Tod Goldberg

This Took Me 40 Years: My Favorite Things of 2011

I turned 40 in 2011, which means, at least optimistically speaking, I reached the middle of my life during these last twelve months...which means I should probably stop using "like" as a rejoinder in most of my sentences, but, alas, like, there's still a 16 year old boy alive and well in this skin. This was a fairly epic year, all things considering. It was the first year of my life where I didn't have a living parent. It was the first year of my life that included a visit from a Knievel (Robbie, alas...though I'm gonna try to contact Evel on the Ouija tonight, just to see if my luck can strike twice). It was the first year of my life that included less than 30 digested Pop Tarts. These are not good things or bad things, just things, as it happens. Here, however, are a few of my favorite things from 2011:

Favorite Book Released in 2011: The Barbarian Nurseries by Hector Tobar. I reviewed it here if you want to see me getting all fan boy on it.

Favorite Book Someone Gave Me In The Last Few Weeks: One of my students, upon her graduation, gave me a signed copy of Reading & Writing by Robertson Davies (who doesn't sign many books anymore, on account of his death) and I have been reading little bits and pieces of it over and over again ever since.

Favorite Book I Should Have Read Last Year But Read This Year Instead And Then Lugged Around With Me All Over The LA Times Festival Of Book In Hopes Of Getting It Signed By The Author, Except I Didn't Know What He Looked Like, So, Yeah, It Didn't Get Signed, Which Is Probably Good Because I Would Have Made An Ass Out Of Myself During The Process Because I Loved The Book Like, Totally, A Lot: Matterhorn by Karl Marlantes. There it is.   

Favorite Song of 2011: The song I listened to the most in 2011 wasn't a new song...it was actually a song released in 1984 and has been one of my favorites since about, well, 1984: "Unsatisfied" by The Replacements

 

It was actually a pretty satisfying year, but for some reason this song was on repeat for most of it. 

Favorite Song Released in 2011:  A three-way tie between Drive-By Truckers "Ray's Automatic Weapon", The War On Drugs "Come to the City" and The Baseball Project's "Buckner's Bolero".

Favorite Movies 2011: I saw a lot of movies in 2011. A lot of them sucked. That said, I really liked Moneyball -- I'm a huge A's fan, so I knew I was going to love that, so I probably enjoyed that one the most, because, well, there was a lot of green and gold in it and I like sparkly colors -- but the movie that moved me the most was, by far, The Descendants. I also really liked The Artist, Midnight in Paris, Bridesmaids, The Ides of March and, if I'd seen it, I probably would have really liked Drive. But, yeah, I didn't see it. If it makes up for it, I saw The Town about 20 times this year, so I'll probably see Drive 20 times next year. : 

Favorite Movie I Saw In 2011 That Didn't Come Out In 2011: For some reason, I didn't see The Lives of Others when it was originally released in 2006, but I absolutely loved it. One of the most compelling films I've ever seen.

Favorite Documentary of 2011:  It actually came out in 2010, but I watched Restrepo this year, in January, actually...and then re-watched it three or four more times.

Favorite TV Show I Should Really Hate But, For Reasons Unexplained, And Probably Related To Some Deep Emotional Problems, Absolutely Can Not Stop Watching: The first time I saw "Storage Wars" was during a prolonged head cold that nearly killed me this summer -- this is not an exaggeration: I passed out inside of a hotel and someone caught me before I tumbled to me death down into a marble fountain -- and I have now seen every single episode about nine times. I follow the "stars" of the show on Twitter and somehow find myself reading their sub-literate tweets (this is not an exaggeration, either, these dudes can not spell) and buying into the made-for-TV feuds. I also had the following conversation with my wife Wendy:

Me: If these dumb fucks can make all this money bidding on storage units, imagine how much I could make. They have all these auctions listed online. Imagine the money we could make! I mean, I feel like I could really make some cheddar here.

Wendy: You couldn't make anything, because you're not ever going to go to an auction.

