded their sound over the course of their two decade-plus career. But man, to be in a position to hear an album like Ill Communication for the first time would be amazing. From the release of Licensed To Ill in 1986 to their final album, Hot Sauce Committee Part Two in 2011, The Beastie Boys underwent a total transformation. They evolved from brash party boys to erudite hip hop masters with sounds and attitudes that were far more inclusive. Yet their edge never dulled and remained sharp until their final days. The world around them changed and with it, so did their influences, opinions, beliefs, and general perspective on life but in the end, they were still three dudes with attitude and swagger for days, as well as an endless desire to keep themselves entertained by music that was distinctly their own. As time went on, there were those that tried to replicate at least some part of the Beastie Boys’ sound but those attempts never went well. You can’t cop a style that authentic and that unique and at this point, all we can hope is that people have finally gotten wise to that. In honor of the 35th anniversary of the release of Licensed to Ill, here’s a ranking of the group’s eight albums. 8. The Mix-Up (2007) What separates The Mix-Up from the band’s other instrumental release that came before it, The in Sound from Way Out!, is that the first instrumental album was a compilation of previously released jams, tracks that had appeared on previous albums. It wasn’t presented as anything new and it was actually pretty helpful if you liked those tracks and wished you had them all in one place (and were also too lazy to make a mixtape containing them.) In contrast, The Mix-Up was made of all new compositions. There was even a tour where the band focused on instrumentals. It’s not as if the jams are terrible or anything. It’s just that, at times – and I’m saying this with all due respect – it sounds like I’m listening to a college jam ba Speaking as someone who was in a college jam band, that shit should be shared as little as possible. 7. To the 5 Boroughs (2004) With the world and their native New York City still reeling from 9/11, no one can fault the Beasties for releasing a tribute to their beloved New York City. We also can’t hate on them for making an album that was easily their most hip-hop-heavy. To the 5 Boroughs is definitely not a bad album. Let me repeat that: THIS IS NOT A BAD ALBUM. However, it’s also not a great album. It’s a good album; a solid B-, which is nothing to be ashamed of. As we all remember from back in the day, there’s a big difference between getting a B on something and a C, and the minus aside, a B is a B, kid. Now, saying To the 5 Boroughs is “just” a good album is due in large part to the fact that the Beastie Boys were always a good to really good hip-hop group. But what made them stand out was their ability to dip into the wild waters of hardcore and punk and incorporate that into their hip-hop stylings. By leaning almost exclusively into hip-hop. they weren’t operating at full strength. With that being said, “Ch-Check It Out” is an awesome tune. 6. Hello Nasty (1998) Released four years after Ill Communication, Hello Nasty is good fun and a heck of a good time starting from the jump with “Super Disco Breakin’.” It’s a forward-thinking album, chock-full of futuristic sounds and thoughtful experimentation. Unlike Ill Communication, which had the feel of a band concocting mayhem in a garage, Hello Nasty sounds like a team of scientists experimenting in a lab. If we’re being honest though, and I’d like to think we are, I do have one issue with Hello Nasty: the length. It’s a long album. It’s like Drake album long. Studies have routinely shown that nobody has time for an album with 22 tracks. But we’re staying positive here. “Three MCs and One DJ” is the hip-hop side of the Beastie Boys in all its glory. Also, Hello Nasty is a top-notch album title. 5. Licensed to Ill (1986) At first glance, Licensed to Ill, with classics like “Brass Monkey,” “Fight for Your Right” and “No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn” on it, you could easily say, What the heck, man? How is this album not ranked higher? That’s fair; a solid question. I would say, friend, that the margin between the album that ends up at the top of this list and License to Ill at the five spot is incredibly minimal. So be cool. I’m not firing shots or hating on the group’s legendary debut. With a ranking like this, it’s a game of inches and no one, especially me who loves to champion debut albums, can sleep on the impact of this album. But it’s also their first album and a lot of times it substitutes legitimate quality for youthful exuberance. There’s no Hot Sauce Committee Part Two without License to Ill, but that doesn’t mean License to Ill should be ranked higher. Cool? 4. Hot Sauce Committee Part Two (2011) Speaking of Hot Sauce Committee, let’s tip our caps to the Beastie Boys’ last album. The album was set to be released in 2009 but was delayed when Adam Yauch was diagnosed with cancer. It was eventually released two years later when Yauch was in remission and one year before he’d pass away in 2012. Hot Sauce is a near-perfect marriage of early Beasties energy and the forward-thinking lab work of Hello Nasty. It’s a fun album, especially in contrast with To the 5 Boroughs, which came out seven years earlier. The beats on this album are sick, and it features two of the best guest spots in the Beasties’ discography: Nas on “Too Many Rappers” and Santigold on “Don’t Play No Game That I Can’t Win.” They even pick up their instruments for a trip down hardcore memory lane with “Lee Majors Come Again.” I don’t know if they knew this would be their last album or not when they were writing and recording it, but either way, as far as last albums go, it’s everything a long-time fan could ask for. 3. Check Your Head (1992) Check Your Head is peak Beasties and possibly the album that best demonstrates what the group looked to bring to the table. It’s loose as hell and far from perfect from any kind of technical sense. Additionally, it’s fun, entertaining, inspirational, and most importantly, eternally appealing. Check Your Head is one of those albums that always sounds good, regardless of the situation. Well, not regardless of any situation. Let’s just say its good for a bunch of situations with “bunch” doing a lot of work there because the bunch in question is sizeable. The sounds on Check Your Head are great, especially Mike D’s drums on “Pass the Mic.” The snare hits are freakin’ perfect, man. Perfect. Check Your Head has the best instrumentals, some of the best rhymes, and an iconic album cover. Yauch’s bass line on “Gratitude” is the kind of fuzzy goodness that makes you want to get in a car chase filmed in slow motion (i.e. one of the aforementioned situations that were previously alluded to.) 2. Paul’s Boutique (1989) Released three long and crazy years after License to Ill came out, Paul’s Boutique was a hard left turn for the group following the success they had been gaining with their debut album and their association with Def Jam. The Beasties had split from the label over ongoing financial disputes in 1988 and signed with Capital Record. They then fled west to California to record Paul’s Boutiquewith The Dust Brothers. The album has benefited greatly from the passing of time, as it was dismissed initially. And by dismissed, I mean it flopped (relatively speaking of course.) It failed to reach the heights of its predecessor so you know, flop. Paul’s Boutique is the Beastie Boys at their weirdest and most liberated, as if they were on a funky island with turntables, samplers, and a drum machine. It has become a shining moment of experimental hip hop and a testament to the band’s willingness to push both themselves and boundaries. License to Ill introduced the band to the world, but Paul’s Boutique let us see their true intentions even if it did the world a little while to catch on. 1. Ill Communication (1994) Any one of the Beastie Boys albums in the top three could occupy the top spot. If overall, this is a game of inches, then the top three is a game of millimeters. Not even daylight is getting in between the top three albums on this ranking. Personally, I ride with Ill Communication, and as for why, well it’s because of its scope. Ill Communication is the best kind of massive album. It’s wide-ranging, expansive, diverse, confounding, and something to strive for. You can find something new every time you listen to it. They kick around elements of jazz, funk, punk, and more, sometimes in the same song. “Sabotage” will forever stand the test of time, but it’s no less important than a tune like “Root Down,” which is a top-five Beastie Boys song. “Get It Together” featuring Q-Tip is a master class in collaboration and the instrumentals on the album are next level. The album has 20 songs on it but it definitely doesn’t feel that long. At various points, the songs seamlessly flow into one another. Ill Communication is the Beastie Boys’ high water mark, the moment they became true cultural barometers. It’s one of the best albums to come out of the 1990s, and one of the best albums produced by New York City. It’s the Beastie Boys firing on all cylinders and, because of that, it’s number one. Portions of this piece originally appeared on UPROXX Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

If asked, I would generally recommend both a ghost tour and a ghost hunt. They are the same, but different. In the end, it comes down to what you want to get out of it. You want an experience, you want some history, you want a little bit of both, possibly with a drink in hand? Now, I’m able to speak with some semblance of authority on this matter because I’ve been fortunate enough to have participated in both a ghost hunt and a ghost tour. What can I say? I’m down for such things once October rolls around. Me personally, I prefer a ghost hunt. Why? Ghost hunts are hilarious. I don’t think they’re supposed to be. I think they’re meant to be somber and serious and if things pan out, scary and haunting. But the one I went on? It was just a fantastic good time. I think I even took a nap at one point. Just a win/win situation all around. Let’s see. It was in the fall of 2006, a month or so after I had moved to Philadelphia, and one of my roommates, who was from central Pennsylvania, was going home for the weekend. His mother did some kind of tutoring at an old Freemason’s Lodge in Bloomsburg and a group of ghost hunters was doing a ghost hunt there. She had scored an invite, he asked if I wanted to come and of course, I wanted to go and that was that. Let’s go to central Pennsylvania for the weekend. The building itself definitely looked haunted and in saying that, I’m not just doing so because I’m of the opinion that any building that is older than 100 years old is haunted. It looked creepy and I remember the town of Bloomsburg being quiet that night, a breeze blew through town and the lack of much exterior lighting in town made things darker than they were. Vibe in check, kid. The ghost hunt is a go. Although for professionals, it’s not really called a ghost hunt. It’s a paranormal investigation. Respect the process. And the investigation was being carried out by a group from southeastern Pennsylvania. They were in this for real; here to snuff out some paranormal activity complete with digital cameras and tape recorders and video recorders and more digital cameras and snacks and notebooks. See, you use digital cameras because it allows you to take pictures of ghosts. Or specifically, orbs. You can catch orbs with your camera and the orbs I think are kind of like ghosts or parts of a ghost. They’re somehow connected and with a digital camera, you can take pictures of them. And that was the first thing we did. We went down into the basement and it was dark. All of the lights were off and the only sound was the clicking of digital cameras followed by people in our party commenting on how they saw one. Big orbs and little orbs. Faint orbs and oh, super clear orbs. Those count extra. That was the first part and I came away with a lot of pictures of a dark room and what may or may not be something related to ghosts in them. Orbs. We then moved to the second floor and the costume room. I thought a costume room was a weird room to have but apparently, these Freemasons are a theatrical sort and as a result, they had a room with costumes. We didn’t take many pictures here. I think in this room we mainly listened. For what? I don’t know but we did. It was here where I dozed off for a bit. It was very quiet and I may or may not have been stoned. In the end, the costume room was something of a dud. Certainly not as action-packed as the orb-filled basement. It was at this point that things got a little weird. My roommate disappeared. He vanished. But no, not like, OH MY GOD, CHRIS IS GONE but more like, where’s Chris…oh, he went up to the attic with the janitor. Sure. And so with Chris out of pocket, I tagged along with his family to the auditorium. In the center of the room, two of the investigators had a recorder set up and notes in front of them. Apparently, there had been ghost sightings in this room and you know, I’m pretty sure they were trying to hear something. So we all had to be quiet and listen. Listen for what? I don’t know. We were just listening and at some point, one of them became convinced they heard letters or even better, initials! Then we took a break and I found Chris outside, where he was smoking a cigarette and looking shaken. He had gone up to the attic with the janitor and an investigator and had had an encounter. He said that he felt something push him up against the wall and normally I would dismiss such a claim but my dude is one of the most rock steady people I have ever met and if he’s shook, then there’s a reason for concern. We eventually returned to the auditorium where the same janitor who had escorted Chris up to the attic had cracked the case of the initials discovered by the investigators and now the investigators were asking if this person, who was a member or something was there. They would ask and wait. Ask and wait. Ask and wait. This went on for a while. Ask and wait. Ask and wait. Ask and HOLY SHIT WAS THAT A NOISE? Was that a response? Was this person around and… I don’t really remember anything else. But it was fun. Highly recommend participating in a paranormal investigation if given the chance. Now, ghost tours, different story there. I have gone on two ghost tours, one in Philadelphia and one in New Hope, a quiet little town on the border of Pennsylvania and New Jersey. I will say that the key to a good ghost tour is the tour guide. If they’re not selling, you’re not buying and you’ve wasted your money. My biggest takeaway from the ghost tour in Philadelphia is that the ghost of Ben Franklin is everywhere. He’s in windows and in parks. He’s walking down alleys, in old taverns, in more windows, and generally just kind of hanging out, hanging around, and doing casual ghost stuff. I can’t tell how much of it was baloney and in line with Philly’s connection with Franklin and how much was real. Although wondering how much is real is just part of a ghost hunt. But no really, the ghost of Ben Franklin is like cheesesteak places. There’s one on every corner in Philly. The New Hope ghost tour could best be remembered for being extremely cold but I don’t think that had anything to do with ghosts. It was just really fucking cold and as a result, kind of not as fun. The common theme with both tours though was history and connections to the Revolutionary War. In Philadelphia, where a beautiful city park now sits was also the site of mass graves following the war and you know, as a result, there have been sightings of ghost soldiers roaming the grounds. And Ben Franklin of course. In New Hope, there was a hotel that I’m pretty sure took care of wounded soldiers and I don’t know, maybe burned bodies in the basement and so now there are one or two potentially haunted rooms. Great views of the river though. Go in fall. The foliage is to die for. There were ghost pigs in New Hope too, courtesy of an old butcher. Who doesn’t love a story that ends with you can still hear the screams? Ghost tours are usually about an hour or so long and based on the two I’ve been on, the novelty wears off pretty quickly. Don’t tell them I said this, but a lot of it comes off as bullshit; a lot of some say this and some say that and its been said that…you don’t actually see any ghosts, which is a bummer. You know you probably won’t, but you still go into a ghost tour hoping for at least a glimpse. Instead, though, you get history. But history is dope! Once the shine of the ghost tour wears off, you can salvage the experience by leaning into the historical side of the tour. Again, this is where a good tour guide factors in. You want them to sell it but also come with facts in hand. The Philadelphia ghost tour was in the Olde City area of the city and ghost stories aside, there’s a lot of cool shit that went down in that area. If you play your cards right, you’ll get schooled some on a lot of it and the tour would have been worth it. Bring some road sodas too. Can’t hurt. Just make sure to bring one for the ghost of Ben Franklin. Ghost hunts or sorry, paranormal investigations: enjoyable, entertaining, possibly f--king wild shit, man. Ghost tours: nice exercise, good little walk, fun facts, probably Ben Franklin. You can’t go wrong with either.

Corn mazes. They have become an integral part of any good old-fashioned festive fall weekend, right up there with pumpkin and apple picking, hayrides (both traditional and haunted), and devouring anything pumpkin-spiced. If you’ve embarked on a day trip to a local farm during the pleasant, but flawed fall season then there’s a good chance that the farm has some sort of corn maze. And with that most likely being the case, there’s an even better chance you’ve either dove right in and attempted to tackle it or at least thought about it. Why wouldn’t you? It looks like fun; looks like a nice way to spend an October afternoon.* *Although yesterday, I overheard a man in a group headed for a corn maze say that “he wasn’t in the mood for a maze today,” which I thought was an interesting take. But wait, are corn mazes fun? Are they a nice way to spend an October afternoon? It’s time we seriously ask ourselves these important and seasonally relevant questions. For starters, when you’re in a corn maze, you’re going to get lost. You’re going to get frustrated. If you consider either one of those two things enjoyable then good on you. I’m not sure you’re human though. Getting lost is the worst. Getting frustrated even more so. And don’t think it’s not going to happen while you’re trying to solve a corn maze. It’s a maze; to frustrate and confuse is the maze’s whole purpose for existing. Corn mazes start off innocently enough. Those first couple of times you encounter a dead-end can be kind of entertaining; it can really bring your group together in fantastic ways. Who doesn’t love team-building? But wait because soon enough, you’ll hit a wall, sometimes literally. It’ll be a wall of old, smelly hay staring you right smack in the face. You’ll backtrack and then hit another dead end. More hay and then some little kid goes running past you. Somehow that little shit knows what they’re doing and they’ll disappear before you can follow them. More hay and more hay and more hay. The puddles of mud are a fun extra bonus. If things really start to fall apart, all you can do is pray you have cell service. You probably won’t though. Fast forward a bit and you’ve managed to conquer the corn maze. Congratulations. However, somehow an hour has passed and the line for pumpkin-flavored ice cream is even longer than it was when you entered the maze. Talk about an immediate L after a hard-fought win. Plus, you still need to pick out some mums and had harbored sweet dreams of getting your face painted. It’ll be tough to get that accomplished now with all the time you spent adventuring through the fantastical corn maze. Also, one of your shoes is wet. The other one isn’t. It’s yet another corn maze-influenced mystery. On top of that, you made it out and what do you have to show for it? Nothing. If you go apple picking, you come away with apples. If you go pumpkin picking, you come away with a pumpkin. If you go to the country store, you come away with cider and some homemade donuts, maybe even a nice sign made of distressed wood that says “Oh, Gourd It’s Fall!.” You go into a corn maze though, you come out empty-handed. If anything, you have some hay in your socks, but that’s about it. Don’t sell me on a sense of achievement. What did you achieve? You navigated through a maze of corn, something you chose to do. There isn’t any kind of sense of achievement there friend, just a sense of muted accomplishment, nothing to get pumped about and certainly not akin to coming away with a giant pumpkin that is shaped perfectly for carving or more apples than you know what to do with. Well, if they’re Golden Delicious, then I like them very much. Thanks for asking, Matt Damon as Will Hunting. But for a moment let’s play along and say corn mazes are fun. Corn mazes are your thing (or in the case of the fella from yesterday, something you are in the mood for.) Great. I’m happy for you. That would then pose a whole new set of problems because the sad truth is that there is quite a range in quality when it comes to corn mazes. Corn mazes may in fact be terrible, but a subpar corn maze is definitely terrible. If you’re a corn maze purist then I would venture to think that the majority of corn mazes out there are not up to your standard. They are too short, they are too easy, they are too crowded. They’re disappointing and being disappointed doesn’t sound like much fun to me. (It’s right up there with getting lost and getting frustrated actually.) And it probably doesn’t sound fun to you either. Do you know what that sounds like? It sounds like the harsh reality of corn mazes not being fun rearing their ugly head and causing a ruckus in the other room. An argument in favor of corn mazes could probably be made by the pro-corn mazers out there and would be based around the design element of corn mazes, how they can be made to resemble something or someone. Wow, that’s great. Question though, how can I even tell that from the ground? Oh, I can’t. Cool. Then the design means nothing to me. So what about haunted corn mazes? I personally haven’t experienced a haunted corn maze but I’ve experienced enough haunted activities to have an idea of what to expect and to be honest, they do sound kind of cool at first. But then when you get into the nitty-gritty of a haunted corn maze and it sounds like my worst nightmare. It’s dark, crowded, muddy, and worst of all, there’s only one way out and depending on where you are, that way out isn’t anywhere close to you. I’m the kind of person that likes an exit strategy. An exit strategy for a haunted corn maze sounds like me just barreling through rows of corn stalks until I see the bright lights of rented light towers. Conclusion: haunted corn mazes sound absolutely horrible and come with a high risk of a corn-inflicted injury. Now I’m sure there are corn maze fans out there. There has to be. Farms and orchards wouldn’t continue to plow through corn fields just for kicks. I saw it with my own eyes yesterday, groups and groups of people happily trudging into a corn maze and for the most part, returning with big smiles on their faces. I elected to stay behind and didn’t regret my decision one bit. Actually felt pretty good about it. Yet just because I’m not on board with something doesn’t mean everyone else isn’t (see: Pumpkins, David.) I realize that and know all too well that I’m not speaking for everyone here when I make my case against corn mazes. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a stance that isn’t popular or mainstream and it definitely won’t be the last. Christmas is coming up and I have plenty of thoughts about Christmas movies. But with that being said, corn mazes aren’t fun. Corn mazes are at best just okay and at worst, absolutely terrible. Go on now, mess around with a corn maze. I’ll be sitting pretty, eating some pumpkin ice cream, and people-watching, which is something I’m always in the mood for, regardless of the time and place. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. To read more from Ryan, visit GiddyUpAmerica.com

