I owe Bruce Springsteen my life. No...literally!

My obsession with Bruce Springsteen's music goes deeper than my previous ramblings have let on. I owe that man and his fantastic band my very existence.

No, wait! I swear I'm not insane! Come back and read what I have to say. Or write. You know what I mean.

December 15th/16th is an important anniversary in my family. Because on those same dates in 1978, my mother and father attended their first Springsteen concert(s) - setting in motion a chain of events that eventually led to me!

My father recounts hearing Springsteen on the radio ever since his popular Born to Run album released in 1975. When Darkness on the Edge of Town came out in June of 1978, he purchased a copy and fell in love with the music. To this day, he counts Darkness as his favorite Springsteen album.

Springsteen was touring the West Coast that December, with two concerts scheduled at Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco on the 15th and 16th. Winterland is a former skating rink that was also used as a music venue. It closed down shortly after those shows (because no other rock concert could possibly live up to the awesomeness of those two Springsteen shows. Or so I've been told...)

My father and mother, students at San Francisco State University at the time, purchased tickets to the December 15th show and were in attendance along with some friends. The two of them were still just getting to know each other - there was still a long way to go before I entered into the picture. However, as my mother recounts, by the end of that night on December 15th, 1978, she had not only fallen in love with Bruce Springsteen, but with my father as well.

Even as the two of them tramped their way back across half the city on foot following the concert's end around 2:00 a.m. the next morning, she felt the stirrings in her heart.

"No buses were running that late, so we had to walk all the way back to campus!" mom said. "In that moment I wanted to kill [your father]! But overall I knew I was in love."

Both that love and frustration didn't dissipate after my father called up his brothers to invite them over to attend the second show on the 16th with him ("I was pissed he didn't invite me!" my mother recalls).

"I called my brothers and told them about this wonderful concert I'd attended seeing this Springsteen guy," dad said. "I couldn't believe what I'd been through! I knew I had to go again and so I invited my brothers to come too."

Within 12 hours, the Hoff boys were all assembled and waiting in line to grab some of the few remaining tickets to the second show.

"That first night was great! I got to touch Bruce's boot when he jumped into the crowd during 'Spirit in the Night'," my father said. "But the second night was even better."

And so the obsession grew in both of them. My eventual mother and father grew closer to one another while also traveling near and far to catch Springsteen concerts every time he came through California. With the Winterland Ballroom closed down, Springsteen rarely came to San Francisco anymore. So they made treks to Oakland, Mountain View, and as far as Los Angeles to see him perform live.

But they never forgot that first show together at Winterland. That magical night that started it all. To this day, more than 15 years since they divorced, the two of them fondly recall that night together. In recent years they've even called each other on the anniversary of Winterland to reminiscence.

Now this is where I come in. The way I see it, my birth was preordained because of that concert. Had the two of them not attended that show, there's no guaranteeing they fall in love. There's no guaranteeing they get married and eventually have a son named Dylan. None of that might have happened if not for whatever rock n' roll magic was in the air that night!

I owe my existence to Bruce Springsteen playing concert in San Francisco in 1978! How weird is that?!?! The least I can do to repay the man is follow his career with as much zeal as I can muster.

Which is why every year on the 15th or 16th of December, I remember to take a break from the Christmas and New Year preparations to sit back and listen to that first concert. By good fortune, the first of those two shows was broadcasted live via radio, which was subsequently recorded on tape. For decades, that bootleg has circulated among hardcore Springsteen fans like myself, especially proliferating during this modern digital age; you can find "Winterland '78" across the Internet. Within the Springsteen community, "Winterland '78" is regarded as one of the finest concerts ever recorded.

So every year around this time I sit down, I dim the lights, I crank up "Winterland '78" and pretend like I was there. It may have occurred 11 years before my birth, but it's still an important point in my family and personal history.

Battle of the sexes: Holiday edition

Click here to see how this all began.

My favorite Thanksgiving side dish: Mashed potatoes
Her favorite Thanksgiving side dish: Sweet potatoes

I sleep better with the window closed
She sleeps better with the window open (except when it is below freezing outside)

When I cook dinner: Carefully monitoring each pot and/or pan as the food cooks
When she cooks dinner: Just throw everything into a crockpot, wait 6-8 hours, then eat

Her in the morning: Nothing happens until she's had coffee and done her yoga
Me in the morning:

I'm ready! I'm ready! I'm ready!

Her opinion of soup: Soup is delicious and is an important part of a balanced diet
My opinion of soup: I don't like food that can't decide if it's solid or liquid

My opinion of Loki: He is the god of mischief and deception - he cannot be trusted. His release will bring about Ragnarok
Her opinion of Loki: He is super duper cool and much smarter and funnier than Thor! (She's been watching too many movies. I fear she's going to leave me for Tom Hiddleston)

Why she's anticipating The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug: Eager anticipation over seeing Legolas' lady love and nervous anticipation over the giant spiders
Why I'm anticipating The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug: More of the 7th Doctor as Radagast the Brown and rumors that the upcoming Godzilla teaser will be attached to this film
(And because we're both giant nerds, obviously)

My Christmas shopping: 67% complete
Her Christmas shopping: 15% complete

Her favorite Christmas specials/movies: Santa Claus is Coming to Town, It's a Wonderful Life, and The Polar Express
My favorite Christmas specials/movies: A Charlie Brown Christmas (the rehearsal scene between Lucy and Snoopy gets me laughing so hard I cry every time!), Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and Die Hard

When I usually watch It's a Wonderful Life: Christmas Eve
When she usually watches It's a Wonderful Life: Last night

Her favorite Christmas song: "The Christmas Song" (nice job on the name, guys. How long did you work on that one?)
My favorite Christmas song: Toss-up between "Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!" and Bruce Springsteen's version of "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"

My opinion on the "War on Christmas": I love Christmas, but it dominates this country in every manner possible; overshadowing every other activity, event, or religious holiday during this time of year. There is no threat to Christmas.
Her opinion on the "War on Christmas": Huh?

My opinion of New Year's: Arguably the most important and most celebrated holiday on the planet
Her opinion of New Year's: Meh. No big deal

What she's drinking at holiday parties: Wine and beer - like the adults
What I'm drinking at holiday parties: Sparkling cider - like the kids (It's champagne with no hangover!)

Her least favorite month: January ("Nothing happens in January!")
The month of my birthday: January

I'm thankful for... (2013 edition)

I did this last year and figure I'll do it again. Tis the season for giving thanks, after all.

I'm thankful to have my own apartment. Less thankful for the clogged pipes and moldy bedroom wall.

I'm even more thankful that I get to share this apartment with my fabulous girlfriend. It hasn't even been two months since we moved in together, but it's already hard to imagine living in a place without her. I love you, sweetie!

I'm thankful for our perpetually stressed-out maintenance guy who is kept busy by our old apartment building.

I'm thankful I no longer live in a house full of flea-infested pets. I was itching everywhere!

I'm thankful for hot apple cider and warm blankets. We've had a major cold spell lately, so that's how I've been spending most evenings in our new place.

I'm thankful for supportive family members who still find time to worry about me despite their own problems.

Speaking of family, I'm thankful and excited to see those bunch of misfits called the Hoff Family next month! It'll be the first Christmas celebration since my Papa passed, which still takes getting used to, but it will also be a Christmas of other firsts. The first Christmas for the newest little member of the extended family and the first time GF gets to meet everyone. She's studying the Hoff family tree in preparation for all the relatives she'll meet.

I'm thankful I'm getting the opportunity to share in the splendor of the holidays with GF. I'm thankful for our upcoming trip to California, where she'll meet the people and visit the places I grew up with.

I'm thankful to have already reunited with my good friend Puma during this holiday season, and look forward to seeing more friends in the weeks ahead.

A photo of the ASU-WSU football game from The Seattle Times
that Puma's family had saved just to show me.

Like last year, I'm still thankful to have graduated college. Although in this case it has more to do with the fact that I can put some distance between myself and this photo up above. But more so from this controversy.

Holy Toledo! (as my dad would say). My thoughts about Cougar fans from two weeks ago proved prophetic. This is embarrassing for my alma mater, which is why I'm glad to be somewhat removed now.  Her (sorta funny) trash talk piece didn't warrant this kind of vicious response. Period. It's all so ridiculous and absurd; I can't help but laugh and shake my head in dismay at the same time. Puma and his family will never let me live this down.

But hooray for the Apple Cup and a potential bowl game, I guess.

I'm thankful for the surge of job interviews I've had lately. By comparison to the past 16 months, the last two weeks have been a bonanza (even if none of them has borne fruit yet)!

I'm thankful for the resurgence of the Golden State Warriors. All my life they've been among the worst teams in the NBA; it's good to see them win. I'm especially thankful for this moment...