Me: It's possible I could go. There's one coming up in Palm Springs. Retirement communities are basically filled with hidden treasures at these auctions. Like, remember that episode where they all, like, made a shit load of money in Laguna? 

Wendy: No.

Me: Yeah, you remember [I then explain the entire episode to Wendy...] and then that one dude was, like, all "Yuuup!" and then, like, they all made a ton of money.

Wendy:

Me:

Wendy:

Me: You don't remember that episode?

Wendy: You're not ever going to a storage auction because I'm not going to let you go.

Me: I'll go with Rob. Rob Roberge will go with me.

Wendy: That's a fantastic idea. You should go with Rob. And then you and Rob should get a little place together with all of your winnings.

Me:

Wendy:

Me: I'm just saying, there's gold in these auctions. I could totally make, like, a million dollars. And maybe I could, like, write an essay for Salon or something, so that way if I came up empty, I could still, you know, make a little money on the deal. 

Wendy:

Me:

Wendy: Why don't you try out for Chopped instead?

Me: Oh, I could dominate on Chopped.

Wendy: You're an idiot.

Favorite Things I Heard Robbie Knievel Say: Speaking of Rob Roberge, the two of us did end up doing something frightfully stupid together: we went and saw Robbie Knievel jump 25 cars...except that, really, he jumped over two Pepsi trucks that were ringed by 23 cars. So, he basically jumped about 50 feet, which was not as death defying as I hoped. It was mostly death-completely-evading. Nevertheless, it was a good time since I was able to hear the Wisdom of Knievel, which I now share with you:

"I'm not a hero. I. Am. Not. A. Hero. You want to know who the real heroes are? The troops." (At no point did anyone state prior to this announcement -- which came before he jumped -- that they believed Robbie Knievel was a hero.)

"I am not the greatest daredevil in the world. I am the SON of the greatest daredevil in the world." (Again, this didn't seem to be a bone of contention to anyone in the audience.)

 "I've jumped in every state in the United States, except for seven."

Favorite Piece Of Hate Mail Accusing Me Of Furthering The Liberal Agenda In My Burn Notice Books: This one.

Favorite Conversation I Had With A Crazy Person: I end up talking to a disproportionate amount of insane people by virtue of leaving my house periodically to sell my fictional wares on the streets of America. What I've found is that if you happen to be selling said wares at any kind of festival held in a community space, the number of complete fucking maniacs triples. At this year's West Hollywood Book Festival, however, it was as if someone opened the doors to an asylum and told the patients to find me and report back. Which lead to this absolute clusterfuck of a day.

Favorite Guilty Pleasure: Turns out, I'm a pretty huge Pink fan. I didn't know this. And then I saw this concert she did and I was, like, all, whoa, I like that song. And then, like, I spent an afternoon on Spotify listening to her greatest hits and it turns out I love pretty much all of her top 10 hits and, like, some of her obscure b-side shit, too.

Favorite New Addiction: The salted caramel mocha frappacino. I'm chasing the dragon on that one, people.

Favorite Weird Fucked Up Thing I Saw In Person That I'd Never Seen Before And Never Wish To See Again: A black widow spider eating a snake, followed closely by Robbie Knievel's daughter singing the national anthem. 

Favorite Arbitrary Facts About Alexandrea Weis, One Of My 1513 Facebook Friends Who I Don't Know In The Least, Have Never Interacted With And Could Very Well Be Friends With Me On Facebook In Order To Sell My Personal Data To Nigerian Terrorists:  1. Her profile photo is of a raccoon. 2. She apparently wrote something titled To My Senses that her friend Wenona Hulsey was "sooo loving" the day after Christmas. 3. Most of her activity on facebook seems to consist of becoming friends with people with self-published books that these new friends then tell her all about on her page. She's also very diligent about wishing people happy birthday. I will be expecting a message from her on January 10th...or she shall be defriended at once!