It doesn’t feel as if history has been all that kind to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and while they’re reportedly working on a new album, it remains to be seen if anyone is reportedly waiting to hear it. I mean, I am, but I might be in the minority there. But such is life for a band once they close in on nearly four decades together. At a certain point, an act faces a fork in the road. One path consists of playing the hits and keeping things going, while the other path is made up of new material and the pitfalls that come with dropping something new when it’s quite possible no one is all that interested anymore. It’s tough but it’s true. Just ask U2. For the Chili Peppers, their career can best be described as falling into three stages. There was the first stage, the one with the socks on cocks and punk-infused funk-rock and then there was the second stage, where they seemingly put it all together and became a bonafide rock ‘n roll force. Finally, there was the third stage, the one we’re currently in and the one where the remnants of glory achieved during the previous stage have long since started to fade. The band is still a draw but not nearly the draw they were and chances are, people are more likely to line up to hear something from that second stage than anything from the third stage, with a few exceptions of course. The band’s most recent albums, 2011’s I’m With You and 2016’s The Getaway aren’t perfect but that doesn’t mean they don’t have a handful of good songs on them. The apex of that second stage was the one/two punch of Californication and By the Way, but we would never have gotten to that point had Blood Sugar Sex Magik not happened. Released on September 24, 1991, the album was a continuation of the maturation in their sound demonstrated throughout 1989’s Mother’s Milk and for what felt like the first time, laid out a path to the future for a band that felt like they would burn out long before the turn of the century. Rock bands rarely age well. Rock bands that perform with socks on their dicks definitely don’t but with their fifth album, the band showed that there was much more to them than trash funk, tattoos, and nudity. They had songs too and good ones at that. With the help of producer Rick Rubin, the band broke through with songs like “Give It Away,” “Suck My Kiss” and “Under the Bridge.” There was still an edge to the band, but it was a different kind of edge than they had before. The punk rock tendencies had been replaced by stadium-ready rock and for the most part, there was no going back. Blood Sugar Sex Magik is clearly the band’s most important album, but is it the best album? As for songs, you can find a playlist of my forty or so favorites here. 11. Red Hot Chili Peppers (1984) So you do one of these rankings and that first album is always a tricky one to place. Typically they end up fairly high on the list because of what they’ve come to mean and the nuggets of potential it showed. The Chili Peppers’ self-titled debut album showed a few glimpses of the band’s potential but not a whole lot. Instead, the album is a manic burst of reckless, sun-soaked energy and as a result, there isn’t much there in terms of a cohesive vision. In their defense, the band’s drummer (Jack Irons) and guitarist (Hillel Slovak) dipped out before the album was done, which probably didn’t help things. But either way, the album is a collection of songs, not an album, and of the songs involved, only something like “True Men Don’t Kill Coyotes” is worth bringing up all these years later. 10. I’m With You (2011) I’m With You came out almost six years after the album that proceeded it, the double album Stadium Arcadium and with it came a band that was again looking to rediscover itself in the wake of John Frusciante’s departure. Frusciante had left in 2009 to work on his solo material and was replaced by guitarist Josh Klinghoffer, who had been the band’s touring guitarist. For the most part, there wasn’t much of a difference between the guitarists sound-wise but what was truly missing was Frusciante’s songwriting that had helped further develop the band’s sound since he rejoined after his first departure in 1998. I’m With You isn’t a bad album, but it also feels like a band playing it safe and one would never associate the Chili Peppers with playing it safe. Again, this is a band that would frequently perform wearing only socks and not on their feet. 9. Freaky Styley (1985) The band’s second album featured them leaning heavily into their funk influences and fandom and what better way to do that than bring in one of your heroes to produce it, which is what they did by enlisting George Clinton to steer the recording of the album. As a result, the album is slightly more fluid and cohesive than their debut, coming almost close to having a sonic narrative throughline. The love of funk certainly helped and the album features a handful of songs that would become classics in the band’s catalog, most notably “Jungle Man” and “Catholic School Girls Rule,” as well as their cover of Sly and the Family Stone’s “If You Want Me To Stay.” The band also brought Slovak to play guitar, a move that most likely helped the band again find their way. 8. The Getaway (2016) Rick Rubin and the band had worked together on every Chili Peppers’ album since Blood Sugar Sex Magik but nothing isn’t meant to last forever and change can be good, especially for an act three decades plus into their career. On The Getaway, Danger Mouse was brought in to produce and the result is an album that sounds markedly different than any of the Rubin albums. Although it’s still a Red Hot Chili Peppers’ album, so it’s not as if it sounds drastically different. The band had always felt like creatures of the night but on The Getaway, the band was the soundtrack to more of a chill, introspective night; one with some candles lit and a few bottles of wine. The vibe is different, for better or worse. 7. One Hot Minute (1995) Amidst the band’s touring to support Blood Sugar Sex Magik, Frusciante bailed out for the first time. Dave Navarro of Jane’s Addiction was their first choice to replace Frusciante but was struggling with drug addiction. It would take a year or two for him to get to a place where he felt like he could join up, which he did officially in 1993. On paper, it looked like a win. There had always been similarities between Jane’s and the Chili Peppers and adding Navarro would allow the band to continue along the path they had forged with Blood Sugar Sex Magik. And at first, it looked and sounded that way but by the time they got to One Hot Minute, the melodic tendencies of Frusciante had been replaced by the big, heavy rock riffs that Navarro was partial to. One Hot Minute is a darker, heavier album than other Chili Peppers’ albums, almost sounding like the product of a different band, which I suppose they kind of were for a few years there. 6. The Uplift Mofo Party Plan (1987) Okay now. By their third album, the band had started to find its footing. Slovak, the band’s original guitarist was fully back on board, as was their original drummer Jack Irons. With two albums and non-stop touring under their belts, the band put together their best and most polished effort to date. It’s was also their first album to break into the Billboard 200, driven by songs like “Fight Like a Brave,” “Me and My Friends” and “Behind the Sun.” Producer Michael Beinhorn had encouraged them to explore musical styles beyond funk and punk, leading them to dip their toes into metal, hard rock, and reggae waters. Uplift is a solid “our boys are growing up album” and if Slovak hadn’t died of an overdose while touring after the album’s release and Irons hadn’t left as a result, it’s interesting to think about what the band’s career would have then looked like. 5. Stadium Arcadium (2006) Ugh, double albums. Acts think they’re such great ideas but rarely are they. More often than not, they come across as bloated and not really needed. You could cut down Stadium Arcadium from 29 songs to 14 and have a much stronger album, one that would certainly be ranked higher on this particular list. Even still, Stadium Arcadium is a certified monster of an album and was a showcase for Frusciante, who at that time was clearly operating at the peak of his powers. The album sold over seven million units and went on to win five Grammys including one for Best Rock Album. If the release was of Blood Sugar Sex Magik was the band’s first inflection point, the release of Stadium Arcadium was the second. 4. Mother’s Milk (1989) The band’s two rocks, Anthony Kiedis and Flea were in rough shape following the death of Slovak, with Kiedis, who had also developed a serious drug addiction, entering rehab. Along with trying to keep their lives together, the two friends also had to find a way to keep their band together in light of losing two members. Luckily they struck gold with the young Frusciante and drummer Chad Smith who brought with him a distinctive thundering swinging style. Anchored by “Knock Me Down” and their cover of Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground,” Mother’s Milk was the band throwing it all out there and finally breaking through. After three uneven albums, on Mother’s Milk, they started to put it all together- the funk, the punk, and the rock. 3. Californication (1999) As they had ten years earlier, the band was attempting to crawl themselves out of a hole of darkness and despair. The Navarro experiment had failed, Kiedis had relapsed and they were struggling to again seek out a path forward. The first step towards getting things back on track happened when Flea reached out to Frusciante who himself had developed a serious drug addiction since leaving the band. Flea invited him back, a move that Frusciante said was instrumental in him getting his life back together. With Frusciante again in the band, the Chili Peppers produced one of their most successful albums commercially. And while a lot of attention was paid to the return of Frusciante, Kiedis’ vocal style had changed. There was less rapping and more singing, a move that allowed the band to go in more directions, inherently making them a more interesting band as they wrapped up their second decade together. 2. Blood Sugar Sex Magik (1991) If not for Blood Sugar Sex Magik, the Red Hot Chili Peppers would have faded from view and existence a long time ago. The album didn’t just save them, it re-defined them, something that was needed after a decade of shenanigans, drug abuse, and tragedy. They didn’t run from their past though, as it factored in heavily to Kiedis’ lyrics, especially in “Under the Bridge.” Even the wild side of the band was still around despite their perceived maturity, but songs like “Suck My Kiss” and “Give It Away” hit differently than they would have if they had shown up earlier in the band’s career. The album is almost a perfect example of what can happen if you give an exciting young band time to grow and have them team up with the right producer who can shepherd them along and help develop their sound without betraying everything they had done up until that point. 1. By the Way (2002) Frusciante was just starting to get his act together when he had rejoined the band prior to the recording of Californication and by the time it was time to record By the Way, he was back in prime fighting shape. Yet with Frusciante’s growing role in the band a plus musically, it was a potential hand grenade culture-wise as Flea felt threatened by his elevated status in the band. Thankfully, any issues were resolved. On By the Way, the band moved away from the funk/rock of the past, something that Flea still held onto dearly. Led by Frusciante, the band explored more melody-driven sounds, whether it was lyrically, vocally, or musically. They experimented with different instrumentation, bringing in strings and keyboards, layering sounds to create a lushness that had never been heard on a Chili Peppers’ album before. If everything up to that point for the band had been various forms of chaos, By the Way was a relaxing Sunday afternoon in late summer spent sitting back and staring at the ocean. It was a calm that was much needed for the band and was needed for them to even consider moving forward and definitely needed if they were going to tackle something like Stadium Arcadium. Which definitely shouldn’t have been a double album, by the way. Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. See more of his writing at GiddyUpAmerica.com

Recently I watched Jaws. I love Jaws and rarely need an excuse to watch it. It might be one of my favorite movies and for the most part, I don’t really care about sharks. Jaws is fun to watch in the summer because it’s essentially a summer movie and you know, when in Rome. But it’s great to watch any other time of year also because if nothing else, it makes you think about summer, and studies have shown that thinking about summer is never a bad thing. For the record, I have never seen any of the Jaws sequels and never intend to. If they rebooted Jaws today (give it time,) I’d have to really think about it in regards to seeing it. In the end, though, I can’t imagine I’d see it. I never saw the Point Break reboot so you best be sure I’d dip out on a Jaws remake. I’ve also never seen Godfather 3 and I love the first two. Sometimes it’s just best to pretend some things don’t exist so as not to diminish something you love. A reboot is one thing but when watching Jaws this past weekend, I started thinking that it’s madness that no one has ever kicked around the idea of doing a prequel that is a Quint origin story. Prequels are like Hansel these days and it seems like with each passing day, a new one is announced. Prequels are something of a workaround for mining existing IP. It’s not a cheap out likely simply rebooting something and can be passed off as original storytelling because, in some ways, it is. It’s also not but also, kind of is. It’s a little bit of gray area. Yet the point remains, Jaws is a timeless classic and one of the best films of all time and Quint is the film’s best character. And for the most part, we don’t know a hell of a lot about him. In fact, what we do know barely merits a bullet-point list (but let’s do one anyway.) His name is Quint His hat has seen better days He likes what I think are crackers He lives in a large, open floor-plan boathouse He hunts sharks He’s apparently pretty good at hunting sharks He served in the Navy and saw some shit He got in a fight in Boston on St. Patrick’s Day (who hasn’t) He died There. That’s it. But as some like to say, there’s a lot of meat left on the bone there story-telling wise, kid. I mean, how old is Quint? Is Quint from Amity? WHAT THE HELL IS HIS FIRST NAME OR IS QUINT HIS FIRST NAME AND IF THAT’S THE CASE, WHAT THE HELL IS HIS LAST NAME? Can you make a living being a shark hunter or like a lot of people who live in summer communities up north, does he do handyman work during the winter months? I found a website that says he ran a distillery and ran a whale oil business, although neither of those things can be independently verified. We first see Quint interrupting the shark-planning meeting followed by Brody tracking down at his place of residence where he had the jaw of something boiling in a pot. I didn’t see anything that could point towards his other gigs as a bootlegger and/or whale oil businessman but who knows, maybe I missed that. Quint’s apex in the movie is probably his monologue about the horrors he experienced when the ship he was serving on during World War II, the USS Indianapolis, sank and the majority of the crew were eaten by sharks. It’s a gripping story and an equally gripping moment in the film. In just a shade over three minutes, you get a clearer picture of who Quint is and why he’s the way he is, hardened and stoic, not keen on dealing with those that he feels haven’t paid their dues. Yet even still, if we’re to assume that Jaws takes place around the time it was released, 1975, then there are about 30 years of living for Quint in between the Indianapolis massacre and his death hunting Jaws. And, if like most soldiers fighting in World War II, Quint was either in his late teens or early 20s when he was enlisted. So that would give you at least 18 years on the front end and 30 years on the backend to play with, to tell the story about a vet living his days haunted by ghosts and demons, spending his time trying to get his revenge. What kind of man lives a life like Quint’s, hunting sharks and possibly making booze? Does he spend most of his time alone or at some point, did he take up with a woman (or man?) Does Quint have kids somewhere? Maybe he spent some time in jail, either before or after the war? Imagine the possibilities of traveling through American history from 1920 something to the mid-seventies through the eyes of Quint? It’d be like Forrest Gump but just with more drinking, swearing, and potentially some casual racism. Probably less ping pong too. Quint seems like more of a darts man. And because a good prequel needs a twist, what if the Indianapolis story never happened? Or if it did, it went down much differently than Quint’s account? What if Quint was somehow at fault for it happening and that guilt led him to a life of isolation and reclusiveness? He hunts sharks not because they killed his friends but because, well, they did, but so did he and he pledges to spend the rest of his life atoning for the mistake he made all of those years ago? Or it did happen that way and we just get an origin story about the best character from one of the best movies ever. Either way, it’s a win/win, chiefy.

Well, friends, it’s been almost two weeks since Phish wrapped up the first little jaunt of their summer tour. We’ve had some time to decompress, reflect, possibly decompress some more, do some homework, and when all is said and done, report back our findings to, I don’t know, Twitter. The bottom line is that hey, Phish is back! That’s pretty sweet. But beyond the sweet, sweet pleasure of the boys getting back out there are some tasty little nuggets of Phish-related wisdom we took from the shows. In all fairness, their return was met with mixed reactions, as that first show of the tour was a touch on the bumpy side. And of course, it was! The rust is real! I went back to work for the first time since the shutdown and couldn’t remember my voicemail password, had super stale granola bars in one of my desk drawers, wasn’t sure how to do small talk with people that weren’t my family, and no really, what the hell was my voicemail password and does it even matter because phones are the worst. So on that note, totally makes sense that Phish was a little shaky out of the gate. But like my voicemail password, everything came bounding back eventually! Ha, I’m just kidding. I have no idea what my voicemail password is and truth be told, I don’t really care. Don’t leave a message. That’s what email is for. By the second show of the tour, Phish had their sea legs under them and was ready to embark on this next chapter in their storied career. Was it a continuation of 3.0 or the start of 4.0 or was it maybe 3.5? I don’t know. They got their mojo back right quick and that’s all that matters. I’m serious. It’s all that matters because fun fact, this COVID thing is still a thing and God knows what tomorrow holds. Phish is slated to get back out there soon but I don’t know. If we’ve learned anything over the past year or so it’s that we shouldn’t take anything for granted. It could all be gone tomorrow and there’s nothing we can do about it. Well, we also learned the value of leisurewear. But after that, don’t take things for granted. Leisurewear and don’t take things for granted. And if that first leg of Phish’s 2021 summer tour is all we get from them for a bit, we don’t have much to complain about. Here are some takeaways from the shows Phish played this summer. Plus, stay tuned for a bonus take from A SPECIAL GUEST! Yeah, a special guest. And no, it’s not Jon Fishman’s sampler. That thing’s fee is way out of my price range. Let’s get to it. All Of The Lights Phish’s lighting designer Chris Kuroda has always been something of a visual wizard, constantly finding new ways to play around and experiment with stage lighting, but man, what he cooked up for this summer tour was something special. That shit comes alive. It moves! It shape-shifts and contorts and at one point in Hershey I think it winked at me but I can’t be sure. I might have winked back. Who the hell knows, man. It was hot out. I’m old school and I come from a land where stage lighting is connected, all part of one interlocked system. I’m sure others have done what Kuroda has done this summer, basically breaking his lighting rig into sections, but I’ve never seen it before. And if it’s new to you, then its best to assume it’s new to everyone else because no one wants to feel left out. You know like, “we’re all in this together and we love to take a bath” and whatnot. Now, I pointed this out on the Twitter and someone came flying off the top rope, throwing shade and saying something about Skrillex. Well sir, for starters, “Wild For The Night” by A$AP Rocky featuring this Skrillex fella is an effin’ great song. Secondly, I work in events. It’s what I do and because of that, I get excited about truly unique production tricks, which is what Kuroda’s light rig is. And yeah, I think the lights might have winked at me at some point. Ain’t No Stopping Him Now Jon Fishman is a good drummer. He’s a pillar of the community in the small coastal town of Lincolnville, Maine and he’s a damn good drummer. These are universal truths. But for a moment, let’s go back to the closing ceremonies of the London Olympics. The three surviving members of Queen took the stage to perform, playing “We Will Rock You.” And it was fine. Of course, it was fine. Yet what stuck out to me and to this day is something I still think about is how stiff and old the band’s drummer Roger Taylor looked. Drummers just don’t age well. And it’s not their fault! Drumming is a physical, contact sport and for the most part, it’s a young man’s game. This was on my mind when thinking about what these next few years might look like with our beloved Fishman. Could he keep up with the style of playing fans were accustomed to? He played some crazy, wild shit back in the day and when the band dusted off one of their oldies but goodies, he would have to get pretty damn close to those legendary parts. Again, drummers don’t age well, and again, it’s not their fault. Stuff those worries in a burlap sack and toss ’em in the river kid because ole’ John Fishman hasn’t missed a beat! Sorry! I couldn’t help it. The point of the story is that Fishman has been killing it. He’s been so tight and on point and JUST LISTEN TO WHAT MY MAN IS DOING ON THE DAMN SNARE DRUM! There’s a point in “Run Like An Antelope” from the first Hershey show where he explodes and what’s coming from the snare drum sounds like a stampeding band of marauders storming across the plains and who are we to stop them? We can’t stop them. It’s pointless. It’s a stampeding band of marauders. Just give up. And just enjoy Jon Fishman, friends. He truly is one of a kind. “Blaze On” Joins The Big Kids’ Table Phish has been playing “Blaze On” since 2015 and it has become a staple of theirs these past few years. Elevating it to the big kids’ table shouldn’t be a surprise and I’m sure there’s someone reading this and sighing because “ugh, my dude, “Blaze On” has been at the big kids’ table for a while.” Fine. And fair. Totally fair. I never once claimed to be a Phish expert. With that being said, I do think one of the highlights of this run was the band’s “Blaze On” from night one at Deer Creek. “Blaze On” always tends to stretch its legs but this particular version was some high-level business, nearly clocking in at half-hour and in the process, traveling more than most of us have in the past year or so. You know, because of the pandemic. Phish has their heavy hitters, the columns of their Parthenon. I’ll let other people more in the know when it comes to Phish decide whether or not “Blaze On” has joined those ranks. But if we’re casting votes, I’m saying yes. Lots of good words of advice in there too and in the business, we call that a twofer and twofers are the best. Covering The Bases (Again) Back in April, I stepped up to the plate and presented to the masses my choices for the top ten songs Phish covers. And yeah, I got some shit for it. I got a little bit of praise and a little haggling. But I did get some shit and that’s cool. One does not write anything on the Internet and then share it without the assumption that it will bring shit down upon them. Gotta be prepared, kid. To recap, my list went as follows: 10. “Golden Age” 9. “Sneakin’ Sally Through the Alley” 8. “2001” 7. “Ya Mar” 6. “Roses Are Free” 5. “Rock and Roll” 4. “Funky Bitch” 3. “Cities” 2. “My Soul” 1. “Loving Cup” The biggest error is definitely not including “Crosseyed and Painless.” I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve apologized for omitting it. I don’t feel great about it. I biffed it. I can own that. So, where would “Crosseyed” go and what would it replace? It is a tough one, Garth Brooks. Thank you. The obvious answer is “Golden Age” and because of my appreciation of Phammer, I feel bad saying it. However, after seeing “Golden Age” in person, I get it. It’s much better in person than it is at home. It makes sense in the way four beers on a Tuesday night sometimes makes sense. But, I feel like the band is kind of using the TV On The Radio song as a vehicle for jams whereas, with other songs on the list, they’re tipping their hat to the original and paying their respects. And so, unfortunately, “Golden Age” gets bumped and “Crosseyed” moves in, and while doing so, jumps up a couple spots to the four spot. Crazy? Yes. A big jump? Totally? Justified? A great show. Moving on! And now, our special guest… Coming in hot from sunny Kansas City, he’s a beacon of light in the world of flight that is Phish Twitter, its @Phammertime kids… Have you ever been standing in the middle of a field, in the middle of America, in the middle of your closest friends, in the middle of a monster jam? What would be your reaction? Well that was me on August 8th and I am here to tell you exactly what came out of my mouth on that precise moment. So many things were running through my head. The emotions and the sensory overload could have prompted anything to leave my mouth but the one thing I did know was that something was coming out. My only recourse was to scream, and what I screamed was my two word takeaway from the whole tour so far. The only way I can describe the first leg back for Phish 2021 is… “THE VIBES!”. That’s what I exclaimed on the grassy knoll known as the Deer Creek lawn and that is what this tour is all about for me. The 4.0 sound is real. The growling tones of Trey. The new synthesizer sounds of Page. Mike just being Mike but somehow more Mike like, and of course Fish. The sample god and layer of all the funk beats. All of this is true but in my humble opinion, not the point. The performance of the band has been increasingly building and by the time the west coast swing begins, they will be in full championship form no doubt, but more than anything, this tour is a family reunion. The kind you actually want to attend. The full scope and history of this year in our lives and Phish is still incomplete, but my experience with the shows I saw was packed with what I can only describe as “THE VIBES!” I truly hope that this will continue into the foreseeable future and beyond so that everyone can feel a little of it. May “THE VIBES!” be with you always, Phammer And now, onto the second leg of summer tour 2021! Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. See more of his writing at GiddyUpAmerica.com His writing is republished here with permission.

Back in the day, we had greatest hits albums. Although they were better suited if you were just getting into a band that had a fairly extensive catalog. What usually happened was that after you had collected a handful of CDs by a particular artist, your next get at your favorite record store was a block of blank cassette tapes because it was time for a mixtape. But even then, a lot of mixtapes were comprised of a variety of artists. Either way, a mixtape was made up of a lot of songs. If memory serves me correct (which it does roughly 47% of the time,) tapes came in either 30 minute, 45 minute, 90 minute or 120-minute form. Unless you are making a tape of Phish live songs or something like that, you could fill even a 45-minute tape with a good amount of songs pretty easily. Mixed CDs were cool and all, but they lacked the level of commitment found with mixtapes. Skipping ruined everything. Now, let’s fast forward to the dawn of streaming services and the creating of playlists. Suddenly there is no limit whatsoever to how many songs you can add to a mix. The world is your oyster or in some cases, your Blue Oyster Cult if that’s what you were gunning for. I have one playlist with almost 2,000 songs on it. Yes, that seems excessive. But, if you look at it as your own personal radio station, it’s pretty useful. Just press shuffle and see what happens. Anyway, for the purpose of this exercise, let’s focus on playlists that consist solely of one band or musician. We all make them; dump a bunch of an act’s songs in a playlist and call it a day. Sometimes Spotify even does it for us. But where is the fun in that? Music is all about the personal connection between the music and the listener. If you love a band, you should want to make your own playlist of them. You should want your songs on there, not songs picked by a computer in the back offices of Spotify HQ. Dumping a hearty chunk of a band’s catalog into a playlist is easy though! And where’s the fun in that? If you have no limitations on what you’re doing, then you remove any challenges associated with that act. That’s why I started putting caps on my artist playlists. Instead of an arbitrary number of songs from The Black Keys, let’s do a playlist of 35 of their best songs. Let’s do 30 Kings of Leon songs and 25 Led Zeppelin songs and 20 songs from The Strokes. Even newer bands can get in the fun: 20 songs from The Revivalists, 20 songs from Portugal. The Man, 20 songs from Gaslight Anthem. Small catalog, no problem! 20 songs from Nirvana is in play because their discography is, unfortunately, smaller than we’d like, with the same going for The Police. And it’s not enough to add limits. Sequence that shit! It’s more fun that way. The other day I thought of a different path to take when it comes to dedicated artist playlists. I was going to create albums, or more specifically, album-length playlists. Without the benefit of actual scientific-findings, I would say that the perfect length of an album is 12 songs. I would listen to a case being made for ten and a case being made for 14, even 15. Anything beyond that is ridiculous (looking at you, Drake) and anything less than ten goes by too fast. Twelve is money. It’ll get you to at least close to an hour, if not longer, and it’s just the right amount of songs to listen to before you get antsy, which has become increasingly easy with Spotify at your beck and call. Going back to tapes, part of their lasting appeal was that if you wanted to change a song, it was a chore. And if you wanted to change the tape, well first, you had to find it. And who among us never almost got into a car accident because you were reaching around for another tape to put in the stereo? Tapes were ride or die. Spotify is ride or fly. For the 12 Album Challenge, I made a few rules: 12 songs of course. The 12 songs could come from a band or artists’ entire catalog. You can’t lean too heavily on one or two albums. Once the songs are picked, they had to be sequenced so that they sounded like an album. That meant mixing things up and thinking about how the album should start, how it should end, where the slow song should go, etc. Also, to make things worth it, I started with bands that had at least half a dozen albums. This made it harder to choose songs. If I did this with a band like Vampire Weekend, it probably wouldn’t be that tough. Doing it with a band like Pearl Jam, though? Significantly tougher. The same goes for the Foo Fighters. I tackled Weezer because even though their last album was a cringe-worthy covers album and what’s been released from the upcoming Black Album sounds terrible, they still have a lot of good songs. Weezer was actually the inspiration for this, as I was looking at my playlist of 30 Weezer songs and started thinking about how I could ever figure out a way to cut it down to a more manageable number. Green Day was a band that I had recently created a playlist for, prompted to do so by the 25th anniversary of their album Dookie. The playlist came out at 40 songs, which is great, but that’s also a lot of Green Day songs. I’m not sure how often I’d want to listen to that many Green Day songs. However, I would probably want to listen to 12 Green Day songs pretty often. The same goes for Oasis. I think about Oasis every so often, but had never actually put an Oasis playlist together. It’s probably because their first two albums are so good, it’s easier to just to put those on. But that’s ignoring some of the good stuff on the few albums that came after that. Not anymore! To really challenge myself, I attempted to put together a Tom Petty 12 song playlist. That one was a doozy because his career spans four decades and consists of a boatload of great songs. Before this, the closest I had gotten to narrowing things down was a playlist of his twenty best songs that was compiled shortly after he died. That was also “his 20 best songs.” I also did a playlist of my 30 favorite Petty songs and even narrowing it down to 30 was tough. When it came time to pick only 12, I first thought of doing it by era or breaking it up by decade, but then decided to say screw it and go through the whole catalog. And I couldn’t do any of this without doing a playlist for Rustic Overtones, one of my favorite bands of all time. A playlist by another one of my favorite bands, The Roots is tricky because of the way their songs start and end. See, adding sequencing makes it trickier! I like the challenge of this. Spotify, for all of its positives and benefits, has also made us lazy. They tell us what’s new and what we might like based on what we’ve been listening too. They create playlists of artists, they create playlists for moods, they create playlists for damn near everything. If we want to do something on our own, all we have to do is drag and drop and we’re good to go. But it never used to be this easy to be a music fan and while I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, it’s definitely a thing. I’m not sure if the 12 song album thing will work, but it’s worth taking a shot. Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. Read more of his writing at GiddyUpAmerica.com See more from our Local Writer's section by clicking here!