I'm thankful the Seahawks' secondary keeps receiving suspensions. I'll be incredibly thankful if someone can defeat the Seahawks in the playoffs for me. It will be insufferable living in the Seattle area if they win the Super Bowl.

I'm thankful I have one of the worst teams in my fantasy football league instead of the worst. I owe the Seahawks D/ST for that.

I'm thankful for the return of Hunter Pence and Javier Lopez, plus the addition of Tim Hudson. As for Tim Lincecum - meh.

I'm thankful a new Bruce Springsteen album coming out just two days shy of my birthday! BRUUUUUUUUUUUCE!!!!

Fingers crossed that some way, some how, I get to attend another concert or two in the year ahead. Now THAT is something I'd be thankful for. Given my bank account and Bruce's growing preference for European and other international audiences these days, chances are slim, but I've got "High Hopes."

I'm thankful for the return of the Mystery Science Theater 3000 Turkey Day marathon. A proud Thanksgiving tradition returns! Huzzah!

(*SPOILER ALERT* for Boardwalk Empire ahead!)

I'm thankful Chalky White survived...but DAMN!!! Why'd they have to go and kill off his daughter like that? And more importantly, WHY RICHARD?!?!?! HE WAS THE BEST DAMN CHARACTER ON THAT SHOW!!!

(Spoilers are over.)

I'm thankful that the genre of science fiction allows you to just write your way out of any conundrum or logical fallacy, because otherwise I don't think I'd enjoy Doctor Who as much as I do. The 50th anniversary was certainly fun, but admit it - it made no logical sense! Even by the show's own established (if ridiculous) rules!

I'm thankful for you! No, not you; the other one. Yeah, I'm talking to you! Thank you. You're such a loyal reader. Much better than any of my other followers (don't tell them, but I like you best).

I'm thankful this blog continues to bring a smile to the faces of people who read it. However few that number may be. Thank you for reading my silly little blog.

Happy Thanksgiving!

P.S. I found the answer to last year's burning question: Freddie Mitchell is in jail for tax fraud.

Some more of Dylan's deep thoughts

• We're technically always under the weather. So does that mean all of humanity is sick?
• The best period in someone's life to fool or trick them is the day after they are born. Because then they were just born yesterday.
• Skunks must all have drinking problems considering we often compare a drunk human to them.
• Are people who put on both pant legs at the same time natural overachievers?
• Why would anyone sell seashells by the seashore? People can just pick up seashells right there off the beach - it doesn't cost anything. You definitely want your seashell business to be further inland.
• I imagine chess being designed by a woman angry at her lazy husband. The queen gets to move wherever she wants, while the king is fairly useless and defenseless without the other pieces.
• Checkers was the lazy husband's response to his wife's game. Not as sophisticated or complicated, naturally.
• Using Catching Fire to sell sandwiches seems really inappropriate given the storyline of those novels.
• Thanksgiving is practice for Christmas. It's Christmas Beta.
• Romulus and Remus are two children who have the excuse of have been raised by wolves (well...a wolf).
• Never test the theory of cats having nine lives. Trust me, the results ain't pretty.
• If foxes could actually talk, I'm pretty sure what they would say is, "What the fuck is wrong with you people? We don't sound like that at all!"

Loose on the Palouse

It was in 2008 that I made the important move from high school to college. I applied to a lot of small private universities with the hope my good, if not stellar, grades from a well-respected school would allow me to go just about anywhere.

I applied to the highly regarded Reed College and Whitman University here in the Pacific Northwest.

I also fooled around with the idea of becoming a screenwriter and applied to Chapman University and Loyola Marymount University in SoCal, which have good film schools.

I considered an application for Stanford, too, but decided not to in the end (sorry, Mom). But I did apply to a few schools with the UC system.

And then, just because they had an application due date later than any other school I'd looked at, I applied to Washington State University as well. I'd heard about their respected journalism program, which was another field that piqued my interest. But WSU was little more than an emergency backup option. My biggest hope at the time was to return to the promised land of California - I was done with Washington ... or so I thought.

(It was during all this that the infamous name debacle took place.)

Unfortunately, my (or really my mother's) expectations were mostly dashed. Out of eight schools I applied to, only two accepted me: Loyola and WSU.

It was either study film or study journalism. Enjoy the California sun or the winters of the Palouse. Live in glitzy Los Angeles or someplace called Pullman.

Spend $42,000 on tuition per year or $24,000.

I went with the latter choice.

Tuition was the most important factor; my family's finances weren't getting any better. However, the realization that attending Loyola would mean having to live, work, and study in LA on a daily basis was another contributing factor. The San Franciscan in me just couldn't allow that to happen.

So Pullman it was.

Pullman. Farm country. The smallest town I've ever lived in. Where people wear cowboy hats and boots un-ironically. Nestled right up against the border of Idaho of all places! Idaho! Yeah, the state of meth-heads, neo-Nazis, and potato farmers. This is where I spent four formative years of my life.

First impressions weren't the greatest. I visited it months ahead of time to get a feel for the place and, despite being a perfectly sunny day in April, it was snowing. Snowing without clouds! In April! Then, when the big day came and I arrived to officially move-in, a dust storm hit. An honest to God dust storm, like out of the pages of The Grapes of Wrath! (Coincidentally, check out my list of my favorite novels if you haven't yet. *Cheap plug*)

Home sickness naturally took over after a few weeks. One of the first things I found myself missing was not my family, not my friends, not even my pets. It was saltwater. Pullman is the furthest I've lived from a large body of saltwater. I started to miss the feeling of a cool sea breeze on my face and the smell and taste of the sea that accompanies it.

This home sickness led me to do crazy things like make new friends, open a Facebook account, and root for the Cougar football team (if you're a young football fan looking for a university to attend, stay away from WSU. The team stinks, but the fans are worse. God, I hate Cougar fans!).

But it wasn't all bad (or why else would I have stayed?). English 101 led me to sit directly in-between two people who would become arguably my best friends at college. I got to have my own room for most of second semester after my roommate (a red-headed giant of a man who played rugby - we weren't exactly compatible roommates, but generally got along. Though one night he brought a lady friend home with him for some "alone time" without telling me) moved out and I never got a replacement.

And then there were the adventures of the Stephenson North 9th Floor crew. As soon as I can figure out a way to accurately portray how crazy my floormates were without risking possible criminal charges being filed, I'll have a blog post about them. Not at all people I'd usually associate with, but for my first year at college they helped me forget my home sickness and made things fun.

The rest of my time at WSU can more or less be summed up the same way: it wasn't all bad. It certainly wasn't all good either.

For every friend I made, there were friends lost as well. For every two or three classes I truly enjoyed and learned things in, there were duds where I've already forgotten what I learned. There was the thrill of my new major and all its accompanying knowledge and skills to be learned, followed by the slow realization I may have picked the wrong thing for me. For every triumph at college, there was tragedy back at home. For every bit of praise I garnered, there was someone talking behind my back.

But college is like life that way. It's a bumpy road full of highs and lows. That's what college is ultimately supposed to be about, they say - to prepare you for "the real world;" for being a grown-up. While I sometimes doubt whether I'm ready or not for this "real world," I still feel confident I made the right choice in attending WSU.

WSU certainly gave me some interesting stories to tell - ones I hope to share with all of you going forward. It allowed me to learn new things about myself. And it certainly introduced me to a variety of new people, some of whom I'm proud to call good friends.

And I got a pretty neat girlfriend out of the whole ordeal, too!

Go Cougs!

Turn the page

I've given you my favorite TV shows of all time and my favorite music (Springsteen and non-Springsteen). Now it is time I continue on with my all time favorite books!

Try to contain your excitement.

I've mentioned several times before that I like stories and the art of storytelling. There is no more time-tested format for successfully delivering a story than through a book. From The Iliad and The Odyssey all the way to 50 Shades of Grey, books have been mankind's greatest source for storytelling.

Naturally, I've got more than my fair share. This was never more apparent than while moving a couple weeks ago and I had to decide which books stayed and which came with me because there wasn't nearly enough room for them all. I have books spread across two apartments and one house in three different cities in two different states! I even have an entire closet full of old books...in my sister's bedroom! They're taking up space in someone's else bedroom (which, to be fair, used to be my room).

Today, I list a few of my favorites. Feel free to share some of your favorites or offer some recommendations in the comments section. I'm always eager to read more.

#10: An Abundance of Katherines by John Green

I have plenty of favorite books, but not a lot of favorite authors, per say. John Green is an exception to this rule. The YouTube celebrity wasn't quite so famed when he wrote An Abundance of Katherines, just his second novel, but it certainly showcases the writing talent that helped make him so in both literary and Internet circles.

An Abundance of Katherines tells the story of Colin Singleton, a former child prodigy who is finding it hard to live up to expectations as a "genius" now that he is 17-years-old. Disillusioned with his life and abandoned by his girlfriend (the latest in a long list of girlfriends all named "Katherine"), Colin and his best friend, Hassan, embark on a road trip of self-discovery that takes them to some pretty unexpected places: both personally and geographically.

