(November 17) Now that Hudson’s Tour De Minneapolis is finally over, it’s now time to get back to the weekly grind of work, food, drink, and a little sleep. Oh yeah, and bitching and moaning on the good ol’ KRRO.

I had a couple of ideas in mind for my return. In fact, I had one almost completely written in my head until I saw a story on KELO, and also heard my good buddy Cade bitching like a Hudson wannabe.

The story I’m talking about is obviously John Thune’s statement that Larry Diedrich would “make a good addition to the President’s cabinet as secretary of agriculture”.

I hope he’s kidding…but I doubt it. Thune has never shown a sense of humor in the past; why would he suddenly become a comedian?

Why in the world would President Bush nominate a dim bulb such as Diedrich? What are his qualifications. Oh yeah, he’s supposedly a farmer. I guess there are close to a million potential nominees if that’s the only requirement.

Wait, he was also a state legislature. That doesn’t mean much. In rural South Dakota, almost any white guy who runs as a Republican ends up in Pierre…and stays there for as long as he wants.

Most importantly, he doesn’t even fit Bush’s criteria for selecting cabinet members. For the most part, Bush’s main requirement for any post is that you either worked for a huge conglomerate or were their lawyer and/or lobbyist. The Secretary of the Interior, Gail Norton, previously worked as a lawyer for anti-environmental groups. The Secretary of Labor, Elaine Chao, sat on the boards of Dole Food, Northwest Airlines, Clorox, and health care companies C.R. Bard and Hospital Corporation of America. The Secretary of Transportation, Norman Mineta, came from Lockheed Martin. I could go on and on but unless Diedrich signs on to work for Tyson Foods or some other agriculture conglomerate, he’s not qualified for this administration.

And then there’s the simple fact that Diedrich is now a two time loser. Two losses in less than six months, to be exact. Larry, in South Dakota a Republican can lose once. Even Golden Boy Thune has a loss on his record. But you can’t lose twice, especially to a so-called liberal woman (although she’s really a Republican with a Democrat title). You couldn’t even win your home county.

Let’s not forget the last time our President selected a Congressional loser for an important job. Outgoing Attorney General John Ashcroft lost to a dead man, and ended up being one of the most powerful men in the country. Since then, we’ve seen the hideous (and misnamed) Patriot Act completely shred our Bill of Rights, and with a nod of his head the FCC has become a Nazi-ish group of witch hunters. We can’t repeat that mistake.

Larry, you silly little man, it’s over. Go back up to Elkton, and if the rumors are true take your little friend with you. Get back out in the fields for some real work and not an uncomfortable photo op for your next campaign. You did your best, but it wasn’t good enough. To quote the Golden Boy, t’s time…just not for you.

(November 10) I must admit that I’ve been in a rut in recent weeks. The reason is quite simple - it’s hard to be a bitter old man when you’re once again pretending that you’re 25 traveling back and forth to Minneapolis to see your favorite bands. Living in 3-star hotels yet getting little sleep but drinking and eating plenty is hardly conducive to gaining new enemies.

This morning I’m not actually kicking anybody out of town. Actually, my topic for the day has already kicked themselves out of Minneapolis…or have they? According to sources I encountered at the Paul Westerberg shows this past weekend, along with an article in Sunday’s Star-Tribune, there appears to be hope that one of the city’s great landmarks may have a future after all.

Of course, I’m talking about the legendary First Avenue, one of the nation’s greatest live music venues. This past weekend, my pal Traci and I made a pilgrimage to the famed building and took a handful of photos in front of our favorite stars. I’ve posted a few of these at http://scotthudson.blogspot.com.

(October 13) I don’t want to say I told you so...but I told you so. For weeks, no months, I’ve been stating to anyone who would listen that the fix was in with regards to the events center.

This handpicked task force, full of people with questionable credentials and obvious conflicts of interest, never cared whether we need an events center; never cared about the opinions of the citizens; and certainly never cared about the elements that would make such a venture a success.

Their so-called studies were flawed at best; nonsensical at worst. Much like President Bush’s trumped-up report to the U.N. before we invaded Iraq, these morons had a predetermined result and then hunted for facts to support it.

Before we get into all of this, though, I must reiterate my opinion that we do not need a 12,000 seat event center. There is absolutely no evidence that supports building such a facility. Sure, there’s all of these false hopes that building something will lead to more concerts. It’s B.S.

In today’s niche-oriented music industry, there’s very few artists that could realistically draw over 10,000 in Sioux Falls. We would still rarely see any of these acts, as their draw would still be proportionately larger in bigger cities. Tours are also not as long as they were twenty years ago. Outside of a well-timed, or “luckily-timed”, country or pop-rock package tour, this building would be way under-utilized when it comes to concerts.

And our sports teams certainly don’t need the extra seats. I’m shocked that they’re so in favor of this concept. Three thousand people at a Skyforce game at the Arena still looks relatively full; spreading these same three thousand people into 12,000 seats will make the game look like a WNBA game.

I know what you’re thinking. Cher’s close to selling out, and the Storm sold out their last game. Forget about all of the concerts that didn’t come close to selling out, or the average attendance of any of our sports teams. A restaurant doesn’t expand their seating the first time they have a full dining room. You don’t spend close to a hundred million because of one fluke show or special event.

Arguing the need for a stadium is not why I’m here, though. They’ve somehow already gone beyond that point. For the benefit of the argument, I’ll pretend that our city has suddenly turned into a live music mecca, with thousands of people spending all of their time and money on live music instead of DVD’s, video games, and Nascar memorabilia. I’ll live in a fantasy land where every band skips Minneapolis and Omaha to play in our arts-oriented city. We’re now the Liverpool of the Upper Midwest.

If we have to build such a facility, location is probably the most important aspect of the planning. Such a building has to be located at a place that’s easily accessible, has plenty of parking, and doesn’t disrupt the neighborhood too much.

Where in our city fits this criteria? Obviously, the complex that houses the Arena is an obvious choice. There’s enough parking to accommodate multiple events at the various existing facilities. I’ve had no trouble going to a Canaries game the same night that there’s an event at the Arena. There’s also two major four lane roads that surround the area, along with a newly constructed interstate entrance a mile away. There are plenty of bars and hotels in the area, and relatively few other businesses that would be burdened by late night activities.

If for some reason the Arena area is unusable, there’s still other areas that could house such a building. There’s the Fairgrounds, although there’s admittedly some access problems that shouldn’t be too hard to improve. You have available land near at least two different interstate loops. The east side of our city is also growing, and maybe we could actually get some public use out of the road upgrades that we put in to appease Wal-Mart. Hell, my plan would be to tear down the Empire Mall and locate it there. There’s plenty of parking and highway access.

Each of these options would make way too much sense. No, this deal was decided before a task force was even convened. The moment Phillips to the Falls became a real vision the powers that be had concluded that the centerpiece for the project would be downtown. As city insiders quickly and quietly nabbed up any available real estate in northern downtown, architects (including at least one of these new landowners) were already drawing up plans.

Last week’s announcement that downtown was their choice for an events center was nothing more than a formality. And it’s so wrong. There is nothing that suggests that this site will realistically work...outside of a pretty picture for Chamber of Commerce propaganda.

During their announcement, Linda Barker and her ilk attempted to claim that access would not be a problem. After all, it will be surrounded by 6th and 8th Streets. Have you ever tried to drive on these roads. Even during slow days, these two lane roads are a headache. Can you imagine the line of cars forced to wait for green lights at every block, let alone waiting to turn onto Minnesota or Cliff Avenues?

Then there’s the parking issue. The task force is sort of shady in regards to a parking ramp. It’s technically not included in the plans, but they have quietly admitted that it may be needed. Duh. They like to claim there’s already 4500 parking places downtown; a remark reminiscent of the lies we were told when the Washington Pavilion was in the planning stages. Suddenly, we spent a few million to acquire a piece of land and build a ramp.

If a ramp isn’t built, it will be quite humorous to see people who have trouble parking at Best Buy attempt to parallel park. I can already envision people blocking traffic while waiting for a parking space to open up hours before an event. I can also see two thousand Skyforce fans battling a blizzard to race for their cars parked blocks away.

I can also see existing downtown business owners complaining that there’s now no access to their business. Will a jewelry store owner appreciate a handful of cars carrying metalheads taking up their parking spots? If they can’t handle a pool hall serving liquor or bored young adults congregating downtown, what will be their reaction when thousands of pissed off Storm fans look to ease their frustrations?

Bottom line - downtown is ridiculous, and even a bafoon like Linda Barker should realize that. She likes to point to buildings in other cities, such as Omaha, Sioux City, and Minneapolis. But she always neglects to mention that in each of those cities, and in almost every city I’ve ever visited, there’s at least one, if not two, interstates within blocks. There’s also major streets surrounding the facility. Hell, in Omaha you can end up on the interstate even if you’re lost. The Mall of America didn’t choose Met Stadium just because of it’s size. The Target Center would not have been built if the city hadn’t rebuilt the highways surrounding it.

If this building is built, everything must be done correctly. We can’t let downtown pride get in the way of common sense. We must not allow the realtors make decisions that put their vested interests ahead of the needs of the city. It’s crucial that every limitation is investigated, discussed, and improvements implemented when there’s tens of millions of dollars at risk. Any half-assed decision could lead to a terminally empty building that will suck millions of dollars out of our budget every year. We definitely deserve better!

(October 5) This morning’s rant could quite possibly be a historical occurrence. Let me explain. I realize that every time I come in here around 50% of the listeners (or readers) think I’m 100% right on, and the other 50% think I’m full of cow dung. Hell, some weeks my approval rating is probably as low as 10%.

But that’s ok. My gig here is to make people think. I don’t expect, nor want, everybody to applaud when I’m finished babbling. What fun is that? I see myself more as a provocateur; an antagonizer. Ok, I probably come off as a bitter old masochist who’s pissed that the days of fine women, fine drink, and fine illicit chemicals are nothing but a memory.

I’m going off tangent here. My point is that today marks the first time that I expect nothing less than accolades after today’s bitchfest. It’s not because what I’m about to say reads off the page like beautiful poetry, or that I’ve discovered an Achilles heal of a target that nobody dares mention.

No, today I’m going to tear to shreds a company that’s as evil as Wal-Mart, as ruthless as Haliburton, and runs a monopoly that Clear Channel can only dream about.

Are you in suspense yet? Are you sitting at the end of your chair? Do you feel an urge to pull over so you can devote all of your attention to your car stereo? Relax. It’s not that hard-hitting.

I’m here today to give the boot to a company that everybody, and I mean everybody with the possible exception of their corporate executives, has a major beef with. That company is Ticketmaster.

I told you it was nothing ground-breaking. Yet after my experiences this past weekend, I’m boiling mad at these morons. As John Thune says in his wretched testimonial commercials, “it’s time”.

Now I must confess that at times the company has been good to me. Because I’ve been plugged into the online community since it first became available, I’ve been able to learn some of the secrets to obtaining great tickets. I’ve been in the first, second, third, and fifth rows at Rolling Stones stadium shows. Hell, I shook Mick Jagger’s hand and almost grabbed a guitar pick from Keith Richards. I’ve had similar luck with other shows not only in Sioux Falls and Minneapolis, but as far away as Chicago, St. Louis, and Kansas City. Hell, just a few weeks ago I snagged second row seats to see Wilco on October 26.

But that doesn’t mean that I have any praise for them. Just like an indie rock band sometimes has to use the major label system to get their music heard, my dealings with Ticketmaster occurs only because I have to deal with them. They’re the only game in town. Pearl Jam certainly found that out a few years ago.

Back to my experiences last week. The week began with me making a last second decision to go after tickets to see the October 21 benefit for Soul Asylum’s Karl Mueller, featuring not only Soul Asylum but Bob Mould, the Gear Daddies, members of the Jayhawks, and Paul Westerberg, aka God.

Days later came the news that Westerberg would be playing on November 5, with a second show also rumored for November 6. The day before they went on sale, Ticketmaster finally updated their site with info. Here’s where the misery begins. As with plenty of other shows, there was an internet-only presale earlier in the day. In this case, the presale was set for 6 am. Yes, 6 am. Not only that, but you’d have to go to the website of a Minneapolis radio station, Drive 105, to get a password that would let you buy tickets.

Having dealt with radio promotions before, I figured the only cog in this design would be the radio station website. I could see them lollygagging, promoting it on the air for awhile before getting around to announcing it. And then another delay in posting the info on their website.

I set my alarm for 5:30. I hit the snooze once, and prepared a cup of coffee before settling down at my computer. Much to my surprise, Drive 105 posted the password at exactly six. Unfortunately, Ticketmaster wasn’t ready. For the next 45 minutes, I sat there hitting reload. Needing to get ready for work, I had to risk leaving my computer for a few minutes at a time. I shaved in the living room. I turned my second computer on in my bedroom, and made checks before and after showering, dressing, and combing my hair. I sat for another few minutes before leaving my home at 7:15.

Of course, I had to hit Black Sheep Coffee, and I convinced my good buddy Corey to let me use their office computer. Still no tickets. I got up to put cream in my coffee, and during that thirty second interval they finally opened their sale. I quickly entered my order, only to find out that the bastards were already out of presale tickets. Dejected, I sat with my buddy Deonna until I had to go to work.

But the story doesn’t end there. Checking out Westerberg’s message board, I discovered that tickets were suddenly available again! Balcony seats was the best available. But I also had some good news. I had posted on the board that I had to leave the Ticketmaster site, so I’d be extremely grateful for anybody to grab me a seat. A (hopefully) lovely young woman from Mankato managed a pair of front row seats, so there is a happy ending.

Out of curiosity, I decided to go back to Ticketmaster at noon for the regular sale. Generally, presales are tickets that are specifically set aside, so I hoped to nab my own pair of front row (or close to front row) seats on my own. No such luck...the presale had supposedly sold out the entire show.

I wandered back to work, and history repeated itself. With no warning, they put on sale tickets for a second show. By the time I was back online, the best I could obtain was back in the 18th row.

Sure, I’m excited to have tickets for both shows...especially the front row seat for the first show. But what a clusterfuck! And it’s continuing, as I hear reports that really good seats were once again available last night.

Ticket availability isn’t the major beef that people have with this company, however. There’s the piling on of fees that I hear about the most. My run of Westerberg, Wilco, Rock For Karl, and the Pixies are no exceptions. With “convenience fees” and other charges, even the cheapest shows ultimately end up being costly. What convenience did I experience by getting up at 5:30 for tickets that weren’t available until 8? What extra costs does this company experience when not a single human being was involved with my purchase? It’s just a scam for the promoters, venues, and Ticketmaster to swindle us out of every possible penny.