It’s a movie about a soul band. They’re from Ireland. When it comes to describing the movie The Commitments, that’s a good place to start. The 1991 film is about a young Irishman’s dream of forming the best band soul band to ever come out of Ireland. An Irish soul band might not sound right, but in young Jimmy Rabbitte’s eyes, it makes perfect sense. If soul music is a product of the disenfranchised, then who better than the Irish to take a crack at it. Or in his words: With the justification out of the way, Rabbitte then proceeds to assemble his group. He needs a horn section of course as well as some back-up singers. And then he needs a singer, but not just any singer. Rabbitte needs a soul singer, someone who can channel the pain and suffering of soul music and reach to the heavens with a sound that comes from deep within their belly. Such a singer would be hard to find anywhere but in Dublin in the late 1980s, it’s even harder as you’re more likely to find pop singers and wannabe punk rockers. Undeterred, Rabbitte finds his singer (and the trouble that comes with him,) assembles his band, convinces a local church to host them as part of an anti-heroin campaign and The Commitments are off. And then they’re not. But that’s not the point and actually, the fact that the band doesn’t survive makes the story that much more believable and enjoyable. The story of someone trying their best and failing is more often than not the better story than the story of someone succeeding. Success is boring, failure is relateable. I’m getting ahead of myself, though. Released nearly thirty years ago, The Commitments is based on a book of the same name. It wasn’t very well-received on this side of the Atlantic but was generally praised back over in England where it went on to win a handful of BAFTAs (the British Oscars.) The film produced two soundtracks, filled with the band’s takes on several soul classics by everyone from Wilson Pickett to Otis Redding. The combination of the soundtrack and the always welcomed story of underdogs trying to make something of themselves have led to the film becoming more appreciated over time, achieving cult-status and making the list of the best British films of all-time. The Commitments is one of those movies I happened to come across back in the day at Videoport (RIP,) a local video story in sunny Portland, Maine. At the time, I was familiar with soul music but overall, was deep within the throes of musical exploration. It was peak-sponge time for me, I was consuming as much music as I could. That meant devouring classic albums and greatest hits collections in addition to watching movies about music, whether it was Pink Floyd’s The Wall or The Blues Brothers. I couldn’t tell you when was the first time I saw The Commitments but I can tell you I’ve watched it countless times since then and the soundtrack (the first one, I didn’t know there was a second one until today) was in heavy rotation for me during high school, right up there with Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Green Day, eventually Phish and whatever else I was rifling through during that time. The versions of the classics on the album are honest and respectful takes on the originals, which is about all you can ask for when it comes to cover songs. They come from a place of appreciation and it’s something that comes across both when you listen to the songs or watch them in the film. The band believes in what they’re singing, something that is necessary when performing most genres of music, but especially soul music. The movie is a simple story, something that I feel is part of the appeal of The Commitments. And it’s a film with a wonderful crew of characters, musical archetypes that are lovingly familiar. There are the dudes who just want to play music and be happy and there’s the sax player on a journey of discovery as he tries to decide what direction to follow musically. The drummer(s) are lunatics, the piano player is a saint and the trumpet player is the wise old veteran (maybe.) With three backup singers, there’s the local hot gal, the tomboy, and the girl next door. As a whole, none of these are new characters, but they don’t need to be. Knowing them already allows the story to bypass some backstory in favor of musical numbers and/or tension-building within the band, both of which are more important to the film’s overall story. While the movie is driven by the music, it’s the relationships that form and subsequently explode magnificently within the band that drives the film. There are friends, there are lovers, there are rivals and there is plenty of contempt to go around. You know, like most bands. Any band worth a damn is going to have a level of combustibility to it and The Commitments are no exception. Young Rabbitte essentially threw a few sticks of dynamite into a road case and hoped for the best. Unfortunately, what few bumps in the road the band drove across right out of the gate was all that was needed to start setting them off. The band was doomed from the start, but Rabbitte either didn’t see it or didn’t want to. If anything, he welcomed the struggle, seeing it as part of the band’s journey. Rabbitte’s optimism, determination, and drive is the film’s north star and it’s nice to see that even when everything falls apart around him, he doesn’t completely lose any of it. It’s easy to imagine Rabbitte spending a few days stewing on the failure of his soul experiment before turning his attention to something new. Country music maybe? The movie is a moment in time film in that it’s a story that isn’t the characters’ entire lives, just a brief part of it. They came in with their own lived experiences and left set to embark on whatever was ahead of them, whether it was a domesticated life, more attempts at musical stardom, or whatever Joey Fagan and his weird mom were going to do next. It’s a testament to the story that when the film ends, you want to know what happens next for the band members even though they’re now all essentially solo acts. The band is part of their story, it’s not the whole story. And who among us hasn’t experienced something like the characters in The Commitments did, a brief respite from our normal lives? It almost doesn’t matter that the band didn’t pan out. For a few weeks there, the members of the band had found a purpose and some hope amidst a life of theirs that wasn’t especially bursting with either. There’s a lurking despondency on the fringes of The Commitments that is always there but it’s not something that’s harped on. You can feel it in the decision-making of each of the characters though. The band isn’t so much of a physical way out of their daily lives as it is an emotional one and pouring themselves into something as beautiful as soul music is fitting because of the transportive nature of soul music, how it’s music rooted in the idea of coming to face with your demons, your loves, your losses, and your own self. For them, The Commitments was an escape and for me, The Commitments is an escape. We all have movies that stick with us throughout our lives, movies that speak to us and resonate with us in one way or the other. The Commitments is that kind of movie for me and I can’t see that changing anytime soon.

Did you know that Lukas Nelson is Willie Nelson’s kid? Yeah, you probably did. Did you know that Nelson worked with Bradley Cooper on songs for A Star Is Born and Nelson and his band Promise Of The Real played Cooper’s backing band in the film? You might have known that. Or you didn’t know either of those things and in all honesty, hadn’t really heard of Nelson and his band. And that’s fine. There’s a lot of music out there. An act or 500 are bound to slip through the cracks. You are not alone. We’re in this together, friends. But having a passing knowledge or even no knowledge of Nelson is a damn shame. For the better part of the last decade, Nelson and Promise Of The Real have been chugging along, perfecting their own take on down-home, road-weary, alt-country rock. They can kick the tires and get loud and they can hush the masses with tenderness all within a ten-minute span on one of their six albums with their seventh album, A Few Stars Apart released on Friday. Rolling Stone has already declared the album Nelson’s best, saying that it’s “Nelson’s most compact, streamlined, and focused album yet.” The album was written when Nelson was hunkered down at his dad’s place in Texas during quarantine. In between taking up meditation, learning Chopin on the piano, and jamming out with his father and brother Micah, Nelson wrote over two dozen songs. As Nelson laid out to Rolling Stone, once things cooled down a bit with the pandemic, Nelson and the band headed north for Nashville, setting up shop to record with producer Dave Cobb. “We did a little surgical strike into Nashville. We snuck in and snuck out,” he says. (Don’t make me do it, Lukas Nelson.) Here are eight songs from Lukas Nelson & Promise Of The Real’s discography you should check out if you haven’t already. And if you’re already hip to these, well, have you heard of Arlo Parks? Check her out. “Something Real” There are two versions of this tune floating around the Nelsonverse, but I’m partial to the original, which comes from the band’s 2016 album Something Real. They gussied it up a bit and included a new version on their excellent 2019 album Turn Off The News (Build A Garden.) Both versions are killer but there’s more of an edge to the original, more of a shit-kicking vibe and I don’t need to tell you twice that Giddy Up America is incredibly pro-shit-kicking. This is bar fight music or if you’re a pacifist and/or not a drinker, it’s a hell of a driving song. “Fool Me Once” The band’s 2017 self-titled album is a solid restating of their purpose and goal and “Fool Me Once” is some mighty fine honky-tonk if you don’t mind me saying so. The song is some easy, Sunday afternoon, southern-living goodness and a nice tip of the cap to Nelson’s country roots. Sorry, not cap. Hat. Like a cowboy hat. That would make more sense all things considered. “Start To Go” It’s hard not to love a good EP, especially when it comes amidst a solid run of records by a group. 2018’s Forget About Georgia EP came on the heels of the 2017 self-titled album and before the band dropped Turn Off The News (Build A Garden.) It’s a quality placeholder between the two albums with the dirty rocker “Start To Go” being the highlight of the EP, which also features a cover of David Bowie’s “Life On Mars?” “Start To Go” is thumping and has some muscle behind it with a chorus that straight up soars. “Black Eyes” Bradley Cooper met Nelson back in 2016 when Nelson and Promise Of The Real were performing at Desert Trip. Cooper asked Nelson to serve as a musical consultant for A Star Is Born and then Nelson and the band ended up playing Cooper’s backing band in the film. Nelson wrote a handful of songs for the film with one of them being “Black Eyes,” which opened the film. As was stated previously, Giddy Up America is very much pro-shit-kicking rock and “Black Eyes” is incredibly shit-kicking. Hell of an opener too, whether it’s for a movie, concert or an album. “Turn Off The News (Build A Garden)” – Acoustic As far as words of wisdom go, in 2019 there wasn’t much out there that was better than to turn off the fucking news and build a garden. The phrase anchored Nelson’s 2019 album of the same name. The album featured two versions of the title track and while the full-band version one is really good, there is something special about the acoustic version that shows up towards the end of the album. It’s haunting, beautiful, and honest with the message of the song pushing through even more with the overall sparsity of the acoustic version. “Simple Life” This is another a track from the 2019 album and while the album’s title is a motto, “Simple Life” is more of a mission statement from Nelson. Here’s a Texas dude who has relocated to Hawaii, happy to spend his days playing music, surfing and golfing barefoot. My dude doesn’t even keep score when he golfs (which either means he’s good or terrible based on my experience.) Heading into 2020, preaching the pleasures and appeal of a simple life is basically doing the world a public service and is advice more people should pay attention to. “Bad Case” Okay, this is the last tune from Turn Off The News (Build A Garden) and while I was hesitant to include three tracks from the album, I couldn’t choose just one or two. And you know, I’m not going to apologize. I stand by my decisions. Now, with that out of the way, on “Bad Case,” Nelson and company channel golden era Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, especially in the guitar tones and harmonies in the chorus. It’s a beautiful country rock tune that would probably would have been right at home in the mid-1970s on AM radio. “My Own Wave” “It’s like we’re playing live guys. We’re rolling”. “My Own Wave” kicks off with Nelson addressing his bandmates in the studio and also reflects the relaxed vibe of the 2020 album, which was a companion piece to Turn Off The News (Build A Garden.) The album is comprised of tunes that didn’t make the cut for the 2019 album as well as alternate versions of songs that did. Part of the band’s goal was to give a fans a glimpse behind the curtain of the band. Hey, that’s always fun. “My Own Wave” is just a simple, good-time, easy-going rocker that seems to benefit from the laid back atmosphere of the sessions. But no really, turn off the fucking news and even if you don’t build a garden, just get outside for crying out loud.

Maroon 5 are set to release their seventh album on Friday. It’s called Jordi. The album features Megan Thee Stallion, the late Nipsey Hustle, Stevie Nicks, and a couple other people. Wonderful. I couldn't care less. However, there was a time, a long, long time ago, back when George W. Bush was president, the Red Sox/Yankees rivalry was must-see TV, and CD books were a thing when I actually cared quite a bit about Maroon 5. It seems borderline nuts now, but the passage of time is nothing if not a cruel method of inciting madness as you look back at your past decisions and choices. See, in my defense, Maroon 5’s first album, Songs About Jane, is pretty good. It is refreshing and fun, like an updated version of the best Hall & Oates songs run through the blender of late 90’s grunge. It’s smooth and soulful coupled with the lessons learned from the early 90s with music leaning heavily on the soft verse, loud chorus format. Note: We’re going to shift to past tense here because it’s just easier. Speaking glowingly of Maroon 5 in the present tense just doesn’t feel right. The album’s first single was “Harder to Breathe” and that song drove. The beat and groove were pulsating forward in a way that made the song sound more rocking than it actually was. As far as opening tracks go, it was a damn good one. The songs that brought the majority of people to the tent were the second and third singles, “This Love” and “She Will Be Loved.” “This Love” went on to win a Grammy for Best Pop Performance by a Duo/Group in 2006, four years after it was released. So yeah, it’s not like the band was an overnight success. They just kind of kept building momentum and speed until all of sudden they were everywhere, the “it” band of the mid-2000s. Maroon 5 hit that sweet spot in terms of audience response. The gals liked them because you could dance to their music and front-man Adam Levine was a good-looking dude and the fellas were cool with them because they played pop-rock that didn’t treat the rock part for granted. They could really rock if they wanted to. Well, rock in their own kind of way. No one was flipping over any tables or throwing back shots of Jager listening to Maroon 5. Let’s not get carried away here. They rocked in a way where it was fun to play some of their songs loud. But regardless of your gender, come on, how could you not like their song “Sunday Morning?” It’s light, breezy, fun to sing along to – everything you could possibly ask for when it comes to listening to a song in the car with friends. And I listened to Maroon 5 a lot while driving during a stretch there between 2003-2006. When the band I was in at the time was traveling around the Northeast for shows, it was one of those albums that seemed to be in heavy rotation. There was Maroon 5, Paranoid Social Club, Gang Starr, Rage Against the Machine, Soundgarden, and Sublime, because who wasn’t listening to Sublime in those days. Oddly enough, Dane Cook’s first two comedy albums Harmful If Swallowed and Retaliation were also frequently played in the Super Trooper, the band’s trusty vehicle. Cook is another artist that father time has left behind for me. Still, I’ll never not think about screaming YOU’RE ABOUT TO BE HIT BY A VEHICLE when I see it almost happen. Since Songs About Jane, Maroon 5 have gone in a direction I would say isn’t ideal from my perspective. They definitely left the rock part of themselves behind years ago and fully embraced the pop. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it’s just not my jam. Levine has become something of a revised version of that dude from Sugar Ray, Mark McGrath, a pop culture personality who has become bigger than his band, but in a way that’s not always positive. Also, somehow there are seven guys in Maroon 5 now. Seven! And at least two of those guys play keyboards. That is almost never a good sign. Multiple keyboardists are troubling unless you’re the Roots, although to be fair, the Roots are typically an exception to most rules. If you have seven members in a band, at least one of them should be playing a horn of some sort. Unless it’s a country/alt-country band and in that case, seven members is cool because the more guitars the merrier. Some acts are lucky enough that they can have such long careers that where they started out can easily get lost and forgotten. But I think it’s important to remember that first album or two because it can either show the band at its most raw or hint at some promise or potential. In the case of Maroon 5, remembering that first album is interesting as it sounds so different and so much more unique than what they are doing now over a decade later. Bands evolve and styles change. That’s part of the game. With that being said, it’s kind of an unwritten rule of fandom that if a band is around for more than three or four albums, you’re really under no obligation to stick with them through the entirety of their career. At a certain point, there’s a bail-out option. That is especially true if the act in question starts veering off in a direction you don’t like. I really liked that first Maroon 5 album and once in a blue moon, I dust it off and give it a spin. But I am under no such obligation to automatically like anything Maroon 5 did after that album. Which is good because I didn’t and still don’t. But I did like Songs About Jane and instead of paying any mind in the general direction of this new album of theirs, I’ll look fondly back on “Sunday Morning” and “Harder to Breathe” and “Not Coming Home.” Then I’ll go about my day, check out the new Dispatch album, probably blast some Run the Jewels or find a random Phish show and call it a day. I just think it’s best that way.

May 25, 2021 is the 25th anniversary of Sublime frontman Bradley Nowell’s death. This piece was originally written in 2013 but has since been updated. Optional music accompaniment can be found here. Up-strokes on the guitar, but not as slow as reggae and not as fast as ska. A bass line that had tinges of funk and hip hop in it. The bassist was usually the talented one. Drums held together by sixteen notes on the high hat and high-pitched snare drum hits. It’s the sound of Sublime. Or more specifically, The Sound of Sublime or That Sublime Sound or Sounds Like Sublime. You know what I’m talking about. Since a whole generation of musicians got turned on to the short-lived southern California band, you’ve had the pleasure of hearing that distinctive sound at clubs, patio bars, beach bars, frat houses, and skate parks. That sound, The Sound of Sublime, supplanted punk and then grunge as the go-to sound for young bands in the late ’90s and early 2000s. It was easy at first glance, easy enough to latch onto and make your own. Even though you really weren’t making it your own. You were making it your own in the way stealing someone’s lunch and putting your name on it makes it yours. It’s what bands do before they’ve found a sound of their own. No shame in it. It’s just how the game goes. You are your influences before your influences become your jumping-off point. I was in the trenches, out there among these bands, and was one of these bands when that Sublime sound became dominant and increasingly prevalent. The Nirvana-style three-piece had faded into the distance and now it was the Sublime-style three-piece. The sound, the mash-up of reggae, ska, and rock was similar to punk in longevity. Punk was a part of it if you were so inclined. Hip Hop was as well. The tent where it all lived was the upstrokes of the guitar and under that tent it all made sense. It didn’t all make music, but it all made sense. Back in 2013, 3 Ring Circus: Live at the Palace October 21, 1995, a Sublime live album, was released. The show took place seven months before lead singer and guitarist Bradley Nowell died of a heroin overdose and nine months before the release of the band’s breakthrough album, Sublime. The live album features at least two songs from Sublime (“Caress Me Down,” “Garden Grove”) and is much more cohesive and features significantly better sound quality than the band’s other live album, Stand By Your Van, which was released back in 1998. 3 Ring Circus was released to commemorate the 25th anniversary of the band’s first show which was on July 4, 1998. The album serves as a great reminder of who Sublime really was and where that sound of theirs, and subsequently the sound of thousands of other bands, came from. It’s pure, it’s loud and it’s fast. Bradley Nowell sang and played with a keen determination as if he was attempting to exorcise each and every one of his demons with every song. The album also brings up the Sublime Question again: what if Nowell hadn’t died when he did? In some ways, it’s a more complicated question than The Nirvana Question (i.e. what if Kurt Cobain hadn’t died when he did) because of how Sublime got popular after he had died whereas Nirvana was already massively popular when Cobain took his own life. Sublime started gaining momentum with their second album, 40oz to Freedom, which featured the first song I ever heard from them, “Date Rape.” But it was Sublime, with the better production and super catchy singles like “Santeria,” “What I Got,” and “Wrong Way” that really catapulted the band to stardom. I just don’t think we’ve ever seen anything like that before; a band getting so popular after they were essentially no longer a band. An album like 3 Ring Circus resonates with fans of the bands so much because Listening to it brings back so many thoughts and memories of the band and those related to the band. As a fan of music, Sublime will always be one of those bands I listen too and as a musician, Sublime was a huge influence on me, especially once I got serious about music when kicking around early incarnations of Sidecar Radio back in sunny Portland, Maine in 2002-03. I think so much of the appeal of playing music like Sublime’s comes down to the fact that statistically speaking, everyone loves reggae. However, those same studies show that reggae can sometimes get boring to play. Sublime breathed new life into reggae and at the same time, allowed a band to dabble in punk without having to look the part. You could dress like a normal dude and rage the fast parts with the best of them. And a lot of bands did. During my time with Sidecar Radio, we played with a lot of bands who embraced the Sound of Sublime, some of who did so much more closely than others and also some that were more successful than others. At the time it seemed completely normal to have that sound. But now, well over a decade later, it just seems unfathomable that a band with a career like Sublime’s has been able to have such a lasting legacy. When we talk about legacies in music- it’s always the heavyweights we talk about- Led Zeppelin, the Beatles, Nirvana, Bob Marley, etc. We don’t talk enough about Sublime and Sublime’s legacy and that seems wrong; it seems like we’re ignoring a very real trend that occurred in music for almost a decade. Instead of scoffing at Sublime or diminishing their accomplishments, shouldn’t we be talking about Sublime with more reverence, with more appreciation, and with more admiration for their apparent massive sphere of influence? I think we should. Yes, they were a crazy southern California party band and their songs could be the soundtracks to douche-paloozas everywhere, but Sublime was and is much more than that. Only paying attention to the negatives that come with them doesn’t seem fair, even if those negatives can be pretty damn annoying at times. The truth is that Sublime was a wildly influential band that created their own sound that was a catalyst for thousands and thousands of bands that hit the stage long after they were gone. Not many bands can say that and the ones that should deserve to be celebrated, whether you like them or not. Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. For more of his writing check out his website, GiddyUpAmerica.com

