Suns win game 3.

Jackass.

I have a love/hate/non-existent relationship with Donald "Rummy" Rumsfeld. I hate the way he invaded a country on false pretenses and/ or bad intelligence. But I love his wacky spirit and penchant for tech-vests.

Now, I have one more reason to love the man. Rummy is slumming with Marvel Superheroes.

Marvel is a pretty hip company, and they're doing the right thing by printing 1 million free comics created specifically for our troops around the world. As one would guess, reading material can be hard to come by in the deserts of Afghanistan and Iraq, so Marvel is doing what it can with the limited resources of what their company can provide.

Read up on it here at Newsarama.

I might add that this is not quite the same sort of hokey side project that comic companies are famous for. Example: Jeff Shoemaker once gave me a "Spider-Man meets the Dallas Cowboys" comic which I still treasure. Apparently it was a give-away at Cowboys games in the early 80's. However, you can just imagine how much effort was actually put forth by Marvel on THAT one. (I love the Cowboys... I love Spider-Man... What could go wrong? Oh, I see.....)

An extra special note for Doug: Marvel isn't flying solo on the hokey give-away comics. Superman once required the assistance of a pair of kiddies and their TRS-80 in order to save Metropolis. Really. A TRS-80.

This new comic is written and drawn by Marvel's top-flight talent, so bully for Marvel for putting on their A-game for pro-bono work.

Aside from Marvel showing their genuine appreciation to our brave soldiers around the globe, the other good spilling forth is that the whole thing has given Rummy a chance to hang with Captain America and Spidey.


You know, I wish more superheroes would join me on stage when I have to make a presentation.

Mrs. League here, crawling out of bed to post this edition of:

COSTUMES THAT SHOULD NOT BE

Thanks to Doug for the link. Slinking back to bed now....

HAPPY 5th ANNIVERSARY TO MR. and MRS. LEAGUE

In honor of the 5th anniversary and 5 years of wedded bliss, I present to you the lyrics to "In Spite of Ourselves", by John Prine and performed by John Prine and Iris Dement. Be forewarned, oh Leaguers of a gentle constitution, some of the lyrics are a bit racy, but it's all in good fun. And if you aren't still a bit racy after 5 years of marriage, it's going to be a long, long marriage.

In Spite of Ourselves

She don't like her eggs all runny
She thinks crossin' her legs is funny
She looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter Bunny
She's my baby I'm her honey
I'm never gonna let her go

He ain't got laid in a month of Sundays
I caught him once and he was sniffin' my undies
He ain't too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it's oxygen
He's my baby
And I'm his honey
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

She thinks all my jokes are corny
Convict movies make her horny
She likes ketchup on her scrambled eggs
Swears like a sailor when shaves her legs
She takes a lickin'
And keeps on tickin'
I'm never gonna let her go.

He's got more balls than a big brass monkey
He's a wacked out werido and a lovebug junkie
Sly as a fox and crazy as a loon
Payday comes and he's howlin' at the moon
He's my baby I don't mean maybe
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

(spoken) In spite of ourselves

Not much to report, and I'm not feeling particularly creative today.

Now Jamie is down with my cold from last week. She's trying to be a trooper, but, man... bad colds just ruin you. Not being able to breathe is a total drag.

My brother (Adventures of Steanso) is headed off to New Orleans for Jazz Fest. It's sort of a big roving party across New Orleans as near as I can tell. He's wanted to go for years, so I wish him luck. His legal scheming only works in Texas, so he must be more careful than usual in the great state of Louisiana.

I'm finally back at work. I feel like I haven't been there much lately as one of us is always sick. Luckily, it's not my busy time, and I've been there long enough to be familiar with the ebb and flow of some of the stuff which used to give me hives.

I was reading Maxwell's recent entry regarding her struggle with a prose work she's dealing with outside the world of blogging and her online public persona. Sounds like she's tearing herself up working on thsi thing, and I think that's a good sign. If writing were easy, we'd all be reading Golden Girls scripts.

It got me to thinking about a prose bit I mess with once in a blue moon. I started work on it in roughly 1996 or so. School, work, marriage and smelly dogs have all conspired against me to keep me from ever really completing the thing. Let alone getting past the turning point for Act I.