Why do people put up with this crap? I remember back in the 80’s when people would scream bloody murder at us poor record store clerks over a twenty-five cent charge? We didn’t even do it with a profit in mind. It was pure bookkeeping...to protect us to ensure that we didn’t have to dip into the till when the promoter came collecting his money. Any surplus was more than made up by the time spent answering on the phone answering stupid questions.

Can we stop these swine? I hate to say this but probably not. Like all of the other giant corporations, from the already mentioned Clear Channel and Wal-Mart to the three remaining major labels to the other handful of companies that control our lives, they just have too much power, and we have a government that has no interest in breaking the system. This is not a Republican or Democrat problem. They both love their kickbacks and other favors. I guess while they all live the high life, we’ll continue to bend over and take it up the backside...and I have a feeling it’s going to feel worse before it feels better.



(September 29) While there’s many things that I detest about political campaigns, it’s the invasion of privacy that bothers me the most. When I’m home, I don’t want to be bothered. I don’t want a mailbox full of junk mail; I don’t want telemarketing calls; I don’t want people dropping by unless they’re my friends...or a booty call from a beautiful babe. My home is my castle.

Over the past couple of weeks, however, I’m been bombarded by people and organizations wasting my time. Every day I receive a handful of political junk mail; some sort of truthful but most of them hateful lies. Every night I have to endure so-called “surveys” designed more to put the fear of God in my head then any desire to compile opinions and other data.

Worst of all, I have to endure people coming to my front door. Besides the fact that I have an extremely rambunctious dog that goes nuts when he sees anybody within a half block of my front door, I’m generally doing important tasks around my house such as taking a dump, taking a nap, watching Married With Children and Cheaters reruns, checking out my myspace.com site, or watching the latest Jenna Jameson movie.

I don’t need to have this important personal time interrupted with morons asking me if they can put a political sign in my yard. I won’t put any sign in my yard. It’s not that I’m obsessed with having a perfect lawn; trust me, if you saw my front yard you would know that it’s far from perfect. I just don’t see anything positive coming out of advertising my personal political faves. Is the fact that I have a sign in my yard going to influence my neighbors or other passerbys? Hell no. The only thing that could possibly come out of a Thune or Daschle sign is an argument or two. Being that I’m already the neighborhood freak show, I don’t need that headache.

It’s not just people looking to put up signs that are wandering the streets, though. There’s been a handful of people showing up wanting to beg for my vote. I’m all for meeting candidates and talking about the issues. But I want some control when that occurs. If I want to chat with somebody, I’ll go to one of the many functions that every political candidate hosts.

With all that said, it’s now time to give somebody the boot. This person will remain nameless, as he’s an attorney, and the last thing I need is a lawsuit. But this person is running for the legislature, and his signs are starting to pop up in my part of town. The other day, I arrived at my home to find some of his literature propped in my front door. Thank God I wasn’t home when he stopped by.

I did take the time to read his literature, though, and while he didn’t seem to be the sort of person who would ever get my vote, I have to say that his pamphlet was relatively professional. At least until I got to the last page. On this page, this candidate presented a list of “important Sioux Falls phone numbers”. While some of these contacts were possibly helpful, I was troubled by quite a few items. Included in the list were contacts to complain about sidewalk snow removal, lawn mowing issues, and other code violations. It was a narc list! Holy Patriot Act! That’s a great way to become friends with your neighbors!

Of all the things that this person could highlight, why would a narc list rate so high? Granted, I don’t want to live next to somebody whose habits could possibly lower the value of my home, but calling the city should be a last resort. If I had such a problem, I would start by chatting with the person in question. Hell, I’d probably even offer to help him out if there was some problem. For example, if I had an elderly neighbor who had trouble shoveling his sidewalk, I’d probably do it for him. That’s how neighbors fix problems - they co-operate; they don’t call in anonymous tips.

I realize that this is probably a minor bitch, but it does reflect what’s going on in our society these days. We’ve become a nation of spineless, self-centered weasels who have no desire to think for themselves. We’re a nation that doesn’t expect anything out of not only our media, but our nation’s leaders. We’ll tune in and watch these self-appointed experts scream cliches and insults. We’ll ignore real issues in favor of catch phrases about flip-flopping (hey, every candidate does it at some point), Vietnam, and South Dakota values. The question I have is when did either of the major parties earn a copyright on the word “values”?

I’m not here to say which party is a better party. Over the years, I have voted for probably just as many Democrats as Republicans. My vote goes to the best person running for the open position. What’s saddens me in this year’s campaign, as well as the last couple, is just how divisive and close-minded we have become. People believe that their party of choice can do no wrong, and the other side is nothing more than Satan’s best friend.

Neither party has all the answers, and this sort of behavior does nothing to make our country a better and stronger place. Too much time is spent debating issues that garner headlines but makes no impact on you and me, and too many bills are introduced only for use in future political ads. Little time is given to issues that actually could improve our way of life.

In almost all of this year’s major races, I’m technically in the category of “undecided”. I’m also the type of person whose vote may be decided on who has pissed me off the least. Most importantly, I’m also the sort of person who will not do business with anybody who annoys me. I boycotted Fritos last year when Jeff Gordon was on their packaging; I’m currently boycotting McDonald’s until they get rid of that fake white boy rap commercial.Obviously, if I’m bothered enough by a campaign, whether it be Democrat or Republican, that person will probably not win my vote this year. It’s sad to actually base a vote on a commercial, but it’s also time to tell all of these morons that we deserve, no demand, something better than what we’ve seen in recent years.



(September 22) There have been a couple of times over the years that I’ve come in here with a zingy intro proclaiming how the day’s rant had been conceived in a Hunter S. Thompson-esque orgy of Wild Turkey and various pharmaceuticals.

I must come clean. With the exception of Windsor/Coke or two, I’ve usually been stone cold sober when I attempt to conjure up some wit and wisdom…which is quite often in short supply.

This week, however, I must acknowledge that I have a good excuse if this babbling goes off into some weird tangent. Yesterday I had a tooth removed, and was prescribed some great codeine-laced Tylenol to deal with the pain. Yee Hah!

On to the main feature – this past Sunday evening I settled down on my couch hoping to watch some NFL. Unfortunately, what ESPN had on their plate was certainly not NFL-quality football. It was the Bengals versus the Dolphins – possibly the worst matchup one could ever endure.

With hours between first downs, let alone scores, I changed to the Emmys. God, that was almost as bad. Somebody please explain to me how the woman from the West Wing could beat Edie Falco from the Sopranos. Or James Spader winning from the awful show, the Practice. Or why Sarah Jessica Parker even exists. And somebody please explain why they can waste so much time with people coming on stage just to introduce people to present the presenters yet the winners only get a few seconds before they’re hustled offstage.

Watching what I could endure of this show (and thank god for wins for the Daily Show and Arrested Development), I decided that maybe this would be the perfect week to give the boot to television programming that just shouldn’t exist. For the most part, I’m not going to be very specific, because there really aren’t individual shows anymore. One network announces an idea, and then the other networks create their own version. Or a show becomes successful and they just clone it for multiple nights. So here are some people and programs that need to go away.

1, Unfunny sitcoms that feature a really hot woman married to a fat tub of goo. I’m still in love with Jamie Gertz, and there’s no way she’d be married to that fat boy that can’t hide his British accent. The same with the rest of the CBS comedy lineup. None of these shows, and I’ll include Raymond and the Charlie Sheen movie in this category, are remotely funny.

2. This is not a new category, but I’ll have to bring it up once again. I will never watch dating shows where the guy says he never expected anything like this when the journey began, and the woman tears up and says she’s actually falling in love, and there’s a declaration of commitment at the end, followed by the inevitable post-taping breakup that occurs when the two actually have to spend time together. Dating shows are supposed to consist of silly, stupid young adults wearing next to nothing while insulting their competitors as white trash or slutty.

3. I’ll never watch any show where anything, anybody, or any pet gets a makeover. I don’t care if you’re a gay guy, a cosmetic surgeon, or a home-improvement expert, I don’t need to hear your expertise. It’s gone too far. Go away.

4. Wife swapping shows. While it sounds like a great show, they’re not referring to sex. A heavyweight mother of a poor family is swapped with a heavyweight mother of a not-so-poor family. Hijinks ensue when the kids hate their new mom! It’s even better when the switch is multi-racial. Please end this misery now.

5. Along those same lines are these ridiculous house building shows. It was bad enough two years ago when the Discovery channel was hijacked from a place to watch interesting documentaries to nothing but home makeover shows. Now they’ve taken this idea to the extreme by completely demolishing houses on not one, but two networks. Always accompanied by a sob story or some other goofy twist (like the goth family I saw on the commercial the other day), it’s always inevitable that the building doesn’t go as planned but just happens to work out and the family starts screaming and crying and spazzing. They really only need to film one of these, and then just use computers to put new people or faces into the shots.

With the silly shows out of the way, it’s now time for me to really vent. There’s one person who’s been on the tube for years and years, and recently signed a contract to keep herself on the air for another few years. She’s beloved by millions of middle-class white women who don’t know any better. She’ll chat in a fake southern accent one day when some country twit is appearing on the show, and the next day she’s a pure homegirl who seemed to have just left the hood.

Most of the time, however, she’s the most whitebred black woman in history. And also the most arrogant, most self-centered, egotistical bitch in television history. Yes, I’m talking about Oprah, AKA Satan.

Why bring her up once gain this week? She’s in the news again, taking credit for a publicity stunt that did not cost her a cent. A publicity stunt that was actually nothing more than a disguised infomercial.

The word came a few weeks ago that the season premiere of Oprah would be something special. The tabloids were a buzzing. Would she be announcing her retirement? Would she finally marry that dude that never talks? Would she come out of the closet and announce her love for that friend that had her own show for about three weeks?

None of the above. Instead, viewers got to hear how great this new Pontiac vehicle is, and then were forced to hear Oprah scream, “you win a car. You win a car. You win a car.” Over and over and over. And just like when she gives out twenty dollar tool sets, the audience were screaming and dancing like they were approaching the orgasms of their lives.

Let me point out one more time that Oprah, or Oprah’s show, did not give away a single vehicle. Even though her audience shrieked their thanks over and over, Winfrey didn’t personally give anything away any more than Julie Chen handed a check to that retarded Cowboy last night on Big Brother.

But it’s typical of Oprah. It’s all about her.

But there’s one more twist to the Pontiac story. When the episode aired, there was a lot of press that Pontiac was taking care of all of the taxes and expenses. News story after news story mentioned that the only costs that the audience had to worry about was the insurance.

Well, that’s not quite true. Every audience member left the show with a 1099 form in the amount of around $28,000. This is added to their taxable income for the year, meaning that the tax bill for most people would go up around four to six thousand bucks.

Not that it’s still not a great deal. But let’s have a little truth in advertising here. Don’t take credit for items you didn’t give away, and don’t make claims that aren’t true. What is true for Dan Rather should also be true for Oprah.



(September 15) It was just over a year ago that I spent almost a full month complaining about the bastards that run this city. Set to action by a handful of business leaders, they ran to the media and their government offices to paint a picture of a downtown gone crazy. Judging by their stories, if a video crew was present, they could start a series called “Clems Gone Wild”. It was a modern day Sodom and Gemorrah – public urination, rape, pedophilia. And, worse of all, hundreds of people standing around doing absolutely nothing.

Once the local media received their orders on how to cover the story, interviewing little old ladies too scared to come downtown and employees cleaning up broken glass, the city put together a series of laws to teach these monsters a lesson. It was now illegal to gather in groups, or to drive without a destination. It’s now a crime to be young and bored. I’m old, and I still regularly break that law. Hell, every day and night.

The only good that came out of this Orwell-ian exercise is that a number of downtown businesses made an effort to become nighttime destinations. A handful of bars and restaurants even set out tables and chairs, allowing customers to actually enjoy the cool summer breeze.

Those who have lived in Sioux Falls for a lengthy time should have forseen what has happened in the last couple of weeks. God knows we can’t let people have a good time…especially those without receding hairlines or bad 70’s fashion.

Yes, as predicted on this show last year, the decline of youthful civilization didn’t diminish the broken glass or yellow spots on the sidewalk. Maybe it wasn’t those bastard kids after all! Is it possible that the prim and proper of this city may have had an extra cocktail or two with their entrees at Minerva’s, or that the homeless people who have nowhere to go after dark may not exhibit the best behavior?

Of course not. The city is once again blaming the kids; turning a usually simple process of an established business applying for a liquor license into class warfare. There’s a little business downtown that features a game beloved by people of all ages and social class. I’ve been told that it’s divided into two sections; one serves beer and you must be 21 to hang out. The other area is for non-drinkers of all ages. This mixture may seem shocking to some fuddy-duddies, but it’s actually far stricter than the policies at the local bowling alleys.

Obviously, we can’t have a downtown business that caters to people under 25, let alone 21. A few weeks ago, this pool hall applied for a liquor license. If one is to treat this issue fairly, then it should have been the same formality that occurs whenever a bowling alley or restaurant fills out this same application.

Should have been a formality, but not in Sioux Falls! Once again, these same business owners made a rare nighttime appearance, showing up at the City Council meeting with the same complaints that were supposed to be eradicated with the expulsion of the Loopers. Little old ladies are still afraid to come out in the daytime; a tale that still makes no sense since these businesses are closed when the kids are carrying their pool cues. There are still little puddles that now have magical arrows pointing to the pool hall. God knows that patrons of the cigar bar wouldn’t be pissing in front of Zandbroz, their next door neighbor.

Sure, the police have their supposed proof in the form of police calls. But think about that a second – there are only two businesses on that block that are open past sunset. Any police call is going to be attributed to these locations, even if they have nothing to do with it. From my understanding, there has been no problems with underage drinking, which is the only real concern that this city should have. Police calls are going to happen with any business, including high-falutin’ joints like Minerva’s. Trust me, there have been calls to that spot.

With Phillips to the Fall near completion, this city has to quickly make some important decisions; decisions that will determine whether downtown Sioux Falls is a cool destination or just another tacky South Dakota tourist trap. I would love to see a thriving, multi-block combination of cool bars, restaurants, and shops. It’s my dream to walk down the street and decide which bar I want to enter based on the music that’s flowing out onto the street. But the pessimistic side of me (and most people I chat with) know that the city is going to screw this up and allow only the safest, most boring enterprises, owned primarily by the same handful of city-approved, middle-aged fat bastards who haven’t had an original idea since Nixon was President.

