World Party "They're Me Favorite Baaaahnd!"

I just spent 1,000,000 hours trying to de-brick my wife's $60 Sansa c240 MP3 player. Which I eventually figured out after trying the most basic fix possible that I found buried deep on some user forum on www.anythingbutipod.com. Basically, disabling the multiple versions of the USB 2.0 driver that the operating system was running. It fixed in an instant. So basically if you take my salary level and then divide it by the number of hours I spent effing around with the Sansa, as a electronics support technician I'm earning about as much as a Bangladeshi street vendor. Which is okay; in the end, the job was done.

I haven't really used any other player than the iPod before, and now that I've figured out that this thing is really only $60, and has an FM radio, and can take a microSD card, and acts as a voice recorder if you want to record your thoughts, script ideas or bitter blog posts. I'm starting to think that the whole iPod thing might actually be a big waste of money. Hey, hey E.A.S.Y. Depends on what you want an MP3 player to do. For one thing, I'm usually only listening to a few of albums at any one time (mostly recent purchases) and the FM thing is pretty cool (and you don't have to blow all your dough on a Zune). I know, I know, video blah blah postage stamp size blah blah iTunes blah digital rights nightmare blah blah design who cares blah blah if you lose a Sansa at the gym. Oh, and it weighs about a half an ounce. Anyway, it seems like a good alternative to a more expensive iPod, if you just want some tunes to take to the gym. Really, this review is probably just because I'm just so thrilled to have fixed the effing thing.

Oh, and the best hour, the one that followed the first 999,9999 was hunting for a CD to load into Windows Media so I could make sure the Sync function on the Sansa was actually working, was spent listening to 'Goodbye Jumbo' by World Party, which I found stuck in a bookshelf behind the sofa table. Which Caroline and I were just discussing as one of our favorite albums of all time. I could listen to it a 1,000,000 times, fixing people's little electronic problems.

It also reminds me of an English lad who worked at Zeus Gallery Cafe in Richmond, Virginia with me back in 1990 or '91. My cousin's husband, Andy, put the disk on the restaurant CD carousel, and hearing the first few opening bars, he looked up and exclaimed, "WORLD PARTY! They're me favorite BAHHHHHND in a thick English accent." One of those moments in life that you never seem to forget.

Put the Message in the Box is a genius tune.

Turkey Burgers with Tomato Jam

From Epicurious.com, this recipe for Turkey Burgers with Tomato Jam is really awesome and easy to make. For sure the best turkey burger I've ever had, and Caro agreed, too.

Feta and olives (ingredients in and on top of the burger) came from the neighborhood Elat Market on Pico Boulevard. Grilling out on a Monday evening is a different way to start a great week.

My favorite short quote about Elat on Yelp: "Parking's a bitch and you will get manhandled by middle-aged ladies."

Getting Around in L.A. with the TomTom GO 930

I don't usually don't write any kind of product endorsement, but I have fallen in love with GPS. For Father's Day, my wife and son gave me the new TomTom GO 930. Which has already proven incredibly useful, and of all things, relaxing.

For one, the Bluetooth phone hands-free feature is great, given that California has a no-talking-while-holding-phone law that went into effect on July 1st. I can't figure out how to get the Blackberry Curve voice-dial to work through the TomTom, though, so I'm trying to dial on the TomTom's touch-screen while driving, which has already left me drifting wildly across lanes.

It was especially useful on my recent trip home to Raleigh, when I drove in the city I'm not too familiar with, and back and forth to New Bern, and I have used it to figure out where to find specific businesses, like a Starbucks. Those, I suppose, are the sort of things you should take for granted in a GPS navigation unit, but I'll just add that the user interface is pretty good, too.

I think my favorite thing about the unit, in Los Angeles where I already know my way around, is that the TomTom calculates the arrival time. And the result of that isn't so much time management for me, as it is the realization that speeding, aggravation and stress while driving in L.A. are all pointless, because the TomTom does not lie. You can lane change, speed, honk, run red lights; whatever. After only a few trips, you'll notice that at the most, the TomTom grants you a minute or two in time shaved off the trip. Road rage is stress, and stress kills. So, I consider the biggest value of the GO 930 to be its zen-like technology, constantly reassuring me of my arrival time, and the stress-free, laid back listening to tunes on the radio driving experience I get, knowing that I don't have to freak out in traffic to try to get where I'm going. I'll get there safer.

If I'm not trying to dial the phone, that is.

United Airlines = Satan's Chariot. A Customer Service Hell Hole.