I am most certainly struggling with many of the issues Maxwell describes (albeit, in no way in such a colorful manner as Maxwell), but just hearing her describe the specifics of what she's struggling with informs me that her story already sounds much, much better than my own. And while that drives me mad with jealousy, after following her NYC based adventures, learning maxwell is crafting what sounds like a fantastic story comes as no real surprise. She can write, she can.

I confess that I have often pondered how much further along I might be with the prose-thing if I spent an 1/4th of the time on the prose-thing as I spend entertaining you jerks. In addition, thanks to the the extremely long period of time I've spent dinking with this nonsense, I've been in an odd situation of passing from goofy college-guy to goofy working-guy, all while working on the same tale.

Experience has provided me with a wider view of the world, which certainly helps to color characters and situations in a different hue. But "maturity" (or whatever you want to call it) also makes you take a step back and look at what you wrote, and wonder "Did I really think that? Was that a situation I would ever write today?" So in a lot of ways, I'm glad I started when I did. And I'm glad I have a different perspective to bring to the table than I did in 1996, 1997 or whenever I first started.

I like to think it's all about character motivation when you're trying to tell a story. You can't tell any story without knowing exactly what every character in every scene is looking for or wants. It's not just a nifty acting tip, it's what writes your dialog for you, it's the weirdness that occurs when you hear writers saying "I don't know. The characters just started talking to me and acting on their own."

It's probably the number one thing to drive me beserk when I'm watching a movie or television program (because I don't think it happens nearly as much in books or plays as those are usually written by a single person). The verisimilitude is broken when characters simply act, but not in a way which serves their stated motivation. Especially when that act is a lynch-pin for carrying a story forward... ugh. Really, I think series television such as X-Files, Smallville, etc... are probably the worst offenders, but that's due to a bullpen of writers and changing technical staff week after week.

But after this extended period, it's tough to remember the motivations I started with, especially as you start imagining lumping in story element after story element. And unlike writing a screenplay, narrative economy is not the watchword in prose. Nor should it be. But it's also tough to balance what is necessary story, what is interesting flourish, and what is a precious baby you dreamed up which you're going to have to kill to make sure the story keeps moving. Prose certainly gives you more of an opportunity to keep those darlings around, but it's tough to know when you're really enhancing and when you're just babbling.

Like most writers who aren't real writers, I've flatly refused to allow anyone to read the damn thing as I'm an overprotective freak, and I take criticism only so well. Jamie looked it over, but she knows she has to live with me, so she's got to be nice.

So two weeks ago I handed the thing over to Steanso, who cares not a lick for my feelings, and who is going to know best where I'm going with the whole thing without a treatment or outline in his hand.

His review?

"Dude, I keep sitting down to read it and then I fall asleep."

Not exactly inspriring, but it speaks volumes. I have not written a gripping tale, but he's a nice enough guy to at least TRY to finish reading the pages.

I do await his comments, because it's worth knowing whether or not what you've slogging away on is tolerable to the average literate mammal. You can't take a little comment like "and then I fall asleep" to heart. You have to find out WHY he's falling asleep. And then decide if it's worth fixing or wandering off to move on to a different project (I've always wanted to try widdling).

I should say: Jason is also known to take his sweet-assed time to do everything, from returning movies to reading your latest opus. And if you can't take the honest word of your own brother, Sweet Christmas... who can you listen to?

I'll probably continue after hearing his input. At this point, I feel almost a biological need to push this mutant baby out. But one thing I learned in school, you can't just write in a vaccuum and assume your words drip with genius. You need brutally honest folks around who aren't afraid to tell you exactly why you suck. You need to listen, decide if what the critic is saying is worth a damn, or if they brought their own troubles to your work, and then move forward.

And sometimes, you need to realize you might not be the genius you thought you were and move on with your life.

Anyhoo, this has turned into a fine little entry.

In other news, despite a luke-warm performance, The Phoenix Suns are once again victorious. But they have to start playing real defense if they plan to finish this series, let alone succeed in the next round.