The city would love for the citizenry, particularly those who venture downtown, to return to the era of Leave it to Beaver. There’s Ward Cleaver, sweating profusely in his three-piece suit, hand-in-hand with June Cleaver, who’s sporting the latest in embroidered sweatshirts tied around her waist. Walking two steps behind them is Wally and the Beav, fresh from the barber shop where they received their weekly crewcut and sever beating. They start at the bead shop, picking out items for the Beav’s junior high project, and then head down to the fake Irish store for an “I (Heart) the Irish” bumper sticker, before climaxing at the jewelry store where Ward rewards June with a stunning pearl necklace (no, I don’t mean that kind of pearl necklace).

God knows, we can’t have young people running wildly in the streets without parental supervision. We certainly can’t have crazy haircuts, skin-baring clothing, or loud rock ‘n’ roll. After all, there may be some senior citizens from Wanker County visiting our fine city.

I hate to say this, Mayor Munson and your fantasy camp dreamers, but reality is closer to Married With Children than Father Knows Best. To ensure a successful downtown, you have to cater to people of varying backgrounds, incomes, and social status. The Top Hat, like the original Crow Bar twenty years ago, proves that the cleanest franchise bar is not always the place where hipsters want to hang. And business leaders have to realize that there are always headaches when you’re situated in high volume areas. If you’re not willing to cope with these situations, there are a ton of generic mini-malls with plenty of vacancies perfectly suited for your lame ten-to-five nick-nack store.



(September 8) Today is one of those rare mornings where I have my own disclaimer. The people that I’m about to talk about delve in an activity that’s very sensitive to criticism. My intention today is not really to give them a boot in the behind. It’s more like constructive criticism.

The reason for this self-restraint is that I’m going to talk about religion, and supposedly religious people. Before anybody contemplates sending me hate mail, or worse, please recognize that I’m not painting a whole group with a giant brush. I have a ton of respect for people with great faith; people that truly follow the Good Book.

I’m also not condemning the people behind the Lifelight festivities. I also have a lot of respect for those fine folks. I’m personally not a fan of Christian rock, or Christian punk, or that extremely strange genre called Christian metal. It’s just not my cup of tea, but if it works for you than it works for me.

As most people realize, my family owns a business that’s walking distance from the Fairgrounds, the site of the Lifelight concerts. In the past, we’ve had few problems during the weekend of the festivities.

This past Friday, I gained a sense that this year could be a little different. I received a phone call from my store manager, who had received a visit from the local police. According to her, the city was expecting a crowd beyond the capacity of the Fairgrounds. Because of this, there were plans to shut down Lyons Blvd., the street that not only is the main artery into the Fairgrounds but also the only entrance to our business.

Obviously concerned, I shot off some emails to the mayor and various members of the City Council. Despite my criticism of the Mayor, his office was on top of this issue. Within 45 minutes, I received a phone call from not only another city official but the member of the police department who was in charge of policing the event.

I was assured that Lyons would be closed only as a last-ditch effort, and that the actual closing of the road would begin past our property. While this explanation didn’t take into account the fact that the turn lanes onto Lyons would be blocked off by cones, at least we’d still be able to remain open.

As I thought about this situation later that day, however, I began to question how this could possibly happen. The Fairgrounds has a ton of parking lots, and no other event had resulted in a full house. And the Lifelight people had made arrangements with the neighboring open field and the vocational school on the other side of the interstate. Plus, they had camping facilities on the northern end of the site. How could there possibly be an overflow?

Then I remembered the news coverage the previous evening. One of the more impressive aspects of Lifelight was the presence of ten stages. Just where were they going to fit all of these stages?

I think you know the answer. Most of the paved Fairgrounds parking were turned into concert grounds. Please tell me how wise it is to turn parking lots into stages when you’re expecting a record-setting attendance? Next year, I think it’s imperative for the city to not allow this to happen.

At the very least, there should have been some public notice that parking was going to be limited. But with all the free press they received on television and in the newspaper, there was nothing of this sort noted, at least from what I read, hear, or saw.

Because of these problems and despite the fact that the numbers, although impressive, didn’t quite hit the expectations, traffic was backed up most of the weekend. And where did some of these people attempt to leave their vehicles? Our parking lot.

It’s circumstances such as this that makes us sometimes wish we weren’t situated so close to the Fairgrounds. Sometimes we’re forced to tow a few vehicles. We don’t want to, and we take every precaution possible to inform the public that our lot is private property. There are signs all over the parking lot, including one that we place in the middle of the entrance. We also have additional signs on our doors, thanking people for their patronage but reminding them that they can’t leave their vehicles behind. We wait a minimum of two hours before calling in the tow trucks, and if any employee sees somebody heading toward the Fairgrounds, we remind them that they must move their cars.

Inevitably, however, a few vehicles were left in our lot; many of them right under the very signs I just described. This is where I’m shocked at the behavior of many people. While I can understand the anger on discovering that your vehicle has been towed, I’m shocked at the actions of a few concert-goers. My employees were screamed at; they were even physically threatened by a few people. Many were screaming profanities. One person lied and said that they had paid the manager for a spot in the lot. Another person got so out of control that we had to contact the police. These are Christian music fans?

As I said earlier, we don’t want to have vehicles towed. But we do have a business to run, and that’s impossible if our lot is full of non-customers. The situation could have been avoided, though, with better planning by the concert organizers. Parking lots should be used for parking, and alternative methods for admittance should be a high priority for those handling publicity. Look at the Jazzfest, and how much energy is put in to letting people know that local high schools and hotels are donating parking. My main reason for chatting about these issues today is not for my own, or my family’s, personal benefit (I’m sure they’d rather that I shut up). Rather, my hope is that somebody from the Lifelight organization is listening today, and they implement some changes to ensure that next year they have an even bigger and better festival. Now I will go pray that my home will not be fire-bombed.



(September 1) You know, I really suffer for my art. Ok, what I do here is certainly not art. But I definitely suffer.

I read books and magazines that aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on. I listen to music from people that should have never set foot out of their garage. I watch tv shows and movies that are the most ill-conceived piles of garbage ever put together. And I also watch those idiots at KELO.

I don’t think I ever suffered, however, as I suffered this past Sunday evening. Yes, I gave up over four hours of my life to MTV’s Video Music Awards, and I want them back. Well, truthfully, I have no life so I guess it’s no big deal. But I’m still pissed!

It wasn’t that long ago that I actually looked forward to this show. You could always count on some funny moments, an award or two that actually made sense, and a little bit of good music.

Yes, those fine moments were surrounded by garbage, but you actually had a highlight or two to look forward to. And that’s the key mistake that MTV has made in the past couple of years. Where there once were equal moments devoted to rock, alternative, metal, punk, dance, rap, and r&b, there is now one godawful sound that you hear for 99% of the show, and rock and roll is relegated to that remaining 1%.

In fact, rock is treated like that drunk uncle that nobody wants to be around but you’re obligated to invite for the holidays. You stay away from him as much as you can, but you treat him as polite as possible.

As was the case last year, the entire rock portion of the show was cordoned off into one short segment in the middle of the show. Jet, Hoobastank, and Yellowcard were each given a minute or so to perform their one big hit. Hoobastank completely dropped the ball, as their lead singer strained to come within an octave of the actual key. I can just hear that whore Paula Abdul complain, "you were a little pitch-y".

But nobody came off well in that segment. Last year’s garage rock mini-fest worked because all of the great garage tunes are only a couple of minutes long to begin with. Truncating a four minute pop song to ninety seconds is like watching a Showtime soft-core porn. The nudity is nice, but you keep wanting to see more.

I’m jumping ahead of myself a bit, though. I must start at the beginning, with the dreaded pre-show broadcast. Again, in the old days this show was semi-worthwhile. Tabitha Sorum would wander around the trailers that were used as dressing rooms, and the interviews had a bit of substance. Occasionally, you’d even see a little controversy, like the time Axl Rose and Kurt Cobain had a few words.

These days, it’s no different than any other awards shows. In fact, it’s even worse. Since it was in Miami this year, they came up with this great idea of having everybody arrive by boat. As they made their red carpet run, they were asked the same inane questions that was asked of everybody else. "Who are you excited to see perform?" "Who’s going to take away the most moon men?" Everybody, from the hardened hip-hoppers with prison records to the bubblegum jailbait actress/model/singer, has the same answer. "I’m excited for all of them" and other similar generic answers.

Those were the most intelligent things they said. Otherwise, they all babbled about how "crazy", "hot", or "off the hook" the show was going to be. MTV’s hosts weren’t any better. I don’t know who was worse – John Norris, Suchin Park, or Sway. Poor Kurt Loder – he seemed so out of place. At least it’s nice to see they let him out of the old folk’s home once in awhile.

Who were the worst offenders? Well, it’s easy to write off the obvious – Ashlee Simpson, the Duff girls (the only Duff I care about is Duff beer), Paris Hilton, that would-be stud from some black boy-band that I’ve never heard about. And there’s also the self-proclaimed moguls who have never exhibited any talent – yes, I’m talking about you, Mr. Diddy. (Note to his new butt buddy, Bruce Willis. Nobody in your age group and with your lack of hair should be attempting to dance to "Lean Back". That was easily the funniest moment of the evening.

The award for the most shameless, most offensive has-been of the evening has to go to LL Cool J. Accompanied by some bimbos wearing t-shirts with television screens attached to their chest, LL wouldn’t talk about anything except the awful album he has coming out this week. While I will admit that there’s a track or two of his that I don’t mind, those songs were years ago. For close to a decade you’ve released albums that have disappeared to the cutout bins within weeks. Face the facts, you’re now the hip-hop version of Styx. Maybe it’s time for you to join the county fair circuit.

Moving on to the show, it was evident right away that this was going to be a long night. First you had the return of J-Ho. Thankfully, she didn’t lip-sync – she was just there to introduce the insufferable Usher. I realize that he’s extremely popular right now – I just can’t figure out why. All he does is pose, and his ego is so huge that Mr. Diddy seems humble in comparison. When he won an award a few minutes later, I thought they’d never get him off the stage.

Usher’s medley set the stage for the rest of the evening. It seemed like every musical segment featured at least a couple of a half-dozen of the same people. The Ying Yang Twins, Fat Joe, Lil’ Jon – they wouldn’t relinquish the stage. Each song sounded exactly the same – a catchphrase repeated over and over with some booty-enhanced bimbos shaking their stuff behind them. No, I’m not a fan of the crunk. Crunk is junk, and as Lewis Black would say, it made me want to take a sharpened pencil and stick it right in my eye.

This is not to say that there weren’t some talented people present at the show. I appreciate Kanye West, although Chaka Khan didn’t help him out by caterwauling offkey. Jay-Z’s "99 Problems" was the hardest rocking tune of the evening, although he didn’t perform it live and it is kind of scary that he rocks more than the winners of the rock awards. And it’s well-documented that I’m a fan of Outkast, although it may be time to retire "Hey Ya".

All three of those highlights don’t stray far from format of the evening, however, so let’s get back to the overall problem. MTV used to react to what was popular in all circles. They may have been ahead of the game a bit, but they catered to a large, diverse group of music fans. These days, they are in the back pockets of the four major labels, providing us with only the handful of songs and acts that they have deemed worthy of attention. In my eyes, this is why record sales have declined in recent years.

Rock isn’t dead…far from it. There are a ton of acts releasing great albums, and surprising the industry with their grass roots appeal. Who would have ever thought that Modest Mouse would go gold, or that Wilco would debut in the top 10? Or that acts such as Franz Ferdinand, the Killers, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs would crossover into the mainstream? Or that Saddle Creek Records, a small label out of Omaha, would become the hippest label in the country with artists such as Cursive and Bright Eyes? All of these acts, along with a good percentage of the acts that are in this station’s current rotation, would be a welcome relief to "Lean Back", "Yeah", and whatever the hell that Haguilera/Nelly tune was. Hell, I’m not a fan of the Polyphonic Spree, but they were a refreshing surprise…although 20 hippies in colorful robes is beyond scary.

Will MTV’s awards show ever reclaim the coolness factor? Probably not, especially as long as they cater to the Nickleodeon or Entertainment Tonight crowd. It would be easy to accomplish – get rid of the created acts and the hired crowd, ban the words "y’all" and "what’s up", and concentrate more on the song and the performer than on the extravagant sets and unnecessary dancers. Oh yeah, and please tell Target to get rid of Sarah Jessica Parker and Lenny Kravitz.



(August 25) I have a confession to make – I struggled to come up with a suitable victim for this week. It’s not that I didn’t have any candidates. There’s always plenty of people and topics for me to bitch about.

I gave some serious thought about giving the boot to KELO’s new general manager, Gwen Kinsey. Sort of a preemptive strike, I guess. And while I’m sure that she’ll be a victim in the next few weeks, for now I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt.

And while I was lighting incense and meditating about the direction I should go this morning, this year’s version of Big Brother came on. Never a huge fan of the show, at least in previous seasons there have been some babes to ogle.

Not this year. Seriously, this is a scary group of people. One guy who calls himself Cowboy just has to be an inbred. Even Nascar fans are better educated than this moron. His big story is that he met his half-sister in the Big Brother house, and she’s quite the treat. But neither of these twits are as bad as this group of twins who think they’re literally God’s gift to our world. I did some research and I guess last week they put up for eviction the token gay guy and the token black dude because Jesus told them to. Okay.

What’s worse is that there aren’t the biggest idiots that have been on this show. There was a blonde chick who made Jessica Simpson look like a Nobel Prize winner, and a couple of steroid fanatics who called their posse the “Four Horseman”. There’s only one Four Horseman, and they ruled the wrestling world over a decade ago.

Again, this was too easy of a target, as is the overplayed pseudo-documentaries that MTV airs about those wacky Video Music Awards, or as they say over and over, the VMA’s. Or I could have gone after the “you’re fired” anti-Daschle ads that must have had a smaller budget than one of Nick Simon’s three minute masterpieces.

No, I must attack an American…no, international institution. Yes, I’m kicking out the Olympics, or at least NBC’s coverage of these events. I used to be a huge fan, especially when I was a kid. I’d watch as many events as possible; I watched all of the documentaries and read the history books. I remember Mark Spitz winning seven golds; I remember where I was when the Israelis were kidnapped and assassinated. I screamed at my television when we were screwed over in that infamous basketball game, and cheered with everybody else when our hockey team surprised the world. I was bummed when our country boycotted the 1980 festivities, and also when our arch rival, the USSR, bailed on us in 1984.