There is today, a today where computers are not only everywhere, but borderline mandatory. And today, these computers are capable of amazing things. Things like Facebook and watching Netflix and designing Power Point presentations and watching YouTube. These computers I’m assuming have games on them, or the ability to have games loaded onto them. I only say assume because I don’t play computer games. I don’t consider taking a Buzzfeed quiz to determine which character from Dazed and Confused I am a game. I consider it informative and potentially life-changing. Although I got Slater. That seems outdated to me. Now speaking of outdated, back when I was youngster, parting my hair on the right, looking adorable, hiding my feet that were growing too fast, we had computers in school- tan and boxy. The screen was green. For the most part their main function seemed to be typing. That’s it. They were typewriters with screens. The cursor blinked. Did I mention the screen was green? It was. Didn’t matter what you were doing. The screen was green. Typing, doing math or even better, playing Oregon Trail, the screen was green. And yes, Oregon Trail. It was the computer game for a little while there. It was what you played as a treat because quite honestly, you didn’t know what else to do with the computer. Somehow this constituted computer training, but possibly even working on your life skills. Which I suppose made sense, even though I was living in Maine and wasn’t even 100% positive sure oxen were a real thing. I can’t stress this enough, Oregon Trail was a big deal. And then it was gone. Computers kept getting better, more prevalent, more functional and with these changes, Oregon Trail became more and more antiquated. It became something that was reminisced about, but never played. Just another childhood memory, like TGIF and Mountain Dew. It was something that you couldn’t imagine ever coming back into your life. Well that is until someone on the Internet brought Oregon Trail, as well as other games of that era, back into our lives. I couldn’t resist playing. Just once. Just for kicks. Just to get to Oregon with my family in tow. The first thing you do is pick where you’re from and what you do. You have three options: I chose banker from Boston because I wanted to make this as real as possible. And no, I have never once considered being a banker, but I’ve been to a bank and on more than one occasion considered moving to Boston. Would this hurt my chances of success, though? Wouldn’t a farmer or carpenter, either one from more rustic areas of the country, have a better chance of making it from one end of the trail to the other? Yeah probably. Definitely a better chance than some east coast, white collared liberal. But banker from Boston was a choice that came from the gut so banker from Boston it is. I imagine I’ll regret the choice, but it’ll probably be because I’ll have so much time to think about things while riding the trail. No second-guessing! Banker from Boston it is. Next up you load up your wagon with your family. I really thought about this; much more so than the banker from Boston thing. I really wanted a good crew, something that is always essential when planning a trip. Giddy Up America’s Oregon Trail Wagon Tom Brady Rihanna Dave Grohl Questlove Why those fine people? I’ll tell you. Tom Brady: steady, reliable, pancake master Rihanna: unpredictable, sassy, “relaxation expert” Dave Grohl: jokester, in charge of campfire singalongs, story teller Questlove: wagon DJ, lots of friends & connections (for trading purposes) We were ready to roll. And we were going to roll in April. They give you options of when to leave. April seemed to make sense. I think. I am a banker from Boston, so this might not be in my wheelhouse. I’d ask my crew but ol’ Tommy Blue Eyes is texting Gisele about God knows what, RiRi is already onto her second blunt, Quest is consumed with picking the right music for the trip and Dave is rambling on about the unheralded music scene in Independence, Missouri. So the decision is mine. The decision is April. Before leaving we stop at Matt’s General Store for supplies. We have $1,600 to spend. Matt recommends 3 Oxen yoke (2 oxen per yoke.) We get 4 yoke. Matt recommends 200 pounds of food per person. We get 1,000 pounds and pledge to ration properly, even RiRi, who you know…munchies. Matt recommends 2 set of clothes per person. We get 14 sets, giving us a few extra. Seems smart. Matt has no recommendation for ammo. We get 15 boxes. This makes sense to Dave. I’m sold. Matt recommends “a few spare parts,” which consists of wagon wheels, wagon axles, and whatever the hell a wagon tongue is. We get two of each and no proper explanation about what a wagon tongue is. Sadly Matt does not carry rolling papers, Afro picks, Jack Daniel’s or Uggs. Our crew is set, but not 100% satisfied. It’s March 1, 1848 and we’re off. Peace out Independence. Next stop Oregon. Actually, next stop is 19 miles in as one oxen is already injured. Damn it Matt! Never trust the only store in town! And then, only a few days later, seven exactly, we run into a blizzard and lose a day. Needless to say, we are not off to a good start. Crew is in good spirits, though. Questlove’s music choices are predictably on point and Dave is handling most of the driving with Brady on map duties. Ri Ri? Snoozing. But looking super fly while doing so. Rivers: Kansas River: we “attempt to ford” i.e. cross carefully and are successful. Big Blue River: we “caulk the wagon” i.e. float across and are successful. We got rivers down pat. Good feelings are fleeting, though. This is meant to be ominous. March 18: severe blizzard. March 21: Questlove gets cholera. Ri Ri wisely asks him to put together some playlists because you know, in case he…well…we don’t want to talk too much about it…but in case he dies. March 23: Which he does. Tom, the ultimate team player, vows to rock a hair pick for the rest of the trip as a tribute. God, if we lose Tom… March 26: Tom Brady has exhaustion. NOOOOOOOOO!!!! March 28: Tragedy. Two deaths in a week. Our crew is understandably rocked. We spend the night of the 28th mourning our fallen travelers with shots of whiskey, Ri Ri’s special “emergencies only” stash and tales of Questo’s and Brady’s greatness. It is a night interlaced with sadness and fond memories. We pledge to go on, we pledge to never forget our friends. On a happier note, I’m getting better at hunting. Unfortunately I could only carry 100 pounds back, which is kind of a bummer. Tom Brady’s loss is felt. He could carry back at least twice that. Damn it, Tom! Why did you have to die? The good ones always go too soon. Sleep well sweet prince and please beat the Ravens this weekend. It’s just Dave Grohl, Rihanna and me now. We must continue on. It’s what Questlove and Tommy Football would have wanted, what they dreamed about. For the next few weeks things are quiet. It gives us time to think. Why are we going to Oregon anyway? Jobs, food, family? If we’re going cross country, shouldn’t it be to some place like San Diego or L.A.? I’m not sure Oregon makes much sense. San Diego is sweet. I wonder if we really thought this through. We probably didn’t. That’s so like us. Then a rough two week stretch hits. We told her to be mindful of where she wanders off too. But you know, stoners. May 3: Good day for hunting, but bad day for navigating. We lose the trail. I mean, it’s not like there’s many other trails. There’s really only the one. But we still lost it. I’m not going to point fingers at anyone. But…when Dave Grohl assures that he knows how to read a map, you believe him. It’s Dave Grohl, the guy who wrote “Everlong.” That’s an awesome song. Dude who wrote that mustknow how to read a map. Right? Dave is off map duty. And on top of that, our food rations are running dangerously low because someone (no names, only initials: Rihanna) is constantly snacking for reasons that…well, you know (in a whisper: weed.) We are forced to make a shift in our rationing policy, changing from filling to meager. May 12: Ri Ri has the measles! No, not Ri Ri! She’s our heart & soul! May 13: She was our heart & soul. We take a day off. We need to. This latest death has really shaken us. Ri Ri was going to bring the people of Oregon wonderful recipes from Barbados. Now? Now there will be no Barbados-inspired restaurants in Oregon. It is a sad day in Independence Rock. Dave is inconsolable. Rumors about some late night hook ups with Ri Ri might have been true. I didn’t believe them, didn’t want too. But for how shaken up he is? Kind of, sort of seems like something was going on. Oh well. What happens on the Oregon Trail stays on the Oregon Trail. While Dave drowns his sorrows in more whiskey…how much did he bring?…I visit with my Aunt Rebecca and trade for some supplies. We need clothes. I have no idea where our clothes went, but we’re running low and Dave and I look ridiculous. He’s wearing one of Ri Ri’s shirts, I’m wearing most of Questlove’s old clothes and they are comically too large for me. Honestly, we look like assholes. This concern about appearances would be short-lived. May 16: Dave has measles. Which is you know, kind of weird because our girl Ri Ri had measles too. Are measles contagious? What are measles? Are they like chicken pox? Damn it. Questlove would totally know the answers to these questions. May 18 is a rough day. So that leaves just me. Everyone else is dead. Questlove is dead. Tom Brady is dead. Our beloved Rihanna is dead. Dave Grohl is dead. It feels like the dream of Oregon is almost dead. It’s on life-support. May 21: I have cholera. What the hell is cholera! Cholera: Cholera is an acute intestinal infection caused by ingestion of food or water contaminated with the bacterium Vibrio cholerae. It has a short incubation period, from less than one day to five days, and produces an enterotoxin that causes a copious, painless, watery diarrhoea that can quickly lead to severe dehydration and death if treatment is not promptly given. Vomiting also occurs in most patients. – World Health Organization Well that sucks. So does breaking an arm. And then having dysentery. I’m having a rough week. Perhaps I should have stayed in Boston doing that banker thing. Ever heard of a banker getting cholera? Getting dysentery? Burying his friend Questlove? I haven’t. It’s quite possible that I’ve made a huge mistake. June gets off to a rough start. Damn it, another effin’ wheel! I spend the day trying to trade for a wheel, having to surrender a set of clothes (Dave’s) to get the wheel. June 28: I have a fever. Yes, it’s called loneliness. July 10: Damn it, lost another wheel. I should have read reviews of Matt’s General Store! His wheels are shit. The bad luck doesn’t last all that long though. Two weeks later I come across an abandoned wagon. Finders keepers on the trail, bitches! My looting “salvaging” gets me some more bullets and clothes. Maybe this is a sign? Maybe things are starting to take a turn for the best and things are starting to look up and my luck is starting to change? Maybe I’ll make it to Oregon after all? August 3: I have a broken leg. August 11: I have (another) broken arm. August 12: I have measles. August 20: I’m dead. I made it a little over halfway to Oregon. And then the game made fun of me. See you in another twenty years Oregon Trail. Ryan O'Connell loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. See more of his writing at his website, GiddyUpAmerica.com

One of the ways to help survive quarantine (which is still kind of thing but not totally a thing like it was a few months ago) was finding little things to look forward to. Walks, TV shows, watching the sprinkler run. These were just a couple of the ways in which a person could at least temporarily escape the seemingly endless doldrums of the hum dumness of quarantine life. When the tools we have in our lives to mark the passing of time began to fade, we needed something to help get us through and some of those little things did the trick. For me, something I started to look forward to was trying new beers. This wasn’t about getting drunk or anything. It was more of a fun mission I found myself embarking on. This project never got to the level that some high-level beer drinkers get to; my palate couldn’t hang. But I did realize I like IPAs, so when it came time to make a liquor store run, I’d try and seek out a new IPA I hadn’t tried before. If quarantine was all about relying on the little things, this was it. So I started experimenting and trying new IPAs, although still steering clear of anything above 7% because I’m old. Anything higher than say, 6.8% scares me. Unfortunately, this did prove problematic because a lot of IPAS go past my self-posed line in the sand, making my options limited. I got by though, even if it meant going back to old favorites like Kane’s Head High when other options weren’t there. But then a new year came about and you know, I started to not feel great, not feel like my physical best self. It’s not that I was seriously overweight or dangerously out of shape. I just felt like I could afford to lose a few pounds, get down to a better and more manageable playing weight. One day I was at my parents, playing with my niece and daughter, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and yeah, eh, not so great. So I made a decision to change things up. It wouldn’t be drastic or anything, but I decided to make a few tweaks to how I was going about my business, doing things like alternating between yogurt and cereal for breakfast, cutting down on snacking, being smarter about lunch, opting for a side salad instead of fries, and generally steering clear of junk food unless it was ice cream because like my man Joe Biden, I can’t say no to ice cream. I swear, not getting ice cream when you take your kid to get ice cream might be one of the hardest things about being a parent. Another component to my plan to change things up was tackling my beer consumption and figuring out how I could still enjoy a beer or two at night without bringing along all the baggage that comes with it (i.e. the calories and carbs.) I’m sorry. I have two kids, there’s a pandemic and quarantine, and The Bachelor. I’m not going to not drink during the week. Not happening. But, I could try and drink smarter. So first I tried light beers, specifically Yuengling Light. I like regular Yuengling and thought it would be fine. It was not. Yuengling Light is not fine. It’s okay, suitable if you’re in a pinch but overall, not great. Yuengling Light was off the table. There are still a couple in my basement if you want ’em. I then decided to do some research and see what options were out there for low-calorie beers. Surely there had to be some beyond just light beers. Please. Yeah, there are. Actually, low-calorie beers are kind of thing now, a trend that started back at the beginning of 2020 apparently. And to make this news even better, a lot of these low-calorie options were IPAs. They are low on calories, low on carbs, and typically clocked in under 4% ABV. A rare win/win/win if there ever was one. Over the past few weeks, I have made it a point to explore what options the low-calorie market had out there. I still dabbled in regular beers, but this new life of mine was all about finding a balance. So if I got a four-pack of something from a local brewery, I also got something that was low-calorie. Balance, baby. Right now, the winners in the clubhouse come from the good folks at Dogfish Head and Lagunitas, a little something from the west coast and something from over here on the east coast. Dogfish Head, which makes the fantastic 90 minute IPA, has Slightly Mighty, an IPA with only 95 calories, 3.6g carbs, 1g protein, and 0g fat per 12oz serving. Instead of sugar, they use Chinese Monkfish to act as a sweetener, a move that helps cut down on calories. It’s a little bitter, a little sweet, a little tropical and a little delicious. Then there’s Lagunitas, based out of California, who routinely offer up several great options. Lagunitas has the Day Time IPA, which has 3 grams of carbs, 98 Calories per 12 oz, and an ABV of 4%. It still hits like a heavier Lagunitas but it doesn’t pack the weighted punch the others do. Besides being the best of the bunch, those two also seem to be the most readily available, at least where I’m at in the world. Big fan of accessibility over here. The next tier consists of Long Trails’ Little Anomaly IPA (110 calories, 3.8% ABV,) Rec League by Harpoon (120 calories, 4% ABV,) Victory’s Easy Ringer (96 calories, 4.3% ABV,) and Bell’s Light Hearted Ale (110 calories, 3.7% ABV.) If this were all about can art, Light Hearted Ale would be leading this race by a landslide: “We recognized that there was an opportunity to give beer lovers–Two Hearted fans or not–an option that had everything they were looking for: lower calories, a lower ABV and all of the deliciousness that is Two Hearted,” Bells’ Communication Manager Josh Smith said last year. He didn’t have anything to add about that can art but he probably should have. It’s sweet. In November of 2020, Bells’ Light Hearted Ale topped Untapped’s list of the best low-cal ales that won’t ruin your health and fitness goals. The list also included Rec League, Easy Ringer, and Slightly Mighty. Guinness was also on there. A little something for the traditionalists out there, I suppose. I like Guinness but generally only mess around with it on and around St. Patrick’s Day. There’s something about drinking Guinness when the temperature is above 50 degrees that doesn’t make sense to me. Another helpful list of good low-calorie beers is this one from Delish. And as we head into the summer months, these low-calorie IPAs seem perfectly suited for some daytime summer drinking, which is an added bonus. They’re not a substitute for those beautiful summer ales by any means. But as a companion, they’re remarkably well-suited, especially Slightly Mighty, which almost feels like a summer ale given the lightness of it. I love summer beers but I’m also a big fan of this new system I have, so it’s nice knowing I don’t have to abandon this plan of mine for summer. I mean, if any part of the plan is going to get ditched anytime soon, it’ll be the yogurt part. Let’s not kid ourselves. Yogurt is lame. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a walk around the block because its after lunch and in quarantine, after lunch, we go for walks. If you’ve found any good low-calorie beers I should check out, give me a holler on Twitter. Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. Check out his site GiddyUpAmerica.com

As we sit here, ten years removed from the premiere of Game of Thrones and nearly two years since the show ended, it’s easy to think back to the show and the massive set pieces and battles, shocking deaths, and breath-taking episodes. The big stuff is largely what separated Game of Thrones from everything else on television. The show just felt so enormous, certainly more massive than anything you’d have expected to see on television and anything we had seen up until that point. To this day, “Blackwater,” the penultimate episode of the show’s second season remains the most in awe I’ve ever been watching a television show. The scale of the Battle of Blackwater Bay was akin to something you’d seen on the big screen, not your own small screen, from the comfort of your own home. I don’t care how big some of these new flatscreen televisions may be, there wasn’t a television screen out there prepared for what that episode entailed. From that point on, the show would continue to double down, especially when it came to battles. Almost every season from season two on had one or if not, a moment that rivaled it in terms of the emotional impact. For better or worse, with Game of Thrones we expected the grandiose and as the ten-year-anniversary of the premiere rolls around, it’s the grandiose that is so easily remembered. But in between the battles and gasp-inducing deaths were the things that really made Game of Thrones so good, the little moments. For a show that operated on such a massive scale, it excelled at also capturing little moments between characters, usually right before things got cranked up a notch. The fireworks Game of Thrones provided were always a main-takeaway, but more often than not, the calm before the storm moments was the stuff that got you at the time. And that’s what I want to focus on amidst the celebration of the show’s Iron Anniversary, the ten best moments from the show. Of course, limiting myself to ten means that some classic Thrones’ moments aren’t making the cut, moments like when Jon and the Wildlings climbed the wall or when Tyrion killed his father Tywin, when it appeared Theon had murdered Bran and Rickon or when Jon watched Yrgitte get killed. It wouldn’t be anything related to Game of Thrones without something unfortunate happening, though. Them’s the breaks in Westeros. 10. When the Mountain swiped Oberyn’s leg during their fight Episode: “The Mountain and the Viper” (S4, E8) Oh, Oberyn Martell, we hardly knew you. The Dornish Prince arrived into Westeros at the start of the show’s fourth season in the wake of The Red Wedding and Tywin Lannister having eliminated the Robb Stark-led threat from the North. For the Lannisters, things were pretty good, although this Oberyn fella was a bit too much of a wild card for their liking and seemed destined to cause a problem for them, which he eventually did, stepping in to be Tyrion’s champion when Tyrion chose trial by combat for his role in Joffrey’s murder. And it looked like Oberyn might actually pull off something of an upset against Cersei’s champion, the Mountain, the man responsible for the murder of Oberyn’s sister. But our dude got cocky and started celebrating at the five-yard line. A rookie mistake and when he wasn’t looking, the Mountain made him pay, first with his eyes and then with his skull. Oberyn’s death was a tough watch. Someone crushing another person’s head will do that. But there was something about his death that twisted stomachs and stuck with you. Here was a new character, a breath of fresh air and a possible replacement for the main foe of the Lannisters, someone who could maybe take them down and just like that, he was gone. If anything, it’s our fault for getting attached. At that point, we should have known better. 9. When Jon watched Rickon die before the Battle of the Bastards Episode: “Battle of the Basterds” (S6, E9) So, if our first life lesson is not to celebrate too early, our second lesson is that you never run away from a deranged psychopath in a straight line. You gotta zig zag, be a little elusive because there’s a good chance the deranged psychopath in question might start shooting arrows at you and if you’re running in a straight line, you are making it super easy on them. Did you catch all that, Rickon? God, man. Of course Rickon took a lethal arrow to the back and of course Jon felt compelled to throw his well-crafted plan out the window and charge Ramsey and his large army all by lonesome. Very on-brand for Jon. But it was a little surprising because since his resurrection, Jon had seemed like a man on a mission, someone possibly not so prone to bouts of emotion-led acts of foolishness. Going into the battle with Ramsey for Winterfell, it was clear Ramsey had the numbers and the advantage. Jon and his squad needed to play it perfectly and that all started with being patient. Yet then Rickon died and all that went to shit. Jon Snow 2.0 out there still making Jon Snow 1.0 mistakes. 8. When Littlefinger realized he was the one about to get got Episode: “The Dragon and the Wolf” (S7, E7) Season seven was supposed to be fun because finally, after so much time apart, the Stark children would be reunited. Well, except for Rickon. Can you imagine what Arya must have thought when she heard about the whole running in a straight line thing? But the good times didn’t really last that long, especially when it came to Sansa and Arya. Granted they had never been close, but you would have thought that some time apart and the experiences and hardships each had endured during that time would have brought them together. Not so much, though. Sansa was trying her best in a management position she was learning how to do on the fly and Arya was giving off major just-got-home-from-a-semester-abroad-and-now-I-know-things vibes and the two clashed. It got awkward and you know, it was a bummer because damn it we had waited to so long for any kind of Stark reunion. To have it sour so quickly almost didn’t seem fair and then for Sansa to turn on Arya? Shit. Come on now. But surprise, Sansa and Arya fooled you, fooled me and most importantly, fooled Littlefinger, who after seven seasons of being a devious son of a bitch in the shadows, finally reached the end of the road. The look on his face when he realized it was him on trial and not Arya, ooooh, that shit was delicious. 7. When Margaery realizes Cersei is up to something by not showing up to her trial Episode: “The Winds of Winter” (S6, E10) Margaery Tyrell, like Oberyn, was a welcome addition to the show and while she stayed around longer than the Dornish prince, it still wasn’t long enough for my liking. But you know, Margaery was too good for us and definitely too good for Westeros. As season six wound down, the religious fanatics, the Sparrows, had captured the hearts and minds of Westeros and were set to hold a trial for Cersei. The charge? Living her life, I guess. And the trial was a who’s who of the Westerosi elite. Everyone and their uncle was there. Except for Cersei. And while the High Sparrow didn’t seem to see the problem with this, Margaery did and tried her best to convince the leader of the Sparrows that something was afoot and they needed to get the hell out of there. Naturally he ignored her pleas to bail and doubled down, barring anyone from leaving. Then they all died. Except for Cersei. Margaery was a worthy adversary for Cersei but in the end, Cersei downs threats, both real and imagined, like some top shelf Dornish red wine. 6. When Tormund learns that Brienne is not a knight Episode: “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” (S8, S2) It takes outsiders living outside of an established system to more often than not be the ones to correctly point out the faults of said system. In this case, it was Tormund ready to question some Westerosi bullshit like why the gals can’t be knights, especially when the woman in question is none other than Brienne of Tarth. Brienne getting knighted by Jaime on the eve of the throw down with the White Walkers was definitely one of the high points of a flawed season eight and one of the most touching moments of the entire series, but in rewatching it, Tormund’s reaction to learning that Brienne wasn’t a knight really stuck out to me. Because yeah, why the hell Brienne wouldn’t be a knight? Brienne was bad ass and a better fighter than the majority of dudes rolling around Westeros calling themselves knights. But she couldn’t be one because of BS gender roles? Get out of here with that nonsense. It was wonderful that Jaime did what he did but not-so wonderful that it took so long and a quiet moment before certain death for it to happen. 5. When the Nights Watch Rangers find the bodies left behind by the White Walkers Episode: “Winter is Coming” (S1, E1) Silly me. Heading into the show’s seventh season, I was adamant that the only thing that truly mattered on Game of Thrones was the inevitable clash with the White Walkers. I felt that all the backstabbing and quibbles happening amongst the living would eventually be pushed aside in the face of a common enemy, effin’ ice zombies. Now, my main reason for this kind of thinking went all the back to the show’s very first episode and how that episode began. It didn’t begin with Starks or Lannisters or dragons. It began with three members of the Nights Watch out for a jaunt north of the wall and hello, they run into a Wight and some meticulously placed dead bodies. That’s what the showrunners felt was the best way to start the entire series. That had to mean something right? The showrunners definitely had a plan and knew what they were doing right? Ugh, maybe skip that second question. But whatever. I felt very strongly about this because the prologue to “Winter is Coming” had such a distinct vibe and feel to it. Plus, over the course of the next couple seasons, amidst all the human shenanigans, the show would remind us not to sleep on the threat from the north. They kept dropping hints and the hints seemed important and damn it, I fell for it. Oh well, this is a great way to introduce a show, regardless of the overall meaning of the whole thing. 4. When Daenerys pulls a fast one on the slaver when purchasing The Unsullied Episode: “And Now His Watch Has Ended” (S3, E4) We learned that Daenerys wasn’t to be trifled with from the early going and throughout the show’s first two seasons, we continued to be given examples of this being the case. Overlook her or underestimate her and she’d make you pay. The girl walked into a burning fire and walked out with three baby dragons. She’s not messing around, guys. Danys came to play. I feel that Danys reputation as bad motherf**ker was cemented four episodes into season three when she acquired The Unsullied. It definitely seemed like she was going to be giving up one of her dragons to get the highly touted army and for arm chair experts like myself, that seemed like a steep cost, regardless of how amazing the army might be. It’s a dragon. You’d probably want to hold onto those. And then she did! And in the process, she pulled a fast one on the asshole slaver selling her The Unsullied and it was one of the most satisfying deaths in all of Game of Thrones. Eff that guy, am I right. After that happened, there was no denying the force of Danys. 3. When Cat Stark sees Roose Bolton’s armor and gets wise to what’s happening at The Twins Episode: “The Rains of Castamere” (S3, E9) Where were you when The Red Wedding? Oh, that’s easy. IN A STATE OF SHOCK thank you very much. You know who wasn’t? Catelyn Stark. She got wise to the whole thing before poor Robb did and while that didn’t really do a damn thing, we still award her five bonus points and she gets extra time at recess. Catelyn sensing something was up and making eye contact with Roose and then confirming that treachery was coming in hot is one of those things that benefits from a second viewing because in the moment, it’s all happening so fast and everything becomes so dark and ominous, it gets overlooked. Another life lesson? Just listen to your mom. She knows what’s up. Cat knew Walder Frey was going to be salty about Robb reneging on his agreement to marry one of his daughters and that no amount of talk would cool him down. Walder Frey doesn’t get cooled down. Walder Frey lures you into his home and murders you under the guise of a celebratory feast. I bet that when Cat and Robb met up in the afterlife, the first twenty minutes they spent together consisted of her just looking at him and Robb pleading with her to stop, telling her that ‘yes, she was right and he was wrong.’ It’s okay, Robb. We’ve all been there. I mean, not to that extent but yes, we’ve all been there. 2. When the dogs start barking at Hardhomme Episode: “Hardhomme” (S5, E8) The massacre at Hardhomme is my favorite battle in Game of Thrones. God, I love it. It’s also probably the episode I think about and want to rewatch the most because that last twenty minutes or so is amazing. It’s creepy, it’s foreboding. It’s like a horror/action movie and you can’t take your eyes off of it. And it all starts when the dogs begin barking. Everything seems fine, like it’s pretty much all going to plan. Yes, Jon would have liked more Wildlings to take him up on his offer to come south of the Wall, but beggers can’t be chooses and as Tormund points out, when the food runs out, they’ll change their mind. That one woman says goodbye to her daughters, says she’ll be right behind them and of course that seems like a major red flag in hindsight but at the time it didn’t. It just seemed like something that character would say in that moment. And then the dogs start barking. Then the wind seems to shift and ooohh that feeling that shit is about to get a little crazy starts creeping its way up your spine. ” Close the gates!” And that always sucks because without fail, someone just misses getting through the gates before they close and then everything goes quiet. “Hardhomme” was Game of Thrones reminding you that they’re not effin’ around and when they need to, they can blast a 500 foot homerun or break off a 80 yard run. Oh and the way the Night King looked at Jon and when he raised the dead and was like, guess what assholes, I have a bigger army now… Damn it, I love that episode. 1.When Daenerys sets sail for Westeros Episode: “The Winds of Winter” (S6, E10) Finally. No, really. Finally. After six seasons of trudging through deserts, being captured, being captured again, escaping death, vanquishing foes, sniffing out traitors, raising dragon babies and more, Daenerys was finally headed to Westeros. The show, which had always been massive in scale and scope was going to start contracting and coming together. Plots would begin to merge and an endgame was in sight. It was all very exciting. The Danys stuff had started to become almost its own show, albeit a great show, but still, one that was removed from everything else happening on Game of Thrones. It was fun while it lasted but it was time to get everyone in the same room and get down to business. Was this the last truly exciting moment in Game of Thrones? Yeah, maybe. Ones that would follow have a case but they are also hampered by context and surrounding events. Danys setting sail to Westeros has a purity the other moments don’t. Anything and everything seemed possible at that point. The potential of Game of Thrones was off the charts and nothing could get in their way. Well, except for themselves. But that’s for another time.