I personally find this to be Green's funniest book, which is what helps it make this list. It may not be as deep as his others (at least one of which is bound to make my honorable mentions list - and yes, I haven't fully figured out that list yet), but deep down inside I've always been more a fan of comedy than tragedy. This book has a little of both, but mostly it's the laughs that just keep on coming that make this book among my Top Ten favorites.

#9: The Thomas Black series by Earl Emerson

It's my list, so I'll include multiple books under one heading if I want to!

I don't read a lot of mystery novels, but I was turned onto this series of novels by a high school teacher of mine and found myself hooked ever since.

Written by a Seattle firefighter-turned-author, the novels offer a different look at a city I'm quite accustomed to already. They follow the adventures of Seattle private investigator Thomas Black, and include a varied supporting cast of crooks, victims, fellow detectives, corrupt officials, and seductive temptresses that our hero encounters.

Written in a manner typical of detective film noir, the series nonetheless stays fresh and interesting through its variety of capers. The sarcastic wit and humor Emerson instills in Black helps in that regard, yet his protagonist is also fiercely noble underneath his gruff exterior (aren't all detectives?).

To this day, there is only one novel in the 12 book series I haven't read - The Million Dollar Tattoo (hint, hint to anyone thinking about getting me a Christmas/birthday present).

(Editor's note: Just learned a 13th book was published earlier this year, but is online only! Gonna have to borrow someone's Kindle or Nook to read that.)

#8: The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck

You're not going to see a lot of literary classics on this list, but this one makes the list for good reasons.

The Grapes of Wrath, better than any other book I've read, describes the personal and very real struggle of working-class men and women that continues to this day. The characters are fictional, and the Great Depression and Dust Bowl things of the past, but the fight to survive never ends. Steinbeck knew that when he wrote this book, and sure enough it is still taught in English classes to this day.

Those last words of Tom Joad, whether read in the novel, spoken by Henry Fonda in the film, or put into song by The Boss in "The Ghost of Tom Joad," is maybe my favorite monologue in any medium.

#7: The Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins

Collins, concerned by the American media's obsession with violence and reality television, penned this trilogy of books in response. And it doesn't get much more violent or real as seeing teens forced to battle to the death in a devilish arena, or the ensuing events after the "games" are all over.

A bleak look at what the future could hold, The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay are three books I had a very hard time putting down. And the finale will go down as something I'll always remember (I remember just sitting in my father's living room feeling stunned. I had to go and take a walk to clear my head. Perhaps the most shocking conclusion I've ever read).

#6: The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling

This is the series that molded a generation in many ways. Possibly multiple generations. It was the first chapter book I read on my own.

The wholesome good vs. evil storyline may be a bit simple, but the characters, settings, and (most of all) the magic make it worth it. The series perfectly encapsulates the importance of friendship and love in tackling life's problems - even if those problems include an all-powerful genocidal wizard and his legion of followers.

#5: Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Jesus Christ's Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore

At the risk of being labeled some sort of heathen, heretic, or blasphemer, I just want to say that this might be the most outrageous book I've ever read. Very rarely do I actually laugh out loud while reading something, but this book almost had me rolling on the floor with every chapter.

The title is kind of self-explanatory - it's about Jesus Christ, as seen through the eyes of his (probably) fictional best friend, who has been omitted from the Gospels for good reason. But now he's getting his chance to set the record straight - about Jesus of Nazareth, about his family, friends and disciples, his travels abroad, and the secret origins of the art of judo ("the way of the Jew").

A hilarious comedy (minus the last chapter - I mean, we all know how the story of Jesus Christ ends) that nonetheless keeps pretty darn close to Scripture while also reasonably presenting ideas and concepts from other religions that may have influenced Jesus. Lamb is a great read if you keep a sense of humor and an open mind about it.

#4: The Godfather by Mario Puzo

Mario Puzo scored a major hit with this novel turned film series (the first two films are my favorite movies, too), first published in 1969. Borrowing from the rich (if twisted) tradition of real life Italian-American gangsters, The Godfather introduced terms like "Cosa Nostra," "capo," and "consigliere" into the American lexicon. And, of course, gave a whole new meaning to the term "godfather." It forever changed the portrayal of mobsters in American fiction.

The Godfather is more than just a crime novel. It's a hard look at the American Dream. Not everyone has that house with the white picket fence. Not everyone is a successful entrepreneur and pillar of the community. So what happens when men become desperate to carve out a life for themselves? What lengths will a person go to in order to protect their family? The Godfather portrays an America where crime and business go hand-in-hand, and family values become an excuse for heinous acts of violence. It's capitalism run amok.

Full of character back stories that aren't entirely relevant, I could see where this book would bog down some readers. But I happen to love good characters, intriguing back stories, and old-school gangsters! That's why this books makes the list. It's a gritty, mature look at America's underworld.

#3: The Bartimaeus series by Jonathan Stroud

A series of young adult books about magic written by a British author? Sounds vaguely familiar...

My common summary of this lesser known series of books is, "It's like Harry Potter, but better!" While I realize this will sound blasphemous to many Potter fans, hear me out first. There are several similarities to the esteemed Potter books - magic is real, young British protagonists, British settings (for the most part), evil forces at work, etc. - it is the differences that make this the superior series of novels in my estimation.

For starters, the author has a much more cynical view of magic. Magicians, as they are called in these books, do not live secret from the rest of the world. Magicians run the world! Especially in Great Britain, which, through superior magical and military might, is still running it's colonial empire (the book clearly has a post-WWII setting, but otherwise it's a bit obscure what the time period is exactly).

Secondly, Stroud's magicians (unlike Rowling's wizards) are actually quite limited in their magical prowess. Their primary spell casting abilities lie in their ability to summon spirits and demons from the "Other Place" to do their bidding for them. Everything from cooking, cleaning, spying, and waging all out war - it is these enslaved beings that do all the real magic work.

Thus we are introduced to the primary character, Bartimaeus - an ancient djinni (or genie, if you prefer) whose skills are only matched by his ego and wit (perhaps even exceeded by them). Each book (The Amulet of Samarkand, The Golem's Eye, and Ptolemy's Gate form the original trilogy, while The Ring of Solomon serves as a prequel) is written half in Bartimaeus' first-person perspective and half in the third-person perspective of one or two varying teenage human characters.

Furthermore, the series distances itself from Rowling's book through the plot. We are presented with a despotic Great Britain (or despotic Israel in the case of the prequel) where magicians rule through cunning and ruthlessness. The books are rife with political intrigue, elements of class warfare, sociopolitical undertones, and blurred lines of good and evil. But it is Bartimaeus' witty and sarcastic narrative, complete with historical footnotes on all the things he's seen in the last 5000 years, that really make this series.

So if you've ever imagined Great Britain's empire lasting longer than in reality, wanted to know who was responsible for the fall of ancient Mesopotamia, or wondered about King Solomon's obsession with jugglers - these are the books for you!

#2: World War Z by Max Brooks

I'm not really into the obsession with zombies these days. Zombies are dominating our movies and video games. It seems you can't go outside anymore without running into people simulating a zombie apocalypse. Humans vs. Zombies is a popular game on many college campuses and there are races and fitness apps that pretend zombies are chasing you.

With that said, I love World War Z! Written in a documentary-style format, the book is set in the future following humanity's successful survival of the zombie apocalypse. World War Z is written entirely through a series of fake interviews with various survivors from across the globe - everyone from generals and politicians to soldiers and average everyday citizens.

It's not about the "jump scare" of an undead body reaching out to grab you and eat your flesh; it's the hundreds of thousands of millions of other zombies behind him, slowly and inexorably marching toward you, that is truly terrifying. A monstrous tidal wave that cannot be stopped. An enemy that never rests, is always on the hunt, and grows stronger with every victory.

The book is a "historical," political, and sociological look at what a war against zombies might look like. That's what truly sets it apart. Zombies have always been a good way to illustrate humanity's failings (i.e. George Romero's Dawn of the Dead = critique of American consumerism), and Max Brooks uses that to great affect. You find yourself not surprised when American businessmen attempt to profit from the zombie panic, that the Chinese government tries to cover-up the infestation, or when Russia goes absolutely bat-shit insane.

Definitely give the book a read before going out to see that totally different movie.

#1: American Gods by Neil Gaman

Neil Gaman may be another exception to my rule regarding favorite authors.

American Gods takes a fairly simple premise and turns it on its head. Gaman imagines what it would be like if all the gods, monsters, folk heroes, etc. of ancient and modern mythology were real. What if they were hiding amongst us, blending in, living normal lives? Gaman creates a world where the gods and creatures of old are trapped in a world that no longer has any use for them, and where new gods of machine and technology are steadily replacing them.  