The horror of travel realized. I hope someone, anyone in senior management at United Airlines reads this, and feels compelled to pick up the phone. Maybe one of them has a Google alert for "horrible nightmarish United Airlines customer service from hell" - just maybe. If so, give me a call. I work at DDB Los Angeles.

I'm fine with travelling on a holiday weekend; I'm fine with showing up at the airport pre-dawn, two hours before my flight. I'm fine with not being able to check in online because Henry's a child travelling on a different itinerary from mine; I'm okay paying $15 extra for a bag, so I can check both our bags under my name to try to save some time; I'm glad they don't charge you for a car seat, even if it's not clear to the United employees that it's their official policy; I'm fine with having to wait in a line along with my fellow travellers just looking to get to their destinations.

What was unacceptable: the complete lack of proper staffing, order, interest, care, customer service, friendliness, information, assistance, flexibility, process or semblance of competence on the part of numerous United Airlines employees at LAX. I'm not talking about one; I'm talking about an entire cadre of employees who, from the time I walked into the airport until I buckled my seatbelt, collectively managed to construct the worst customer service experience I've ever had. Period. Times are tough, I get it, I'm with you, I know you think your customers are rude, impatient and callous, but do your job. We're all asked to do the same.

The highlights:

• Being told that I wasn't going to get my bags checked in time because it would take at least a half an hour before I missed my 45 minute deadline for checking bags, with no proposal or indication that there was any alternate solution (which, of course, there was).
• Being told to get out of the correct line in order to stand in an incorrect line and then being informed I had somehow created the problem myself.
• The employee who told me to check my 2 bags under my name and pay $15 (which was not a problem) because the car seat would be free, since I had checked in online, and then we could just check in Henry without bags, but then who decided it was time for him to be somewhere else, leaving two of my bags with luggage tags, and the car seat in limbo (because it didn't print a tag for the free car seat). I'm not exaggerating, he walked away and was not seen again.
• Having to then act like an asshole and walk up in front of the agents at the ticket counter servicing the paper ticket line, and beg for them to get me out of limbo, so I could make it through security and get on the flight. I was basically ignored, as was a woman - also travelling alone with a child - who was next to me and couldn't find anyone to assist us, even though we were sent to this United Airlines pergatory by staff.
• The United Airlines employee who then came by cleaning up soda cans, scrap paper and pens and other miscellaneous garbage behind the counter, who chose to ignore me and the other traveller. At this point, I think the stranded mother and I actually laughed out loud.
• Finally, and I'm not making this up - a NON-EMPLOYEE who works for baggage handling listened to my problem, then took Henry's passport and walked it down to the ticketing agents who'd previously ignored my pleas, so they could get him a boarding pass and check in the car seat.
• The United Airlines agent decided to ignore the fact - for no clear reason - that Henry had his own booking code and paid ticket, and chose of her own volition to check him in as an infant-in-arms, with the same seat assignment as mine, because he was under two. At this point, I was so dangerously close to missing the flight, that I was told to go ahead and go through security, and then get boarding passes and seats reassigned at the gate. (I bet you can tell where this is going to end up, can't you?)
• This has nothing to do with how poorly United Airlines is run, but just to add to the fun, the TSA security line was an operation worthy only of a B-movie comedy starring mentally handicapped graduates of a prison-work release program. Yells of "bag check" were met with no response, so the TSA handlers on the scanning machines and metal detectors had no support to actually search bags. Then a guy came, but he had to do both sides of the line, so it ground to a complete halt. Fine. I'll ignore the three guys standing around behind the glass panel hallway (which I know is where the TSA break room is, since you have to go through it to take a stroller up to the gate level. I've seen you all sitting back there, getting your fat asses fatter on sodas and vending machine junk food). And there was no clear policy when a mother, with an expired Illinois driver's license, informed the TSA agent that her two daughters were 15 and had no identification because they didn't drive yet. (Even my 2 year old has a passport.) A couple of other TSA officials came to his rescue, and somehow decided to collectively violate every rule of common sense in this day and age and allow three white women to pass through security without proper identification. At this point, a man behind me who I'd been chatting with, declared it to be the most obvious breach of security he'd ever seen. Note to Al Qaeda: recruit white people.
• When we finally make it through the line, through the TSA fattening chamber (they should take out the vending machines and put in some treadmills - your tax dollars are paying for their obesity) and up to the gate, running at this point as the p.a. system is announcing final boarding at gate 74, the agent at the gate gives me a minute long explanantion on how the supervisors at the ticket counter should have called her at the gate to tell her that they were going to need to rebook my seats. Like that's any of my concern. Which I actually manage to spit out: "that's really not my problem." Which results in being told by the gate agent that the supervisor should have called. Shockingly, I still didn't give a shit. I just wanted the seat for Henry that I paid for. So they finally gave me two boarding passes: a seat for me in business class, and a seat for Henry in economy. Oh, I know, you can do the math. A child in one section and the parent in another. But don't worry. There was a plan: I was told to use the business class seat pass in economy, to trade with the person in the seat next to mine (it was a 777 so it was 2-5-2 seating and I was in 39A). So I get on board, plan in hand: offer Henry's business class seat to the person sitting in 39B). Done.
• Oh, you didn't think that plan would actually work, did you? HAHAHA. Nope, didn't work. When a flight attendant overheard me making my deal with Mister 39B, she said that wasn't allowed. Wasn't allowed because there were too many empty seats on the plane. So at this point, I just decide to argue. Just decide to argue because at this point, United Airlines and its employees, and the entire chain of customer experience, is such a cosmic joke, that all the karma in the universe is on my side. But, alas, it was not to be: the flight attendant decided to use the power only they have, which is to yell "SIR! SIR!" at me, and to trigger the "if I don't sit down, they're going to have me arrested for nothing more than raising my voice in response to their stupidity." That said, the flight attendant was probably just doing her job, and had no idea of her end role in United Airlines game of complete mishandling of passengers.
• So when we get to Chicago, we have to check in again to getting a boarding pass for Henry for the flight to RDU. Which is okay, at this point I'm just glad to be on the way, not rushing to the gate, and almost at the end of the trip (Henry behaved as well as you can expect a 2-year-old to behave on the flight, which was a relief). So it was pure comedy when, Henry sitting in his stroller next to me at the gate, the counter panel to my left (no one touched it, really) fell off. Fell off and toppled onto Henry. He didn't cry, some mayhem ensued, as flight attendants ready to board the flight came rushing over, the agent got nervous, and asked if I wanted to speak to a supervisor. Which led to me being able to stand tall, a wry grin spreading across my face, with all the calm of a patient father, and with a kind voice to say,

