Check Engine Computer

This past week, there were lots of disappointments. My car was a primary culprit. The "check engine" light went on during my commute. Since I was also due for an oil change, I scheduled an early drop-off at my dealer to take care of everything.

Of course, when that morning came around, another whack-a-mole had surfaced. I had to direct my mallet towards a situation at work. Once that was taken care of, it was 11 am. No early drop-off. The next day, I had to drive north for work, and borrowed a car to avoid exacerbating whatever was wrong with my own car.

On Saturday, I finally had the opportunity to deal with it. Since my dealer's service department doesn't do Saturdays, I took it to another shop on Ismael's recommendation. They were quick and efficient. Thanks, Ismael.

When my car was ready, the mechanic asked me if I had recently gotten gasoline. My mind raced. Clearly, I had purchased tainted gasoline or something. I thought about it, and remembered that my tank was low on fuel, so I couldn't have filled it up recently. I told this to the mechanic, expecting the worst.

The computer diagnostic result? Loose gas cap.

On the one hand, I'm very grateful that there is nothing wrong with my car, no need for expensive repairs. On the other hand, my car has cried wolf. The mechanic explained that people generally ignore emissions problems, so I understand why there would be a generic check engine warning to scare drivers enough to go to the shop.

But a loose gas cap? That's not an emissions problem like a failed catalytic converter. It's a turn of the screw and you're done! Even proud polluters might tighten the cap if they were to get the message. There is no repair necessary, no expense. Why not have a little light on the dash like the seatbelt off light? In the words of G.O.B., "come on!" What a waste of everyone's time.

Review: The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951)

My name is RPM, and I have an old movie problem. I haven't seen an old movie for at least a few hours.

For better or worse, The Day the Earth Stood Still is in the pantheon of sci-fi classics. For better, there is no Keanu Reeves. I haven't seen the remake, but there is no way he can match the calm authority of Michael Rennie as the visitor Klaatu.

I'm uncertain about this movie because it isn't the sort of sci-fi I'm used to. The action is pedestrian and ordinary. While there's dramatic tension, it's by no means a thriller. But then again, the best sci-fi uses the twist on reality to tell us something meaningful about ourselves. This movie asks us a big question, and uses the twist compellingly. The science fiction within the film is purely a vehicle for the visitor's message.

Spoiler Warning! Highlight the area below to better see the text.

What a message, looking back 58 years later. It boils down to an intergalactic Bush Doctrine that actually promotes pacifism. Kickass robots enforce the peace. The thrust of the doctrine is that the people of the universe must be safe. If a planet like Earth is filled with infighting and war, that sucks for Earth, but the rest of the universe doesn't feel any effects. However, if the people of the planet develop technology to travel in space and harness atomic weapons, the rest of the universe is at risk.

Enter Klaatu's flying saucer onto the National Mall in Washington. A crowd of citizens and military gathers over the course of a few hours with baited breath waiting for any sign of life from the UFO asleep on the grass. A ramp forms and Klaatu gets out. Some idiot army grunt shoots him. His faithful robot emerges. I guess the crowd gets scared because the robot is about eight feet tall. Personally, I would become afraid right about when the robot starts vaporizing all of the military's weapons.

The great majority of the movie focuses on Klaatu's struggle to inform the leaders of the world of his message. The catch is that the message is too important for any one leader or nation to hear, so he must bring everyone together. Once his pleas w/ the US military and presidential envoy fail to get other countries in the mix, Klaatu mingles with the little people of Washington, D.C. to better understand how earthlings function. Yes, Klaatu speaks English, from hearing radio broadcasts out in the universe, of course. That doesn't explain why he looks like a normal human, but whatever.

Eventually Klaatu gets the attention of the nation's foremost astrophysicist and convinces him to bring together an international group of scientific leaders. To prove he's not messing around, and to give the title of the movie meaning, Klaatu sends everyone a message: I can stop all electricity on Earth for 30 minutes. He's so nice, he lets hospitals keep their juice. The goodwill even extends to a little boat in the Thames in London that gets to keep moving in an obvious gaffe.