Now I have absolutely no interest. I don’t watch it on tv; I don’t read the articles in the paper. My whole knowledge of this year’s model is based on Pardon the Interruption and the little bit of ESPN radio that I can handle. I’m still happy when we do well, but I’m just not allowing it to enter my psyche.

I blame NBC’s broadcasts. Years ago, the Olympics were presented like any other sporting event. They showed the competition, and their announcers described the action. A few years ago, however, NBC’s entertainment division took over, and it’s now packaged like a very special episode of Law and Order. Or that awful family show set in the early 60’s.

For every minute of sports footage there’s seemingly hours of touchy-feely crap reminiscent of Stu Whitney’s overblown, overlong Skyforce profiles. I really don’t care that our bow and arrow participant was born to a family of baboons, walked 20 miles to practice every day, and loves to listen to classical music while she shoots. I don’t care about the diver who survived an addiction to crack and a mother who was in jail for prostitution. I don’t care about the rolly-polly gymnast whose father sold his collection of Star Trek memorabilia to hire the ex-con coach who died of a heroin overdose.

While we’re on the subject, let’s talk about gymnastics a bit. Don’t you feel a little dirty watching these events? Here’s these pre-teen bowling balls rolling around on the mats wearing tiny costumes that they’re constantly pulling out of their ass. The one time I did tune in this girl who won her event jumped onto her coach, who hugged her in a straddle position for a good five minutes. I thought I was watching Barely Legal #47.

I don’t even want to go into men’s gymnastics. That’s just gross. Yet it’s on night after night after night. It’s the summer games’ version of figure skating, broadcast only to rope in female viewers. It’s the Will and Grace of the summer games.

And then there’s all of these events that nobody could possibly care about. Besides the revealing uniforms, is there anything more unwatchable than beach volleyball? Synchronized diving? Archery? Badminton? Sailing? Tug of War? And what the hell is Basque Pelota?

I’ll concede that there has been some excitement…or at least that’s what I’ve been told. The 100 meter dash was reportedly one of the greatest races ever, and our softball team, led by the extremely hot blonde chick, has been untouchable. Yet even these high points have been ruined by the NBC hype machine. Michael Phelps had one of the greatest Olympics of all time, but it’s now viewed as a disappointment thanks to the weeks of hyping the possibility of eight gold medals.

There was a time that I was a Bob Costas fan. He was both knowledgeable and passionate, and not afraid to ask the tough questions. Now he’s just a paid spokesperson, as is most of his colleagues, particularly the insufferable Katie Couric. No commentator dares utter a negative comment, nor do they even try to be objective. It’s all rah, rah, rah.

It could be worse, I guess. Fox could have snagged the rights, and God knows what they would have done. Every graphic would have a sound effect; the empty stands would be digitally altered to show not only more people but beer ads. Or maybe the attendance would have been greater, as they would have shipped in the stars of all of their shows for “spontaneous” sightings and interviews. I know I’ve always wondered what the stars of the “O.C” think about archery. Actually…no, even my fantasies have their limits.

(August 18) I have a little mini-rant before I actually get to the task of giving somebody the boot. This past Sunday evening, I received a phone call from a good friend. He had been watching golf earlier that day, and I guess it was one of the year’s major tournaments (I don’t like golf so I would have no clue). He told me that towards the end of the broadcasts, one of the contestants was lining up a shot that would win the game. He was making his practice swings, and just as he pulled the club back to actually attempt his putt, KELO interrupted the game for a weather alert for Valentine, Nebraska. That’s right, Valentine, Nebraska...an area that really is a stretch for KELO to call part of their viewing area.

The best part, though, is that they had technical problems for at least ten seconds, long enough that they could have actually shown the putt. I’m not going to say that bad weather should play second fiddle to programming, but if there is something important going on it should only be interrupted for truly imminent occurrences. A couple of dark clouds isn’t enough; a crawl screen would be plenty.

The next day, I happened to run into one of the few KELO employees that will acknowledge my presence. I started in on my rant, but he stopped me before I could finish. “F-ing Trobek”, he said. He also admitted that he raised a bit of hell about the situation. I couldn't’ be more pleased.

On to the topic of the day. As many of you know, I’m baffled that people believe that we need to replace the Arena with a 14,000 seat event center. This “if we build it, they will come” mentality is not realistic, and none of our sports teams needs extra seats. In fact, I’m pretty surprised that they’re in favor of this idea. It’s actually better for them to have a thousand or so empty seats in a 7,000 seat building than 8,000 empty seats.

I’m not here today to debate this issue, however. What I am going to bitch about, however, is the antics of the task force that’s supposedly investigating the needs of our city, and potential locations.

I’ve heard it said by more than one person that the whole process seems to be a farce. This task force seems to be commissioned with a decision already rendered. Time after time in the past few weeks I have encountered people asking me when the question changed from “if” to “when”. C’mon, it was “when” the entire time.

With the decision already made, and an architect, Jeff Hazard, already hired, the only job this task force has is to find a location. We’ll get to that in a second. First, I must bitch about the hiring, and any other involvement, of Mr. Hazard, who I kicked out of town a couple of years ago.

This is a man who embodies the concept of enriching himself off of the public coffers. In fact, one could say that he’s the Dick Cheney of Sioux Falls. Somehow, he always seems to have his hands on any public-financed facility. Remember, he was the moron who designed the swaying balconies of the Pavilion. He’s one of the prime offenders behind the ill-fated State Theatre project. And, most importantly for today’s rant, he’s also reportedly bought up a lot of prime land in the northern downtown area. I think it’s obvious where he would like to see an events center.

Which brings us back to the task force. After narrowing it down to a handful of locations, including a couple that actually made sense, the task force narrowed the potential spot to two locations - Howard Wood Field and in the Phillips to the Falls area.

Their idea for Howard Wood Field would be to tear down the existing field and relocate it somewhere else. What’s interesting is that the task force didn’t think it was necessary to talk to the School Board, which actually owns the football stadium. Of course, their plan doesn’t include the cost of rebuilding Howard Wood. After all, that’s the school district’s problem.

And then we have Phillips to the Falls. Now, I am not a naysayer when it comes to rebuilding downtown. Although there is still a lack of really cool shops, I think our city has done a great job in recent years in making downtown worth visiting. And I really hope that Phillips to the Falls turns out to be a really cool area...although I have a sinking feeling that they’ll ultimately make it way too tourist-y to be cool.

I do understand the desire for having an events center downtown. I really do. It would be the centerpiece of the entire project. But it’s also the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

It makes absolutely no sense, and the majority of people that I encounter wholeheartedly agree. How would a person get in or out of there? Where would people park? How long would the traffic jam extend?

I’ve heard the morons talk about the thousands of parking spots downtown, or the number of different streets that one could take. But have these people ever driven downtown. Most of the streets are two-lane, and there’s a stoplight on every corner. As for parking, I can’t wait until a January event when it’s twenty below and you have to walk a few blocks for your vehicle. (Well, we all know what will happen. Just like what happened with the Pavilion, a piece of property will be secretly purchased and a ramp will mysteriously appear.)

The task force will simply not listen to reason concerning the negative aspects of either choice; especially the downtown site. They love to point to other cities that have downtown event centers.

Leading this mantra is co-chair Linda Barker, whose remarkably moronic quotes makes her the obvious choice for this week’s victim. Weeks ago, she remarked that nobody has ever uttered a negative comment about the need for this facility. BS.

She also knows absolutely nothing about concerts - especially how they’re booked. I’ve heard her on local talk shows repeating the mayor’s claims that a bigger facility will lead to lower ticket prices. It doesn’t work that way.

But the comments that really made me laugh were in the Argus a few days ago. Once again babbling about the buildings in other cities, she pointed to Omaha and Council Bluffs as proof. Council Bluffs has a building in the outskirts of town, and it’s not doing well. Omaha’s is downtown, and it’s a huge success.

Well, Council Bluffs is a dump and is always way behind Omaha. It’s a poor city that’s been devastated by the gambling industry. Omaha has always been a hipper and more prosperous city, and always will.

Most importantly, Omaha’s facility is surrounded by two major highways, along with multi-lane downtown streets. Dodge Street is one of those roads, and works because of a flexible schedule that changes the number of usable lanes by the demand of the time of day.

Although Mrs. Barker seems to be blind to anything that counters her desires, Omaha is pretty typical of thriving downtowns. In Fargo, the interstate is less than a mile away from the Fargodome. Sioux City has an interstate that cuts right through it. And both the Metrodome and Target Center are surrounded by interstates. Can you imagine what it would be like to visit the Metronome without 94, 494, and 35W? It would be a nightmare, which is exactly what we will see in Sioux Falls is Mrs. Barker and her ilk have their way.



(July 28) Before I started composing this rant, I spent quite a few hours internally debating whether I should even chat about the upcoming topic, or whether the people I’m about to describe should get the boot. There are certain subjects that should not be debated, as it’s extremely unlikely that you’re going to change any opinions.

For example, fans of the Vikings and the Packers should never argue about whose right, as it’s just going to culminate in hurt feelings. Same with Cubs and White Sox fans, or Democrats and Republicans. David Lee Roth versus Sammy Hagar. Jessica versus Ashley.

By far, the arguement that should always be avoided is the dreaded abortion debate. Both sides of the issue feature people who are way too emotionally attached to the topic...well, actually, it’s mainly one side that goes overboard with the rhetoric. To these people, abortion is the only political debate. They live and breath this controversy, devoting their entire life to pushing their agenda. They latch onto any politician who shares their viewpoint, no matter how big of a wackjob they are otherwise. If a modern day Adolf Hitler came out as pro-life, they’d still vote for him.

The main reason I try to stay out of the debate is that it’s too complex of a subject to have a cut and dry answer. When exactly does life begin? If you say conception, then you should almost go back a step or two and proclaim each drop of sperm and every egg as life. If that’s the case, then any form of birth control is abortion. Quick, dispose of that condom before the activists discover that you’ve wasted some more sperm. Plus, that means I’m a killer everytime I watch a Jenna Jameson DVD.

If it’s not conception, when do these cells constitute a human being? There’s arguements for every single stage of pregnancy. Yeah, I know that the pro-life crowd has these photos that supposedly “prove” that they’re fully formed within hours of conception, but to me that’s about as accurate as the reflection from the sun that resembles Jesus...like anybody really knows what he looked like.

Again, I’m not here to debate this issue. I have my opinion, but I do respect the opinions of those that don’t agree with me. So please don’t fill my inbox with hate mail telling me that I’m going straight to hell. I think I crossed that threshold decades ago.

But I do have a problem with people that go overboard in their obsession. Those people who open “counseling clinics” with a hidden agenda should be next to me in line to meet Satan. I think those people who focus on only one aspect of Planned Parenthood’s operations should be burned at the stake. And I think that every person who preaches about the topic should be ordered to adopt a baby - preferably one from a low-income family of color with some sort of handicap. Put your money where your mouth is.

I suppose at this point you’re wondering who I’m kicking out of town. Actually, I’m giving the boot to people who don’t even live in Hudsonland. People who force their opinions on others who don’t even share the same license plate.

This past Monday, my mother stopped at one of our restaurants to help over the noon rush. This particular store is located a quarter block from the busiest intersection in the entire state, and this particular day was pretty typical. Traffic was backed up for at least a couple of blocks, and entering and exiting our business required a bit of patience.

Suddenly, the entire store was jolted by the sounds of horns. Everybody who looked inside was treated to the graphic images of what was portrayed as an aborted fetus. Over the course of the next hour, this truck (actually two trucks) passed by a number of times, and was accompanied by an airplane flying overhead that displayed a banner similar to the design on the truck.

It turns out that this publicity-obsessed demonstration was actually from Southern California, as part of what’s called the Key States Initiative by the Center for Bio-Ethical Reform. Monday’s demonstration was just the beginning of a weeklong media blitz that at one point was babbling away at one of KRRO’s sister stations Monday afternoon.

I should have known that this group wasn’t from South Dakota. If you ever see an anti-abortion demonstration, it’s usually populated by people with license plates from Iowa, Minnesota, and Nebraska. Sure, there’s usually a few South Dakotans involved, but way too often they’re the minority. It’s those idiot Iowegians that block the entrances to parking lots, or rudely attempt to use the restroom in my office.

It’s time for these mostly white middle-aged zealots to stay in Hicksville. How would they like it if I paraded down their streets with semi’s advertising some of my crazy beliefs? I could have a loudspeaker shouting “F the FCC” with a convoy of Howard Stern fans. Or maybe I could paint the Vivid Video girls on a truck and proclaim my belief that everybody should own porn. As Beavis would say, “yeah yeah, that’s not a bad idea, Butthead”.

(July 21) Before we begin, a bit of a history lesson. You guys might not realize that the company that owns this radio station was also in the movie theater business. In fact, there was a time that Midco had a monopoly on movies in this city. They owned theaters in both of our malls, along with the State Theater just a few blocks from this building. The theaters in the Empire Mall were eventually moved across the street to the Empire East.

Then came the announcement that a national company, Carmike Theaters, was coming to town. They built what seemed to be a fancy building on the west side of the interstate on 41st Street, and there were rumors flying that this chain was going to treat us to the kind of fare that Midco never hosted – namely critically acclaimed indie flicks.

Of course, that never happened. I don’t recall exactly what happened, but it seems to me that Midco eventually sold their theaters to Carmike, which now held monopoly power in Sioux Falls. With no competition, Carmike quickly became a joke. Their popcorn was awful, the movies were rarely shown on time, and it wasn’t a rare occurrence when a projector or two would break down.

People cheered when news came down that Century was coming to town. Again, there were the hopeful rumors that this new company was going to devote at least one screen to lesser-known fare. Well, that didn’t happen, which was really no surprise, but to this day I’m relatively impressed with how they do business. I now make a point to not visit Carmike.

Unfortunately, in the last few months I have been forced to give this company a few of my dollars. The first instance was this past April when my son and I made a last minute decision to see Starsky and Hutch. We walked into the building without incident, but since we had not eaten that evening we needed some pop and munchies. Despite the fact that this was a busy Saturday night, there was only one young kid working the concessions. Needless to say, there was quite a line.

Actually, there were two lines, as he was so busy he didn’t have time to put a “this register closed” sign near one of the registers. I have to give this kid credit; he was trying his hardest to keep up, but it was virtually impossible to handle two lines of customers at one time.