In a fascinating turn of events, Maxwell has stumbled into the weird, wicked world of the internet and current events.

Check out this most recent entry from Cowgirl Funk.

BATMAN BEGINS NEW TRAILER

Hey, kids...

MTV.com has a new trailer up for Batman Begins. The trailer is only Windows Media. So get out your Bill Gates emulators, Mac Users.

Read up on the movie and view the trailer here.

Thank God Batman didn't have to go up against Wesley Willis. We all know how that turns out.

In other Bat-related events... after the Rockets victory last night I attempted to watch the 1949 serial of Batman and Robin, which i re-joined Netflix specifically to check out. That, and I want to see House of Flying Daggers without paying full price for a DVD.

Let me begin by saying: The suit worn by Batman in this serial isn't nearly as menacing as it is sort of adorable. It looks like it was made by a second grader. Instead of Bat-ears, Batman sort of has these goofy cloth pegs coming off of his head. "Menacing" was clearly not the direction they were headed. You can't really get the full effect without seeing Batman in profile.


Batman and Robin ponder moving their secret headquarters out of a cave and into the sunroom out back

Also, it becomes painfully clear in the first fight scene how unweildy capes would be in an actual fist-fight.

I am not sure I have the stamina to make it through all 15 chapters of this epic. After all, each chapter is quite a bit longer than I figured on. Nonetheless, it is an interesting bit of archival Bat-fun, and the serial is closer to the comics of the time than I would have guessed.

The guy who plays Bruce Wayne is pretty good and certainly looks the part. His convenient excuse whenever he needs to slip away and become Batman? "I'm quite tired." The frequency with which he uses the excuse would, in today's world, have Bruce's friends insisting he receive treatment for chronic fatigue syndrome.

The plot revolves around a mad-scientist type called "The Wizard" who is using an amazing device which can control any vehicle by remote. He's using it, of course, to steal diamonds, which the machine needs to run (no explanation given on how that works, but it is also, coincidentally, the same way Mr. Freeze's Cold-Suit works). So, The Wizard has his machines and minions out stealing diamonds in order to make sure the machine will run. Circular logic, I assure you, but the Wizard seems to have something even more sinsiter up his sleeve.

The girl who plays Vicki Vale is a cute, spunky photographer who, we are told, suspects Bruce is Batman, but doesn't get suspicious when he, say, dumps her off on the roadside after hearing an explosion, saying he must go catch a quick nap.

Robin is there, but, honestly, the actor seems either distracted or drunk. He's sort of a goofy looking guy, too, and probably 5-10 years too old to be anybody's ward. He also looks liek he's about to get his ass handed to him every time a fight scene breaks out.

Anyway, it's all in good fun.

So today sucked.

Lucy is having tummy trouble, and so I had to take her once again to the vet. I'm several hundred bucks out after an X-ray, medicine, blah blah blah...

And that's the tough thing about puppies. You can't ask them what's wrong, you just have to sort of hope the vet can put all the pieces together. Anyway, the x-ray came back fine, which means she didn't eat a rock or something. She's had lab work done, so now I'm waiting for that blood work to come back. Apparently she also had a worm of some sort, so she needed medicine for that.

Man.

She's an expensive little bug.

Anyway, she seems to be doing better, but she's going to spend tonight and tomorrow in her kennel. I'm just a little too overprotective.

Thanks to my second trip to the vet in as many working days, I missed ANOTHER day of work. I hate missing work this much. It's so hard to keep up and make up what you missed.

At least my cold is getting better.

Jim has confirmed Flash Gordon for the movie screenings in Beaumont on July 23rd.

Leaguers, if that can't get you there, I don't know what will.

Honestly, I never saw Flash Gordon until I was in college. And in a lot of ways, I'm glad it took me that long to see it. I think it took a little perspective for me to really just sit back and enjoy that flick.

Anyway, 2:12 left in the Dallas/ Houston play-off game #2 in Dallas. No surprise I'm pulling for Houston. Although Sura still bugs me for some reason. Why is that?