Favorite Arbitrary Tweet From Someone Who Follows Me On Twitter: @pollardmkting is an "Internet Marketer, Freight Consultant, Actor, Property Wiz, Life Coach, Fitness Guru, Motorcyclist, World Traveller, Prankster, Fun Seeker, Aussie Rock Fan" -- and I can't tell you how many freight consultants I know who also dabble as life coaches, but it's a lot -- hasn't tweeted since November, but in October he dropped this life bomb on the world: "(ten 2 letter words to live by) If it is to be it is up to me"

Favorite Book I Didn't Actually Read: The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach. I loved all the stuff about, uh, life, and, uh, baseball, but also about how, uhm, in a lot of ways, life is a constant struggle to keep the count even. Sometimes, love (and life) is also just an infield fly rule, if you know what I'm saying. [It should be noted that my favorite book I didn't read last year was Matterhorn, so there's a good chance next year at this time I'll be talking about how great this book actually is and will actually have an informed opinion on the matter.]

Favorite Thing That Almost Happened: I got an email one afternoon from the BBC asking me if I'd be a guest on a show to talk about Jews who eat pork...but then Gaddafi got killed and, well, I got bumped. 

Favorite Thing I'm Looking Forward To In 2012: Finishing my new book. I think I'll be done by February. And by February, I mean March. 

 

Baby, It's Cold Outside: A Dateline Investigation

"Baby, It's Cold Outside" isn't just a holiday classic, it's also a horrifying tale of obsession. Keith Morrison investigates: “It seemed like the perfect date. Two people, single, looking for...something...well...something pure, like the snow that fell that December night. Both so...young, so terribly young. Their futures...seemingly...so...bright. She, the daughter of a good family. He...well...what was he? A man without a past. A man without a time. A man, it would turn out, without a conscience. But she wouldn’t know that yet. Not that night. Not that beautiful December night...”

I really can't stay (Baby, it's cold outside)

I've got to go 'way (Baby, it's cold outside)

The evening has been (I've been hopin' that you'd drop in)

So very nice (I'll hold your hand, they're just like ice)

 

My mother will start to worry (Hey beautiful, what's your hurry)

And father will be pacing the floor (Listen to that fireplace roar)

So really, I'd better scurry (Beautiful, please don't hurry)

Well, maybe just a half a drink more (Put some music on while I pour)

["She, just 16, still living at home with mother and father. He, a man, well, not a man, but old enough to be a man. His own home. A fire. A bar, mirrored, in the back of his home. Where had they met? The local mall, of course, where she spent her days working at a clothing store and he, well, he just spent his days. Looking. But, of course, no one would know that then. No one would know anything about this man, about his relationship with the young woman, until cadaver dogs found her body three weeks later, the stench of alcohol still ripe on her skin, the winter air preserving every horrible thing he'd done to her...but...had he? Or had she gotten lost? Had a mountain lion, or a pack of wolves, hungry from the early winter frost, found her?"]

The neighbors might think (Baby, it's bad out there)

Say, what's in this drink (No cabs to be had out there)

I wish I knew how (Your eyes are like starlight now)

To break this spell (I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell)

 ["At first, the neighbors thought he was a fine addition to the neighborhood. His collection of women's hats seemed...odd...but then who ever knows about their neighbors anymore? Oh, the world has shrunk, but in some places, privacy still means something, so maybe, at night, they heard...sounds. He was a single man, after all. Young. Handsome. Well...there are some things that just aren't discussed on the manicured front lawns of this quiet hamlet, so, as usual, life went on, even on that fateful December night, when screams echoed down the empty street and into the frozen night."]

 I oughtta say no, no, no sir (You mind if I move in closer)

At least I'm gonna say that I tried (And what's the sense in hurting my pride)

I really can't stay (Oh baby, don't hold out)

Oh, but it's cold outside

 [“What must have that night been like for her? Did she bargain for her life? Did she attempt to make a connection to her attacker? Her friends always said she was a fighter...such spirit...such strength. How much strength would it take to fight for not just her life but...well...her soul?”]

 

I simply must go (It's cold outside)

The answer is no (Baby, it's cold outside)

The welcome has been (So lucky that you dropped in)

So nice and warm (Look out the window at that storm)

 [“That night, the wind blew stiff from the north, the snow swirled, power...out...the entire city...dark...but what of the darkness that lived just down the street?”]