American Gods reminds us of the power of storytelling, while also telling a deeply personal story of its own. The book's protagonist is an ex-con named Shadow who suddenly finds himself in the middle of a war between past and present, and must learn things about himself and his family he never imagined possible in order to survive.

Brooding and ominous, but complete with some dark comic relief, American Gods is a fantasy fiction masterpiece. A must-read for anyone who is a fan of mythology and folktales.

Honorable mentions: The Fault in Our Stars (I told you some more John Green would be here), House of the Scorpion by Nancy Farmer, Without Feathers by Woody Allen, a whole slew of Star Wars novels (yes, I am that nerdy), The Abhorsen trilogy by Garth Nix, Bruce Springsteen and Philosophy (yes, this is a real book), The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien, Paddy Whacked: The Untold Story of the Irish American Gangster by T.J. English, Five Families: The Rise, Decline, and Resurgence of America's Most Powerful Mafia Empires by Selwyn Raab, I'll Sleep When I'm Dead: The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon by Crystal Zevon, Bruce by Peter Ames Carlin, A Game of Thrones by George R. R. Martin (very much looking forward to reading the rest of the series!)

Naturally, the honorable mentions list is longer than my Top Ten list.

Battle of the sexes

Living full-time with GF now has definitely illuminated the differences between us. I love her dearly, but we are definitely different people.

As she reminds me quite often, "You are such a guy!" Usually after I've watched a game or start going on and on about a team, statistics, or sports history.

We disagree on food, too. Like whether we need just a smattering of ketchup on our fries (me) or COVER IT ALL IN KETCHUP! KETCHUP EVERYWHERE!!! (GF).

I thought I'd share some of the contrasts of preferences/opinions/etc. with all you folks. I'll let you decide who is right and who is crazy.

My favorite movie: The Godfather
Her favorite movies: Love Actually and Tangled

My favorite book: American Gods
Her favorite books: Pride & Prejudice and The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins

Her music is a little bit country.
My music is a little bit rock n' roll.

My favorite Star Wars movie: The Empire Strikes Back
Her least favorite Star Wars movie: The Empire Strikes Back ("Bad guys aren't supposed to win.")

She prefers to drive cars with a manual transmission.
Without an automatic transmission, I wouldn't be able to drive.

I always complain about feeling too warm.
She always complains about being too cold.

Her dresser size: 5 drawers, 52 x 33 inches.
My dresser size: 3 drawers, 30 x 27.5 inches.

Percentage of bathroom sink/cabinet area reserved for her stuff: 70%
Percentage of bathroom sink/cabinet area reserved for my stuff: 10% (I don't even use up all of it)

What I envision when I think of a pet chameleon:

What she envisions when she thinks of a pet chameleon:

For me: "Vacuuming is no big deal. It's like the easiest part of housecleaning."
For her: "I'll do everything else except vacuum! Please do the vacuuming!"

For me (as a kid): "Disneyland was alright."
For her (as an adult): "It's the most wondrous, magical place on Earth!!"

For her: "Wrestling, football, and boxing are barbaric."
For me: "Kill 'em! Rip 'em apart! Whoooooh!!!"

Percentage of total shelf space taken up by her books, DVDs, and music: 15%
Percentage of total shelf space taken up by my books, DVDs, and music: 85% (although it would need to be 150% if I brought everything)

I'll start listening to Christmas music after Thanksgiving.
She has already started listening to Christmas music.

Her ideal meal: Salad, followed by a kale salad (smothered in ketchup. She really loves ketchup). With dark chocolate for dessert.
My ideal meal: Meat! With a side of meat! And for dessert - meat! (And maybe some mashed potatoes.)

The thing that sends her into an instant panic:

Awww...look at the cute little guy.

The thing that sends me into an instant panic:

KILL IT! KILL IT NOW! DESTROY IT WITH FIRE!!!!

The reasons I dislike Twilight: The stalker-ish and abusive relationship between Bella and Edward. The implications that a woman isn't complete and has no purpose without a man in her life.
The reason she dislikes Twilight: "The vampires sparkle. Vampires aren't supposed to sparkle."

Bet you didn't see that last one working out that way, did you?

Love & cysts

Hey, folks! You may have noticed recently that I don't blog on as regular a basis as a year ago; that I've missed a week here and there lately. I want to assure you that has nothing to do with a lack of interest in blogging, but rather a necessary shifting of priorities in order to adjust to important life changes.

What does all this fancy talk mean? It means I've been distracted lately.

First were some health concerns that turned my thoughts elsewhere. In addition to the usual worrying about the health of family members, I had a minor problem of my own. I developed a cyst on the back of my neck; the third time one has formed in the same spot in the last five years. I'll (hopefully) be undergoing a minor surgical procedure to remedy the problem permanently - if my damn surgeon ever gets around to it! It's been more than a month since it recessed and I still don't have a surgery date in place.

As a matter of fact, this will be my first surgery ever. I've never been under the knife before. Not even had a tooth pulled or my tonsils taken out. It's a little scary to think about, even though it should be a fairly minor procedure, since it is my neck he'll be working on.

Secondly, I have to admit that I've been suffering from some writer's block lately. I'm finding it harder to think of interesting things to write about. And when I do, I'm not sure how to convey them. I have plenty more stories to tell, I just need to find the right time and style to unveil them. Those of you who keep following me have these stories to eventually look forward to:

• My raucous first year at college.
• My time working at a college campus newspaper.
• More of Dylan's deep thoughts.
• An introduction to The Lord of the Dice - aka Bad Motorscooter. 
• My time spent in a Canadian jail (prison can really change a man).
• The time I was accused of being a racist/sexist pig.
• And maybe, just maybe, you'll learn about my role in the JFK assassination...

Let's see...is there anything else I should mention? What else has been going on in my life?

Oh yeah...I'm moving into a new place this weekend. I'm finally moving out of the proverbial parents' basement (we don't have one, but I've been living with them) and into my own apartment. Well, it's not just mine...

Back in August, my girlfriend told me her apartment lease expires in November and asked if I would move in with her in a new apartment by then. This represents a huge step for us - committing to live together under the same roof. No more weekend visits.

Naturally, with such huge importance resting on my answer, I thought it over for all of one second before answering, "Of course I want to live with you!"

So for the last month and a half we've been searching high and low for an affordable apartment for the two of us. It hasn't been easy. I still can't get a job as so much as a dishwasher and the area we were looking to move to can be a little high rent (damn you, Microsoft!).

Nonetheless, we found a place and have already begun the moving-in process.

I'll still be near Seattle, but in a completely different neighboring town than my current one.

This will certainly be a new experience for me. I've never had any luck with the ladies before now, so needless to say I've never been in a relationship that got to the point of, "We should move in together." I've never had a roommate I was also dating. This is the first place of my own that wasn't owned/rented by a parent or was considered college property. It's my first big step into the real world; the adult world.

This could be weird.

Is that stopping me? Hell no!

Sure, we both share concerns of finding out we can't stand each other. But to be honest, we both feel like we're ready for this.

The main thing I still worry about is finding a job. I don't want to feel like a dead-beat boyfriend, staying at home while my girlfriend (let's just say GF for short from now on. She remains anonymous from the Internet and readers know who I'm talking about) has to provide for the both of us. I'm petrified by my own inability to earn even the simplest jobs due to my lack of experience. Earning my keep was never a focus when I was a child. My parents, or at least my mother, were too busy drilling into my head the need for education. Education would lead to suitable middle-to-upper class employment down the line. My education isn't paying off too well now, is it?

Sorry, I got a little snarky and cynical there. Let's get back on topic.

Believe me when I say we've thought this over already. GF and I feel like we've gone as far as we can in this relationship while still living apart from each other. It's time to take the next step and see what happens from there. We're ready to see what the future holds.

With any luck, it will be a future that holds lots of love, less cysts, a comfortable apartment, and a good job. Oh, and don't forget the jetpacks and flying cars.

More of Dylan's deep thoughts

• Dead men used to tell no tales, but thanks to modern forensic science they really reveal all sorts of things. 
• You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but nobody wants flies to begin with. They're pests! And it's a waste of honey.
• Why is it called the foul line or foul pole? If the ball hits it, it is ruled fair. It should be the fair line/fair pole.
• How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie pop?
• Though really, who actually licks a Tootsie pop? You suck on it. Totally different.
• The reason evil geniuses always reveal their plans just before they (attempt to) execute the hero is because they are suffering from severe loneliness and struggling through abandonment issues. They just want someone to talk to. They have very few people to relate to so normal social interaction is hard; that's why they resort to world domination.  
• Do the Kardashians actually do anything? And I mean anything. At least Honey Boo Boo attends children beauty pageants.
• If someone is "honest as the day is long" does that mean their honesty fluctuates with the seasons and the shortening/lengthening of daylight?
• Do the people of Weed, CA realize how hilarious their town name is?
• Or how about people living in Yolo County?
• Guns don't kill people, but people with guns do so at a very alarming rate.
• Squirrels are just effeminate rats (credit goes to Tom on that one. "Who is Tom?" you might ask. Never mind that right now).