Batman entered our lives all the way back in May of 1939, created in response to the overwhelming popularity of Superman, who came around a year earlier. Since then, we’ve born witness to several different versions of the Caped Crusader, whether it’s in print, on the small screen either in live-action or as a cartoon, and on the big screen. The first Batman movie came out in 1943 with a plot that revolved around Batman acting as a government agent, helping to stop World War II. Twenty-odd years later, came the television show with Adam West playing Bruce Wayne/Batman. The Adam West era seems like it lasted for a while but in actuality, it ran from 1966-1968 and included the series as well as a movie both of which spawned endless jokes and references to the show’s dialogue, catchphrases, and the use of on-screen graphics. Then things got kind of quiet outside of the comics but as far as Batman movies go, everything changed with the release of Tim Burton’s 1989 movie, Batman. I might have seen that in theaters three, maybe four times, and remember drawing Batman logos on chalkboards when my fourth-grade teacher wasn’t looking. Fast forward all these years and I certainly wouldn’t say I’m obsessed with Batman, but I’m definitely a fan. That fandom was kick-started with that movie. As for the movies that immediately followed, I’m on board with Batman Returns (it’s become a solid rewatchable) and decidedly off the board with the next two films- Batman Forever and Batman and Robin. It took seven years for the stink of Batman and Robin to wear off. That was the year Christopher Nolan took the helm of the franchise and proceeded to drop the Dark Knight Trilogy: Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, and The Dark Knight Rises, all three with Christian Bale as Batman/Bruce Wayne. Next to the 1989 Batman, they’re the Catwoman’s pajamas of Batman movies. Two years after The Dark Knight Rises, Batman appeared in Lego form in the Lego Movie, an appearance that paved the way for The Lego Batman Movie in 2017. Sandwiched in between those two movies was Ben Affleck’s turn as Batman in Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, and then again in 2017 in Justice League. I think the less said about that movie the better. But wait, fast forward a couple years to 2021 and there’s the long-awaited Snyder Cut, Zack Snyder’s vision for the movie that he was unable to see through because of a family tragedy. The movie isn’t a perfect second take of Justice League but it’s at least better than the original and one of the winners of the redone film is Batfleck. He’s more fleshed out and developed than he had been in the past two films and it helps. But don’t get attached because that is reportedly the last we’ll see of Affleck as Batman. Although at the same time, fear not because another Batman is coming in hot, this one played by Robert Pattinson in The Batman, which is set to be released sometime next year. Pattinson’s not eligible here but everything else is fair game. Atomic batteries to power…turbines to speed…on to the rankings! The Movies 1. Batman (1989) The grand pupa of Batman movies. Without it, would the Nolan movies even exist? Tim Burton re-established a new tone for Batman, one with decidedly less camp and color and significantly more doom and gloom. No dancing here. Just straight brooding. I just remember that movie being so incredibly huge and even now all of these years later, I watch it and I’m all in. I love the visual style of it. It seems to take place in a mish-mash of time periods- ranging from the 1940s to 1970s. I didn’t have any opinions about Michael Keaton as Batman at the time, but now I can see that his casting was probably a little jarring. But in 1989 I was too young to know any better. He was awesome. Thumbs up perfect. I don’t think this movie will ever get old. 2. The Dark Knight The second Christopher Nolan-directed Batman movie is by far the best of the Nolan trilogy. It feels like Heat meets your traditional Batman movie. It moves in a way most blockbusters, especially comic book blockbusters, don’t. Heath Ledger makes this movie, though. His performance is at a Daniel Day-Lewis level in that it completely dominates the movie. When he’s not on the screen, you’re just waiting for him to come back. If the 1989 Batman felt huge, then this movie felt gigantic. It still feels gigantic, as if it were able to crush movies like The Green Lantern with its thumb. Broken into acts like a Shakespearean play, if The Dark Knight is on television, there is a damn good chance I’m watching at least thirty minutes of it. At least. Probably more. 3. Batman Begins The 1989 Batman didn’t bother with any kind of origin story- it just started. Oddly enough, that’s kind of a Nolan move. Batman Begins spends the first half of the movie digging into the origin of this particular Batman and it pays off- not just in this one, but the two that followed. It made you infinitely more invested in this version of Bruce Wayne/Batman. It doesn’t add a well-known villain, going with Scarecrow instead and then Ra’s al Ghul but the film is better off for it. It lays out the groundwork for what’s to come and it does so flawlessly. 4. Batman Returns A sequel to Batman felt almost too good to be true. It’s not as memorable as the first one, but it’s still good. And we’ll never look at penguins the same way again. It hasn’t aged as well as the first one, but that’s to be expected. I think as the years have gone we’ve underrated Michelle Pheiffer’s portrayal as Catwoman. Also, don’t let clowns babysit your children. 5. Dark Knight Rises The summer the Dark Knight Rises came out I got married, bought a house, and got a new job. Seeing this movie was easily the fourth most exciting thing I experienced that summer. It was akin to seeing a statue unveiled or taking in a sunset while swimming in the Pacific Ocean- just a truly momentous event. Unfortunately though, once the shine wore off, the cracks started to show. Because really, what was going on again? Bruce Wayne is now broke? And then physically broke, but then all better thanks to some pushups and pep talks? And he goes from a pit in the Middle East to Gotham in no time. With an empty bank account mind you! Whatever. Questions about anything as big and highly anticipated as Dark Knight Rises will always exist. Either way, I appreciate the third Nolan Batman movie because of its scale and scope; similar to how I love big rock ‘n roll albums. I love when artists just effin’ go for it and with Dark Knight Rises, Nolan went for it. 6. Batman (1966) Props where props are due. It’s not the best Batman movie out there, but it’s the granddaddy of them. That’s worth something. 7. Batman Forever Michael Keaton bailed, so enter Val Kilmer. Val Kilmer? Yeah. Also, Tim Burton exited stage left, resulting in Joel Schumacher entering stage right. And then Robin shows up and all the doom and gloom is replaced by enough LED lights to rival an EDM show shot through an industrial-sized leaf blower. In a pile of dung, Jim Carrey as the Riddler perhaps comes out the cleanest. Although that’s not saying much. 8. Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice Dear God this movie is bad. Like, so bad. So incredibly bad. It’s so bad that even hate-watching it is out of the question. Are there any positives that can be taken away, any at all? (thinks for a moment) Yeah, no. None. 9. Batman and Robin Val Kilmer bailed. Enter George Clooney. GEORGE CLOONEY? And Bat Girl? I don’t know if I’ve ever even finished this effin’ movie. Batman 1. Christian Bale He narrowly edges out Keaton. Why? Well, I’m not entirely sure why. I just think he was really good and did a great job. Bale was also slightly more believable as Batman. I could barely understand a damn word he said when playing Batman, though. Enunciate damn it! How are you supposed to strike fear in the heart of the criminal element if they can’t understand what you’re saying? 2. Michael Keaton The people’s Batman. A Batman we could all relate to. Not the strongest, just the smartest. Batman is a smart dude. Michael Keaton looks like a smart dude. I think it was an inspired choice. 3. Adam West The O.G., so we give credit where credit is due, just like we gave the original Batman movie props where props are due. 4. Ben Affleck The movies he was in were certainly terrible with The Snyder Cut being the exception but Affleck’s Batman wasn’t horrible. I kind of liked his older, grizzled version of Batman. I would have gladly watched a stand-alone Batfleck movie or two (something that SHOULD HAVE HAPPENED before Justice League by the way.) 5. Legos Hey, we can’t leave out Lego Batman. And yes, he’s better than two other Batmen. 6. Val Kilmer Awesome as Jim Morrison, not awesome as Batman. Such is life. 7. George Clooney The fact that Clooney’s turn as Batman didn’t completely torpedo his career is most likely a testament to his unstoppable charm and charisma than anything else. Batman might not be a superhero per se, but Clooney might be one for being able to not let this gig drag him down. Batmobiles 1. The One from Batman (1989) Always my favorite. It’s not the most practical one for city-livin’ and city-drivin’, but if we’ve learned anything these past years, it’s that Batman doesn’t do practical. 2. The One from Batman (1966) Seeing as how this Batmobile seemed to most likely roam the California countryside, a convertible makes complete sense. But when it rains? Well, that’s no good. The scenes where Batman tells Commissioner Gordon that sorry, they can’t save Gotham today due to inclement weather are notoriously absent from The West Era. 3. The One from the Dark Knight Trilogy No side mirrors seem like a kind of liability. 4. The One Batfleck Drove It’s got the tank vibe from the Nolan movies, but the length of the Burton movies. Thankfully, it has absolutely nothing from the Schumacher movies. 5. The One from the Schumacher movies I knew this guy in college who installed black lights and flashing LED lights inside his car. I thought that was stupid. I think this version of the Batmobile is just as stupid. Let’s just save the black lights for the stoner college kids and the LED lights for the raver college kids, huh? Villains 1. The Joker (The Dark Knight) The Joker was never legitimately terrifying until this version of the Joker came along (and then Joaquin Phoenix took that up to 11.) A completely different Joker than the one in the 1989 Batman, Ledger’s Joker was more maniacal, more sadistic. Ledger’s Oscar for Best Supporting Actor has to go down as one of the most satisfying and deserved in recent years. 2. The Joker (Batman – 1989) This version of the Joker is slightly more traditional, more on par with what we had thought the Joker was. Which Joker is better in your opinion, Nicholson’s or Ledger’s most likely comes down to personal preference. There’s really no right or wrong answer. Just kidding. There is a wrong answer. It’s Nicholson’s. I still love Nicholson’s Joker but it’s not better than Ledger’s. Nicholson’s Joker is like the Red Sox 2007 World Series title. A great achievement, but in the long run, completely overshadowed by the 2013 Championship. 3. Penguin (Batman Returns) Creepy, scary, unpredictable. Even the backstory they show for him is amazing. Probably the most underrated Batman movie villain. 4. Bane (The Dark Knight Rises) Who cares if you could only understand half of what he said, he was a beast. Literally. Big shoes to fill, following in Heath Ledger’s clown shoe footprints, but Bane gets the job done. He was just a totally menacing dude. 5. Ra’s al Ghul (Batman Begins) Who? Oh yeah, Liam Neeson’s angry kung fu master from the Himalayas. First place for facial hair. 6. Catwoman (Batman Returns) Is she really a villain? Kind of, but tough to say. We’ll give it a maybe. But we’ll also give her a thumbs up. 7. Scarecrow (Batman Begins) Definitely not the main villain in Batman Begins, but still an important one. He plays the fringe role well, but would not be welcome at your next hippie festival. 8. Riddler (Batman Forever) Uh…he wasn’t terrible. 9. Two-Face (Batman Forever) Uh…he wasn’t half bad? (cue: rimshot) 10. Poison Ivy (Batman and Robin) Uh…better than Mr. Freeze. 11. Mr. Freeze (Batman and Robin) Uh…I don’t want to sound cold here but… The Miscellaneous 1. Bob the Goon (Batman – 1989) Bob didn’t say much and he didn’t have to. Gunslinger, sidekick, amateur photographer, the eventual fall guy. There wasn’t much this guy couldn’t do. 2. The First Five Minutes of The Dark Knight How do you make a massively eagerly anticipated movie that much more exciting? By ditching the formalities and getting right into it. To hell with table-setting and the like, Nolan starts his movies as soon as the lights in the theater dim. I love the beginning of The Dark Knight every single time I see it. Nolan tried a similar thing in The Dark Knight Rises, but it wasn’t nearly as cool. But that’s no dig on Nolan. There was no way he was going to have a better opening than he put together for The Dark Knight. 3. Kim Basinger as Vicki Vale (Batman – 1989) One of the big differences between the first run of Batman movies and the Nolan movies is a Bruce Wayne love interest. The 1989 Batman, Batman Returns, Batman Forever, Batman and Robin– they all had one. Vicki Vale was the trailblazer though and rocked the shit out of a beret, which is admittedly hard to do. 4. The Two-Face CGI (The Dark Knight) He doesn’t come into play until the movie’s third act and by then, Two-Face is a role player, ultimately a pawn in the Joker’s incredibly elaborate plan. But that’s not the story. The CGI job is the story. It’s effin’ the real deal, man. It puts the hatchet job they gave Tommy Lee Jones in Batman Forever to shame. 5. The Roof Top Scene (Batman – 1989) There’s a right way and a wrong way to introduce Batman. This is the right way. Nice kicks, too. 6. The Batman Warehouse Fight Scene (Batman v Superman) I actually wasn’t even sure why Batman was in this warehouse but at the same time, eh, whatever. It’s pretty bad ass. 7. Anne Hathaway as Catwoman (The Dark Knight Rises) Catwoman always seems to straddle the line between good and bad, whether it’s the comics or on screen. Hathaway’s Catwoman is no exception. Overall I’m neither a Hathaway fan nor a hater, but I thought she did a great job. I think that gal might have a future in cinema. 8. The Batwing (Batman – 1989) Limited screen time, didn’t matter! The Batwing looked cool as hell in Batman. But here’s the thing, did Bruce Wayne build that himself? I mean, I’m not going to tell you how to keep your identity a secret Bruce, but a contractor is going to remember building a plane shaped like a bat- especially when said plane is being piloted by an increasingly famous Batman. Christopher Nolan definitely gets points for providing a back story for all of Batman’s toys. Also, the Batwing gets dropped by one shot from the Joker’s gun. Looks are great and all, but you can’t sleep on functionality. 9. Batman’s First Appearance in The Dark Knight Rises Again, there’s a right way and a wrong way when introducing Batman. This is once again the right way. 10. The Joker’s Gun (Batman – 1989) Never mind trying to figure out what kind of gun manufacture would even make such a thing, it took down the Batwing with one shot. Regardless of your thoughts on guns, that’s pretty impressive. Note: guns suck. 11. The Gotham City of Batman (1989) My favorite Gotham City- dark, dirty, depressing. Photos: Warner Bros Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. Ryan has contributed to: BroBible.com Heavy.com and UPROXX.com In short order, Ryan loves the Boston Red Sox, New England Patriots, the Black Keys, the Roots, his family, The Wire & the writing of Dave Eggers although his last couple books have been “meh” at best. He does not care for waiting, appreciates someone who maintains a nice front lawn, and harbors a constant fear of losing his keys. For more of his work, go to GiddyUpAmerica.com

You need to be able to admit when you’re wrong in this life of ours. Own your mistakes, kid. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people don’t do this, when they duck, dodge, and dive the things they’ve done and the statements they’ve made. Come on now. That’s bush league. I am, therefore, here to admit that after watching Zack Synder’s Justice League, I was wrong. In a BroBible piece that went up before the release of the movie, I said that essentially, fans should prepare for the worst. The movie was destined to be bad largely because the other movies that Snyder had done with DC characters were also bad. Or in the case of Batman v Superman, God awful. There wasn’t much in terms of evidence that given the time and resources to flush out his vision for Justice League, the end result would be good. Better than the Justice League that came out? Sure. But that’s not saying very much. That’s such a low bar that it’s a tripping hazard. But after watching all four-plus hours of this new Justice League (it took four days,) I can say that I was wrong and overall, it wasn’t that bad. I’m not saying it was amazing or even good. No. I think it was fine. At times it was cool and at times it was pretty good. But there were also a few eye-roll-inducing moments and with all due respect to the lovely and talented Amy Adams, there were way more sad Lois Lane scenes than were needed. The fact that I fast-forwarded through all of them is making me question my level of empathy, something I had never really questioned before. Am I not as compassionate as I thought? Damn it, Zack Snyder. Now you’re just messing with my emotions and probably not in the way that was intended. So the Snyder Cut wasn’t bad. That is where I can admit I was wrong. However, where I will not do such a thing is when it comes to my main point of the aforementioned piece and that is regardless of who was directing Justice League, the larger problem was that DC hadn’t put in the work required to get to the point of doing Justice League. They did the one Superman movie, then the Batman/Superman movie, and then bam, Justice League. They took the bird out of the oven before it was done, plopped it down in the middle of the table and said “have at it, everyone.” Because of that, they had to not only have the team get together, but introduce the bulk of the team. And then save the world. That’s a lot of things that need to happen in a movie, which is why Snyder’s version ended up being four hours. If they had done it the right way (i.e. the Marvel way,) this could have all been so much easier. As I outlined in the BroBible piece: I stand by this and if anything, my feelings about this have only been cemented after watching the movie. The Snyder Cut was over four hours long and that would be fine if it was necessary. The Irishmanwas that long but that actually made sense given the scope of the story they were looking to tell. But in the case of Zack Snyder’s Justice League, it just wasn’t. Snyder and the DC folks rushed things and that right there is the main problem with Justice League. Just think how beneficial it would have been if they had developed this new version of Batman more or introduced Cyborg and/or Flash prior to dropping them into the Justice League. They would have saved time in Justice League and been able to devote more time to the battle with Steppenwolf or hey, even given Darkseid more than ten minutes of screen time. I know, crazy, right? But like I said, overall, it wasn’t bad. I can’t say I’m aching to watch it again but all in all, I’m glad I did. There’s a lot of chatter about Cyborg being the big winner of this new version and while I can’t argue with that, I would counter by saying I think Batman is at least in the running. It’s hard to say why exactly, but Ben Affleck was just better in this version. Maybe it’s just being familiar with his Batman and there being some time removed from the last Batman (the Christian Bale one,) but his Batman made sense, which is not something I would have said before this. A couple other thoughts: Is Aquaman just leaving clothes all over the place, strewn about various beaches around the world? That doesn’t seem super responsible, not to mention expensive in the long run. And speaking of Aquaman’s clothes, what’s up with this move? That sweater can’t swell good, darling. My guess is it smells like a potentially lethal combination of cheap booze and wet dog. Yuck. No thank you. I don’t care how valuable he is to your village’s survival, hard pass on smelling the dude’s sweater as he swims away. Maybe just toss it in a bag and save it for the next time he comes. Last Aquaman note: Zack Snyder definitely has a certain musical taste when it comes to these movies but ditching the White Stripes for this scene is criminal. It fits so well! Not everything in the movie needs to sound like a goth-inspired gospel choir practicing in a dark, damp basement. Just saying. Steppenwolf in this version of Justice League was definitely an improvement but you know, remember the “Health Care” episode of The Office, where Michael tasked Dwight with picking a new health care plan because he didn’t want to, knowing that if Dwight failed, he could blame him but if Dwight succeeded, then he wouldn’t have to worry about it? Steppenwolf’s whole deal, how he was driven by redemption and trying to get back on Darkseid’s good uh…seid, reminded me of that. I got strong Dwight Schrute vibes with Steppenwolf here and that includes his desire to rule the world. If you’re going to make a four-hour-plus movie, at least give me an idea where Century City is in relation to Gotham. I never realized that Metropolis was essentially across the river from Gotham (is that true, though) so I had assumed Century City was the next town over. But Bruce Wayne had to fly there so that doesn’t seem to be the case. God, why all the unanswered questions, Zack Snyder? I’m not going to touch the last thirty minutes but I will say this, endings are like starting quarterbacks in the NFL. If you have more than one then you don’t have any. Ryan O’Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. Ryan has contributed to: BroBible.com, Heavy.com, and UPROXX.com His work has also appeared in several print publications with some clips being found here.