 My sister will be suspicious (Your lips look delicious)

My brother will be there at the door (I ain't worried about you brother)

My maiden aunt's mind is vicious (That ol' biddy, she ain't gonna bother me)

Well maybe just a cigarette more (You don't need no cigarette, it's smokin' plenty up in here)

 [“What she could never know, would never know, was that her sister and brother were already concerned. Calls, texts, unanswered. Hours gone by. Worry cloaked the small town. Where had that nice, sweet, girl disappeared to? What had happened to her? Or...who...had happened to her? So, that night, armed with little more than a hunch, sister and brother and their wise aunt – a former Detroit cop – took to the streets. What they would find would change not only their lives but...an entire city’s.”]

 I've got to get home (Baby, you'll freeze out there)

Say, lend me a comb (It's up to your knees out there)

You've really been grand (I thrill when you touch my hand)

Oh, but don't you see (How can you do this thing to me)

 [“Back in the house, that sprawling ranch-style at the edge of town, a house the neighbors would recall as...pleasant...inviting...the kind of house a normal person lives in...the young woman finally realizes that if she wants to live, if she wants to see Christmas, she’ll need to fight. She grabs the only weapon in sight: a comb. What would happen next wouldn’t save her...no...nothing could save her...but that comb, that comb, would reveal something, eventually. She couldn’t know that then, of course, not that night, when it was so, so, cold outside...”]

 

There's bound to be talk tomorrow (Well, think of my lifelong sorrow)

At least there will be plenty implied (If you caught pneumonia and died)

I really can't stay (Get over that hold out)

Oh, but baby it's cold outside

 

[“Tomorrow stretched into next week, into next year, into, well, forever. That young girl? She’d be a woman now. A life of her own. But...no. Something was taken from her. Her mother and father, long since dead now, their hopes of ever finding their daughter's killer long since dashed. Her brother and sister? Well, they moved on as best they could. But it was her aunt, her maiden aunt, the ex-Detroit cop, who never stopped looking for answers. And answers would come, eventually, from the strangest place...a comb...”]

 

 

Do They Know It's Christmas? Fuck You.

When "Do They Know It's Christmas?" came out in 1984, I pretty much thought I was British. I dressed like the asexual keyboard player from the Cure, pretended to really love everything Depeche Mode was singing about -- because, you know, people are people, after all...though, uhm, I certainly didn't want anyone going all master & servant on me -- and pledged undying love for bands I'd only ever read about in the obscure British magazines they sold at Tower Records (in fact, only since getting Spotify have I ever even heard an entire Blue Nile album and it turns out, well, they sound like every other shitty band I pretended to like, except for Belouis Some, who were terrible on a whole other level). So when "Do They Know It's Christmas?" came out, along with the video, it was pretty much all of the greatest things in the world:

1. British bands.

2. British bands singing morosely.

3. British bands singing morosely about hungry people in Africa, a place I was only familiar with primarily through playing RISK, but which I nevertheless felt a great passion for. We must get these people fed, the world kept telling my 13 year old self, and therefore I, too, felt this very strongly...for about two months, anyway, because puberty was making me very interested in a whole host of other things, like breasts. 

At any rate, I loved "Do They Know It's Christmas?" and routinely waited for hours for the video to show up on MTV or Night Flight or Friday Night Videos, hoping against hope that I'd get to see the extremely moving vision of Boy George dressed like an advertisement for bulky women's housecoats (watch the video, people) or see the plaintive look in Sting's eyes as he sang the word "sting" (again, check the video, it's a moment of utter grace). But, really, what I really loved was the righteous anger of Bono shrilling, "Well, tonight thank God it's them instead of you..." Oh, yes, so powerful, so wise...

It wasn't until this evening however, 27 years in the dust, as I drove in my car and the song came on the radio that it dawned on me what a fucking dick line it is. It got me thinking about the song in its entirety and what I've determined is that, of all the Christmas songs, it's really the most fucked up one that doesn't have to do with the systematic bullying of a red nosed reindeer. And so I present an annotated guide to how fucked up "Do They Know It's Christmas?" is in a line by line fashion:

It's Christmas time,
there's no need to be afraid.