Oh, and there was an ad on during the game for some cellular service, and Top Notch Burger from Burnet in Austin was in the ad. They framed the shot so you couldn't tell it was in the middle of suburbia and were suggesting, if you are at Top Notch, you can't get cellular service. I suppose it doesn't matter that they picked an Austin landmark in the rest of the country, but it did throw me off. Hope I catch the commercial again, because I couldn't figure out where the next shots were done.

Damn, this game won't end. Time-outs never feel this long at the actual game thanks to the Gorilla and the cheerleaders and whatnot.

2.2 seconds left, and T-Mac made an incredible shot. Will Avery Johnson just punch Van Horn in the head? I would.

Ha ha... I hate Mark Cuban. What a dork.

Here's his blog.

Hey, the Rockets won! Dallas is sad. Perhaps the ball on Reunion tower will quit spinning. I went there once when I was six. My parents kept giving me shrimp. I love shrimp.

T-Mac is hilarious. He always looks bored, even when he's destroying Mark Cuban's good humor. Oh, happy Houston fans still hanging out with dejected Dallas fans.

Yao kicked ass tonight. He is a happy genetic freak.

Hurray, Rockets!

So, this past week will surely go down in my personal history as The Week of General Annoyance and Chaos.

Returning home from last weekend's wedding, I felt a bit drained. Tuesday by lunch, I pretty much knew I was not going to make it to work on Wednesday (especially when, in the middle of sentences, my throat would sort of quit making noises, and I sounded like someone was turning my personal volume up and down).

Wednesday I stayed home, tried to take it easy, and generally felt pretty lousy.

Thursday I went to work, felt awful, skipped out early and I have no idea what I did or said Monday, Tuesday or Thursday while I was in the office.

Thursday night around 4:30 a.m., Lucy began hacking with a horrible cough. She's a puppy, and, naturally, I totally wigged out. But at the same time, my vet's office doesn't even open until 8:00, and aside from the hacking cough, she seemed fine. "It's Kennel Cough," Jamie and I decided and went back to bed to try to sleep.

At 8:00 I finally got ahold of the vet, got an appointment for 11:30, realized I was still pretty sick, and flopped on the couch.

By 9:30, Lucy was now no longer coughing. She was just hopping about in the yard looking happy as a clam.

At 11:10 I tossed her in the portable kennel and got her to the vet. The only coughing she would do was when she would pull too hard on her collar. "Oh, it's kennel cough," they said. Told me it's viral, sucks to be me, and told me to wait it out. I got an anti-biotic (in case it wasn't viral) and was told to give my puppy robitussin. Seriously.

Lucy hasn't coughed since.

That didn't keep her from crying for no reason at 12:00 Friday night, which got her butt kicked outside until the next morning.

Saturday Jamie got up before me, made pancake batter, woke me up, told me it was pancake time. We had lovely pancakes.

I was still sipping my tea when she leaped up and began cleaning the dishes. After washing and drying the large, class cutting board, she took a sharp left turn from the sink to put the cutting board onto the island and turned directly into the open dishwasher door. This has the effect of putting a massive hole in her leg that was gross and bloody.

To her credit, 1) Jamie put the cutting board down square on the counter. 2) She never yelled, or cried or passed out. And believe me, this gash was worth yelling, crying and passing out about.

Long story short, we lost Saturday at the emergency room while Jamie got sutures in her leg to make sure she didn't unravel like a cheap sweater.

After we got back from the ER, we more or less took it easy.

Last night we saw Kung Fu Hustle, which is, Leaguers, the best entertainment for your dollar in the cinema at this moment. Great action, very funny, and a pretty good story.

I never saw Kill Bill (either Vol. 1 or 2), and I sort of got the feeling that the scenes with Lucy Liu must have lifted bits from Kung Fu Hustle. If anyone has seen both movies, let me know.

The day, today, went fine. Ran some errands. Bought some pants (khaki and olive) and a belt (black, leather, gold finish belt buckle) and an official Amare Stoudemire jersey I found on sale for half off.

And how did this come in handy? Leaguers, Mr. and Mrs. League spent this glorious evening witnessing Game 1 of Round 1 for the Phoenix Suns in the 2005 NBA Play-Offs.

Boo-yah.