The power of the ring

Sorry, Giants fans. This disappointing season is all on me.

Back in April when I had to attend my grandfather's memorial, I also received a gift from my father. It was an authentic replica of the 2012 World Series ring handed out to all the players, coaches, and upper management following that miraculous playoff run.

My precious!

I loved it! I couldn't get enough of it! And not just because for one moment in my dull life I felt like a champion. I had my own (fake) bling!

It was also because that replica ring was a lucky ring.

Let me set the scene for you. It's April 29th. I'm sitting at my father's place, watching the Giants with him - as we do. Giants are locked up in a tight one with Arizona: 4-4 going into the 8th inning.

Now, I'm not a superstitious man. But when it comes to baseball, I'm a little-stitious (sorry, I know. Bad joke). I've had lucky objects before associated with the Giants: pukka shells, orange and black necklaces, rubber chicken, my pin hat (still wear that one to every game I attend). During the 2010 playoffs, I had a whole checklist I had to keep. I had my pregame playlist - a set of songs to amp myself up - and my outfit consisting of a Tim Lincecum wig and Brian Wilson-ish fake beard.

Sexy!

Feeling like we needed a little extra something to win this game, I run to my room and grab the World Series ring. Placing it upon my pinkie (it was just a bit too small for my ring finger and too big for my pinkie, so I had to make do) I wished the Giants would win this game.

Sure enough, Brandon Belt hits a soft dribbler up the middle scoring two runs, which the bullpen would preserve to win the game.

The next night, we have a similar story. Same two teams playing while dear old dad and myself watch on. Giants are losing 1-0 in the 9th when I go and get the ring again. Pablo Sandoval steps up to the plate with a man on, and unleashes a monstrous home run to win the game for the Giants. After that, my father kissed the ring on my finger.

We go to the next night now. Same story - Giants are losing by two runs in the 8th. I'm starting to sense a pattern by this point, so I grab the ring. Belt does it again, blasting a 3-run home run to take the lead. Dad kissed the ring again. They would add on two additional runs in the 9th and win 9-6.

I've realized by now that I am in possession of a lucky ring. In awe of its magical powers, I took it with me to the game on May 3rd against our arch rivals: the Los Angeles Dodgers. Hiding it in my pocket until the opportune moment (and to prevent thieving Dodger fans or jealous Giant fans from stealing it).

My friends accompanying me doubted my stories of the lucky ring, laughing right in my face. Nobody in the whole stadium, Giant and Dodger fans alike, were laughing by the 9th inning. It had been an excruciating game for both teams and firmly fixed at a 1-1 tie. But leading off the 9th for the Giants was last year's MVP, Buster Posey. With my lucky ring affixed to my pinkie, Buster sent the first pitch he saw from Ronald Belisario over the left field wall to win the game for the Giants.

It was no longer just my dad kissing the ring.

All in all, the Giants were 6-0 during my first week with the ring.

Sadly, after the memorial and after I returned home to Washington, my mind focused on other things. I started taking the ring out less and less, somewhat forgetting about it. And in turn, the Giants started losing more and more games. The ring no longer seemed important in the wake of the team's collapse.

With our official elimination from playoff contention this month, I realize that it is all my fault. I stopped wearing the ring, and as a result the Giants faltered.

My bad.

So I'm writing this to apologize to my fellow fans. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I got distracted by life, and then dismayed by the team's fall from grace. I realize now I could have done something to reverse this. I realize that I was given a heavy burden, one that I alone must carry. With great power comes great responsibility, and I couldn't handle that responsibility.

Which is why I make this pledge to you: next season I'm wearing that ring. Every time the Giants need a big inning or a clutch hit, I'm slipping that ring on my finger. And I can guarantee that next season will not end like this one. The future of our team rests with me and my lucky fake World Series ring.

Next year will be different. I promise.

Dylan's fantasy football preview

Everyone else has a fantasy football preview! Why shouldn't I? I want in on this gravy train! Wait ... I won't make any money off this because I have no sports credentials? Neither do half the employees of ESPN!

On with the preview anyway! Here are my tips on becoming a successful fantasy football owner (maybe someday they'll even work for me).

Get the first overall pick
This is just a no-brainer, really. Assuming your league does the standard snake style draft, whoever has the first overall pick starts with a huge advantage (my league switched over to an auction style draft a couple years ago and now I've developed a love/hate relationship with it).

I don't care how you do it, just make sure you've got that first pick. Intentionally tank the season before (and repeat every year to keep getting the number one pick), hack into the system, sleep with the commissioner, or just become commissioner yourself through any means necessary (elimination of rivals, forming key alliances, starting your own league, etc.). That reminds me...I became commissioner of my league this year. Hmmm....

Stay away from New England TEs...
Remember last year when people went crazy over the Pats' twin TEs, Aaron Hernandez and Rob Gronkowski? Yeah...not so much this year.

Gronk is a year or two away from leaving the NFL to live his dream of being that guy who still lives at the fraternity despite graduating/failing to graduate five years ago. Plus, he's got his own personal ambulance now to take him everywhere he goes just in case he hurts himself again.

As for Hernandez, I haven't really been paying much attention to the news lately, but I hear some troubling things about this kid. I'd say wait until next year when the controversy is over. Now can anyone fill me in on what he did? I've been out of the loop.

...but load up on as many other Patriots as possible!
Tom Brady is called the "Golden Boy" for a reason. As much as I hate the comparisons to Joe Montana, he's a surefire Hall of Fame quarterback, and has a tendency to turn the players around him into pure gold. The only reason Wes Welker will remain relevant is because now Peyton Manning is throwing to him. Do you honestly think anyone would remotely know who Danny Woodhead is without Brady? He even made Brandon Lloyd look competent for one season!

So even if you can't grab Brady himself, grab any and all other Patriots you can find! Say hello to Kenbrell Thompkins and Zach Sudfield!

Never use your second pick on D/ST
Again, if you're doing the snake draft, this is very important. I made the mistake of drafting the Chicago Bears D/ST in 2008 with my second pick. By the end of the season they weren't even on my team anymore. They were an unstoppable fantasy juggernaut the year before! How was I to know they'd fall apart so quickly? Thanks for the advice, Woody Paige...

If you're going to draft a mobile QB, draft another one who forgets that he even has legs to run with
Seriously, mobile quarterbacks are the unluckiest sonnuvabitches in the NFL. If they aren't dealing with injuries, they are inevitably just sucking at times. How many of you have drafted Cam Newton the last two years only to bench him every time he earns 25+ fantasy points and start him the weeks where he gets about 8 points? And don't get me started on Michael Vick!

If you're going to take a highly regarded mobile QB, you'll need a reliable pocket passer to compliment him. It's just smart. As highly regarded as Newton, Russell Wilson, Colin Kaepernick, and RGIII are right now, don't draft them without at least getting a Tony Romo or Eli Manning; if not something better.

I'm planning on naming my first born son after Kaepernick if he can lead my team back to the Super Bowl, but I'm not relying on him to be my starting fantasy QB.

Never trust a Charger
I dare you to name more than one receiver on that team. Plus, they have Ryan Matthews. Ryan...Matthews. And remember when Phillip Rivers was actually a good QB?

Avoid Jamaal Charles and Darren McFadden
I realize I'm being a Negative Nancy with most of these tips so far, but trust me on this one. I've been burned twice now by Charles' injury tendencies and my father can tell you how aggravating owning McFadden can be. Make sure you've already got two running backs with functioning legs and feet before taking a risk on these two.

Put your faith in God...
...and draft Tim Tebow. Because with Tebow on your team, God will definitely be on your side. All your players will magically score 20+ points every week. Provided none of your opponents are sacrificing goats to Cthulhu as a means to win, you'll have a huge advantage.

Check for free agents every week
This is a little post-draft tip. How come all these previews always neglect to look past the draft? That's when the most important stuff really happens. Check those free agents and waiver wires in your league regularly. You'll never know when you'll find a goal line RB who consistently steals touchdowns from one of your opponent's regular starters (thank you, Mike Tolbert and LenDale White!). Or a surprising D/ST that no one thought to draft. Or an injury replacement guy who turns heads (Ben Tate made my year in 2011 when I signed him, but when I drafted him in 2012 he burned me badly. Well, actually Arian Foster did by staying healthy).

Have a little fun with it
Whether your last pick or two are entirely inconsequential following your terrific early draft picks, or you already figure to have no shot at your league's title to begin with, feel free to have a little fun with your draft.

Draft players based upon silly names: Woodhead, Gronkowski, Gostkowski, Gradkowski, Lebowski, Barkevious Mingo (you'll just have to draft the entire Cleveland D/ST). Gosh, I miss Chad Ochocinco...

