SHOW NOTES: Steely Dan, The Dan Who Knew Too Much Sunday, July 10 at SPAC

(Not my photo; alas, I was in no man's land.)

(Not my photo; alas, I was in no man’s land.)

I haven’t been to SPAC in about 15 years, but I was absolutely not going to miss seeing Steely Dan in my own backyard.  My friend Thor was my date, and although the forecast was foreboding, we arrived armed with umbrellas, ponchos and chairs so that we didn’t have to sit on the wet, muddy ground.

My biggest worry with SPAC was that since we had lawn seats, the sound wouldn’t be that good.  Those fears were quickly assuaged when Steve Winwood took the stage.  He couldn’t sound more clear if I was listening to a CD in my car.
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Independence Day: Resurgence Is The Worst Movie Ever Made

Ah, why, did you, you, see this, ah, terrible movie?

Ah, why, did you, you, see this, ah, terrible movie?

Independence Day: Resurgence is the single worst movie I have ever seen in my entire life, and the only reason I’m mad about it being a flop is because this means I have no one to talk through the pain with.

“But Libby,” you might say, wise reader that you are. “You knew it was going to be stupid. Why did you go see it?”

The same reason everyone goes to the movies in the summer: Air conditioning.

You see, it’s about 700 degrees in the second floor walk-up apartment Ian & I call home, with 200 percent humidity, and that’s with two fans running.  It is too hot to eat.  Too muggy to sleep.  There was one escape, and that was to the movies.

You must understand one thing about me–I LOVE Independence Day because I love Bill Pullman, Jeff Goldblum and the 4th of July.  Before work got in the way, we used to have extravagant 4th of July parties, with Fizzball, a potluck dinner and an annual viewing of the film (with Rifftrax, obviously).  I gave President Whitmore’s iconic speech at my friend Eeon’s wedding and he gave it at mine.

I’ve stepped away from movie reviews of late, but I have to share this one. Otherwise, it will eat my soul.  There are some spoilers in here, but who are you kidding, you’re not going to see this crap-pile anyways.

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In Praise of Adult Contemporary Radio

I was not a cool kid.

Yes Please!

Yes Please!

While my sisters and peers were in love with Devon Sawa and JTT, I was crushing on Matthew Modine in Cutthroat Island and Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park.  While they were listening to Mariah Carey and Blink 182 on Fly 92, I was calling in to B 95.5, the adult contemporary station, in hopes of hearing George Benson’s “Turn Your Love Around.”

When I discovered The Smiths and Siouxsie & The Banshees in high school, then Tom Waits in college, I could finally feel cool.  Sure, it was a hipster-goth kind of cool, eschewing the flair-leg jeans and trucker

Bask in my total fucking coolness (or don't, who cares.)

Bask in my total fucking coolness (or don’t, who cares.)

hats of the early-2000s for Doc Martens and cabby caps.  I discovered a lot of incredible music during this time period, aided by some awesome mix CDs from great people.

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