The Grizzlies played a good game, but just didn't have it in them to defeat the mighty Phoenix Suns in this game. Game 2 might be another story. Tonight, however, The Suns landed a 114-103 win.

(What the @%$& happened to the Spurs, man? Let me tell you, The Purple Palace went beserk when they heard that score announced.)

Sadly, our seats were surrounded by many more children this time than the previous game, and some sweet, white haired ladies two rows down, so I felt compelled to self-edit before shouting at the refs, Grizzlies, and the Gorilla.

And, before you ask... no, the half-time show was not the Blues Bothers again. But, they did keep a theme of blue. This game had The Blue Man Group at half-time. These guys were actually pretty fun. Unfortunately, nobody will ever get me to pay for Blue Man tickets in the future now that I have seen them more or less for free.

Anyhow, my voice is gone and I'm still in a good mood, despite my otherwise jacked-up week.

Suns in the play-offs. Hurray!

Even in comics, hindsight is 20/20.

You guys should check out this blog. Thanks to Shoemaker for sending the link.

One of my birthday gifts was a DVD of what is sure to be an instant classic, "The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra."

People, I can't recommend this movie enough. Thrills, chills and spine-tingling adventure.

And in the world of politics, Jamie sends this one along.

SUPERMAN RETURNS SUPERSUIT REVEALED

Well, we all knew it was going to come down to the costume. It looks great in cartoons in animation, but in real life, it can be a bit... uh... well.

Anyway, it ain't all bad, but I confess... I am surprised at how brief his briefs are. I was also hoping for a larger "S", but the one they do have is very cool.

And, really... thank God, because I was expecting to see fake muscles or unnecessary bevelling or something somewhere on the suit. But, nope... he just looks... like.. Superman, I guess.

By the way, I dig the "S" belt buckle. If you're going to change something, nice add-on.

I'm also a fan of a bright red on my Superman, but I can appreciate the change.

Whatever. I've seen it now and I didn't laugh out loud when I saw it. And that's something.

Now if the guy in the suit can act (and/ or make me believe he can shoot heat out of his eyes...)

THE LEAGUE INVITES YOU TO ENJOY AN AFTERNOON AND EVENING IN PICTURESQUE BEAUMONT, TEXAS


So I spent today at home sick, but I'll return to work tomorrow.

Since I was not entirely energetic, I spent the day doing a little mental homework by reviewing my Superman: The Movie DVD, and then watching the bonus features.

Why do this again?

Have you forgotten so quickly, Leaguers?

Jim D. has locked in a print of Superman: The Movie, and he's showing it at the beautiful Jefferson Theater in idyllic Beaumont, Texas. The screenings will occur the evening of July 22nd and the afternoon of July 23rd. In addition to the screenings of Superman: The Movie, Jim is also trying to get a print of the 1980 sci-fi extravaganza, Flash Gordon (starring Max von Sydow).


The League does not recommend you try this one at home...

I have some reading and brushing up to do in regards to Superman: The Movie as our own Jim D. has asked The League to blather on for a few minutes before the movie begins. And The League doesn't like being unprepared when we have to look into the impassive eyes of an irritable East-Texas audience.

I think Jim wants for me to plan an amusement or two for the lobby, but short of offering to shave everyone's head in true Lex Luthor fashion, I am not yet sure what to offer.

So what is The League saying?

Loyal Leaguers, book your flights and hotel rooms now, because The League is going to pastoral Beaumont, Texas for about 24 hours. Post-screening, Jim D. has promised the finest food of The East, and that we shall haunt the hippest bar in all of Beaumont until the wee, wee hours.

Sounds like a peach of a plan, and I'm on it.

July 23rd. We'll make it a Super-League weekend in bucolic Beaumont, Texas.

The first 50 Leaguers to show up will receive a punch in the breadbasket from Mrs. League.


The Man of Steel looks on from 50,000 ft. as Mrs. League slugs another Leaguer.

The League has fallen ill, Leaguers. Some yucky hacking and wheezing has accompanied blood coming out of my tear ducts. No, not really. I think I just picked up Cousin Jim's cold a bit during the wedding.