Finally, we purchased our popcorn, candy, and pop, and started to head into the movie. But it wasn’t being seated yet, even though it was now the exact time it was supposed to begin. Not that there was any way of knowing this, as I guess we were supposed to figure this out by osmosis. At least while we were waiting we got to hear the phrase “now seating The Passion of the Christ and Hellboy”.

The rest of the evening passed without incident, except for popcorn that tasted like it was popped three weeks earlier, and soda that had maybe a splash of syrup. A couple of weeks ago, though, I was forced to visit this theater one more time. For some reason, Century didn’t book Anchorman, which my son and I had to see for three reasons:

1. Will Ferrell.

2. Christina Applegate.

3. Any movie that makes fun of local tv news is alright for me.

Once again we decide to go on a Saturday evening. When we entered the parking lot, I knew this was going to be a nightmare. The parking lot was only a third full, but there was a line at least 20 feet into the lot. Was everybody going to the same movie?

No, it was typical Carmike staffing and scheduling. As usual, not only had this theater booked almost all of their movies to start within a few minutes of each other, they also had one cashier manning the booth. But at least they had two people working concessions.

So we make our way to our seats, and the lights dim. We get a commercial. Ok, that’s become a minor irritation but one that doesn’t bother me anymore. Then we get another…and another…and another. In fact, they showed nine commercials…the exact same commercials that airs on television. Actually, one was even a commercial for a television show. Come on! One of the reasons I enjoy going out to a movie is to avoid ads for soda, video games, and fast food.

Finally, we get to the previews, and finally the movie itself. I must say, the next 90 minutes went by without incident, until our movie let out at the exact same moment as a couple of others.

Obviously, this week’s victim is the Carmike Theaters. It’s time for those morons to demolish that outdated building, or let that guy who runs the second run theater take over. Maybe then we’d finally get that independent theater that everybody keeps promising us.

Before I go, however, I must throw out a mini-rant against my buddies across the street. I’m not going to make fun of the mayor, and I hope that he does fully recover from his heart condition, but I was appalled at the way KELO handled the story yesterday. Besides their penchant for overkill with story after story, one of the stories featured a reporter standing in the street outside their building (is that the infamous KELO Avenue?). Talking about the mayor’s daily walks, she bragged about how the mayor enjoyed walking from his office to the KELO studios. The camera then swung away from the reporter to the KELO logo. Yes, it’s all about them, isn’t it?

Maybe, just maybe, things will improve in the next few months. One the same broadcast, KELO announced that my arch nemesis, General Manager Mark Antonitis, is moving on out. He’s headed to San Francisco to run KRON. Good riddance, and don’t let the door hit you on your ass on your way out of town.

(June 16) I struggled this week to come up with somebody or some thing to kick out of town. It has, after all, been a pretty good week. My Get Out of Town t-shirts came in (available at www.ScottHudson.20m.com); I just spent close to a month with my son; and this month has seen new albums by many of my favorites, including Wilco, PJ Harvey, Bad Religion, and the Cure.

Let’s face it; despite my little weekly segment on this station, I’m generally a mild-mannered, polite, positive person. Ok, that’s wrong. I’m what Nirvana would call a “Negative Creep”; a sarcastic, pompous, hipper-than-thou bastard. Oh well. Deal with it.

But I really don’t have a major person or topic to whine about today. So instead I’m going to list a number of things that I detest; things that I believe many people will absolutely agree are horrible minor things that we have to deal with on a daily basis.

For example, I hate those stupid cards that fall out of every magazine. Hey, I have already subscribed – why do I need a half dozen more opportunities to subscribe? Even worse are those ads that are printed on heavier paper than the rest of the magazine. Try reading a magazine in the bathroom with those things turning your pages for you.

Now is there a single person in the world who actually enjoys those things? I think not. Here’s some other things I absolutely detest:

I hate that “Let’s Get It Started” ad campaign for the NBA. Actually, I sort of liked it at first…like maybe the first hundred times I saw it. ABC can’t go two minutes without showing it, and sometimes twice in the same commercial break.

I hate any dating show that doesn’t revolve around T&A. Why would anybody watch these sort of shows if there isn’t some hot body falling out of her top or showing a bit too much leg. And I really hate the fact that Elimidate has re-edited their shows to block girl-on-girl action. What’s the point of the show without slutty people acting slutty?

This is one of many reasons that I really hate the FCC. They’ve become nothing more than shills for Clear Channel, and if they’re not stopped they’re going to kill free speech in this country.

I hate Entertainment Tonight, Access Hollywood, People, Star, E!, VH1, and any other celebrity-oriented magazine or television station. I really don’t care that J-Ho has married that greaseball pseudo-Latin singer, or the silly names that Courtney Cox and Gwenyth Paltrow have given to their soon-to-be overly-pampered offspring.

I hate Star Jones. I hate Dr. Phil. I think that Oprah is Satan in disguise.

I hate any commercial that uses “Walking On Sunshine”, “Who Let the Dogs Out”, or any other song that was awful the first time around.

I hate “team coverage” on any local news program. I also hate any five o’clock newscast that does little more than promote what’s on at six or ten. I hate when newspeople who once considered themselves serious journalists suddenly get wacky.

I hate when I get the same spam message on the same day from a dozen different fake names and with a dozen different topic headings. I hate pop-ups and any spyware that automatically downloads programs onto my computer.

I hate spam faxes. I didn’t even know they existed until a few weeks ago when my office fax machine ran out of ink thanks to those free vacation offers.

I hate Punk’d, Faking the Video, Boiling Points, Cribs, and almost any other non-music MTV show. I also hate 90% of the songs played during that 1% of music programming on MTV. Furthermore, I hate pre-awards shows where people named Sway and Shui Ann (or something like that) do nothing more than brag about how “wild and crazy” their boring show is going to be.

I hate when MTV gives an award to Lindsay Lohan instead of talented beauties such as Scarlett Johansen, particularly when Ms. Johansen is wearing a skirt that barely covers her ass.

I hate the fact that people with the loudest car stereos also have the worst taste in music. I hate the invention of booming subwoofers for cars.

I hate all cable news channels. There’s no longer news on these shows; it’s just people screaming the same clichés over and over.

I really really hate John Aschcroft. He’s the epitome of evil; a man who doesn’t care about any rights except for the right to own guns.

I hate the fact that I wasn’t able to get mail last Friday…I had to wait another 24 hours for the official release of the Paris Hilton DVD.

I hate that woman whose entire career is appearing on Larry King to proclaim Scott Peterson guilty. I hope that he didn’t do it for one reason - so she’ll have to disappear back to hosting Court Television specials on DNA evidence.

I hate when any drop of precipitation is called a storm. I also hate it when weather coverage has a sponsor.

I hate that it seems like every major street in this town is under construction, and too often you have no advance warning until you encounter the detour.

I hate these fancy stoplights that seem to give every direction their very own special green light…except for the lane that you’re in. There’s nothing more frustrating than having to wait through multiple green arrows for streets that have no cars.

Finally, I really hate how the sensitivity police have taken over this country. Jimmy Kimmel makes a dumb joke about Detroit and the show is almost cancelled. Morrissey criticizes President Bush and people have a fit. Lighten up, people. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is above criticism or bad humor. Who really cares about the opinion of a dumb celebrity, or an amateur local radio provocateur? Wait, amateur radio commentators have a lot to say…and a really cool t-shirt to hawk.

(June 9) During last week’s highly rated episode of Get Out of Town, I promised that the month of June would feature a huge purge of people that annoy everybody. Part one of this series highlighted (or should I say lowlighted?) the morons who ruin our movie experiences.

This week, I’m a bit torn. There’s other topics that I could rant on, such as the rewritten history of Ronald Reagan that has been broadcast 24/7 on all cable news channels since his death this past Saturday. I’m not saying that he wasn’t a good man, but, like all politicians, he had his faults and mistakes...in his case I’d have to say that any biography would have to include record deficits, junk-bond scandals, and the whole Iran-Contra episode.

On the good side, there are two facets of the man that couldn’t be highlighted enough. He was a man who despite differences of political opinion could still maintain relationships with his opponents. He reportedly had weekly lunches with House Speaker Tip O’Neill; an act that would be unthinkable in today’s political climate.

And he also, for the most part, accepted responsibility for his actions. When the Iran-Contra scandal heated up, Reagan gave a speech where he admitted that it happened on his watch, that it was a mistake, and that anything that occurs under his watch is his responsibility. Both sides of the political spectrum could learn from that twelve minute speech.

But I’m not here today to talk about Reagan...and I’m also not here today to complain about the Los Angeles Lakers. I could, though. I used to be a huge Lakers fan; as a kid I loved Wilt Chamberlain and I rooted for Kareem to kill the Celtics. I wasn’t a Magic Johnson fan but I did like most of his teammates.

Those days are long gone. They are now the New York Yankees of the NBA. Actually, they’re worse. The Yankees still have to perform on the field. The Lakers don’t - they have the aid of the NBA and the television networks. Gary Payton is the league’s biggest whiner, Kobe can’t dribble the ball without bitching about getting fouled. And then there’s Shaq, whose entire game is pushing and shoving followed by four or five steps without dribbling, culminating with a short shot that’s led with an elbow or shoulder to the head of his defenders. If the refs called the game correctly, he’d foul out before the end of the first quarter.

Yet the Lakers are not the scourge of this week’s rant. Nor is the disappointment of learning that the bank babe is engaged. No, I am going to carry on the multi-part, multi-topic series that I promised. And this week I’m getting rid of a ton of people - morons who can’t handle the responsibility of owning a cell phone.

Don’t get me wrong - I don’t mean everybody that owns a cell phone. Hell, that would then include me. Even the various categories I’m about to describe is not absolute. There are people that can multi-task; they can combine phone use with other activities. Unfortunately, the majority of people can’t. Here are my categories:

1. Construction executives. Way too often, I find myself behind these giant pickup trucks with an erratic driver with a phone glued to their ear. They’re making huge business deals, yet can’t handle simple driving procedures. These are the guys who one moment are driving 30 on the interstate, floating into the next lane, and then suddenly are speeding up to 90 in a 65. These are the guys who almost miss an entire green light, leaving you with scrambling to beat the yellow. These are the guys who don’t look before changing lanes. You can wait to place that lumber order or talk about Dale Jr. I don’t need your three ton hemi coming inches from my door, or fly through a intersection when I have the right of way. And I definitely don’t need to maneuver around your horrifying parking job at Best Buy.

2. Soccer moms. These twits are even scarier than the Nascar crowd, mainly because driving is hard enough for them even without their phones. Usually fronting a SUV with a “honor student” bumper sticker, they are the ones who inevitably rear-end somebody on 41st Street, or attempt a extremely slow left turn across traffic into Wal-Mart. These are the twits that don’t understand the concept of right turn on red, or that you can’t turn right from the left lane. Ladies, you can gossip with your girlfriends after you drop off your kids at soccer practice. Just stay the hell out of my way.

3. Drive Through Chatters. Given my family business, I have a unique perspective on this. Helping out over noon, I see some of the same people everyday. Some of these people are always, and I mean always, on the phone. Who could they possibly be c hatting with every single day at the same time? My guess is that there’ s not a time when they’re not on their phone.

But that’s not the worst of this category. There’s the people that can’t order until they finish their conversation; there’s the people who don’t start digging out their money until the last second (or the check writers who don’t even dig out their checkbook until prompted a few times). A word of advice - that person behind you is probably in a bigger hurry than you are. Their order shouldn’t have to sit there for a few minutes because of your conversation.

4. Retail chatters. I do a lot of shopping; definitely more than I should. I’m getting extremely sick of people almost running into me because they’re not paying attention. I’m tired of people on phones walking into a store and then blocking the entrance because of their conversation. I’m impatient enough without freaking out about you not noticing that it’s your turn to pay at Barnes and Noble. Leave your phone in your car, or at least get out everybody’s way when you do receive a call.

5. Loudmouth showoffs. These are the clems who have so much self-importance that you have to share in their conversation. They’re the ones who have a normal speaking voice but once they’re on their phone you can hear them from blocks away. They’re either making big business deals, bragging about their late night parties, or rambling about their precious babies. We don’t care! We don’t need to hear that crap! Talk in a normal voice, and keep your rambling private.

These are just a few of the categories of phone etiquette that’s breached every minute of every day. I didn’t even go into the friends who postpone serious chats to take lengthy calls. Like I said before, though, there are exceptions to every rule. There are people that can drive and talk; there are people whose conversations are somewhat interesting. There are even people that can maneuver the drive through with their phone in their hand. But they are few and far between. My advice to those who don’t want to get booted our of their calling area is to turn those damn things off until you’re either off the road or at the very least somewhere where you’re not bothering anybody else.

(June 2) Today is the first Wednesday of June. School is out, the temperature is (supposed) to be warmer, and shorts and tank tops are starting to showcase beautiful legs, stomachs…and breasts.

Today also marks the end of the first round of our political season. Thank God. No more commercials, mail, and phone calls. Talk radio can go back to arguing about which party is the most patriotic. Has-been bands can begin making the rounds of the Midwest without sharing the stage with political types.

With all of that good karma floating around, who could I possibly kick out of town? I’m sure some of you are predicting that I’ll go after KELO once again for their marathon rain coverage, particularly Get Out of Town t-shirt all-star Shawn Cable’s over-enthusiasm for any cloud that strays from the pact.

It’s too easy, though, and it’s sort of a been-there/done-that situation. We all know my feelings about that crew. But I do have two anecdotes to share. When the rain came down this past Saturday, my son said to me, “dad, we have nothing to worry about. They said the flooding is in KELO-land. Hudsonland is safe.” At the same time, my mother was attending a wedding reception at the Pavilion. When the staff forced everybody to gather in a so-called safe place, she openly complained that everybody should stop listening to Shawn Cable. God bless her.

Again the question is raised – who is Hudson kicking out of town this week? As a public service, for the next couple of weeks I’m going to purge from our population people that make our lives miserable. I doubt if there are many people who will disagree with today’s rant. We’ve all experienced the misery caused by these ass clowns, even if they are the very people that I’m bitching about.

This week I’m going to talk about movie theatre etiquette. In the last few days, my son and I have attended a couple of movies and it’s inevitable that one is confronted by some of the following people:

Late Arrivals. I realize that there are times that one runs behind schedule. Somebody takes too long to get ready; traffic around the theatres is slow-moving. It happens. It’s not our fault, though. We should not have to move so your group of twelve can have a row to yourself. You’re late; you can split up for two hours. We should not have to endure your conversation as you straggle in. We should not have our view blocked while you strategize where you’re going to sit. You should just quietly and, with some embarrassment, quickly find a place to sit your butt.