For me personally, quarantine began on St. Patrick’s Day 2020. I remember because I spent the day teaching our daughter how to draw leprechauns and unless I’m mistaken, I’m hard-pressed to think of another reason why I would be teaching a four-year-old how to draw leprechauns. Well, I guess if we were big Notre Dame fans but no, that is not the case. So it was St. Patrick’s Day and now it’s almost another St. Patrick’s Day and this has lasted a year. The four-year-old is now a five-year-old and there’s also a six-month-old kicking around the house. Our dog first enjoyed us being around so much, but now I think she’s kind of over it and headphones have become my best friend. They’re probably the dogs as well. She’s not as into Soundgarden at an extremely loud volume as I am. Her loss. But all of this is most likely not exclusive to my quarantine experience and for the most part, I would assume plenty of other people have similar tales and anecdotes. Well, except for young people who live alone or maybe with a significant other. The idea of living this quarantine life sans children is still beyond me and I don’t think I’ll ever fully be able to understand it. There are definitely days where such a life seems too good to be true and there are also days where I may or may not pine for such a life. Of course, there are days where I’m good with how things are currently constructed around these parts but where is the fun in that. The grass is always greener, especially amidst a pandemic. With the one-year anniversary of quarantine life coming up, I, like a lot of people are looking back and taking stock of everything that has transpired over the past year. Or at least I’d like to be doing that. Unfortunately, I’m distracted by something far more pressing, something incredibly more serious. My board shorts are starting to fall apart. Stop, this is important. These aren’t just any board shorts, my friend. These are the board shorts I have worn EVERY DAY since quarantine life started. And they are starting to rip, starting to show signs that the end is near and I’m sorry but it’s very sad. Once these babies go, I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t even want to think about it. Of course, I have, but I don’t want to. It’s too painful. These board shorts of mine, they’re lime green and white. On the left leg, it says “Rip Curl” in black lettering. They’re probably a couple of years old, so it’s not as if quarantine life did this on its own, but it definitely played a part. Early on in quarantine life, I put on pants during the week, usually jeans. I did this because I felt like I should. That first month or so was all about trying to make things feel normal. But even with a few hours each day spent wearing jeans, I still wore the board shorts before and after. Once the warmer temperatures started though, the jeans fell by the wayside and it was all board shorts, all the time. It was likely around mid-April when they became a full-time starter as opposed to a valued bench-player, so it was also around that point that their days became numbered. You are probably wondering why board shorts? Would board shorts actually be comfortable enough to wear so often? Yes, yes they would, especially if they’re older and a little stretched out, meaning you could throw on some boxers underneath. But I’m not here to go inside baseball on you. Just trust me when I tell you that they have been the most comfortable pair of shorts imaginable and the best partner in crime a quarantined man such as myself could ask for. At one point, I had a gift card for the local surf shop here and while I would have normally used it to buy a new button-up shirt, what was the point in that. So I purchased a new pair of leisure shorts. They’re like sweat pants, but shorts. Seemed like a slam dunk and as my wife hoped, these newer, cleaner shorts would replace the older, dirtier board shorts. That was not the case. The new shorts are fine, but fine isn’t going to replace gold, which is what these Rip Curl board shorts have been. And still are! Despite a slight rip here and there (and there and here,) they are still wearable. Everything is good. But not for long I’m afraid. I know how this goes. The rips start small, then gradually get bigger. They make friends; new rips emerge. I wasn’t washing them a lot to begin with me, but now I fear that every spin through the laundry seems to shorten their life expectancy even more. It’s a dicey game I’m playing. Wash them, keep them somewhat clean but hurt their long-term chances of survival or don’t wash them and just flat out keep them. Spoiler: I’m not washing them very often. I’ve had something like this happen before, a treasured and valued article of clothing gradually slip away from me. It was a hooded sweatshirt and I loved that hoodie with every ounce of my being. But nothing lasts forever and eventually, the frays started to overtake the sweatshirt, creeping up around the hood and at the sleeves. The sweatshirt began losing some of its integrity, becoming more of a moo-moo than a sweatshirt and as the days went by, it was worn less and less, partly to preserve and partly because it just wasn’t fun to wear anymore. It was a damn shame. I think about the sweatshirt often. And now here I am, stuck in a similar situation with these board shorts, these lovely, comfortable, very broken in board shorts. I’m not giving up just yet. They still have some life to them. But that life is much closer to the finish than the start. It’s almost as if it is a race against time. Either quarantine ends and I start dressing like a grown-up again, thus buying these shorts an extra month or so or this quarantine life continues and these shorts disintegrate into nothing, leaving me left to find a new pair of shorts to wear every single day. But it wouldn’t be fair to those new shorts, having to now live up to the expectations of replacing the old shorts. The Patriots are struggling to replace Tom Brady and I will no doubt struggle to replace these shorts. It is quite literally, the exact same thing. Until that day though, I ride with these shorts. I live with these shorts. I dad the shit out of things with these shorts and go pick up dinner with these shorts. I take out the trash and recycling and I get the mail with these shorts. Sometimes I forget and sleep with these shorts and sometimes I don’t forget and sleep with these shorts. Could I have made it through this past year without shorts? Hard to say. But what’s not hard to say is that I don’t even want to think about such things. Thank you, green and white Rip Curl board shorts. Now let’s enjoy what time we have left, shall we? Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79

Our flight from Philadelphia was at around 11 in the morning on Saturday. My wife and I said goodbye to our daughter and to our dog and also to my sister and our niece. They had come up the night before to watch over our daughter and pup. Then we hit the road, knots in both of our stomachs. This was not a normal trip. This was not a vacation and this was not for a wedding. This was a mission; a mission to get our daughter, who was currently resting comfortably in the womb of our surrogate, who lived in southern Florida, about a half-hour north of Miami. It had been a long time coming, us getting to this point in making the trip in the middle of August. Before the drive to Philadelphia, there had been plenty of decisions and discussions, followed by more discussions and decisions. There had been two miscarriages and subsequently, more discussions and more decisions. There were doctors and nurses, waiting rooms, various procedures, lengthy calls with insurance, car rides, tiny cups, paperwork, lawyers, notary publics, and paralegals. And then there was a pandemic. But for the most part, that was all behind us. Well, not the pandemic. That was still very much surrounding us, hanging over us like a dark and ominous cloud. Everything else though was largely buttoned up with the important parts tucked neatly into a brown folder in my trusty red backpack. If the drive to the Philly airport was Step 1, then Step 2 was checking in; checking in specifically with Spirit, an airline I have trust issues with. A few years back, we learned the hard way that you can make a reservation with Spirit, but that reservation will only get you so far. You need to also reserve a seat. What’s the point of the initial reservation, then? I still don’t know and probably never will but we had a credit with them courtesy of a canceled family trip that had been planned for April, so for at least one leg of the journey, we would be using Spirit. As with any large-scale operation with a lot of moving parts, each step seemed to have its own unique hiccup or hurdle. With Step 2, there was some slight concern on my part that even though Spirit’s policy clearly stated that they would check car seats and strollers for free, the current absence of a baby in either might prove problematic. All good though, as the lady at the counter didn’t even bat an eye. Our two bags both came in under 40 pounds too (also a concern,) so it was onto Step 3. Step 3 was security. That was relatively painless. Then there was Step 4, killing time in the terminal before our flight left. In my past life, this would have been a no-brainer, most likely ending with me saddling up to a bar somewhere. Not the case this time though, despite me being so keyed up that a drink would have done me good. Instead, I settled for some deep-breathing because that’s what Darin on Zac Efron’s Netflix show had recommended and that show is fantastic. Step 5 was getting on the plane. And again, there was another potential bump in the road because we were looking to board early with families despite one part of our family not yet currently with us. We made our way to the gate and the gate attendant, who without looking up, asked how old the child with us was. “TBD,” I replied. She looked at us, looked down at the empty car seat. Then she got it and waved us along. It was a full flight. Only a week earlier, when we made our reservation (for both the plane and the seats,) it hadn’t been, and that made sense. Florida was a hot zone not just in terms of temperature but also in regard to the number of COVID-19 cases in the state. Why the hell would someone be traveling to Florida right now if not for the birth of their child via surrogate? I was confused. And frustrated. Shotty mask wearers were all over the place, about every third person who boarded the plane was guilty of wearing their mask incorrectly. It was amateur hour in the midst of a pandemic, which scientifically speaking, is not ideal. The plane finally took off and I again leaned on Darin’s breathing advice as well as a live version of Phish’s “NICU” to take the edge off. Both helped but I could feel a headache coming on. I chugged water, I breathed in and out, I listened to “NICU” again and eventually, the threat of the headache quieted down. A couple hours later we landed in Fort Lauderdale. Another step completed. We wanted to see the hospital where our daughter would be born before heading north to Kim’s parents’ place and after getting our rental car, we headed in that direction and as we did, the rain came. It was pouring, it had gotten dark and we slowly made our way to the hospital. Then we saw it. It was right there. Looked fine; looked like a hospital. With our older daughter, who was also born via surrogate, we had been able to go in and tour the hospital, check out the maternity ward. But not this time. This time the tour had been virtual, enough to get the idea, which was the same with our drive-by of the place – we got the idea. Now it was time to head north. The rain really hadn’t let up and every place we stopped at for coffee was closed. That was a sign. Let’s wrap this up and get back to base. Before that though, we needed to stop at the grocery store and as we did, I got a voicemail from a New Jersey number. I listened to it as we walked up to the store and my heart started to beat faster. A knot in my stomach came back. It was the Immediate Care that we had gone to a few days earlier for a COVID test and they were telling me that they had my results and to call them in the morning. We had taken two tests, one of which was rapid. It had come back negative. I thought everything was cool, but now, what if it wasn’t? That would be a hell of a hiccup. I tried calling them back then but no one answered and I had no choice but to wait until the next morning. We did our best to remain calm and I worked on convincing myself that it was probably just an insurance issue because it’s usually always an insurance issue, regardless of the situation. Nothing to worry about. Everything was fine. I was going to have a Mahi sandwich. In Florida, Mahi and dolphin are the same thing. That was incredibly disturbing to me for a while before I realized it wasn’t the cute kind of dolphin, but Mahi, for some reason calling itself dolphin. Now I can laugh about it and hopefully, by the time I got in touch with Immediate Care Sunday morning, I could laugh about that as well. That night we watched Jaws. Kim, myself, Kim’s mom, and Kim’s dad, all crowded next to each other on a couch watching it on my laptop. It was adorable. Sunday went as follows: Tried to sleep in, but was woken up by the cable guy Called Immediate Care, results were negative, which was nice but they really could have just left a message Confirmed that tomorrow our surrogate would be induced Kim made sure the hospital bag was ready to go I looked up the plots of the Jaws sequels and trust me, it’s not pretty As Sunday wound down, Kim and I went for a walk and braced ourselves for the week ahead and what that might bring. *** Our surrogate was to be at the hospital at 5am on Monday morning. We also wanted to be there then but were told to by the nurse to stand by as there was no sense in us being there then. So, we did as we were instructed but it didn’t last long. As we ate breakfast, we were told to head down and that Kim could come in whenever. As for me, I would still be standing by. The nurse said that she was hoping to talk to some people over at Mother/Baby and that once labor was underway, maybe I could be let in. She was going to try but she also wasn’t making any promises. This was not new information. A few weeks earlier, while speaking with the head of Labor and Delivery, we were informed that due to COVID-related restrictions that had been put in place since March, the hospital’s policy was that each patient was allowed only one guest. The surrogate was the patient until the baby was born and naturally, we wanted her husband to be with her, meaning that was her one guest. Given that our situation was unique, an exception could be made and Kim would be allowed in as kind of a plus one. Once the baby was born, Kim would become the baby’s guest. All I could do was wait the entire process out from outside the building. We had had some time to process this news, but that time didn’t make things any easier. That time gave us an opportunity to talk ourselves into believing that everything would be fine. But that was fool’s gold. It was a bummer and it would continue to be a bummer. I would be missing the birth of my daughter and wouldn’t see either her or my wife until they were discharged at least two days later. Yet while it would certainly be tough and it would definitely be hard, it would be the way things were to play out and there wasn’t much we could do about it. As long as our baby girl was delivered and was safe and healthy, nothing else mattered. So, with that in mind, we got in the car, picked up coffee, and drove south. When we were in a similar situation with our older daughter and were headed to the hospital, the soundtrack of the car ride was Pearl Jam. So it was only fitting that we again turned to Pearl Jam when headed to another hospital to get our other baby girl. At noon, we arrived at the hospital and I walked Kim to the entrance. We said goodbye and that was that. She walked in and I stayed outside. I stood there for a moment or two, not entirely sure what to do next. I had to do something though, so I decided to get gas. I needed an objective; a purpose. Having a plan made things a little easier and on the way, I saw an old dude chopping at a palm tree with a machete. I then made my way back to the hospital and the parking garage. I drove around looking for a spot with good cell reception, a notoriously hard thing to do in parking garages. I finally set up camp in a spot on the ramp leading up to the closed-off top level. It was the best I could do. And then I peed in my empty Starbucks cup. And then I watched Avengers: Endgame. And then I waited for text messages from Kim. And then my stomach nearly collapsed into itself and tears formed in my eyes each time I received one, most of which were updates about how not much was happening. This was going to take time. Our other daughter couldn’t be born quick enough. Not so much this go around. I would need to find a spot out of the sun because I was going to be there a while and the southern Florida sun was merciless. Over the next few hours, I finished Endgame, thought about time travel, wrote about the Foo Fighters, and then got out to stretch my legs. I walked around the top deck of the parking garage, taking pictures of the clouds. In one direction I saw a building that looked like a giant guitar and in another direction, I could see the ocean. I did some light stretching and I stared off into the distance. There’s a good chance that I most likely raised an eyebrow or two if anyone happened to be watching me, wondering A) what this dude was doing walking around aimlessly on the top deck of the parking garage and B) if it was the same guy who has so far dumped two Starbucks’ cups full of urine out of his car today. You bet, buddy. The day dragged on and it was getting close to dinner time. Our surrogate’s husband recommended a burger spot nearby and I got something there. They had outside seating and there wasn’t anyone around, so I felt comfortable staying there and eating. Some places in Florida allowed inside dining, which made absolutely no sense to me. You had to wear a mask when you entered, but not once you sat down. But the staff wore masks and I just think that nothing makes sense anymore and this pandemic might last forever. On the plus side though, I had a Mahi burger and it was amazing. Storm clouds were rolling in; things were getting dark again. But no really, this pandemic might never end. While the rains once again came down outside, back at the hospital, nothing much had changed. Our baby girl was still too high, but also a tad bit on the big side so while our surrogate was trying for a natural birth, a C-section seemed likely. Whatever the method though, Monday night looked like a quiet one. The move for me was to head north for the night and come back in the morning. But there was something keeping me from doing that, something making me unable to go through with the decision or even make a decision at all. I hated leaving Kim, but at the same time, it’s not like I was physically with her and I knew I could be just as supportive up north at her parents’ place as I could sitting in the parking garage. The rain started to let up and I pointed the rental car north. To the west, the sunset was really something, bursts of orange, yellow, and purple exploding from behind the heavy, dark clouds. It was an easy drive and I was in an easy state of mind. Tomorrow would be another day, but tonight the Bruins were on. I would just have to try and get some sleep, see what happens on Tuesday. *** Tuesday started the same way Monday ended, with not much having changed. Our baby girl was still too high and with each passing hour, a C-section was more and more likely. I hadn’t slept but I had nothing to complain about. Kim got about 20 minutes. Sleeping in a hospital is statistically impossible. By 10am, I had resumed my post in the parking garage, but feeling adventurous, I wandered around and found a couple of picnic tables with umbrellas. I asked the man sitting underneath one of the umbrellas if I could open a closed one. “They’re all broken,” he replied. So being outside was not meant to last. It was already 90 degrees and it felt like 100. Soon I was back in the car, queuing about an episode of The Wire. As someone who likes to have something of a plan in place, the uncertainty of the day was unsettling. I had no idea what the next hour would bring. Every text message was met with a rush of energy even though most of them said that again, not much had changed. Kim was able to come outside at noon and for the first time in 24 hours we got to see each other. We went for an aimless walk around the hospital grounds and with our surrogate sleeping, Kim felt she could stay outside for lunch. And it was nice. With a whirling dervish of uncertainty guiding our every move and our every decision, the sense of peace that came with just sharing a meal with Kim was perfect. We barely even talked about what would come next. I don’t think we even talked much at all. We just enjoyed being with each other. I brought her up to what we were now calling my office and she closed her eyes, lounging comfortably in the passenger seat as I continued to watch The Wire. As our time together crept closer to ending, we decided that our best course of action would be to book a hotel room close by for the night, that way I could be in the area and she could stay there if it looked like it would be another quiet night. The hotel room was then confirmed but everything else was far from certain. I walked Kim back to the entrance where she again went in while I again stayed outside. I stood there for a few moments, just like yesterday, not knowing exactly what I should do with myself. The doctor was supposed to come by around six and presumably, a decision would then be made about a course of action. I would wait until then and go from there. Six o’clock passed and so did quarter after six. At half-past, I needed to change things up and take a break from The Wire. I opened the windows, turned the car off and now on the passenger side, sat there with the door open as a light breeze made its way through the parking garage. Up on the fourth level, it was quiet. It was just me and the pigeons. Anyone else who parked on that level had left. It was almost peaceful. Like I did on the plane, I turned to Phish to help settle my nerves. The song “Everything’s Right” came on and as it played, I started wandering around level four. The song’s chorus spoke to me and I started singing along as I walked and I felt good, I felt okay. “Everything’s right, so just hold tight.” Our baby girl was going to be born, either tonight or tomorrow. Maybe even the day after. She would be safe and healthy and so would the surrogate. I couldn’t be there and would still be out here in this godforsaken parking garage peeing in cups, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she would be born. “Everything’s right, so just hold tight.” In the middle of listening to the song again, Kim texted saying that they had all talked to the doctor. Not only was it going to be a C-section and not only was it going to happen soon but some strings had been pulled and I was going to be able to be let in. I needed to get my act together. I needed to pack up my office. I needed to pee one more time. I did all these things and then waited, waited for the word from Kim as she waited for word from the doctor. Then the word came. I grabbed my trusty red backpack. I bid the parking garage adieu and hoofed it around the building to the emergency room entrance. I was sweaty. It was hot. There was a line to get in, people waiting to be screened because of COVID and I told the nurse at the door that I was going to Labor and Delivery, that my wife and I’s surrogate was about to give birth and he waved me in through a side door. I told the same thing to the security guard, who waved me on, giving me directions, which are always the same directions in a hospital. Go down that way, make a right and then a left, then look for these elevators and take them to this floor and when you get off make another right and go down the hallway past this area until you get to the double doors and the security guard waiting there. It doesn’t matter where you are going in a hospital, the directions are always the same. I got to the security guard outside of Labor & Delivery and she too waved me in and when passing the nurse’s station, a nurse called over to me, saying I must be Mr. O’Connell. She led me to the recovery room, telling me that they had a room for us tonight but we’re sure about tomorrow. Us. She kept saying “us.” I had initially thought I would miss the whole thing but now I was going to be able to stay over with Kim and the baby, just as I had with our other daughter. I didn’t need the hotel room, didn’t need to worry about when to leave. It was a good thing I had brought some extra shirts with me. “Everything’s right, so just hold tight.” With it being a C-section, Kim would be in the recovery room with me as only our surrogate’s husband could be in the operating room. So, we waited together. We waited and listened intently each time the door opened, waiting to hear a baby crying, our baby crying. I think we waited 20 or 30 minutes but it felt significantly longer than that. Our parents kept texting for updates and at some point, I stopped responding. We just kept waiting. Not even talking really. Just waiting. And then finally a nurse appeared, the same nurse as before and told us our daughter was here. I cut the umbilical cord and we watched as she was weighed and measured. Yes, she was big; the biggest baby one nurse said she had ever delivered, but she was here and she was perfect. “Everything’s right, so just hold tight.” A little while later, as the three of us sat peacefully in our area of the recovery room, that same nurse from before came by to congratulate us and say goodnight. We said goodnight and thanked her for making sure we had a room. It was her pleasure, she said and then, before turning to leave, she wanted to remind us that only Kim and the baby could stay overnight. When it was time for them to go up to the maternity ward, it was my time to leave. “But what about tomorrow?” I asked. “Would I be able to visit tomorrow? Or the next day.” Nope, not unless Kim wanted to leave and we wanted to swap out. If not, then the next time I would see them was when they were discharged and needed a lift home. We sat dumbfounded. Again, we had prepared for this, knew that it was going to go down this way but amidst the confusion of the C-section decision and it suddenly being go time, miscommunication had reared its ugly head and wires had been crossed. It had all been too good to be true because it was just that, too good to be true. I couldn’t complain, though. I had come down to Florida under the impression that I wouldn’t be able to be in the hospital at all but by sheer goodwill and kindness, had been allowed in for a few hours following the birth. I got to cut the cord, I got to hold my newborn baby girl and I got to sit beside my wife as she did the same. I couldn’t complain at all. Still, though, hope found its way into the conversation. When another nurse came to bring Kim and our baby girl upstairs, I said that I guess I should leave and she was surprised, asking why wouldn’t I also go upstairs? So, I did. I walked with them down the hallway, past the random patients who smiled seeing us and said congratulations. I went up with them in the elevator and walked with them to the room; was there as they got settled in. But it started to get awkward. I knew I had to leave, but maybe they didn’t know I had to leave. So now, who is to say I couldn’t just hang out until someone who did know caught wind of the situation and gave me the boot? That would probably happen at three in the morning, though. Would it be worth riding it out for a few hours or should I just leave? What kind of terrible decision is that? Do I be honest and leave my wife and newborn baby or do I be sneaky and stay with them, knowing I’ll have to leave at some point, no doubt at the worst possible time. I still had the hotel room, but I didn’t want to go, but I also did because I knew I had too. I just wanted to lie down on the bed with my baby girl. Let her fall asleep on my chest as I rubbed her back. I wanted to stand with my wife and look at our daughter as she slept in that clear bin they had her sleeping in. I just wanted to be there. But I had to leave. The nurse in charge came in to make it clear that it had to happen and also make it clear that she felt terrible about it. This wasn’t a situation exclusive to us. Since COVID, one parent getting the boot had become an ugly standard practice that no one was happy with. The nurse must have apologized a dozen times and told me I could stay for a little bit longer if I wanted. And so I did, but only for a few more minutes. Then I left. I left Kim and I left our new baby girl. I walked past the nurses’ station and none of them looked up. I don’t think that was intentional but it still made me feel like I didn’t exist. I walked slowly down the hallway and slouched against the elevator wall as it took me down to the first floor where I then slowly walked down more hallways, all of them quiet as it was now past one o’clock in the morning. Outside it was still hot but it was now incredibly still. Nothing doing here. Even the pigeons had left and I climbed into the rental car. I turned the A/C on but kept the windows down. The air from both felt good and as I pulled out of the garage and off the hospital premises, “Waiting On A Sunny Day” by Bruce Springsteen came on. I think Spotify knew it was what I needed because it’s been my happy song since it helped get me through my uncle’s death a few years back. It was a ten-minute drive to the hotel and I listened to the song twice. I thought about stopping at a gas station for a beer but I drove past the one next to the hotel without a second thought. I just wanted to lay down. Over the next few hours, I Facetimed with Kim a handful of times and slept briefly, keeping the light on the whole time. I didn’t feel right turning it off, making myself too comfortable. I wanted my experience to mirror hers as much as possible. Morning came and I felt weirdly refreshed. I felt good. I made some coffee and opened the curtains. I turned on the news and sat down, just trying to take stock of what had happened over the past 12 hours. It was a lot to make sense of but all that mattered was that our baby girl had been born and at least Kim could be there with her in the hospital. But for how long? A place for Kim to stay that night was far from a given. I had gotten a late check-out at the hotel, so we had until 2pm to make a decision. If Kim could stay in the hospital, I’d head north to her parents. If she couldn’t, our baby would go to the nursery and I’d get another hotel room for both of us. Once again, we were in wait-and-see mode. I busied myself getting things done, securing a local pediatrician for a follow-up visit later in the week, checking in with our lawyer, booking our flight home, extending the rental car, and outlining the next steps with insurance. I didn’t pee in a cup once. It was nice to feel so civilized. By the time it was 2pm, they had moved Kim and our baby to our surrogate’s room, which they would all share for the night. I checked out of the hotel and found some lunch and coffee, soon resuming my post in the parking garage with the pigeons. But I wasn’t sure why I was there. Kim was good, set up for another night in the hospital. It didn’t make sense for me to be either in the parking garage burning gas by running the car so the A/C would stay on and it didn’t make sense for me to get another hotel room for the night. The only thing that seemed to make sense was to head north even though at the same time, that didn’t seem to make any sense at all. Why would I put more distance between us? Why wouldn’t I stay close? Because it did make sense to leave even though it didn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense thinking in traditional terms because this was not a traditional situation. I couldn’t think of it in traditional terms. I needed to look at the situation clear-eyed and almost emotionless. I was going to drive north and that was that. It rained again. It rained a lot. I drove through three or four different storms and watched lightning bolts touch down all around me. Then there was traffic and then there was more rain and then there was more lightning. A drive that should have taken a little less than an hour and a half stretched out longer than two hours but finally, I got to Kim’s parents and sat in the driveway for a few moments. Just quietly sat there. My brain just sat there; my heart just sat there. Everything just sat there for a few moments. Then I did some laundry and ate some dinner. I watched the Celtics and watched Obama speak at the Democratic National Convention. And that was that. I passed out just as he was finishing up. I wasn’t out for long though. All night I kept waking up and once again, I slept with the light on, still trying to recreate the experience Kim was having in the hospital. Relaxing was impossible. Letting myself go so I could fall asleep was tough sledding and while I did doze off a few times, every time was short-lived and by 5am I gave up. I just lied there, waiting. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for exactly. I was just waiting. Once 6am came around, I turned on the news and stared at it blankly. I couldn’t really concentrate. All I could think about was Kim, our baby girl, and not being with them. *** After a while I got cleaned up and had a good Facetime with our oldest daughter. It went much better than the one the night before where she mistook me saying I was heading to Nana and Poppa’s as me saying I was heading home to get her. My folks said it was tough after that but like me, eventually, she just passed out. She was in good spirits this morning and around 11:30, I headed back down south again, back to the parking garage and the pigeons and the limited cell service. There was reason to be excited because my girls were supposed to be discharged at some point in the afternoon. All of this would be over and we’d be together again. It’s all I wanted; for us to be together again but it had proven to be such an elusive goal, so unattainable. Now it was so close, though. I just had to watch a few episodes of The Wire and wait for the word to pack things up and go scoop my gals. Afternoon came and went. At some point, maybe around 5 or so, Kim thought she was close to being discharged and I ran to get coffee and snacks for her. I set up shop in a new parking lot for a bit, taking some time to shore up the appointment with the pediatrician, make an appointment for some lab work and get our ducks in a row. The time kept ticking away and I still hadn’t gotten word about the girls being released. Once again not sure what to do with myself, I headed back to the friendly confines of the parking garage. I didn’t know where else to go and didn’t want to even think about figuring out where else to go. The parking garage had begrudgingly become my safe haven and at this point, all I wanted was a safe haven. I needed a light breeze, which is what I got by the upper deck and for the first time since I had become a part-time resident of the parking garage, the temperature wasn’t that bad. It was tolerable. I didn’t want to stay in that garage for a minute longer but if I had to, things could have been worse. And then I got the text: “pull up in front of the main lobby now.” It was 8:10pm. Kim had gone into the hospital at 12:15pm on Monday and now 80 hours later she was leaving. And she was leaving with our baby girl. It had all been worth it; it had all worked. If I could have safely driven straight off the edge of the parking garage roof onto the street below to speed things up I would have but instead, I circled my way down to the bottom, one last time going around and around and around, down from level 4 to level 3 to level 2 and finally to the gate at level 1. For the last time, I gave the attendant my ticket and the money I owed and pulled up to the main entrance. Two lanes had been created with cones and I assumed the closest lane was closed off because of COVID so I parked in the far lane and started looking. I just kept staring at the door, waiting to see my girls. It reminded me of our wedding, where I just kept my eyes on the church door, anxiously waiting to see her emerge from them. I couldn’t wait. Of course, that closer lane wasn’t closed due to COVID and a minivan pulled up, blocking my view of the door and damn it, man, did he NOT realize I was trying to have a moment? I pulled up some and resumed waiting, resumed looking. And then I saw Kim and if I could have exploded with a mixture of relief and happiness and joy and gratitude all rolled up into one. I jumped out of the car to meet them and that was it, it was everything I had wanted, everything we had worked so hard for. It was beautiful. Our baby girl was perfect and we buckled her into the car seat and soon she was fast asleep. I cautiously pulled out of the driveway and onto the road that led to the highway, passing houses, buildings and businesses that had become all too familiar to me over the past couple days. Kim and I talked a little bit but soon the car grew quiet as we watched as lightning once again shot down from the sky off in the distance. The Ghost of Paul Revere played loud enough for me to hear it and for the girls to sleep or in Kim’s case, relax some and close her eyes. We headed north and we headed north together. There was more to this mission; it was far from over, but the most important part had been completed. It didn’t matter if I was physically there or not. We had gotten what we came for and that was all that truly mattered. The parking garage is all yours, pigeons. Treat her well and yes, that is pee. I’m not going to apologize. Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79