The human drama between the woman that believes in Klaatu and her lover that wants to turn him in plays its course. It's a solid plot that gets us to the climactic messianic moment where Klaatu gives Earth his ultimatum.

About that ultimatum, just imagine if you actually believed George W. Bush when he said he wanted peace. Does that make preemptive aggression alright? Is the threat of annihilation enough to make us behave? Does the end justify the means? Klaatu even says essentially, "you're with us, or you're reduced to ashes."

So, shape up, cold war America. The End.

The Real Life Fail Barge

I swear that the last two posts are not an indication that RPM will become FAIL Blog Light. There is finally something bigger than a fail boat, and I need to share. Meet the fail barge. It's the first realization of the term fail barge, which I came up with during this year's Super Bowl party.

In other news, I've caved in to this twitter thing. I'm also working on writing some songs for the first time in ages. If I'm not careful the songs I've been working on will turn into the bastard children of Bowie and Television.

Big Ten Football = FAIL

Wow we all suck right now. OSU played a hard-fought game, but a loss is a loss. That is, unless you lose by about 70 to Florida State in a bowl game like Wisconsin did. I don't know what to call that crap. The last time the Big Ten won the Rose Ball was basically a decade ago, when Barry Alvarez led the Badgers to back-to-back wins in Pasadena.

My Six Favorite Studio Albums of the 1990s

Last night I listened to Neutral Milk Hotel and decided it was time to give them some recognition. I encourage comments with your top albums. Here is my list of favorite studio albums of the 1990s, in no particular order:

- Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. This is the closest thing my generation had to the Velvet Underground. The small cult following is so intense that their leader Jeff Mangum has gone recluse, which is what I wish Kurt Cobain could have done to avoid the pressure. Listen to this right now.

- Nirvana, Nevermind. What can I say? Four songs have the exclusive RPM 5-Star rating on my computer. The music is so powerful and damn catchy, too. This is one of those rare moments where the best music was the most popular.

- Radiohead, OK Computer. I can't choose between this one and The Bends for the life of me. Both have superb songs. The Bends rocks harder, which I love, but in the end I bow to OK Computer. Why? This is where Radiohead pushed their sound into new territory, capturing paranoia in the information age.

- Weezer, Pinkerton. Again, which of my children do I choose, the self-titled, poppy Blue Album or the weird one? Again, I choose the later, weirder option. Their first album is brilliant, but there are some weak songs, like "No One Else" and "Surfwax America." The great thing about Pinkerton is that Rivers Cuomo gains power over his insecurity, and the awkward emotion that left "No One Else" immature and dumb becomes something brilliant and imaginative like "Pink Triangle."

- Pavement, Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain. I struggled to pick a Pavement record. This one wins with its lo-fi minor key beauty. CRCR gets the slight nod over its amazing predecessor Slanted & Enchanted and its rockin' follow-up, Brighten the Corners.

- Built to Spill, Keep it Like a Secret. Doug Martsch is one of my guitar gods. I love all of their albums, but this is where they made it big. The sound is huge, yet the quirkiness lives on. The tension flat out rocks. They manage to synthesize the little gems of There's Nothing Wrong with Love with the slow epics of Perfect from Now On into perfection.

*****

The studio qualifier lets me duck the issue of putting two Nirvana albums on the list, since Unplugged is way too good to ignore. In addition to runners up by the six bands above that I've mentioned, here we go with some honorable mentions:

- Dr. Dre, The Chronic
- Pearl Jam, Ten, Vitalogy
- REM, Automatic for the People
- Smashing Pumpkins, Siamese Dream, Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
- Beck, Mellow Gold, Odelay, Mutations
- The Verve, Urban Hymns (I love the Stones but they shafted The Verve with pure greed)
- U2, Achtung Baby
- Golden Smog, Down by the Old Mainstream
- Metallica, Metallica (Black Album)
- Mos Def & Talib Kweli, Black Star
- Snoop Doggy Dogg, Doggystyle
- Sleater Kinney, Dig Me Out
- Portishead, Dummy
- Elliot Smith, Either/Or
- Fugazi, 13 Songs
- Lucinda Williams, Car Wheels on a Gravel Road

*****

Again, please comment with your favorites. Next, I'll jump the gun and talk about my favorite albums of the 2000s.