Draft a team of some of the shortest players and rename your team the "Shortstuffs" or "Coming up Short" or something like that: Drew Brees (6'0"), Russell Wilson (5'11"), DeSean Jackson (5'10"), Doug Martin (5'9"), Wes Welker (5'9"), Steve Smith (5'9"), Ray Rice (5'8"), Dexter McCluster (5'8"... on second thought, fuck McCluster! He screwed me in the past!), Maurice Jones-Drew (5'7"), Darren Sproles (5'6"), Jacquizz Rodgers (5'6").

Or show your opponents that you have as much respect for them as you do for the law by drafting a team like this: Aaron Hernandez, Michael Vick, Plaxico Burress, Adam "Pacman" Jones, O.J. Simpson, the 2005 Minnesota Vikings, every Bengals team from 2006-2011, and Cleveland Browns owner Jimmy Haslam.

Follow these tips, and I guarantee* success in your fantasy football league.



*Guarantee may not apply in some states. Or any state. Or any country.

57 channels and there's nothing on (well...not quite)

I'll come clean right now - I'm a bit of a snob.

I don't mean I enjoy only the finest caviar or have reserved seats at the opera. What I'm talking about is entertainment. TV, movies, books, music - I'm picky about what media I take in. I take grief from people for not adoring every summer blockbuster or following the hottest singers.

I like what I like and there's nothing anybody can do to change that. I generally prefer something that is going to make me thing, challenge me, explore unfamiliar territory.

So I thought I'd share a little of my personal preferences again, as I have in the past with music. This time, we talk TV (or I write TV and you read it, and then maybe leave a comment or gripe to me later in person). My top five favorite television shows. Of all time.

#5: Dexter
So it's a show about a serial killer? He's the protagonist, the "good guy"? Sounds interesting. Of course, he only kills other murderers (or does his best to limit it to murderers). It's a fascinating look at a character that you know going into it is not merely flawed, but legitimately crazy. He's a psychopath! But one that's been trained to deal with his own kind. And along the way he starts discovering things about himself that shouldn't be possible for a man with his...condition.

Michael C. Hall's acting is best during the execution scenes - his character is rarely more honest and open than when he is with his victims. It's terrific to see him attempt to exorcise his own demons before putting an end to someone; like they're a therapist he's come to see rather than a murder he in turn has stalked to kill.

Season 4 alone, with special guest star John Lithgow and a season finale I'll never forget, stands out to me as one of the greatest pieces of television history. While the show kind of took a dive following that, it still stays in my top five. I'm sad to see the series come to an end, yet excited to see how they wrap up one of my favorite character studies.

#4: The Sopranos
I have a soft spot for gangsters. Organized crime is a subject I'm fascinated with. The creation of a violent, brutal subculture within our greater society as a whole; capitalism at its most perverse. The Sopranos knew how to delve into this world, as so many others have before, but added an extra element.

The Sopranos was a combination of action/adventure, family drama, and ethical study. Tony Soprano was like so many other disgruntled, conservative TV dads we've seen. Yet he wasn't. Tony is a gangster. More than that, he's an absolute monster! He commits acts of brutality on a regular basis, yet he is the main protagonist. You are supposed to emphasize with him as he deals with his slacker son, rebel daughter, argumentative wife, and his very worrisome mommy issues (and even more worrisome mother). I personally always struggled with that, but I will admit Tony was usually more sympathetic than his fellow gangsters. Not to mention the truly bizarre forays into the realm of existentialism the show took.

There have been few shows like The Sopranos. Boardwalk Empire is a good imitation, but an imitation nonetheless. And I hear The Wire shared certain similarities, but I haven't seen it. For me, The Sopranos is in a class all by itself.

#3: The Daily Show
I may be showing some of my political bias here, but I recognize good comedy when I see it. And The Daily Show is the best comedy on TV these days.

Jon Stewart and his "correspondents" constantly skewer news, politics, and society. His satirical news show, widely regarded by people my age as the most honest name in news (which does kind of miss the point), has been an eye-opening look into the quagmire that is U.S. politics and insanity of modern media. Eye-opening, yet uproariously funny too!

I've given up on other comedians who talk about political and social issues in a negative light; always blaming the other party and complaining more than telling jokes. But Stewart's tendency to keep things light despite all the bullshit him and his team are confronted with daily, serves as a reminder to me to do the same.

#2: Mystery Science Theater 3000
I already did not one, but two blog posts about this fantastic cult comedy. Why waste time doing it again? Go read them yourself.

#1: Justified
For those of you who have heard me attempt my atrocious Kentucky accent, you know how much I love this show.

Another of Elmore Leonard's memorable characters brought to life on screen, Raylan Givens is everything you'd expect from a Wild West U.S. Marshal. Except it ain't the 1800s - it's the 21st century. Born 200 years too late, Raylan tries to maintain law and order in his native state of Kentucky, especially within the violent hills of Harlan County. All the while we explore his motives, emotions, ambitions, and (usually crazy) relationships

Not as existential as The Sopranos, not as flawed and ruthless as Dexter Morgan, and despite some very witty dialogue, not as hilarious as The Daily Show or MST3K; but Justified and it's many characters represent the finest thing on television right now.

Headlined by the aforementioned trigger happy, Stetson wearing U.S. Marshal, the show is bolstered by a great cast of characters. The exasperated chief who could use a break from Raylan's antics, the rookie Marshal looking to prove she belongs, the ex-Army sniper who you just sense has some deeper issues we haven't explored, Raylan's con-man father (who then married his deceased wife's sister) a modern day Bonnie & Clyde pairing, and a host of memorable side characters and villains. No wonder that of the show's seven Emmy nominations, five have been acting nominations (with Margo Martindale and Jeremy Davies the two very deserving winners).

Much like Season 4 of Dexter, I'd place Season 2 of Justified on my Mt. Rushmore of TV series seasons. Hands down, the best thing on television right now.

Honorable mentions: Boardwalk Empire, The Newsroom, Doctor Who, The Colbert Report, Monty Python's Flying Circus, Courage the Cowardly Dog (don't judge, that cartoon was fantastic!).

Bucks Lake

As I mentioned more than a month ago, I went back to California for a long overdue camping/fishing trip. While the camping part never really developed (long story), I did get in a full day’s fishing with my father and some extended family.

We returned to the sight of our most recent triumph: Bucks Lake in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. We camped and fished there in the summers of 2010 and 2011. While we had success on each of the previous visits, this past year the only thing any of us caught were sunburns. And in my case, a shoelace (don’t ask). However, Bucks Lake remains the home of my greatest fishing accomplishment.

As of 2011, I'd only caught one fish my whole life: Lake Oroville, a popular summer getaway spot in California. I think I was 16, so it was quite some time ago, and the fish I caught might as well have been a minnow. I remember feeling a sharp tug on my line, and that was it. Just a single tug. I thought maybe I’d briefly latched on to something and reeled in just to make sure my bait was intact. Sure enough, at the end of my line was the tiniest bass I’ve ever seen. We let it go.

So I've never felt very good about my fishing skills. But I’m in good company because most of the Hoff family is bad at fishing. Despite numerous fishing trips over the years, dating back to when my father and his siblings were all little (during the Cretaceous Period, I believe), there haven’t been many tales of great success.

The exceptions to this rule are my Papa and my cousin, Adam. Papa is the reason any of my uncles enjoy fishing to begin with, and it seems Adam has inherited his talent. Adam is like a fish whisperer compared to us! I’ve seen him catch fish using nothing more than chewed gum on a hook as bait. He’s the master now.

My father and I made our first trip to Bucks Lake with two of my uncles and three cousins. Two full days of fishing resulted in four nice fish for eating and another four that were caught and released. Adam was in particularly fine form; he had the majority of our catches.

Anyway, my two uncles and one of my younger cousins joined my father and me again the next year to the same spot. We only caught three fish that year (all of them keepers, however), but it marked a personal achievement for myself. I was responsible for two of those fish!

I caught the first of the day. I felt the sharp, incessant tug on my line that signaled a catch. As unfamiliar as I was to that feeling, I still recognized it for what it was. I had a fish! He put up a decent fight, but I tired him out and reeled him toward the boat where one of my uncles grabbed him. A beautiful brown trout! I had caught my first fish worth keeping.

After my father even the score at 1-1, my second catch of the day came a few hours later. It was a no-look, over the shoulder catch. I know that makes it sound like a football or baseball catch, but let me explain. What happened was I had my fishing pole resting on my shoulder with my line going directly out behind the boat as we slowly trolled along. Suddenly, my pole was slamming into my shoulder as my second trout of the day took the bait and paid the price.

But the biggest story from that particular trip is the one that got away (isn’t it always?). My uncle David hooked something big! He fought with that thing for what felt like half an hour before finally he started getting it close to the boat.