Cell Phones. This is probably the most irritating trend of recent movie-going. Unless you’re an on-call doctor, that cell phone should not even be in the theatre, or at the very least set to vibrate. Seriously, I should never, ever hear a phone ring in the theatre. Even worse, though, are:

Cell Phone Conversationalists. If you forget to turn your phone off, when it does ring you either quickly turn it off or quickly tell the person that you can’t talk…especially if you’re one of those people who is so loud on the phone that people can hear you three blocks away. Nobody, not even your family and friends, needs to hear your conversation. Last year when my son and I went to the Eminem movie, the twit next to me spent half the movie talking to a friend that was in the same theatre! If Hudsonland justice was the law of the land, she would have been sentenced to immediate death!

Space Hogs. When a movie is sold out, or close to sold out, you obviously will have to sit next to somebody you don’t know. BUT if the theatre is empty you do not have to sit within 20 feet of other people. Last week my son and I went to one of the last showings of Kill Bill 2. When we walked in there were two other people in the theatre. By the time the movie started, there were a few others. Yet with all of this space, one couple decided to sit right next to us, and another group sat right in front of us. Suddenly my foot rest was gone, as was my drink holder. Out of this entire large room, half of the audience was in a ten foot radius. I’m a private person who values his space…unless the intruder is a hot babe. Then I’d be willing to share my seat.

The Confused. One reason that I value my space is, quite frankly, the lack of intelligence of too many people. Every group seems to have one person who lacks the ability to follow the simplest of plotlines. “Who’s that person?” “Why’d he do that?” “How come her clothes are still on?” Oops; that one’s mine. Really, though. I don’t need a play-by-play call. Similar to this person is:

The Trivia Buff. This person runs their mouth through the entire movie, babbling about the actor’s previous roles, who they’ve dated, their sexual preference, etc. Or it’s the opposite – “who’s that guy?” “What movie was he in?” “What’s his name?” Idiots, watch the credits and do some research on the internet at home.

The Witty One. If there’s nobody from the previous two categories, there’s bound to be somebody who thinks they’re much funnier than they really are. They’re the people who have a running commentary through the entire movie…and it’s not just for the enjoyment of their friends. They want everybody to hear how smart they think they are. Well, you’re not. So shut the hell up.

I could go on and on with people that bug me – from loud eaters to armrest hogs to people with small bladders that inevitably sit in the middle of the row. To summarize, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Be respectful to everybody – show up at a respectable time, leave your damn phones in your car, and keep to yourself. The less we notice you, the more we’ll enjoy the movie.



(May 26) Before we begin, I must apologize for some statements that I made last week. During our discussion about the beautiful Wells Fargo girls, I made a statement that was misinterpreted by one of the people in question. I was trying to point out how some women had a tendency to take a compliment to another woman as an insult to them, and in our joking around I labeled her as an “A-“ compared to the “A+” of her coworker. I apologize for the poor choice of words.

Notice I issued a real apology, not the “I’m sorry if I offended anybody” non-apology that’s typical of athletes, celebrities, and politicians. More on that in a little bit.

I’m not quite ready for today’s rant, however. I would like to begin today’s proceedings with some words of wisdom by that great philosopher Morrissey. The famously mope-y, supposedly asexual former leader of the Smiths has just released You Are the Quarry, his first album in seven years, and it features more than a few lines that can help guide a person through these troubling times.

Our first quote comes from the song, “The World is Full of Crashing Bores”, whose title alone is worth noting. “What really lies/beyond the constraints of my mind?/could it be the sea/with fate mooning back at me?/no, it’s just more lock-jawed pop-stars/thicker than pig-shit/nothing to convey/so scared to show intelligence/it might smear that lovely career/this world/I am afraid/is designed for crashing bores/I am not one/I am not one”.

Or how about these quick lines from “How Can Anybody Possibly Know How I Feel?” “She told me she loved me/which means/she must be insane” opens the first verse, followed in the second verse with “they said they respect me/which means/their judgment is crazy”.

And, finally, we have this future classic titled “I Like You”. “No one I ever knew/or have spoken to resembles you/this is good or bad/all depending on my general mood/why do you think I let you get away/with the things you say to me?/could it be I like you?/it’s so shameful of me/I like you/because you’re not right in the head/and nor am I”. Anybody that has had a fatal attraction can relate to songs such as these.

Enough with culture; let’s talk politics. You know, usually the phrase is “screw politics, let’s dance”. As usual, I’m a little backwards. Or maybe not, as what I’m about to say is not exactly complimentary to our current political climate.

You may recall a couple of weeks ago I had a lengthy rant about the current state of political debate not only in this country but in our state. Well, nobody must have been listening to me as the race between Larry Diedrich and Stephanie Herseth has become extremely vicious.

I’m quite frankly sick of both of them. I’m tired of my mailbox containing at least two or three pieces of junk mail each day. I’m sick of their ads airing even more often than those “one day, one night” community college commercials. And I’m especially sick of their followers that seem to live in glass houses – those who believe that their candidate can do no wrong, and their opponent sits next to Satan at every meal.

As I said before, I have no doubt that both candidates are good people. They actually seem to be pretty similar – they both have a rural background; they both seem to have close ties to their family. Most importantly, despite the rhetoric their stances on most issues really aren’t that far apart.

What’s maddening about their campaigns is how each of them are playing the victim. The strategy for both candidates seems to be “I’m a positive person and I won’t go negative…but my mean opponent has been saying this and this about me”.

They’re both being extremely nit-picky about random, isolated statements that the other has made. Both candidates have come under attack from the local media for violating copyrights. They’re even both seemingly going against their own party in some of their attacks.

And they’re both accepting contributions and commercials from organizations whose agendas they probably do not agree with. Who cares if Emily’s List has helped fund Herseth’s campaign? Who cares if some of those East Coast far right organizations that hate Daschle are running ads for Diedrich? If Bill Frist, Laura Bush, and Kathleen Harris can host fundraisers for Diedrich, why can’t similar politicians do the same for Herseth?

If all of that wasn’t bad enough, we now have a new controversy less than a week before the election. At a “Get-Out-the-Vote” rally held this past weekend, Senator Tim Johnson raised the ire of Diedrich supporters for a silly line comparing some elements of the Republican party to the Taliban. Notice the key word, “some”. Johnson was not demonizing the entire party; he was demonizing the hate-mongers that have never shied away from using similar statements linking their opponents to Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden. It was an ill-conceived joke, and Johnson certainly deserves some criticism, but the response from the Diedrich camp is a bit over-the-top. Herseth is getting the rap for Johnson’s statement, with moronic picketers demanding that SHE apologize. That’s like asking Slash to apologize for Axl going out on the road with a fake Guns ‘n’ Roses.

Yesterday Johnson sort of apologized; can the story now end? Let’s forget about it; let’s forget about everything except for the merits of the two candidates. Don’t be a sheep to your party or your favorite talk show. Follow your own conscious and vote for the person that you feel will do the best job in Washington. The sort-of good news about this election is that if you feel you picked the wrong candidate, you can right that wrong in just four months when we have to go through all of this one more time. I have a feeling, though, that it’s just going to get uglier the second time around, particularly with the Thune/Daschle race also occurring.

I’m Scott Hudson, and I approve this message.

(May 19) Today is day three of Operation Janklow Freedom. It’s been almost 72 hours since the man was released, and still we don’t know what he plans to do with his life. Does he have a future in politics? Will he write a weight loss book? Has he had regular bathroom movements?

Ok, that entire last paragraph was facetious. I could care less what he does with his life. I hope he goes off quietly into the sunset, showing up in public only for civil court appearances.

I guess I’m alone in this opinion, however, or at least the local media doesn’t agree with me. Their handling of the final days of Janklow’s incarceration has been nothing but embarrassing. Despite no official announcements from his family, we’ve read and seen story after story predicting his future. It’s all b.s.

The media’s lowest point definitely happened around nine o’clock Monday morning. Film crews and reporters crowded in front of the county jail as if Michael Jackson was set to appear. Most embarrassing was the live feed provided by at least one local station. What could possibly happen to make this worthwhile?

And that’s the point. Janklow had not given any indication that he would have any sort of statement, and even if he had there still would have been no point for a live feed. The post-perp walk could have been saved for the evening news.

Not that there wasn’t some good humor in the proceedings. I may be a fan of Steve Hemmingsen, but I would have also walked by the self-serving prick. “Do you have any words for the people of South Dakota?” C’mon, Steve. That’s a Jolene Loetscher-type line. And I must admit that I chuckled when the Native American protesters forgot what they were protesting when the cameras finally found them.

The entire episode was a great example of a common theme of this segment – our local media sucks. I’ll give the newspaper a bit of a pass, although their multi-page wedding section this past Sunday almost erased any good karma that I may have previously felt.

But our local television stations are embarrassing. I have better help working my drive throughs then these snot-nosed, minimum wage kids that are masquerading as reporters. Few are from this area, and know absolutely nothing about the people they’re interviewing or the subjects they are covering. It’s easier to do part 450 of West Nile than to look into any real controversies. To these stations, the only real news is weather. One anchor recently admitted to me that the weather department gets anything they want, while this same station refuses to hire a single capable sports anchor. There is little-to-no true investigative reporting – it’s easier to scare people by hyping isolated incidents.

A perfect example of this trend is the so-called drive-by shooting that occurred a few weeks ago. For six days, all three stations broadcast story after story – usually introduced by unnecessary live remotes from the so-called scene.

Six days of stories that never changed from day one. The first story always replayed the details that a handful of shots had been fired in front of this certain residence followed by the clichéd “I never thought this sort of thing would happen in Sioux Falls” stories (why don’t they just use file footage for that) concluding with statements from the police department’s daily press conference. One local station even dubbed the shooters as the “Eighth Street Gang”. Don’t they realize how embarrassing they look?

And they should be embarrassed, particularly when nothing was reported last week when all charges against the “Eighth Street Gang” were dropped (the Argus had a couple of paragraphs but I saw nothing on the evening news). One would think that each of the television stations would have some reporters investigating why the case couldn’t hold up in court, or at the very least find out the real story behind the incident.

Well, I have the real story; the Hudsonland exclusive. I’m no investigative reporter, but I do play one on the radio. It didn’t take much work, either. I just overheard a couple of conversations, and days later chatted up two sources who, while not witnesses of the actual shooting, were present at some of the events that led up to it.

It’s a pretty simple story, actually – one that you see every night on Springer or Maury Povitch. A complex love triangle featuring a woman and two men. Threats and violent incidents leading to the good guys firing shots at the bad guys. The only thing missing is Steve the Bodyguard jumping into the fray and/or Dr. Gelb announcing pregnancy results.

So the story begins with a woman, her boyfriend, and another idiot obsessed with this woman. One evening the obsessed dude shows up at her house and attacks the boyfriend. She jumps in and helps her man by hitting the guy in the head with some sort of blunt object.

He comes back with his homeboys and threatens to kill the girl. Later, three cars of guys return to harass the woman (a three deep roll-by is how this was described). She called her boyfriend, and he and his buddies drove by the guy’s house and fired off a few shots at their porch.

While not exactly classy behavior, it’s easy to see why this case was dropped. Nobody knows who exactly fired the shots, the gun was never found, and nobody on either side was willing to talk. Furthermore, most of the so-called witnesses were described to me as “cracked out” so any testimony they would provide probably wouldn’t hold up in court.

And nothing has changed. The couple are still together, and the sort-of intended target is still stalking the woman.

Now I’m not saying that this is exactly model behavior. Death threats, head injuries, and fired shots are not the sort of drama that I want to experience. But from all indications this is really nothing more than an isolated incident. There’s no “Eighth Street Gang”; there’s no reason to stay off the streets after dark. I certainly wouldn’t want this sort of activity in my neighborhood, but it could happen. If it does, I’m not going to sell my house and head to the country. Wait, it’s not safe there either. There’s puppy mills and meth labs on every block, or at least that’s what those morons on the boob tube would love for us to believe.

I’m Scott Hudson, and I approve this message.



(May 12) A few days ago, one of my co-workers who enjoys instigating trouble began started questioning other employees about the upcoming Presidential election. “You’re not going to vote for Bush, are you?” Thankfully, most of the other employees just ignored him.

A couple of minutes later, he approached me and asked who Bush was running against. When I informed him that it was John Kerry, he asked who that is. Yes, this man is an informed voter.

Unfortunately, that’s a pretty typical response from anybody under age 30. After all, there are more important topics to discuss – the (terrible) final episode of Friends, American Idol, Kobe Bryant, Mel Gibson, Janet Jackson’s floppy breast, Lacey Peterson, the gay character on the Sopranos. Yeah, all that’s more important than the future of our country.

Yet I don’t completely blame young adults from being turned off by politics. Try listening to talk radio or cable news networks. Sit through a couple of campaign commercials. They’re embarrassing.

Before I carry on, a little personal disclosure. I am not, or have never been, a member of either political party. Over the twenty years that I have participated in elections, I probably have voted for as many Republicans as Democrats. My philosophy is to vote for the best person for the job. I am in favor of a limited government that stays out of my home, let alone my bedroom. But I also believe there should also be safeguards to offer assistance for the needy. I believe the First Amendment is as important as the Second.

These days, there’s little difference between the two parties, despite what the blowhards scream every night. Democrats have moved farther to the right, and it’s now Republicans that spend willy-nilly and want to pass laws to interfere with my homelife.

I say all of this because what follows in this rant may make me appear to be one of those nasty pinkos that Rush and Hannity complain about. My comments are actually about everybody on both sides of the political spectrum, but it’s easier to complain about the Far Right as they are the ones who control the airwaves.

So who’s getting the boot, you ask? A lot of people - narrow-minded morons who think that their viewpoint is the only viewpoint. Members of the extreme right and left who have transformed politics from a healthy debate to improve our country to a discouraging, mean-spirited policy of “anything to embarrass my opponent”. Newspaper letter writers, talk-show callers, and organizations with self-important, seemingly non-partisan names that hide dangerous agendas.

There was a time when people could have civilized political discussions. You could gather groups of people with diverging viewpoints and actually come away with a viewpoint different from before the conversation.