"The last person on earth I'd like to speak to, would be anyone who is employed by United Airlines."

Then I got out my camera phone, snapped a photo, and trotted off to change a diaper and grab a sandwich. . .

Fidel Castro Video Game Review

Kim Jong Il Call of Duty Review

This Blog Doesn't Suck.

No, not this blog, dummy. You may think the blog you're currently reading is sucky, okay fine, but this guy's blog really doesn't suck. Maybe because he's a comedy writer, or maybe just because his un-sucky content is about what does suck. Like head cheese, which definitely does suck. A lot. He lives in Hoboken, NJ, but it's unclear if that sucks or not. Mostly, I think it would suck.

He's friend's with the McDonald's raw chicken girl-victim and comedy writer, whose blog, Felber's Frolics, is also quite funny.

23. Wrong Number.

As Verna Broccoli knows, and my buddy Todd Beeton, it's really all about the number 22. Which why reading the awful reviews of the Jim Carrey, Joel Schumacher flick, "23," is perhaps so pleasurable. What's interesting on the Metacritic.com 23 rating page is how many reputable rags (New York Times, Hollywood Reporter, USA Today to name just a few) call the movie "laughable."

Which may qualify it for the cultish "so bad it's good" must see.

[sidenote: I think SNL has been really funny lately.]

Wow, It's ColecoVision

I found this while checking out Ning again - where you can create your own social network app from templates created by others. I've been filling out some content and exploring some of the features and tools on Ning for a LA restaurant review app that will serve as a companion to my blog. I got a great url for it: boltoflight.ning.com. My tagline (cheesy) is Where Good Food Strikes. I'll work on that, I promise. Once I get some content uploaded to it, I'll add a permanent link onto the site. Now that I'm a Wii and a Xbox 360 owner, it's funny to see how far the industry has come since its inception.

My father bought be the original PONG game back when we had a black and white Sony television, which if I'm not mistaken was multi-band because we originally bought it in Germany, but there was a switch on it so it would work in the US. I could be making that up, but that's my recollection - that and when you turned it off the electron beam made a really cool pattern on the screen and then dissolved into a bright dot. I never had an Atari, but I did have one of the early Texas Instruments personal computers, which had a terrible button keyboard. I used to spend hours typing in BASIC programs from BYTE magazine, which you can now buy on eBay.