It was a monster! The king of the lake! It wasn’t a fish, it was a shark! No, a whale! No…the Loch Ness Monster! The largest trout any of us had ever seen and it was now within sight of our boat. Just one problem: we had forgotten our nets in the truck that morning. With our other three fish that hadn’t been a problem, but we could tell this would be different.

My uncle Darrell stalked out to the end of the boat as David continue reeling in (I know, there’s a lot of “D” names on one boat…wait until I try describing a Hoff family holiday to you). Darrell planned to grab it with his bare hands, but the monster got its second wind upon spotting him and the boat. Darrell had his fingertips on it at one point before it splashed away. A few seconds later – it snapped the line! Taking David’s hook and bait with it, the Bucks Lake Monster swam back into the depths.

None of us have forgotten that day. And to this day, that fish gets bigger with each retelling.

Now I understand the thrill of hunting. Eating something you personally tracked down and fought with to subdue – its fun! It’s exhilarating! And that haunting feeling you get about the one that got away… it stays with you.

I prefer lines and hooks to guns and orange vests, but it’s the same thing really. Nothing tastes better than a meal you’ve caught yourself.

With the bitterness of defeat still fresh in my mouth, I can't wait until next year's trip! I'm coming for you, fish!

The cold city

"The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco." - Mark Twain

"The weather here ... it's very reminiscent of England. Actually, it might be worse. At least we see sun in the summer." - British woman I overheard on MUNI

There is no place on Earth colder than San Francisco.

That chill you get when a brisk wind from the bay sweeps across your body - nothing compares to that. That's a chill that goes straight to the bone. It penetrates deep inside you; within your very soul.

Alaska - whatever.

Scandinavia - got nothing on The City!

Siberia - a vacation spot.

Antarctica - positively balmy by comparison.

San Francisco has a perpetual gloom over it that sometimes actually worsens during the supposed summer months. A dampness that no other area gets. That's saying something coming from a guy familiar with Seattle!

Every single day in San Francisco starts and ends exactly the same way. There's heavy fog in the morning, with strong winds bringing in new fresh fog in the evening. The details of the day in between can vary day-to-day and season-to-season, but that's the starting and ending point for every day. Fog, fog, and wind.

That's no joke. You can set your watch by the fog level in San Francisco.

And that's the thing - it's just San Francisco. Once you're outside of city limits, you're free! Cross any one of the bridges or start driving southbound and you'll find yourself out of the Twilight Zone and in California. There's bright skies, warm weather, children laughing and playing, birds singing. The bay is still right there, but the other surrounding towns are unaffected. You can look back from where you came from and just see dark gray clouds obscuring the city.

I can't explain why San Francisco is perpetually cold, damp, and windy. All I can do is explain why it feels so much worse than anything else.

Now my experiences with cold weather are certainly limited. On my dad's side, my roots are from North Dakota. I've never been there, but I don't think I'd enjoy a North Dakota winter. I've pretty much been locked onto the West Coast my whole life.

Still, I do have lots of experience with Washington; both the Seattle area and Eastern Washington. Next month will mark 11 years spent living in "Seattle" or Pullman, Washington. I've had my fair share of rain and snow living in this state. Seattle's reputation is certainly well deserved. And I'll never forget that winter of 2008/2009. Walked outside to go to class and it was -8 F. So cold I could barely breathe; it physically hurt to suck in air that cold.

However, there's a difference. You are told about Seattle's tendency toward rain, and that in the winter time Eastern Washington gets even worse. No one tells you about San Francisco's problems.

The problem is not so much a physical one as a mental one. Your brain is telling you that you are in California, but your body is feeling that wind chill and saying, "Are you bloody paying attention to what the eyes are you showing you?!?! Look at those clouds! Do you feel that chill?"

You are mentally prepared for California and instead you get foggy London town. You go to Chicago expecting the Windy City, you go to Antarctica expecting nothing but ice, you go to Nebraska...oh, who am I kidding? Nobody ever goes to Nebraska.

Which is why the summer's are even worse! You are even more mentally prepared for warmth and sunshine, and instead it's maybe (if you're really lucky) 60 F with some sun between 11:00am-4:00pm (I wasn't kidding about that watch thing). And then it's back to winter. And then the next day is 50 F with no sun. In the middle of summer!

A couple of summers ago, some friends of mine drove up to The City from Fresno. They were college friends of mine now living in Southern California, and hadn't had much experience in Northern California yet. It was sort of an impromptu visit, and they arrived at my doorstep wearing shorts and T-shirts right around the time, as I mentioned, that the wind picks up and the fog rolls back in. They had to borrow clothes to avoid freezing. Thankfully the next day was a rare reprieve from the norm and was 75 F and sunny, so I could actually take them out on the town.

That's the thing about Washington - it gets summer. Washington, even Seattle, is seasonal. Since July 1, Seattle has been more like San Diego. It might be only two seasons instead of four, but it's seasonal.

San Francisco has just one season. With one strange exception. September and October, of all months, do sometimes lead to decent weather in San Francisco. Right when the rest of the country starts changing into fall, trees die and change colors, animals prepare to hibernate for winter - San Francisco finally blossoms for all of 1 1/2 - 2 months.

So if you're ever planning a trip to the City by the Bay, go in September or October. That's your best bet. Because otherwise you'll be walking into a city locked into a state of almost perpetual winter.

And I still love it!

Dylan's deep thoughts

• If a tree falls in a forest, and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
• Is a bird in the hand really worth two in the bush? Your hand is going to be covered in bird poop and feathers as a result. Let them stay in the bush.
• Narwhals are aquatic unicorns.
• When you kill an undead creature, is it now re-dead?
• Are there womanatees? If not, how do manatees manage to reproduce?
• A woodchuck could totally chuck 24 pieces of wood per hour (assuming a woodchuck could chuck wood).
• Pro wrestling is a soap opera, but with men in tights fighting each other.
• Shakira's hips don't lie because they are incapable of human speech or thought. They're hips; that's not the correct part of the human anatomy for telling lies.
• "American Idol" should be renamed "American Person No One Will Care About in a Year."
• How do British people tell if it's summer or winter? For that matter, how do San Franciscans?
• I don't think Luca Brasi is actually sleeping with the fishes. I think he's dead.
• If Pitbull had his own bobblehead, would just his left hand bobble? (That's what you call an inside joke)
• I'd take vampires over zombies anytime. Vampires are way more vulnerable (garlic, daylight, holy water, sharp wooden objects, and in some lore decapitation and silver work, too) and I'd much rather face something I could potentially reason and bargain with.
• The platypus proves that either God or Nature has a sense of humor.
• If a tree falls in a forest, and hits a mime, does the mime make a sound?

"I'm a little bit country..." "I'm a little bit gangsta..."

There's so much division in this country. Politics, religion, class, and the big one - race.

Racial tension is running high these days. Just look at the controversies surrounding the George Zimmerman trial and the Supreme Court's Voting Rights Act decision.

Well...I'm going to do it. I'm going to bridge the widening gap threatening to tear our great nation apart. I'm going to show how two distinct subcultures of this country have more in common with each other than they think.

I know nobody asked me to do this, but I'm going to anyway.

You're welcome, America.

How will I accomplish this? Simple: with the power of music!

Music is often a strong identifier, sometimes even creator, of many subcultures. What would hippies listen to without The Grateful Dead or Phish? How else would punks, goths, and emo kids know how to dress and accessorize without inspiration from the latest alternative rockers? Where would a hipster be without his/her indie bands you've never heard of?

These are all small examples compared to the two groups I'm going to attempt to bring together; to illustrate the basic similarity of their fundamental beliefs/behaviors/attitudes.

I'm talking about urban vs. rural. Black vs. white. Inner city vs. never-seen-a-real-city. I'm talking about rap vs. country.

Let's face it - these two genres of music, generally speaking, have very different stars and usually attract two very different kinds of audiences. Race is just one difference, but it is a big one.

There are examples to the contrary, obviously. But I bet Darius Rucker doesn't see a lot of similar faces when he plays a concert (though he probably does see a few very confused Hootie and the Blowfish fans at every show). Hip-hop as a whole does include many white faces these days. But hardcore rap remains a genre dominated by and associated with African-Americans.

However, there are strong similarities between country and rap, and within the subcultures they fall under.

Turn on the radio. Whether it's country, hip-hop, or gangsta rap, what do you hear? What are they singing about? What are the biggest hits?

Whether it's "U.O.E.N.O", "Rich as Fuck", "Boys 'Round Here", or "Red Solo Cup" the theme remains the same. Parties, alcohol, sex, and drugs. The preferred alcohol may vary, the party locations differ, the drugs often illicit in one (cocaine, marijuana, ecstasy) and legal in the other (tobacco, nicotine), but the overall story remains the same. Loose women, hot guys, and wild times for all involved.