[Really? No need to be afraid? Does cancer stop on Christmas? What about prostate exams? What about getting the shit stomped out of you at Walmart? You lie, Bob Geldof!]
At Christmas time
we let in light and banish shade

[Okay, now, as it relates to Africa, wouldn't shade actually be a better gift? And when has anyone ever complained about shade? Having lived through 40 Christmases, I'm also unfamiliar with this whole "banish shade" tradition in general, but as a Jew I can tell you that we love us some shade and though I know this holiday isn't exactly a celebration of the Jews, I will say that if it truly were a tradition to banish shade, well, we Jews would have some thoughts on that shit.]

And in our world of plenty
we can spread a smile of Joy
Throw your arms around the world
at Christmas time.
[...but what about if you live in a place that doesn't celebrate Christmas? Like, you know, large parts of Africa?]
But say a prayer,
Pray for the other ones.

[I'm gonna go ahead and presume "the other ones" are the godless heathens...]

At Christmas time it's hard
but when you're having fun...

[like, say, if you're Simon LeBon and you've spent the last 12 months fucking the shit out of supermodels, or you're Boy George and you just got done shooting up some great smack, or you're the other guy in Wham and you're just biding your time until the gig is up and you can marry one of those boxy Bananarama girls and race cars for the rest of your life...]
There's a world outside your window
and it's a world of dread and fear

[Technically, the world outside, at the time, was a London street and in the video it looks like it was filled with fans who wanted your autograph...and, in fact, according to the video, it looked like you were all having a pretty smashing time, quite frankly.]
Where the only water flowing is
the bitter sting of tears

[Oh, for fuck's sake...Sting sings this line. It's a fantastic merging of the real world and the world where a guy gets to name himself Sting, except that it's also about how, uhm, it was really dry in Africa that year...]
Where the Christmas bells that are ringing
are the clanging chimes of Doom

[Just so we're clear here, if they don't know it's Christmas, why would they have Christmas bells? And why ring in the doom when they are clearly already doomed? Wouldn't doom just walk right in at this point? No bells needed.]

Well, tonight thank God it's them instead of you.

[Ah, yes, the crux of it all. If there's one thing the Bible teaches, it's that you should thank god for other people's suffering. Now Bono is a goddamn hero, we're told, since he's spent the last 30 years standing on moral high ground -- a moral high ground paved with the money of kids like me who, you know, didn't know what the fuck Sunday Bloody Sunday was all about, but who were, like, totally in support of it -- but one has to think he could have looked at the line before he sang it and suggested a rewrite. Maybe something along the lines of "Well tonight thank God you have food and clean water and a slight disposable income which allows you the opportunity to buy this great song on the latest technology...the cassette tape! Get thee to Sam Goody!" If this song were written today, Justin Beiber would certainly have something wise to say, like, I dunno, "Well, tonight thank God you're not a Kardashian."] 

And there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time

[This is also egregiously stupid. December is the dry season in Ethiopia, which is really what this song is all about, the Ethiopian famine. But beyond that, it just doesn't fucking snow in Ethiopia, ever.]
The greatest gift they'll get this year is life.

[A shitty fucking life, as you've made abundantly clear...I mean, even God thinks they fucking suck...]
Ohh....
Where nothing ever grows
No rain or rivers flow
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?
[No, because they are starving to death. And also, depending upon where they are in Ethiopia, they may very well be Muslim, so they don't give a fuck if it's Christmas.]
Here's to you...
Raise a glass for everyone
Here's to them
Underneath that burning sun
Do they know it's Christmas time at all?
[How grand. These rich former fucking colonial oppressors are raising a glass to the Africans, who don't even have any fucking water! You're just sipping on wine like it's nothing! You fucking cocksuckers! Send over a bottle of water, don't raise a toast!]

All that said, still love the fucking song. For real. Very catchy.