Not anymore. Everybody has become a sheep to their party. Anybody that opposes the official party line is labeled with close-to-obscene terms. Instead of pushing ideas, those whose voices are heard on talk radio or cable news channels stick to demonizing their opponents. Sean Hannity’s latest book compares those he describes as liberals to terrorists. Ann Coulter’s entire career consists of calling Democrats names. I am a fan of Michael Moore but he doesn’t let facts get in the way of a good insult. And the few Democrats who bother calling talk radio stations are no better.

Which brings us to the liberal media myth. The Republican’s greatest achievement in recent years is convincing the general public that there is a liberal bias in the media. Come on. The majority of media outlets are owned by extremely conservative corporations, and there are ten William Bennett’s for every Michael Moore. Hell, what’s ironic about Coulter’s career is that a conservative book publisher turned down her first book, which eventually came out on the same so-called liberal publishing company that published her arch enemy Katie Couric.

But the strategy has worked, mainly by tying into that irrational belief that we all have that everything should reflect our personal views. Any positive description of someone we don’t like becomes evidence of bias (either liberal or conservative); the same allegation is raised when anything other than glowing is written about our faves.

That’s an example of the hypocrisy that thrives in our current culture. Actions that were despicable when performed by the opposition is perfectly alright when it’s done by our party. Darrin Smith appearing in a Tom Daschle commercial supposedly confuses voters but that same sort of commercial starring Governor Rounds is perfectly okay. Downright noble, in fact.

Which brings us to the four candidates running for office in South Dakota. The newspaper is filled with letters demonizing each of these people. I’m going to go out on a limb here. I don’t personally know any of these people – Stephanie Herseth, Larry Diedrich, Tom Daschle, and John Thune – but I have no doubt that all four of these people are wonderful human beings. They all have both positive and negative qualities. I firmly believe that each of them feels that they have something to offer to help our state. All four have accepted money from somewhat extreme organizations that they may not necessarily completely endorse. They all have or at some point will have to follow their party and make painful votes that will lead to criticism in our state. All four are relatively well-off, at least by South Dakota standards. Yet all four have also been demonized for each of those qualities.

I beg to everybody to demand the following:

1. Stop the name-calling. Treat each candidate as you would wish to be treated. Thune’s not a Nazi; Daschle’s not a Commie.

2. Let’s talk about actual issues in detail instead of generalized catch phrases. I don’t want to hear about lockboxes or South Dakota Values.

3. Quit being sheep. Investigate both sides of every issue instead of just accepting what’s commanded of you.

4. Have a sense of humor. Everybody is fair game when it comes to satire.

5. Dissent is not unpatriotic. What is patriotic is to question our government. We are the ultimate watch dogs; all politicians at all levels of government are accountable to the people they represent.

6. Drop the double standards!

7. Concede mistakes. Each party has had and will have their fair share of misdeeds. It’s better to admit them and move on. John McCain should be the example that both parties follow. He loves his party, but he loves his country even more.

I’m Scott Hudson, and I approve this message.



(May 5) Before we begin, I must right a wrong. Last week, in my critically acclaimed list of the worst songs of all time, I missed one. This song is a definite top five contender, and it’s position has been strengthened by a useless remake by another worthless performer.

Of course, I’m talking about “Take My Breath Away”, originally performed by Berlin in Top Gun (one of my least favorite movies ever) and currently garnering airplay via a remake by Jessica Simpleton. If you need to hear a stereotypical overwrought 80’s ballad, this is it. I hope to never hear it again.

On to this week’s business. In recent weeks I haven’t given the big ol’ boot to any true locals. The entertainment business has taken the majority of hits, but don’t worry. I haven’t lost my local bite.

Just not this week, however. But I am going to take the piss out of something that probably does affect me, you, and everybody else. Tomorrow evening at 7 pm, thousands of Hudsonland residents (and tens of millions across the country) are going to sit through what is being advertised as the last episode of Friends. Typical of today’s trend of overkill, the entire NBC lineup is going to be devoted to this show – from the final episode to an interview/clip special to that dimwit Jay Leno talk show.

Overkill is the key word here, and it’s not just on NBC. You can’t escape the hype. It’s on the cover of every magazine; every silly entertainment news show; even our local paper devoted a few thousand words to it this past Sunday. You had to have seen at least commercials for some of these programs – the weepy interviews with the actors (“I’ve been crying ever since we taped that episode”; “I don’t’ know what we’re going to do now”). Well, don’t sorry for these folks. They’ve each made hundreds of millions from this show; methinks they’ll find something to do with their time and money.

It’s not that I don’t like Friends. It’s a somewhat enjoyable, albeit lightweight show. It’s pleasant and safe. Most of the characters (except for David Schwimmer’s) is likable. The women, especially Jennifer Anniston, are attractive.

But the show is a shell of what it once was. When it debuted ten years ago, it was actually a bit groundbreaking. An ensemble cast without a true lead, it was somewhat realistic in it’s dialog and storylines. It had a bit of an edge.

That edge disappeared a long time ago, and as it winds up it has become a very irritating show. This season in particular has been just dreadful – it’s rare that one would crack a smile while viewing, let alone laugh out loud.

And that’s the problem with final seasons and final episodes. The entire focus is on the final show, and coming up with a conclusion. At least half of this season has existed for no reason other than tomorrow’s broadcast. It has become a soap opera comedy. Every week there has to be a new twist (a word I want banished from network television). There was nothing funny with Phoebe’s wedding, Chandler and Monica’s purchase of a house, or the will they/won’t they questions behind Schwimmer and Anniston’s character.

Although I haven’t found any true spoilers, it seems pretty obvious what’s going to happen tomorrow night. I’ll save you a half hour of your life. After one last hookup, Anniston heads to the airport. Schwimmer decides he can’t let her go, so he chases after her. He arrives a minute too late, and he catches the next plane to Paris. Unfortunately for him, Anniston has already changed her mind, and is heading back to Schwimmer’s apartment. Hijinks ensue as they keep missing each other…until the very end where they pledge their love to each other. Yawn.

I’m not just kicking out the finale of Friends, though. As I said just a few seconds ago, ratings-engineered, publicity-enhanced endings never work. Remember the last episode of MASH? Truly horrible. The same with every other successful show. Cheers? Awful. Cosby? Dreadful. All in the Family? Roseanne? Sex and the City? According To Jim? Oh, that’s still on? Who knew? Only Seinfeld worked, and that’s not a popular opinion because it was a purposely over-the-top show designed only for the serious fan.

Finales have to go, and I’m not just talking about comedies. All shows should just end. There should be no big wrap-ups; no conclusions for the characters. All of that should be left to our imagination. Married With Children didn’t embarrass themselves with a self-congratulatory wrap-up, with Kelly getting married, Bud finding a girlfriend, Marcie coming out of the closet, and Al and Peg breaking up. Nor did Andy Griffith, Beverly Hillbillies, Sanford and Son, Beavis and Butthead and most of the true classics. They just quit making new episodes, which is why there’s little difference from the first season to the last.

And while we’re at it, it’s also time that we get rid of the soap opera mentality of today’s programming. Why does every show have to end with a cliffhanger? It may help keep viewers in the short-term, but it’s disastrous for future airings. Try watching a rerun of ER or The Practice. You need a scorecard to figure out who everybody is and why they’re arguing, sleeping, or hanging with certain people. This mentality was the ruin of Drew Carey, a show whose first two seasons were somewhat groundbreaking. If I want a soap opera, I’ll waste my time with Passions or Guiding Light.

A television show should have a plot that last only through the 30 or 60 minutes that it’s aired, with room for occasional two-part special events. Look at those shows I listed earlier. You can tune into any episode of Married With Children, and the only difference is the length of Christina Applegate’s baby doll dresses. You can watch any season of Sanford and Son knowing that you’re going to hear Redd Foxx call Aunt Esther an ugly woman. The early episodes of Friends fit this category; the last two seasons won’t be so successful on the dozens of reruns aired per day.

Having said all this, I admit that I’ll probably be one of the millions tuned into Friends tomorrow evening; although I’ll probably use the picture-in-picture to simultaneously view WWE’s Smackdown. Now that’s a soap opera I can handle.

I’m Scott Hudson, and I approve this message.



(April 28) Before we begin, I must gloat a bit. Last week, I reported on the torture of sitting through an entire episode of American Idol. I ended the rant with the plea to quit watching the show so that we can end this misery.

Well, it seems to me that there are millions of people with similar thoughts, but with a different, albeit ingenious, plan. While I couldn’t find a talented person on the entire show, there are supposedly three women who were expected to duke it out in the finals. And there’s one truly horrible red-head who is about as talented as William Hung.

So what happened last week? The guy with zero talent received the most votes, and the three so-called stars battled for last place, leading one to be kicked off.

What a great idea! We should sabotage all bad shows. In fact, let’s take that attitude to the local scene. I am here today to offer free food to anybody who disrupts a local news live shot.

Ok, moving on to this week’s topic. Last week, Jen and I spent quite a bit of time talking about Blender Magazine’s list of the 50 Worst Songs of all Time. Generally speaking, I hate lists – especially the garbage that E! and VH1 present day after day after day. The 100 Most Shocking Celebrity Moments, 50 Greatest Makeovers, 25 Worst Plastic Surgeries, etc. But this list is something that I could relate to. I realize that some people who will remain nameless complain that I’m so negative, but I like to describe myself as “viciously informed”. Blender’s list is the epitome of viciously informed.

I am here today to come up with my own list of horrifyingly awful songs. Over the last few days, I have been obsessed with the topic. Friends have made suggestions; others have whined that I’m attacking their grade school memories. Because of this week of inflection, I have way too many songs to single out. To shorten the list, I have eliminated a good number of these songs by lumping them together into groups.

The first part of today’s rant will be some of those groups, and then we’ll move on to the worst of the worst; the songs that make me want to wretch.

# The first group is literally a group; a band so awful they deserve a category all to themselves. The Grateful Dead. Really, any and all songs deserve their place on any list of terrible music moments. And we must add their dirty hippie brothers – Phish, Dave Matthews, John Mayer, the Beach Boys.

# Any song from an unnamed genre of faceless, lifeless rock that helped ruin my high school days. We’ll just call if Midwest rock – while most of these bands weren’t from the Midwest, this part of the country was and is the only place where these bands were successful. Some of these bands include REO Speedwagon, Journey, Styx, Kansas, Head East, and Loverboy.

# Almost any song that includes the word “rock” in the title, particularly those that substitute the f-word with rock.

# Paul McCartney as a solo artist. With a few exceptions, McCartney sucks without Lennon. If you don’t believe me, just listen once again to the following four songs – “Silly Love Songs”, “Let ‘em In”, “Say Say Say”, and “Freedom”.

# Jock Jams. Some of the songs included on these albums wouldn’t be so bad if minor league teams all across the country weren’t still using them ten years later. Special attention has to go to a song called “Get Ready For This” by 2 Unlimited. Until last night I didn’t know the name or artist of this travesty; I just knew that I cringe whenever the Skyforce use it.

# Any pseudo-country song sung by a city feller in an oversized, ugly cowboy hat. Garth, Toby, Alan, Brooks and Dunn deserve special mention, as do their female counterparts (Shania, Martina, Reba, etc.).

# Simplistic, jingoistic, post 9/11 power ballads. I don’t mean to sound unpatriotic, but these songs are way too sappy. And special mention has to go to Daryl Worley for rhyming “forgotten” with “Bin Laden”.

Finally, it goes without saying that a complete list from me would include the majority of hair band hits.

With thousands of songs already parsed from my list, it’s time to go after the worst of the worst. I’ve narrowed the list down to twenty, but truthfully this is something that’s ever-changing. If I was to do this again next week, I’m sure the results would be quite different. I also realize that I’m bound to offend practically everybody listening right now. So what? Who cares if we disagree? It’s like politics – as long as your opinion is an informed one, it’s the right one for you. There’s no right or wrong.

20. Hammer, “Too Legit to Quit”. The problem with most pop-oriented hip-hop is the simple fact that there is no actual song. It’s just a catchphrase repeated over and over and over. This song perfectly exemplifies this deficiency, and is the real reason why Hammer was destined to not last for more than two albums.

19. Bon Jovi, “Wanted: Dead or Alive”. Jon Bon Jovi has always been nothing more than a wanker, and this overwrought power ballad set the stage for a million other awful, over-dramatized songs designed to showcase the softer side of bands who spent more time on mousse than music lessons. Yeah, we know he’s seen a million faces but he really has yet to rock.

18. Dixie Chicks, “Goodbye Earl”. Can you imagine the uproar if a male-oriented act released a song glorifying the murder of a woman? Oh yeah, I forgot – this is grrrl power!

17. Spice Girls, “Wannabe”. Speaking of grrrl power, the song and the lip-synchers who started the whole teen-pop craze. Whoever is responsible for this travesty should be immediately electrocuted.

16. Jimmy Buffett, “Cheeseburger in Paradise”. Another artists who’s entire portfolio could make this list. I have been in way too many bars where this song seems to be on repeated play on the jukebox. Interestingly, I always seem to have a massive headache the next day.

15. Gloria Estefan, “Conga”. For almost twenty years we’ve heard predictions that Latin music was the next big thing. Thankfully, it’s never really happened. Despite the lack of a hit for over a decade, this twit always seems to find herself regurgitating this song on show after show, particularly around Christmas.

14. Creed, “With Arms Wide Open”. I’ve never understood the appeal of these ass clowns. I’ve always said they’re nothing more than “hard rock Hootie”, and trust me, that’s not a compliment. Poseurs.

13. Backstreet Boys, “Everybody (Backstreet’s Back)”. I always get a laugh when the pre-fab acts try to act like they’re tough guys from the mean streets. So they obtained some tattoos and opened their shirts. They’re still a bunch of girly boys.

12. Billy Joel, “Uptown Girl”. This car-wreck of a songwriter almost earned his own category, but this fake tribute to 60’s pop goes ten steps farther down in the gutter. Can we possibly stop him from not only driving but writing and performing?

11. Christina Aguilera, “Beautiful”. I’m sorry, but this song makes absolutely no sense. She’s singing that she’s beautiful (which is a lie right there) and words can’t bring her down. Yet the concluding line to the chorus is to not bring her down today?

10. Wham, “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go”. No words are needed.

9. Huey Lewis, “Hip to Be Square”. Rock ‘n’ roll officially died on the day that this generic, albeit pleasant, entertainer unleashed this song. Hip to be square? Who ever used these words, or agreed with that sentiment? This song could only exist during the Reagan Administration.

8. Boston, “More Than a Feeling”. I could have included any song by this band, but this is the only one whose title I could remember. One band, one song, one sound – repeated over and over and over.