No More Mr. Nice Guy

"FFS!" -RPM

1. The amount of fail out there right now astonishes me. Where to begin? How about the radio. Everybody knows that FM radio is an abomination these days, but Madison radio keeps getting worse. A month ago, I would have estimated that there are about 6-7 radio stations that are tolerable. Then, 93.1 the Lake shut down. Sure, I've missed my daily fix of Manfredd Mann's version of "Blinded by the Light" crapfest, but they still played solid, dependable classic rock, but no more.

Now, 94.9 has already switched to Christmas music. It's mid-November! I nearly die of saccharine poisoning. So now there are about 5 stations that may at any given moment, between commercials, play a song worth listening to. I've found that my best option if I'm driving on a weeknight is 101.5, hosted by Alice Cooper of all people.

2. Speaking of no more Mr. Nice Guy, the personal front. I thought I had found a girl. We've had fun together and share a lot of interests. Then I get the "you're a great guy" rejection combo. What is up with that? Maybe she thought that would soften the blow. I'd rather have some constructive criticism. In this case, indications suggest it's not my fault, but I hate feeling that being a nice guy continues to fail.

3. UPS has the world's worst delivery person on the job in Madison. I expect a very awesome shipment to arrive today. Even better, I work from home in order to ensure delivery. I've never been in delivery, so I'm normally hesitant to judge. Yet I figure that logic can see me through. One drives a truck with packages in it. The driver stops at the appropriate address for each package, contacts the recipient and delivers the package.

Things fall apart for me. Somehow, the delivery guy manages to sneak an "attempted delivery" note on my door while I am in the apartment. I am between 10 and 40 feet away from him, depending on my location at this unknown moment in fail. There is a doorbell! I don't hear the doorbell. There is a door! I don't hear any knocking. Maybe he touches the door when he places the note, but that was the only contact he makes. He's either lazy, evil, or afraid of human contact.

After I find the offending note on the door, I call UPS like crazy, navigating the phonebot, which even tries to thwart speaking with a person when one dials zero. Finally I secure a person. With all of my might I hold back my anger and endure the "we'll deliver it tomorrow" spiel. I arrange a pickup at their hub in Middleton tonight. They tell me to show up at 7:30 pm.

I get there at 7:25. My favorite driver hasn't unloaded my package. The overworked person at the desk tells me it's ok, it's early and it'll be up at 7:30. Needless to say, driver fails again. I finally leave the foresaken facility with my package after 8 pm, swearing to myself that I will have my vengeance somehow. A suspended vat of boiling oil perched above the entrance of my apartment will do the trick.

4. Instead of living out my UPS delivery driver revenge fantasy, I try torelax. I kick some Okkervil River out of the speakers, pour a glass of mead and settle in for a little video gaming. False! Turns out the game is full, which has never, ever happened in all of my experience. What's another ten minutes of waiting after all of this crap? That's just two or three songs.

Vote or Die

In my voting ward in Madison, there are few decisions to make. First off, all voters with last names starting with A-L choose to die instead of coming out to the polling place. There is one substantial line, all registered voters with names beginning with M-Z. The election volunteers wisely break up the M-Z line to make things run faster. Only, it turns out everyone with a last name starting with T-Z also chooses death. So, we're all still in one line, all with names starting with the letters M-S. Even my first and middle initials start with M-S. Lame. Nevertheless, my waiting time is manageable, about half an hour at most.

To the substance of the ballot, there are only four decisions. All but two politicians are running unopposed for their office. I choose the president I want and my house representative, then it's off to voting on two referenda, one regarding health care, the other the school district's budget.

Everyone out there, please vote in the most important election in a generation, or at least the opportunity to undo 2000. And for the love of this country, vote correctly this time. I mean more than just an historic vote for Barack Obama. I also mean procedurally, no more mindless screw ups. We can't mess around this time. No more hanging chads, no more Ft. Lauderdale voters for Buchanan, no more nonsense.