In the summer of 2010, my lady friend (who would go on to become my wife) and I took a trip up to Maine, back to my hometown of Portland. She had been to Maine before but I don’t think she had ever been to Portland and I was excited to show her around. We checked out the waterfront, the boats I used to work on, my high school, a couple of my favorite bars, the pizza place my buddies and I went to all the time in high school, and Bull Moose Music, a local record store in town. Putting into words what Bull Moose had meant to me growing up was hard to do and it was fun to show her a place where I had spent so much time during my high school years. I spent hours there. Couldn’t even begin to tally up an estimate let alone something remotely close to an accurate number. If I was going to give this lovely lady a proper glimpse into what my Portland, Maine was, a trip to Bull Moose was essential. Earlier this week, some news came across the ticker that reminded me of that particular visit and so much more. Bull Moose’s Portland location was closing its doors. Other Bull Moose locations across the great state of Maine would remain open, but due to the reduced foot traffic in downtown Portland as a result of COVID, the Portland location was packing things up. The hope was to reopen again, but for now, the unofficial Portland landmark was done. It sucks. There really isn’t a more eloquent way to put it. I feel for those people who were lucky enough to still be able to visit the store and now can’t any longer. And I know that young people don’t buy physical copies of music anymore, but if they did, I would be bummed for those in sunny Portland, Maine who will be robbed of the unparallel joy of roaming through Bull Moose’s collection. I have no idea when I first stepped foot in Bull Moose but when I think of high school, it’s synonymous with those four years spent attending Portland High School, which was just a few blocks away. I’d dip into Bull Moose at lunch or after school. I’d stop in on weekend nights and throughout the summer, afraid I might have missed something not being able to go on a regular basis. Sometimes I’d have a clear objective, sometimes I was just kicking around with no stated purpose. In both instances, I usually left with something, if not a few things. Throughout high school, I was a sponge when it came to music as I was on a relentless quest to figure out what my tastes were, what music I loved, what music I liked, and what music I didn’t want any part of. Classic rock, modern rock, grunge, hip hop, rap, jazz, jam bands. Nowadays it’s so easy to explore different kinds of music and different artists thanks to streaming services. If you’re curious about an artist, you do a quick search and there you go. There’s very little effort involved and certainly very little financial commitment to checking out some new music now. It’s all so easy. But back in the day, if you heard something on the radio or caught a video on MTV, the follow-up work required if you dug it was far more labor-intensive than it is now. And I logged my time in the basement of an old building on Middle Street where there was a video store, a pizza place, and a record store. If you were a high school kid, what more could you ask for than those three spots all within a few feet of each other? Grab a slice at Anthony’s, pop into Videoport to check out movies or available posters, and then ramble over to Bull Moose. A solid hour or two right there, if not more. One of the best features of Bull Moose was the used music section. They had hundreds and hundreds of used CDs (and even some used tapes.) The used section was a great way to check out new music at half the cost. They had a listening section set up as well and if one of the two Discmans on the small table was available, you could saddle up and check out an album before forking over a couple bucks for it if you liked it. Just an example: I heard a song by The Specials once but I was lukewarm on ska; not quite sold on it despite having gotten into the Mighty Mighty Bosstones (who were only kind of ska.) So on one visit to Bull Moose, I checked their used section for Specials’ albums. Lucky for me, they had ‘The Singles Compilation,’ a Specials’ greatest hits album. When in doubt, an artist’s greatest hits album was always a good way to go when it came to checking out an older act you had just gotten into. And so I grabbed the album, took a seat at the listening station, and cruised through the album. I loved it and at a low cost of maybe $6, how could I not buy it? In any other situation, I would have been a little hesitant to buy the album but not so here. Of course, now, this would all be a moot point. But again, this was back in the day, you animals. Back in the day spending $6 on an album you weren’t 100% sure of was a hell of a smart move compared to dropping at least $10 bucks more. And even then, I still did that on more than one occasion. I’m sorry. I thought the Marcy Playground album with “Sex and Candy” on it would be good. I was wrong. But even in that situation, Bull Moose came in clutch because not only could you buy used CDs, you could sell your old CDs and I did that a lot. I did it to then buy more CDs. It was something of a circular economic back and forth between myself and the shop. I would truck in there with 5 to 10 CDs, they’d buy maybe half of them, giving me about $20, and I’d turn around and give that money right back to them a short time later having picked out a new Pearl Jam record or Grateful Dead live album. This happened on almost a regular basis and is part of the reason why in our basement right now I have about four large books full of CDs. It might actually be five now that I think about it. Bull Moose just felt like a safe place. The people who worked there were cool, like super cool, and gaining their respect, or at least a semblance of respect (real or imagined) felt like an accomplishment. There was Laree Love and a guy named Tony with a giant head of hair who I think maybe played in a band called Rumford, but I could be wrong about that. There were other people who worked there but those are the two I remember most. They’d give you a “hey man” when you’d approach the register and for a teenager, it was what it felt like later on in life when a bartender would do the same thing. It just felt good, like you were somewhere where you belonged. There was the bulletin board plastered with flyers for upcoming shows and there was the new release section that was always worth taking a peek at. By the used section was the local section where you could find albums by the same bands whose names were on the flyers over on the bulletin board. In the fall of 2005, my band’s debut album made its way into that section, and seeing it there, our name written in black Sharpie on the white divider that separated music from different artists was an unbelievably cool feeling. After college, I moved back to Portland for a few years, and about once every two weeks I’d stop into Bull Moose, determined to come out with at least two new albums. My band’s flyers were now on the bulletin board and I navigated the store with the experience of a trusted professional. But even still, there was that sense of open-mindedness, a little bit of naivete and youthful wonderment. I never knew what I was going to find or if an album cover was going to catch my eye. I didn’t know if that while digging through the still thriving used section, I’d come across a blast from the past, which was oddly enough, probably something I had bought and then sold back to the store a decade earlier. Trust me when I tell you that it was never lost on me that I could be buying a used copy of an album that I once owned and sold and this used copy could very well be the one I had sold. It didn’t matter though. None of it mattered. It was all in good fun because, in Bull Moose, it was all good fun. I’m not going to front and cop to still paying money for music these days. I’m an asshole in that regards just like everyone else is. I couldn’t even tell you what the last album I bought was but if I were to really think about it, it might have been nearly ten years ago when I saw this crazy Slavic brass band play at a bar in Philly and bought a copy of their album. But even with that, I didn’t really listen to the physical copy of that album much. It found a home in my car and that was it. Record stores, like book stores, seem to be a dying relic of a bygone era. Thanks to streaming services and the vengeful behemoth that is Amazon, their usefulness in a practical sense has eroded. But then again, that’s almost a slap in the face to both establishments because they were never really there to be practical but instead, be experiential. You may have had a singular goal in mind when stopping by a local record store or book store, but rarely were you in one for less than fifteen minutes. It was one of those rare instances where distraction was a good thing. The COVID pandemic and the resulting restrictions put in place by local governments could very well be the death knell for record stores and book stores, establishments that were on borrowed time as it was. The last thing they needed was for foot traffic to dry up, for people not to be inclined to swing by and meander around for a while, leafing through racks of albums or books. That involves touching and you know, these days… I hadn’t stopped into Bull Moose in years but I’d be curious to know if the store even resembled the one I used to know, one with racks and racks of CDs. Had it transitioned to putting more of a priority on other items, whatever the hell they may be? Was there even a used section anymore? I have trouble imagining there being one because if sales of new albums are down, it would make sense that there aren’t many people strolling into a place like Bull Moose to sell used CDs. And if they are, it’s probably not kids like me twenty years ago, with a handful of albums in my back pack. It’s more likely to be old heads like myself now, lugging large boxes of CDs and no one needs a 40-year-old man walking in anywhere with a cardboard box full of CDs they bought in the 90s. That’s why God made flea markets. Bull Moose being able to keep their other stores open does soften the blow, but I never really went to those stores. Mine was the Portland location and that one is closing. If I had a connection with the Windham location, it’d be a different story but that is not the case here. I could go deep on the cruel passage of time and how it all somehow comes back to me just getting older but I’m not going to do that. I’ll do that some other time. Right now I’m just lamenting the loss of a place that meant a great deal to me and helped shape my musical tastes when I was the most receptive. I’m lamenting the fact that people younger than me won’t have the same experience and even worse, probably don’t even realize that they won’t have that same experience because it’s one that is most likely so foreign to them. I remember one time I brought up the act of buying a CD to some young people a year or so ago and it was as if I was speaking a foreign language. It didn’t make any sense to them and as I was saying it, it didn’t make much sense to me either. Vinyl will likely always be a thing, but is that enough to keep record stores in business? Unless the Internet were to collapse into itself tomorrow (we can’t rule that out,) there is very little incentive for someone to go and buy an album. You can stream and I suppose now the indicator as to whether or not you really like an album is if you download it. That means it’s serious. But buying it? What would you even play it on besides in your car stereo? Times are changing. That’s obvious. Part of how you know is that you get hints and for me, Bull Moose Portland closing is a pretty big hint. When it comes to looking back at your time growing up, you’d like certain things to stay the same. That way you can visit them in person and reminisce at the scene. Knowing these places are still there helps keep you grounded in a way, especially if they were a place that helped form the person who you would come to be. The further you get away from that time, the more you want it to always stay because it helps remind you of that specific era in your life. But life doesn’t work out that way. Sometimes an effin’ pandemic happens and upends everything. So you’re left with just the memories. And CDs. The books and books of CDs. Thanks for the memories Bull Moose Portland. Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79

Quarantine started around St. Patrick’s Day. The sequel to quarantine, Quarantine 2: The Pseudo Quarantine began a few months later; I don’t remember exactly when but we’re still there now. A third installment of the series is still in development as the writers can’t decide what direction to send the plot in. Over the course of both versions of quarantine, I’ve learned some things about myself. I learned that I can get past the itchy phase of growing a beard but ultimately, I’m not into having a beard. The idea of a beard was better than the beard itself. Plus the hair on my chin is white and everything else is kind of red and so overall it makes me look old. I’m good. On top of that, our daughter isn’t a fan and we’ve reached the point of our lives where her opinions on things have really started to matter. So beards are out for the foreseeable future. I also learned that I like my hair shorter instead of longer and I don’t need an alarm clock to wake up at six AM. I also realized that the dream I have of living in a world where the only clothes I needed to wear was a t-shirt, board shorts, and flip flops has proven to be a good dream because that’s exactly what I’ve been wearing every day since probably May and it’s fantastic. At some point, I’m going to have to wear pants, a collared shirt, and shoes, and with each passing day, that sounds more and more terrible and hard to stomach. One other thing I learned over the course of the past five months (eff word, has it really been that long?) is that Phish is great and I know that we’ve had our differences over the past couple years, but despite that, I’m officially into Phish again. Now I don’t know when this all happened but yeah, at some point during quarantine I started listening to Phish again and it just kind of picked up momentum as the weeks went by. I started listening to the band more and more, diving into old shows courtesy of this website re:listen.net I heard about on Twitter and checking out what live shows the band had thrown up on Spotify. Phish’s Ventura show is especially delightful and the show’s opener, “NICU” had become a tune I listen to and sing while kicking around the house on a regular basis. I even got my daughter into Phish, with both of us agreeing that “Ocelot” is a really good song. Although one day she was singing part of “Punch You In The Eye” and my darling wife had a slight issue with that, our daughter advocating violence and all. I didn’t have it in me to explain any of the back story regarding the song, so I just kind of went with it. On Tuesday nights, Phish had launched their Dinner And A Movie series and while I never watched it on Tuesday nights, I did on Wednesdays and Thursdays. There was one episode in particular where the show featured was from 1997 and watching it during some quiet time one morning, before anyone else was up, brought all sorts of feels and emotions. Shows from that time period were in heavy rotation for my friends and me back in college and there was something about how the band sounded during that show that felt so familiar. Shit man, Kenny probably had that very show amidst his vast collection of Phish bootlegs that he brought back to school with him at the start of sophomore year. The chances of me having heard the show before were pretty, pretty good. I started texting with some of my old buddies, dudes I had run with during those days, reminiscing about that fantastically weird time in our life. And then during the first weekend of August, which was the something or other anniversary of the band’s IT festival, that same group of dudes started texting again, prompted by one fella sending us a picture of all us, looking all sunburned and haggard and happy back in 2003 up in northern Maine. Full disclosure: I definitely don’t remember who at least two of those people are in that picture. Since graduating college back in 2002, Phish had been a presence in my life, but how much of a presence had been something that was constantly wavering. I would come back to them every so often, but it was usually pretty short-lived. It rarely stuck. But this time has felt different. Before I would listen to a show here or there or perhaps a few songs and that was that. This time though, I’ve been listening to them on almost a regular basis, whether it’s those old shows or studio albums of theirs I had never really gotten into. I had started to become overwhelmed with all the choices when it came to listening to a live show of the band’s so to make things somewhat easier, I put a couple playlists together of Phish live (there’s Live Phish Vol. 1 and Live Phish Vol. 2 if you’re interested) and while I’m sure a fan more diehard than myself would take issue with some of my choices and have strong opinions of say, a better version of “Fee” than the one I picked, I’m fine with that. The playlists were like quick resources, not definitive declarations of fact. And then recently, I found myself in Florida, waiting for our second daughter to be born. Because of restrictions put in place courtesy of COVID, I set up shop in the hospital’s parking garage as I wasn’t allowed inside the building (I’ll get into the particulars at another time.) At one point during day two, with us reaching something of a crossroads in regards to what would happen next, I needed to calm myself down and center myself. I needed a break from episodes of The Wire and needed to turn the car off, which was rough given the stifling weather in southern Florida in mid-August. I turned the car off, opened the car door, and just sat there, staring off at the now empty parking garage. I did some breathing because that’s what Zac Efron’s friend on Down to Earth suggested. Then I put on Phish, one of those aforementioned Live Phish playlists, and “Everything’s Right” came on. I stood up and I walked around some. I turned the song up more and a few minutes in, I had bought into the message of the song with the kind of enthusiasm reserved for buying something you saw advertised on television late at night. "Everything’s right, so just hold tight." And everything suddenly did feel right. And then an hour or so later, our daughter was born. I think I’ve fallen back in with Phish over these past couple months because, in the end, Phish is comforting to me. It’s music that makes sense and I think that’s partially due to how it brings me back to such fun, carefree times. Everyone has been dealing with all kinds of craziness since lockdowns began in March and while I’m not saying my life has been harder than anyone else’s, I have been planning for the birth of a child that was being born in a hot zone, so I’ve definitely had my fair share of stress. Phish has helped me make sense of things, sometimes by just removing me from the present and taking me on trips to random corners of memories. I could say I always would benefit from something like that happening, but as of late, it’s been incredibly helpful. In trying times, it’s good to turn to old friends. They know you best; know what you need to get through. I turned to Phish and I’m better off for it. And this time, I think it’s for keeps. Now please, get me out of Florida. Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79 This column originally appeared August 2020 and is reprinted with permission.