MONKEYS IN THE NEWS

Anyhoo, The League has raised himself from his sick bed with a tale of caution for these egg-head scientists. Have these scientists never borne witness to humanity's final fate?

Oh, when will we learn to quit playing God?


Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, people. Watch and learn...

***UPDATE***

It ain't just egghead scientists trying to use chimps for their own nefarious purposes.

Fellow comic/ monkey enthusiast and blogger Heidi has dug up this article on the Mesa, AZ police department vis-a-vis the use of our simian chums.

Or, cut right to the chase and read the article here.

In celebration of the the election of Benedict the XVI to the Papacy, I give you the lyrics to Ben, by Michael Jackson.

Ben, the two of us need look no more
We both found what we were looking for
With a friend to call my own
I'll never be alone
And you, my friend, will see
You've got a friend in me
(you've got a friend in me)

Ben, you're always running here and there
You feel you're not wanted anywhere
If you ever look behind
And don't like what you find
There's one thing you should know
You've got a place to go
(you've got a place to go)

I used to say "I" and "me"
Now it's "us", now it's "we"
I used to say "I" and "me"
Now it's "us", now it's "we"
Ben, most people would turn you away
I don't listen to a word they say
They don't see you as I do
I wish they would try to
I'm sure they'd think again
If they had a friend like Ben
(a friend) Like Ben
(like Ben) Like Ben

So the Superman Homepage is nuts with pics from the set of Superman Returns.

I am sure they didn't count on the webmaster for the world's largest Superman website to live in the suburbs of Sydney when they shot the movie in Australia.

It sounds as if Bryan Singer has figured out who intrepid webmaster Steve Younis is, and doesn't mind photos being taken. Sure, some things are sort of spoiler-y. But I can't tell you how great it is to see this movie coming together. Especially as what they seem to be doing is surpassing all of my expectations.

In case there was ANY doubt that these movies are sequels to the original Superman movies, check out Brandon Routh as Clark Kent.



For VIDEO of Brandon Routh as CK, go to the source at The Superman Homepage.

Word is that a photo of Routh in full Superman garb will be released soon. And you bet your sweet Aunt Gertie that The League will be here to show it to you.

We are back.

I am very tired. That whole two hour time difference can wreak a small bit of havoc on your schedule.

The wedding was great. I got to be in it and wear a tuxedo and everything. Steanso was also in tux as well, but did not cut so fine a figure as The League.

John B's family came in from parts mid-western and yon, while Julie's family is mostly based out of Houston, so there we got to meet quite a few from both sides. Good folks.

The League thinks dancing is mostly a very silly affair, but was not afraid to cut a rug when Mrs. League hit the dance floor (she is quite a dancer, you should know). The League managed to pull off "The Batusi" without drawing too much attention to himself, but attempts at "The Robot" drew more attention than The League was expecting.

Leaguers, if there is an official dance of League HQ, it is, without a question, The Robot. Yes, yes... Batman has the Batusi and Superman has the Krypton Crawl, but nothing beats the sheer joy of locking and popping to darn near any song.

The League was totally getting into his locking and popping, and was just beginning to get an appreciative audience when the DJ switched songs and chose a very Robot-unfriendly tune to play. Dammit, I had "Brass Monkey" going and a circle of folks clapping to the beat. That hadn't happened since, like, 5th grade. Or my own wedding. Whatever.

I also managed to catch up with John's brother, Jim, and meet his wife. Cool couple. In addition to being a naval aviator, apparently Jim also raises Alpacas in the Nevada wilderness. So if Jim comes down to Phoenix for an Alpaca Show (no, I don't know, either...) I may get to see he and Michelle. And that ain't a bad thing.

Anyway, John and Julie are now safely married. It was a good time had by all. I wsh them the best, even though I know they'll get it anyway. Can't wait to get back to Houston to see them without all this wedding stuff going on.

The League is out for a few days. John B is marrying Julie L in The Woodlands, Texas. The Bros. Steans will be appearing for the wedding, and we'll even be decked out in tux.

I'm very happy for John B. and Julie L. Those too kids deserve the best.

See you guys sometime next week.