I realize, of course, this is nothing new. Rock 'n roll, before becoming the name of a music genre, was a euphemism for sex. That genre has long been blamed as the instigator for decadence and sin (to which I ask, what do you think Frank Sinatra is singing about in "Strangers in the Night"?).

Along those lines, love and sex are two common themes in country or rap/hip-hop. Male country singers seem obsessed with girls in denim short-shorts, and rappers don't mind turning their attention in that direction either (I'm looking at you, Sir Mix-A-Lot!). But you can find the softer ballads of love and desire in both as well.

However, country and rap/hip-hop are full of douchebags. Grade-A assholes. Men (and some women) who are looking to flaunt what they got and take whatever they need. There are plenty of country and rap artists willing to fulfill that role.

People love a bigshot, a braggart. They may not want to admit it, but they do. People aspire to have money, fame, wealth, and legions of men/women flocking toward them. The people singing onstage have that already - the common man/woman wants a piece of it, too. That's why popular music trends toward songs that glorify a bigshot lifestyle, regardless of genre. Many country and rap artists exploit that to the fullest.

Doesn't matter if it's Lil Wayne or Toby Keith. Rappers may be obsessed with "swag," but it was cowboys who invented swagger.

And don't get me started on guns! On one hand you have the fanbase that will cling to their guns at the expense of law, order, and human lives; and on the other you have the group that applied the rules of gang warfare to the music industry (sorry, folks; Tupac really is dead). As antagonistic as these two subcultures can be toward one another, the one thing they can agree on - keep the guns!

That's what makes this so funny. Rap and country are two sides of the same coin. Rap and country artists, and the subcultures surrounding each, revel in their differences from mainstream society.

Lots of country singers have proclaimed, in song or otherwise, how they are different politically and socially from the rest of America (see "Boys 'Round Here" ... God, that song is pretentious!). And their fans agree. Country music, rural America, and conservative politics are like connecting pieces of the same jigsaw puzzle.

In the same vein, rap artists and fans identify with a mindset in which the American government and people have treated them horribly for generations. Naturally, there would be a backlash. African-Americans came to this country as slaves and have faced treatment as second-class citizens (to varying degrees depending on time and location) ever since. No wonder rap takes shots at the system; at white people! No wonder a song like "Fuck tha Police" exists! No wonder there is a mutual distrust going on.

Now I know a lot of this blog has been generalizations and stereotypes. There are plenty of meaningful country and rap songs. Not all country singers and fans are ignorant rednecks and not all rap artists and fans are thugs. But there are enough that fit each stereotype, or at least pretend to for the sake of appearances within their subculture, that the generalizations contain strong elements of truth.

Each genre represents their unique subculture, yet do so in surprisingly similar ways. The similarities are so apparent yet the relationship so frayed that if it weren't so funny, it would be really sad.

There has been crossover between the two genres. Justified may have the greatest theme song of any show on TV right now. Blake Shelton claims to not know anyone who can do the dougie, but that sick beat suggests he's been hanging out at clubs where the people do.

However, if the Brad Paisley-LL Cool J controversy and criticism is any indication, there's a long way to go.

This blog has merely been a lighthearted attempt to encourage more crossover; not just between music, but between people. To point out the sameness of two unique sections of the American social landscape. While also taking cheap shots at both (because that's how I roll).

Because at a basic fundamental level, everyone is the same. Country or rap. Black or white.

So if you're a fan of country music and start ragging on how rap music objectifies women, take another listen to "Honky Tonk Badonkadonk" or "She Cranks My Tractor." And if as a rap fan you start degrading all country singers and listeners as bigoted, ignorant rednecks, take another listen to any Jay-Z album and count the number of times he uses the N-word because it's probably more than any country album.

Camping

In general, I'm not a guy who gets out much. I'm a homebody. Going outside is dangerous; there's too many bugs and I don't so much as tan as burn/melt in the sun.

Long vacations are also a rare occurrence for my family - too expensive and there's too much to do at home. I like being comfortable, and nowhere am I more comfortable than the familiarity of my couch or bed.

Naturally, you'd expect my view on something like camping to be similar to this:

But in actuality I love camping!

Camping is another pastime enjoyed by my father and I (along with sports and Bruce Springsteen). In particular we love a good fishing trip. Fishing is what makes camping all worth it for me; despite the fact we might be the worst fishermen in history. I still can't properly set-up a fishing pole on my own, and together we've broken more poles and lost more bait than I care to remember.

I can still remember the first fish I ever caught. We were fishing in Lake Oroville with several relatives. I was trolling along in a motorboat we rented when I felt a sharp tug on my line. I thought I had something, but as I reeled it in there was absolutely no resistance. I figured something had merely nudged my hook, until I finished and on the end of my line was the tiniest rainbow trout I've ever seen. More of a minnow really. We threw it back.

I waited six years before I ever caught another fish. To this day, I've only caught three in my lifetime. And dad isn't much better than me.

Our mishaps aren't just limited to fishing, though. We once spent almost four hours to set-up a tent.

We have this really large tent - can easily fit four people with room to spare. It's also about 40 years old and there's no instruction manual. We used to struggle with this thing every time. You'd think we'd learn from the previous year's struggles, but nope. We would still get confused about which tube connects where? Is this the right part? Is the ground flat enough? This doesn't fit! (That's what she said).

On one particular occasion, maybe four or five years ago, I can remember we arrived at the campsite at 2:00pm, and it was getting dark by the time we finished setting up the tent. We finally color-coordinated all the tent poles ourselves and now we can get that tent up in less than an hour. Maybe 30 minutes if the camping gods are on our side.

Another memorable moment came a couple years before that one. It was my dad, myself, Uncle Darrell, and one of my friends camping together. I can't remember where it was now, but I remember it was the same exact campsite we had been at the year before. But there was one difference on this occasion: we arrived during ant mating season.

Everything was fine the day we arrived, but the next morning the air was thick with large black ants, flying to and fro in search of mates to start new colonies.

I don't know if you've ever seen flying ants, but in large numbers I can tell you that they are absolutely terrifying! They look like black wasps, and at first we thought they might be those. But they didn't sting any of us, and I remembered there being a colony of ants at the edge of the campsite the year before.

We did attempt to eat breakfast amidst them all, during which one landed directly in the middle of dad's back. I told him not to move as I crept in to swat it away. Keep in mind, we still thought they might be wasps at this point. Dad panicked, however, and took the cup of water in his hand and attempted to splash his own back in an attempt to get the ant/wasp/whatever off of him. Except his aim was a little off and instead of splashing the bug he splashed me.

So I was tired, hungry, surrounded by bugs, and now soaking wet.

We spent most of the morning in our tents and the afternoon hiking trails to get away from them all. By nightfall they were gone, and there were considerably less buzzing around the next morning.

But camping is one of those things where you expect things to go wrong. You anticipate failing at something and coping with it. Getting lost on the way, troubles with tents or fishing poles, bug bites, trouble starting a fire, etc. If you do that, the experience is much more satisfying for all the things that go right.

Take roasting marshmallows, for example. You might burn through a whole pack before getting that one perfect s'more, but that one tastes soooooooo good. Same goes for fishing. Nothing tastes better than a fish that you've caught and cooked yourself.

Something my father always does is have a steak dinner on our first night of camping. It takes a lot of preparation beforehand, the seasoning and keeping it fresh on the long drive to the site, but it is so worth it to enjoy steak cooked over a campfire. Nothing compares (not even a fish you've caught yourself).

Dad also makes pancakes from scratch on the last morning of every camping trip, using one of those Colman portable gas grills.

Wonderful tastes aren't my only fun memories of camping, though. There's the hours spent chatting with relatives on the fishing boat; the excitement when somebody caught a fish! Everyone huddling around the campfire together and sharing stories. There's days on the beach when camping near Santa Cruz. The time racoons tried to sneak into my cousins' tent (that caused a common, all right).

The time my uncle had the largest fish we've ever seen on the line. No, not a fish...a shark! A whale! No...the Loch Ness Monster! Whatever it was, we got it close to the boat, but the camping gods weren't on our side that day. We had forgotten the net that day, and this behemoth tore the hook off the line and got away. They say you always remember the one that got away, and I can tell you all four of us on that boat that day still talk about that one. And the fish grows bigger with each telling of the story.

The time something big was rustling in the bushes one night. I was about ten-years-old, and scared to death! Suddenly, a great big stag pokes his head out through the shrubbery. Couldn't see the rest of his body, just the neck, head and towering antlers, but he clearly towered over my father and uncle who were with me. He just took a look around the campsite, and disappeared without a fuss.

For all my instinct to avoid the great outdoors, I still love our semi-annual camping/fishing trips. Those memories (the good, the bad, and the frustratingly funny) will stay with me forever. And I greatly anticipate my next trip and the memories that will follow.