2020 has been a pretty massive bummer. Yes, it’s true. However, saying it over and over again isn’t going to make it any worse or any better, nor is continuing to focus on all of the reasons (all 5,479 of them) why 2020 has been so bad. We need to focus on the positives, kid and yes, even in this God-awful flaming pile of dog feces that has been 2020 there are positives. Here are 20 good things that happened this year. 1. We Took So Many Walks Around Our Neighborhood So many walks! In spring, walks were what outside time must feel like for people in prison. We got some fresh air, made cautious eye contact with other people, and strictly adhered to a NO TOUCHING policy put in place by the guards. Some days called for long walks, some days called for short walks but every single day called for some sort of walk. And the weather? Get out of here with that nonsense. Walk in the rain, splash in the puddles, giddy the eff up. 2. And We Spent So Much Time Outside! If you had a backyard, which I’m lucky to have, it was a Godsend. But even beyond that, we were outside a lot and it was fantastic. That firepit of ours did work. Then we bought this tree swing and even though I couldn’t get it far enough away from the tree itself so there wasn’t the danger of the swing banging into it, it was still a hoot. And yes, someday I’ll make it safer. I don’t know how, but I will. 3. Tik Tok Became The Go-To Spot To Find New Comedians First, there was Sarah Cooper with her lip-synch Trump videos that like Run The Jewels’ albums, only got better as they went along. Then there was Brent Terhune who started releasing videos where he posed as a diehard Trump supporter that were so believable, you could be forgiven for thinking they were the real deal. Around the same time of Terhune’s emergence, came Blaire Erskine. Erskine is a comedian from Georgia and throughout quarantine, she routinely dropped timely videos where she played conservative politician’s wives, daughters, and spokespeople, as well as “attendees” at various Trump rallies. Her attention to detail was amazing. 4. Sports Actually Came Back For a while there, it didn’t look good, and in lieu of not having live sports, we were going to have to get by rewatching old games, something that was cool for a little while but got old pretty fast. Well, except for the Pats/Falcons Super Bowl. I watched that damn game every time it was on and did so happily. But then leagues started figuring out how they could either restart or start their seasons. The NBA and NHL had great success with bubbles as the NBA set up shop in Orlando and the NHL took their show up to Canada and played games in two different locations. No fans? No problem. For the most part, you didn’t even notice and the NHL especially did a great job piping in sound to make it feel like there was a crowd there. The NBA had virtual fans and that was cute, but also forgettable. Major League Baseball started up in the middle of the summer after finally agreeing on a shortened season and rolled out a geographically based schedule because I guess in their mind, keeping teams somewhat close to home was safer. Sure, tell that to the Cardinals who because of COVID outbreaks I think played six games total, give or take. There were a handful of times when the baseball season seemed on the brink of being canceled, but somehow they pulled it off and then employed the NHL’s bubble model for the playoffs. The NFL? Well, the NFL is gonna NFL because that’s what the NFL does. COVID? What COVID? Oh, that COVID. Eh, just move the game back a day or two and it’ll be fine. The NFL’s stubborn refusal to really acknowledge COVID has kind of been hilarious. 5. We Reconnected With Friends Isolation is a funny thing because it prompts you to do things like text people you haven’t talked to in years. And eat. Isolation also prompts you to eat. 6. We Got Down With Some Leisure Wear The last time I went into the office was on St. Patrick’s Day. That was also the last time I dressed like a properly functioning adult for work. For the first few weeks of quarantine, I went through the motions and lived by self-imposed, made-up rules like I was going to wear jeans each day. Why? I don’t know, man. I just decided it would help. Yet the weather eventually changed and with spring, I started wearing shorts every day, specifically this one pair of old board shorts. I’ve worn those board shorts every day since and settle down, they’ve been washed. I’m not a complete savage. I will say that it was kind of nice because prior to 2020, I always kind of wished I could live a life where I was able to just wear a t-shirt and board shorts every day. Then poof, it happened and for the most part, it was a glorious as I imagined. Dreams do come true, folks. 7. Whether Or Not You Were A Beard Guy Was Determined Beards are a thing right now. They actually have been for a few years. Long gone are the days were only homeless people, hippies, and beatniks had beards. Now people like lawyers have them. And doctors. Respectable people have beards. Even that goon Ted Cruz has one, although I’m not sure that’s a pro-beard example. There is very little about Ted Cruz that is good and/or makes things good. Hey, Ted Cruz sucks! Anyway, for dudes that had yet to dabble in beards, quarantine ended up being the perfect time/reason to give one a test drive and see if they are a beard guy or they’re not. Under normal circumstances, you’d need to go on vacation to give a beard a shot, and even then, it’s really only a vacation beard because it only had a week or so to grow. That doesn’t really count. Quarantine really gave beards a time to spread their wings, for better or worse. I gave a quarantine beard a shot and sure, it was fun and I liked to stroke it while thinking and concocting plans but ultimately I decided that no, I’m not a beard guy. I’m more of a few days stubble kind of guy and that’s okay. And more importantly, now I know where I stand on beards and never, ever have to worry about it again. Unless I need to go on the run. But that’s a different story all together. 8. Seth Meyers Was (And Still Is) A Lot Of Fun On His In-Quarantine Shows When the country shut down in March, late-night hosts quickly had to switch things up and move production to their respected homes. Results were mixed although, for the most part, they all nailed it. Jimmy Fallon was adorable with his family, Stephen Colbert gave off a hanging out with a cool professor in his office vibe, and Conan O’Brien kept letting his hair grow until it no longer went up, but out. This was notable. But I think the winner was and continues to be Seth Meyers. For most of the quarantine, Meyers did shows from his home, broadcasting them from his attic where he incorporated reoccurring gags involved copies of The Thorn Birds, wasps, and more. For a few weeks during the summer, he operated out of a room at his in-laws’ house where he was routinely joined by a painting of a sea captain that became something of a sidekick to him. Other strange knick-knacks and random stuff you’d likely find in an old couple’s house started to make appearances and the whole thing was tons of fun. Over the past month or so, Meyers has returned to his studio at 30 Rock but has been doing shows without an audience. It’s just him and the crew and the lack of an audience has actually made things more enjoyable. Meyers’ A Closer Look segments had already become required viewing, but since returning to the studio, it seems like the segments devolve into a brief bit of lunacy and absurdity at certain points, hijinks that could only happen without an audience. It’s just silly and it really is a lot of fun. I miss the sea captain, though. 9. Streaming Services Released Some Really Good & Really Fun Movies At some point during the quarantine, the new movie pipeline dried up. This made sense seeing as how theaters had closed and therefore, new movies didn’t have a place to start, let alone end up (i.e. OnDemand and available to stream at home.) Things were starting to look bleak on the new movie front. And then the streaming services stepped in to save the day, which was really the least they could do because dude, they make so much money. Netflix released Extraction starring Chris Hemsworth and that movie was a lot of fun. Netflix also released The Old Guard starring Charlize Theron, and The Trial of the Chicago 7. Meanwhile, Hulu released the Andy Samberg time-loop comedy Palm Springs and Apple released the Tom Hanks World War II naval film Greyhound. There were others of course, but those feel like the main ones, and in the absence of studios being able to pump out new movies, these offerings from streaming services were a sight for sore eyes. 10. Trolls World Tour Was A Lifesaver For Parents With Young Kids There was a novelty to that first week or so of quarantine but it quickly passed and for parents with young children, we had to figure out a way to fill the days in which kids couldn’t socialize with other kids or go to playgrounds, etc. It was some tough business and by early April, we needed something to parachute in and offer up some help. Trolls World Tour to the rescue! The movie might not be good and has some weird ideas about what rock ‘n roll is, but I could care less. Dreamworks wisely decided to skip theaters and release it to OnDemand in mid-April. Thank you, Dreamworks. Thank you so much. Our five-year-old was nearing something of a breaking point and no amount of pillow forts would be able to save us. But that second Trolls movie sure did. But no really, the rock trolls don’t make any sense. Are the punk or metal or classic rock stoners? Seems like we’re generalizing here, Trolls. 11. The Fourth Season Of ‘The Crown’ Was The Show’s Best Through three seasons, The Crown had been solid. Sometimes it has been better than solid, sometimes worst but on average, solid. Part of the appeal of the show was how it taught us ignorant Americans about British history and while sometimes the connections the show attempted to make between things that happened in the Queen’s life and events in England’s history seemed like a stretch, for the most part, it worked. I mean, sometimes it didn’t but again, it’s fine. The show’s fourth season was the meat and potatoes though because it introduced us to a young Diana. Season four also then brought us inside the rocky first few years of Diana’s marriage to Charles, which could best be described as “not ideal.” However, Emma Corrin was amazing as Diana. Man though, season four was a rough look for Charles. Up to this point, most of the story was buried so far in the past for the majority of the audience that it was kind of thrilling for them to all of the sudden start portraying Royal events that we remember happening. Oh and Gillian Anderson was several levels above solid as Margaret Thatcher. 12. Zoom Was And I Guess Still Is Pretty Cool I mean, no one really likes being on Zoom but beyond that, it’s not bad. Early on, Zoom was fun and Zoomin’ with family and friends, doing happy hours and whatnot was wonderful. But you know, all things must pass. Zoom now, all these months into quarantine and working from home, is significantly less wonderful but even still, it gets the job done. I’m anti-Zoom backgrounds though and I will not be convinced otherwise. 13. Quarantine = The Perfect Time To Get Caught Up On Your TV Consumption Normal life is busy. Normal life has limitations for how much television you can watch on a regular basis and as a result, normal life tends to mean that you’re going to miss a show you would have liked to have watched but just didn’t have time for it. Quarantine Life is most definitely not normal life (although it’s frighteningly starting to feel like it) and so all of sudden, there was more than enough time to get caught up on all things television, whether it was rewatching shows you’ve been aching to rewatch, getting back on track with shows you had fallen behind with or finally getting around to watch a show you had been meaning to, but just hadn’t gotten to it. Me personally, I dove back into The Wire, and the wife and I started rewatching New Girl because man, it just felt good to laugh again. We also finally checked out Ozark and no, I am not going to get into money laundering anytime soon, thank you very much. I had been reluctant to watch the show because it reminded me so much of Breaking Bad. And while yes, it does have a Breaking Bad vibe to it, it’s pretty good in its own right. It’s also incredibly fast-paced. I feel like everything that happens in one episode of Ozark would be all that goes down in one season of The Sopranos. Next up is Succession. Giddy up. 14. Lawn Care & General Landscaping At Home Was A Welcome Distraction/Activity Because yeah, we all spent a lot of time outside once the weather started to turn in the spring and it served as the perfect opportunity to plant plants and flowers that you had been talking about planting for a while now. I’d like to say my lawn benefited from this extra time, but alas, it was not the case. Maybe next year, you patchy bastard. 15. Tiger King Was A Fun Way To Be Both Entertained & Disgusted Netflix dropped Tiger King, a limited documentary series about Joe Exotic right as quarantine was starting to wear on people. We were desperate to talk about something besides the pandemic, the government’s piss poor response to it, and being stuck inside because of it. The story of this Joe Exotic fella, his zoo, the folks who worked there, the exotic animal game, and more was just what we needed. Of course, it wasn’t all fun and games. There were quite a few moments in the series that were at the minimum cringe-worthy and at times, just hard to watch, especially if you care about animals. There was a lot of talk about caring for these animals but not a heck of a lot of demonstrating that supposed care. Also, one guy shot and killed himself just off-camera. If you’re keeping track, he was the second dude who was “married” to Joe Exotic. I believe there were four total. Then there was Carol Baskin, Joe Exotic’s nemesis, who owns and operates her own exotic animal sanctuary and may or may not have murdered her first husband and fed him to a tiger. It’s true. She definitely did. And then she went on Dancing With The Stars because even amidst a global pandemic, some things are just going to keep making absolutely no sense. 16. A Lot Of Musicians Were Inspired By Quarantine To Drop Albums Phish did it. My Morning Jacket did it. Taylor Swift did it twice. Quite a few acts did it actually. Thankfully quarantine didn’t stop artists from releasing new albums and given the circumstances, every time a quarantine album was released, it was cause for celebration. Phish released Sigma Oasis on a Friday, just two days after announcing its release, and My Morning Jacket elected to cobble together unreleased tracks that were recorded while working on their 2015 album The Waterfalland release The Waterfall II. Ms. Taylor Swift spent part of her quarantine in the woods with a few folks and ended up recording not one, but two albums, folklore and evermore. You may have heard about them. I was a little concerned when shutdowns started happening that it would turn off the spigot of new material from musicians but it’s nice to see those concerns weren’t necessary. My concerns about picking out avocados at the grocery store remain though. 17. Joe Biden Was Elected President Like four or five times. I’ve lost count. 18. Instagram Became A Source Of Comfort In A Comfortless World Before quarantine and this whole pandemic thing, I was partial to Twitter. Twitter topped my personal rankings of social media platforms and Instagram was probably second with Facebook third. I had felt that Twitter was a good source of information and news and if you followed the right people, a good place to get a good chuckle every once in a while. But then quarantine changed all that. Twitter became super depressing. And frustrating. And sad. And maddening. Bottom line, lots of cons with Twitter and few pros. That’s not a good ratio. Instagram though was nothing but a good time and as a result, it shot past Twitter and has yet to look back. You can’t travel anywhere, but you can follow Instagram profiles that can make you feel like you’re traveling and you can get more laughs on Instagram. There’s some news on Instagram, but you can filter that out and not feel like you’re missing anything. It’s a win/win Facebook might have fallen to four or five in my rankings. There is nothing in the third spot. 19. Musicians Found Different Ways To Make Up For The Lack Of Live Music With governments throwing the hammer down on large (or even medium or small) gatherings, it meant live music was canceled for the foreseeable future. Now I don’t go out to a lot of concerts anymore but still was bummed about the unfortunate development. An evolution of sorts then got underway. First musicians did live streams from the home and it was fine. Then musicians dabbled in more adventurous live streams. This jam band Goose performed virtual concerts from a barn in Connecticut for a couple weeks in late spring. It was cool. Then musicians dipped their toe in the murky waters of socially-distant concerts, usually at drive-in movie theaters where concert-goers stayed in or very close to their cars. It was pretty inventive. The drive-in shows got fairly popular and popped up around the country. But with the weather turning, they weren’t going to be an option forever. At some point, artists would need to move inside and find out ways to make virtual concerts work. In October, Trey Anastasio of Phish announced The Beacon Jams, an eight-night run at New York City’s Beacon Theater. For eight Friday nights in a row, Anastasio and his band would live stream shows via Twitch. The shows were watched by thousands of people, a community was activated and it was the closest anyone had come to making virtual shows feel like the real thing. Going forward, who knows what will happen but the hope is that someone influential caught The Beacon Jams and took notes. 20. Bubbles Weren’t Just For Sports As ‘The Bachelorette’ Used One To Pull Off A Season The 2020 season of The Bachelorette was supposed to happen in or around September and would feature a Bachelor Nation veteran, Clare Crawley. But you know, the pandemic, and because of that, production was halted. Seemingly inspired by what the NBA and the NHL did, producers of The Bachelorette put together their own bubble, isolating Clare and the dudes vying for her heart at a resort near Palm Springs (one presumably not impacted by time loops.) We were all systems go and the new season premiered in October. Giddy up! Giddy down because Clare found love way sooner than expected and after only a few short weeks, bailed on the show to run off with this dude Dale. Once again, it looked like the show would be torpedoed. But also once again, the producers were quick thinkers and brought in a replacement, another Bachelor Nation veteran, Tayshia Adams, and the show barely missed a step. In fact, it got better as Adams is a much better Bachelorette than Crawley. Also, the production team for this season is killing it, getting super creative to come up with date ideas as they’re still camped out at the Palm Springs’ resort. We could deal without many things in 2020. But I’m not sure a season of The Bachelorette could be one of those things. Oh, and we have a COVID vaccine. So see, it’s not all bad. Ryan harbors a constant fear of losing his keys, prefers flip flops and will always choose cereal if it's an option. He maintains his own blog, Giddy Up America and hasn't gotten a speeding ticket in over the year. He has previously contributed work to UPROXX & Heavy. Ryan is on Twitter: @ryanoconnell79

We’ll start here. Christmas With the Kranks is a terrible movie. It’s bad, really bad. As a movie, it should be relieved that it’s a Christmas movie because that’s the only reason why it still gets play. Well, unless you’re a hardcore Tim Allen head or gear your movie-watching towards those that only include a scene in which Jamie Lee Curtis barely has any clothes on. I mean if that’s the case, you’re basically watching Christmas With the Kranks and True Lies on a loop. That’s a weird way to live. If you haven’t seen Christmas With the Kranks, I will quickly bring you up to speed on this train wreck of a movie. Yes, there will be spoilers. No, I’m not sorry about that. Allen and Curtis are the Kranks. His name is Luther, her name is something. They have a daughter named Blair, who is off to Peru because she’s a good person and everyone loves her. As a result of her trip to Peru, the Kranks have decided to bail on Christmas, go on a cruise instead. Makes sense to me, but not to everyone else in town and the Kranks’ neighborhood in particular, all of whom take the Kranks’ decision very personally. There is a dust-up involving Frostys on people’s roofs, cops selling calendars of cops posing provocatively and not-so-subtle attempts at intimidation. Also, Tim Allen gets Botox. Why? I don’t know. But plot twist! Blair announces she is coming home after all so the Kranks ditch the cruise and hastily throw together Christmas, including their fabled Christmas Eve party, which the whole neighborhood looks forward to for some reason that is never made all that clear. And despite their previously held sour grapes towards Luther and his wife, the neighbors are suddenly all cool with them and band together to make Christmas happen because Blair is coming home and everyone effin’ loves Blair. They do. Like, a lot. As for the cruise, Luther, compelled by the warming spirit of Christmas, gives the tickets to his neighbor and sick wife. There’s also a dude in a Santa outfit who sells umbrellas. He drives a VW Beetle. An old one, not the kind that has a place on the dash for a lone flower to brighten up your day. Again, this movie is terrible. However, it’s now been a few days since watching it and I keep thinking about it. This movie is definitely horrible and it is in no way worth watching. But it’s stuck with me and as a result, I have some questions. Specifically 25, one for each day of the Christmas season. 1. How do people in the Kranks’ neighborhood deal with people of the Jewish faith, i.e. people who don’t celebrate Christmas? I’m assuming not well, but I’m still curious. I’m afraid to ask their thoughts on Muslims. 2. With a name like Luther Krank, you’re destined to be an asshole, right? 3. Did you know John Grisham wrote the story this movie is based on? How do you go from The Firm to this hot garbage? 4. On that note, Grisham just wrote this as a money grab, right? It’s like how every musician inevitably records a Christmas song because it’s easy money. Look at Johnny G, chasing those dollar bills yo. 5. Speaking of money grabs, who was the most money grabbiest of them all: Allen, Curtis, Grisham, or Dan Akroyd? Allen was only a few years removed from Home Improvement and had already logged two tours of The Santa Clause as well as two Toy Story movies. He couldn’t have been hurting for cash. Curtis’ career wasn’t dead by any means, but you could see it as slightly sluggish, with the same being said for Akroyd. And yeah, Grisham, he had to have been doing okay by 2004, when Christmas With the Kranks was released. Overall though, all four of these people were doing just fine and we would like to think better of them than to have been simply drawn to this magical Christmas story. So what gives? Who was grabbing for cash the most? 6. As for Akroyd, what’s up with his character? He “runs” the neighborhood. What the hell does that even mean? Is their neighborhood a criminal organization? Is it full of Italian immigrants and this is Brooklyn in the early 1900s? I’m confused. 7. No really, what’s his deal? He claims to know the police chief. Is he in the mob? A union organizer? Is he both? 8. Is he in love with Blair? He changes his tune on the Kranks pretty damn quickly once he hears Blair is coming home. He all but says that he still thinks Luther is a son of a gun, but because it’s Blair, he’s willing to cast aside his beef. This seemed like a pretty big beef, a porterhouse of a beef. Tough to just cast aside. Tough enough to question a person’s motivations. 9. Actually, is everyone in love with Blair? The whole neighborhood all switched gears super quick once they heard she was making an appearance and actually coming home. 10. She’s a good looking gal. That factors into this, right? Let’s not be naive here. History has long proven to be forgiving, downright super accommodating, to the good-looking folks living among us. You’d have to think that if Blair looked a little less…uh…appealing…the neighborhood’s attitude towards her might differ slightly. It’s a terrible stance to take, but it’s a realistic one. 11. So Blair goes to Peru for the Peace Corps or something and doesn’t just surprise her parents by coming home for Christmas, she comes home engaged. Didn’t she just leave for Peru at Thanksgiving? 12. Did Blair meet her boo immediately upon arriving in Peru, have a whirlwind romance, and less than a month later find herself engaged, or had the two been corresponding beforehand via AOL Instant Messenger (RIP?) Although given the apparent magnetism of Blair and people’s attitudes towards her, I guess we can’t be surprised that she’d find a suitor so quickly. You’d have to think that Enrique had to fight off a bevy of dudes to win her heart. One of them was probably Dan Akroyd. 13. And I’m sorry, shouldn’t Enrique have asked Luther’s permission before proposing? It’s called tradition, Enrique. 14. This movie is about the dangers of peer pressure, right? 15. Upon realizing that the cruise is never going to happen, a dejected Luther has a little pity party for himself, but then rallies and walks across the street to give both the cruise and plane tickets to his elderly neighbor and his wife, who “has her good days and bad days” due to some mysterious illness. It’s a nice gesture. However, it’s a slightly problematic one. Gifting someone plane tickets and cruise tickets with your name on it might have worked in the pre-9/11 era, but this movie presumably takes place after that (it was made in 2004.) I know Luther tells the old couple across the street that he’ll take care of it, but like, how? These are plane tickets we’re talking about here. Those are one of the few things in life that can’t be changed. What the hell is Luther Crank and his black turtleneck going to do? I’m sorry, but this seems like an empty promise on Luther’s part. 16. Does Luther give the old couple the tickets because he legitimately wants them to go or because he knows he can’t go, it’s too late to change the reservation, but he feels like offering it to them is enough of a nice gesture to ease his troubled conscience? I’m going with the latter. 17. If the guy who dresses up as Santa Claus actually might be Santa Claus, are we then to believe Santa spends his offseason keeping tabs on folks by selling umbrellas on the street of wherever this movie takes place? 18. I wonder if stealing Christmas trees is something that actually happens on a fairly regular basis around Christmas time. And not stealing them from a Christmas tree lot or Christmas tree farm, but stealing a fully decorated tree from someone’s house. If it is something that happens, the smart money is on it happening in Florida. 19. Not really much of a question here, but the music in the moviemakes a lot of sense when you see that Steven Van Zandt was the one picking the tunes. 20. Okay, but how did Van Zandt get roped into this? 21. WHY THE HELL DOES TIM ALLEN’S CHARACTER GET BOTOX? He goes tanning, I get that. You want to get a base tan going before going on vacation. But the Botox, though? 22. Who eats a cup of peaches at a restaurant? Oh wait, they’re at the hospital. Do hospital cafeterias sell cups of peaches? Wouldn’t those just be reserved for patients? 23. You know, Jamie Lee does bring up some good points. It’s totally fine to go away for Christmas, but why couldn’t they still put lights on their house? They’re trying to save money, cool. Smart. Paul Ryan hadn’t passed his wonderful tax plan yet and while I’m not sure how that would impact the Kranks, it’s not like decorating for Christmas would have that much of a financial impact on the Kranks. Not decorating, it just seems unnecessary. 24. Come on. At least one person in their neighborhood each year is getting hurt placing their Frosty on their roof, right? That’s a ridiculous tradition. Just put them in the front yard. You don’t get extra points for putting your life in jeopardy. Actually, Vic might actually give extra points for something like that. They really take their Christmas decorating seriously. 25. I bet the 4th of July is off the chain in the Kranks’ neighborhood, right? I can’t stress this enough. Don’t watch this movie. If you have seen it, don’t watch it again. Merry Christmas. Ryan O'Connell is originally from sunny Portland, Maine, went to college in Baltimore, spent some time in Philadelphia, and now lives by the beach in wonderful New Jersey. In addition to Twin Tiers Living, Ryan is a contributor to Heavy.com, and is the co-host of Differing Opinions On Drake, a pop-culture podcast. Ryan also spent some time as a music contributor to UPROXX.com