In the meantime, Alex Ross is doing one of 2 covers for the release of the first issue of the new Green Lantern comic series.




Hal Jordan! Hal Jordan! Hal Jordan!

The League Grumbles about The End of Youth

I didn't reflect too much on being 30, but here we go.

On the night of my 30th birthday, after Jamie had drifted off to Sleepytime Junction, I was up and reading comics with the TV on.

Although I was not looking at the television, my attention was piqued as the opening bars to Jane's Addiction's 1990 release, Mountain Song, from Nothing's Shocking came from the speakers.

Coors Beer is using Mountain Song in a new commercial.

You can read the press release here, but here's the jist of it.

"Ice City" - Re-edit by Foote Cone & Belding, Chicago
Music: Jane's Addiction "Mountain Song"
Tagline: "Taste the Cold"
Summary: This spot, which was originally created by the Leith Agency and was re-edited by Foote Cone & Belding, shows how a Rocky Mountain cold Coors Light can turn a dreary hot summer day into a wonderful icy-cold experience.

League's editor's note: Yeah. That's what Coors does for me, especially in Houston during the summer, when it's 105 degrees with 95% humidity. It feels just like the snow capped peeks of the Rockies once you get a six pack of Coors in your belly.

I don't really listen to any Jane's Addiction any more. But I did once, and certainly this particular tune was a sort of hallmark song for my teen-age years. The tune is tied up with some good memories and whatnot, and it's not Coors' fault that this sort of diminishes all of that.

Co- opting music is hardly a novel concept. It's not as if songs other people liked weren't used before in order to sell products, or even products I don't personally like. And it's not as if performers I had previously believed weren't pre-disposed to selling their songs for commercials hadn't cashed in before.

Who knows what the amount of cash was that the owners of the song received for use in the Coors commercial? Sure, it's their song, and they can do as they please... It does, however, complete the long journey the band has been taking in consumer acceptance since their initial break-up.

At the time the song was released, the song (and band, and the album) were not favorites of the kids at my school. They could have their Bobby Brown records and Paula Abdul, or whatever. But you wait fifteen years, and while the song certainly has waned in it's preciousness, I find I can still feel protective of it. At one point, it had value and merit.

But that's what happens, I guess. Wait fifteen years and some ad exec just flips through a catalog of songs until he can find a song with a title including the word "mountain" to go along with his "head for the mountains" campaign, cut a check, and that's it. Everybody involved gets a little richer. The ownership you might have felt out of pure emotional attachment doesn't figure in. The dollar almighty speaks louder than that.

I know, I know. None of this is news.

But you start wondering... did the ad exec like this song at some point in their life, too? And if they did, would this be the fate they'd want for the song? An overplayed soundclip timed to pictures of happy frat boys in the mountains? How did they put it? This spot ... shows how a Rocky Mountain cold Coors Light can turn a dreary hot summer day into a wonderful icy-cold experience.

These are the same people who want to make Gene Kelly break dance to sell Volkswagons, and dig up Steve McQueen and make him drive through a corn field to sell Fords... there ain't nothing wrong with it, right? Or, my favorite, taking the images of George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, putting sunglasses on them and having them shriek like extreme dudes about the good deals on the local water park.

These were the kids who never played in the woods enough growing up to know that when something is dead you leave it alone, you don't touch, and you move on. You don't pick it up and swing it around just because you can.

In the grand scheme of things, this is way far below my absolute horror at some of my other experiences in disillusionment. This commercial rates that mild sort of annoying feeling that baseball fans probably get when they think about McGwire and steroids.

Part of being an adult, I guess, is finding out that there is really no end to the series of disappointments you'll discover in regards to the ideological high-hopes you established during your formative years. The trauma might come from finding out that was Dad in the Santa suit, it might be that you realize your vote really doesn't count, it might be that the crazy rock band from your youth is now buying sports cars with proceeds from a dumb commercial.

Toys That Should Not Be

Oh, Leaguers... finally a TTSNB which I may actually purchase.

McFarlane Toys/ Spawn has just grabbed a license to make "action figures" of three characters from the 2004 movie "Napolean Dynamite."

Sweet.