7. Phil Collins, “Susudio”. What the hell does this word mean? What the hell does anything Phil Collins sing mean? Barely beat out “Abacab” for inclusion on this list.

6. John Cougar, “Jack and Diane”. I refuse to call this man Mellencamp. He became famous as John Cougar, so he’ll always be John Cougar. You don’t see David Bowie reverting back to David Jones. Believe it or not, I actually like a lot of Cougar’s songs. He’s recorded quite a few great songs, and quite a few good albums. But every album has at least one embarrassing song. This is one of them. There’s nothing to this song except for that one verse.

5. Starland Vocal Band, “Afternoon Delight”. One song had to represent the awful one-hit wonders of the 70’s, and this is definitely it.

4. Village People, “YMCA”. Disco sucked in 1977, and it still sucks in 2004. And the arm movements – they still gotta go away. Please. Now. I mean right now. Instead of banning Howard Stern, let’s ban “YMCA”.

3. Barry Manilow, “I Write the Songs”. First off, Manilow didn’t write as many of his songs as people would love to believe. And I don’t think he even wrote this one. And why is this hack so cocky in this song? Even gangsta rappers show a bit more restraint.

2. Meat Loaf, “Paradise By the Dashboard Lights”. Everything is wrong about this song. The length, the obvious double entendre of baseball representing sex, the size of Meat Loaf’s stomach. I could go on and on, but it’s popularity at karaoke bars is the main reason why this song ranks so high.

1. John Travolta, Olivia Newton-John and a dozen other morons, “Summer Loving”. Not only was “Grease” my least favorite movie of all-time, but it’s soundtrack is easily the worst album of all time. And this is the most annoying song on the album, especially those screeching backup vocals screaming “tell me more, tell me more”.

There you go. Hudson’s list of songs that need to go away immediately. Before I go, I’d like to invite listeners to forward their lists to me at Hudson@iw.net.

I’m Scott Hudson, and I approve this message.



(April 21) You may have noticed an extra edge in my voice this morning…except when we were wishing my son a happy birthday. I’ve been a bit cranky this entire week, and it’s not just due to my lack of sleep. Today is the worst of the days, but I think within the next few paragraphs everybody will understand why I’m so bothered.

You see, I have punished myself by actually sitting through two of the most vile, garish, wretched television shows every produced. My first round of misery was this year’s version of VH1’s Divas. This is a show with a history of over-the-top, non-talents – the likes of Celine, Cher, Beyonce, Mariah, etc. etc. etc.

What grates me about this show is the very use of the word diva. The word came into use in Italy to describe the leading ladies of the opera. It generally was used to describe artists whose extraordinary artistic talents and longetivity deserved an aura of an unquestionable, powerful presence.

These days, the term has been hijacked by any female singer who shows a little flesh and has a minor hit or two. Divas can and oftentimes are a bitch, but that’s not historically part of the definition. Billie Holliday was a diva; so was Aretha Franklin in her 60’s heyday (before she became bigger than a Mack truck and would do anything for a hit). Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and their ilk may be bitchy, conceited wenches but they’re not divas.

This year’s VH1 show featured the questionable talents of Jessica Simpleton, Ashanti, Eve, Carmen Elektra (yes, she sang), Joss Stone (who I actually like) and old-timers such as Cyndi Lauper, Debbie Harry, Patti LaBelle, and Gladys Knight. I may have a soft spot in my heart for Lauper and Harry, but they’re not divas. Nor is LaBelle, the person whose only contribution to the music industry is the vocal histrionics and microphone hogging that has plagued the industry for the last few years.

Please note that I didn’t really sit through the initial telecast. I’ve never even seen the whole show from start to finish. Because VH1 has never met a show that it wouldn’t overplay, I’ve seen a few minutes here and there for the past four days. All told, I think I have seen the entire show, but I have no idea in the order of performances. All I know is that I constantly stumble upon it. When the inevitable headache comes on, I turn the channel.

I don’t know how anybody could watch it from start to finish. Who thought that the world needed a remake of “Take My Breath Away”? Why is Carmen Elektra singing a Duran Duran song. Why would Eve ruin Blondie’s “Rapture” with an awful “what up yalls” rap that is more white than Debbie Harry’s original? And what the hell was Tom Jones doing there?

If Diva’s wasn’t enough misery for one person, this week I continued a tradition that will most certainly have ended this week. Every season, I see if I can actually sit through an episode of American Idol. I know, I know…I must be a masochist to allow that much pain. I decided that this is the week to do this because I’m most disappointed in hearing that Quinton Tarantino was a guest judge last week…and for some reason acted like he liked these idiots.

First off, anytime Ryan Seacrest opens his mouth I have thoughts of running to Wal-Mart to buy a gun. As Tony Kornheiser recently said, he’s nothing more than a haircut. There is nobody in the history of television that is more worthy of a quick death than this panty-waste.

Then I discover the shocking news – it’s Barry Manilow night! I know that I can’t make it through this whole show…but I’ll do what I can for the sake of my research. Idiot Seacrest introduces him by saying something about his music has been there for every wild night, every party, every discovered love, and every sensual evening. No, I don’t think so.

Finally, the judges were introduced. Simon Cowell, the only one on this show with any common sense, is forced to sit through an insult from that idiot Seacrest. Paula Abdul actually appears more stupid than in previous seasons, and Randy Jackson can’t open his mouth without some twenty year old homeboy phrase. “Yo yo, dawg, I gotta give you your props”. Shut the hell up.

All of that is bad enough but these morons were forced to sing songs written by Manilow. As for the performers - is this the best they can do? What is the difference between William Hung and this red-haired clown that couldn’t hold a tune if it was trapped in his giant forehead. And this black dude was so awful that they didn’t even boo when Cowell said he sucked.

Then there was the female contestants. Every single one of them seems to have graduated from the Celine Dion school of overwrought, over-the-top vocal gymnastics. It’s not about the song or the melody; it’s about how long you can over-enunciate each syllable and how many Mariah Carey-ish dog whistles you can conjure up, all accompanied by overly dramatic hand gestures to overly-accentuate your supposed accomplishments. I swear, my dog Sam hasn’t gone this crazy since the neighbors first brought home that cute little terrier.

Let’s face facts – none of these people have a chance in hell of becoming a star. Sure, the winner will be force-fed on us through the millions of pseudo-celebrity tv shows and magazines, and certain radio formats will be paid enough money that they’ll have to play them for awhile. But will any of these people get to a second album, let alone a third? Doubtful. These people aren’t artists, they’re D-level entertainers whose best bet for a career is as a lounge singer in Branson or by touring the country to sing the national anthem at minor league sports facilities. They’re puppets – they sing what they’re told to sing and substitute vocal gymnastics for passion, soul, or artistic integrity…just like those twits that appeared on Divas.

The only other question that I have is where the hell do they find the people in the audience. How can anybody get this excited for people so lame? They’ve got signs with silly slogans and they scream everytime that moron Seacrest opens his mouth. Please, people, get a life.

I could carry on forever with things that happened during this hour that upset me – from Burger King’s weak attempt at copying the British series the Office in their new commercial campaign to the shocking news that A Mighty Wind’s Eugene Levy is in the new Olsen Twins movie to the American Idol theme music that is played over and over and over. I haven’t been this annoyed since I found out that Married With Children was cancelled.

Friends, enemies, conservatives, liberals, critics – I have given an hour of my life (that seemed like three) in order to inform you that it’s your duty as an American to forget about this show. Please, please, please I beg all of you to never watch this travesty again. We need a dramatic drop in ratings so Fox will put us out of our misery.

I am Scott Hudson, and I approve this message.

(April 14) Before I begin, I have something to say about last night’s election results. Former KELO personality Vernon Brown beat Cyndi Alvine Phillips by a wide margin. A huge margin. A margin that’s wider than Anna Nicole’s ass before she began chomping on those diet pills.

But I think Phillips should challenge the results. Why? I don’t think Vernon is qualified for the position. Now I don’t mean qualified as in up to the task…although I have quite a few misgivings about his potential. I’m talking about qualifying as a resident of our fair city. After all, for years and years he proclaimed himself as a resident of KELO-Land. When did he denounce that residency and move into our fair city?

On to the main topic. This rant was written at approximately nine o’clock last night, after spending almost three hours filling out my taxes for the year. And I haven’t felt this strung out since that long weekend a few years ago spent following the Rolling Stones across the Midwest.

I realize that most people don’t have the same kind of hassle that I had last night. They enter the wages in one box, their withholding in another, and then wait for the check.

As you get older, however, and start participating in adult activities, tax time begins to get a bit messier. There’s deductions for items such as home ownership, charitable contributions, children, and non-reimbursed employee expenses. There’s income from dividends, retirement accounts, and stock sales. There are usually unnecessary expense to ensure that you don’t owe the alternative minimum tax or a penalty for not withholding enough from your paycheck.

And that’s where the pain in my head (and other parts of my body) begin. To figure out whether to include certain items, you have to wade through worksheets that couldn’t be more confusing, even to somebody who majored in accounting and minored in business. Line after line of add line a to line b and multiply by line c unless line a minus line b is more than ,000 or less than twenty bucks.

It’s a pain, and it doesn’t need to be. I’m not here today to say that a flat tax or a national sales tax is the way to go. Quite frankly, I’ve never researched these ideas. But there has to be a better way.

The problem is typical of the way our government operates. Every line of every tax form is the result of some sort of governmental pork. Some special interest group has influenced enough congressmen to add or subtract every item. The banking industry, the real estate industry, Wall Street, insurance companies, farm groups, natural resource groups, blah blah blah blah blah. They all have their say in creating this mess we call the tax code, a book of law whose size dwarves the Bible.

It’s not like I’m a wealthy person or anything. I’m just a middle-class single guy with a kid, a house, and a car. Certainly there should be better ways to figure out what I need to contribute to help operate this country. I don’t have a problem with having to give up some of my pay; it is after all the most patriotic move that you can make.

Which gets to another of my beefs. I find it reprehensible – no, I call it treasonous – that certain corporations have figured out a way to beat the system. Any company that hides their cash in offshore accounts or other shady methods should be immediately dismantled. I recently read a statistic that stated that an overwhelming majority of corporations that showed a profit did not pay a cent in taxes. Their duty to contribute should be no less than mine or yours.

One would think that after the debacles involving Enron and Worldcom a couple of years ago, the Feds would be ensuring that others are not living outside the law. This is not the case. Instead, there are currently less investigations involving white collar crime than at any time since the 80’s. The SEC’s budget is, for the most part, frozen, despite the fact that every year there is an exponential increase in business-related documents that they must oversee. SEC accountants are leaving in droves, and those that remain are what Fortune described as “stretched to the limit”.

At the same time, the IRS has quietly switched their focus on who they investigate. Instead of going after corporate fraud, they primarily investigate individual returns. Think about this. Instead of going after a potential goldmine of hidden bank accounts and questionable accounting practices, they waste their resources on people like you and me whose only crime is not quite understanding the pile of forms they must process. Why go after us? It’s simple, really. Fighting the big guys takes tons of money and court time. A simple registered letter and we’re shaking in our boots.

Obviously, there are individuals that cheat. I have heard of people taking deductions for other people’s children. I’ve heard of people taking business deductions for personal items that have nothing to do with their work. Worse yet is the debacle called the Earned Income Credit. In theory, it’s a great program. Single mothers (or fathers) get a little help to make ends meet. Unfortunately, the majority of people that I have encountered that qualify don’t spend a cent on their kid. That money goes to car stereos, big screen televisions, and presents for their baby daddy’s.

But the system can also be legitimately beat. Last year I received a letter stating that my return had errors and I now owed . Knowing I had done nothing wrong, I did my best to fight the system. Despite months of waiting, and an IRS office that denied even receiving my dispute, I quietly received a letter acknowledging their mistake.

So the system worked this time. That doesn’t mean I feel any better about the IRS, and their 1040’s and Schedule A’s and B’s and Z’s. I’m sure that everybody listening right now agrees that anybody associated with this bureaucracy need a size 12 boot.



(April 7) Anybody who listened last week knows that I have an inside scoop on a story that the local television stations have not been able to obtain. Or if they have found the story they have chosen to ignore it.

We’ll get to that in a second. After all, every great headliner has a superb opening act. So I have something to bitch about before we get to the main event.

I probably ranted and raved about this same topic last spring, but daylight savings time still sucks…big time. First of all, it took away an hour with my son, who was in town this past weekend. It seemed like we had just woke up and it was time for him to go back to his mother’s house.

But that’s just the start of this week’s nightmare. Now every week is a nightmare when you’re me but this one is shaping up to be the worst in months…or weeks…or days. I got back home from dropping off Alec around 6:30 Sunday evening. I made myself something to eat and plopped down in front of the television to watch the Sopranos and the L Word (a show about mainly hot lesbians? What a brilliant idea!) Then the big blog of nothingness set in. There’s nothing on television after ten but infomercials and b-movies. I even sat through the Caribou Show.

Finally, it was midnight and I was wide awake. I tried to go to bed and just tossed and turned until after 2 am. Five minutes later it was 6:30, and the alarm clock set to this station was screaming that awful Lewis Drug jingle.

Then the vicious cycle of my life took control. Caffeinated all day with coffee and Mountain Dew to keep awake, and then hours and hours of begging the Gods (or at least Mel Gibson) to fall asleep. It’s no wonder why I rarely go out on weekends – with this weeklong fight I’m ready to drop come Friday evening.

Why do we have daylight savings time? I understand that back in the olden days this was a method to assist farmers. Or is it to ensure that the children of the good old days had daylight when they made their daily ten mile walk to school?

Folks, I hate to say this but we’re now in the 21st century. Kids rarely walk to school, and they certainly don’t have the intestinal fortitude to make it ten miles through blizzards and hail storms. Even if it was dark outside, there’s now that newfangled invention called street lights to guide their way.

As for assisting farmers, we’re no longer a rural nation. Why should we all have to endure this stupid ritual for the sake of a small few. It’s not like old man Clem is out there hoe-ing his quarter acre by hand. He does his hoe-ing at the nudie bar after his minimum wage employees are finished using his quarter-million dollar tractors on his thousand acres.

So let’s get rid of daylight savings time. Although I do like the corresponding day in October when the bars get an extra hour to do business. Here’s a compromise – every fall we get a special day where the time doesn’t change but bar hours do. We could call it nighttime drunk time.

Ok, fluff time is over. Last week I promised that I would have the inside scoop of Wild Bill Janklow’s jail time, and the opinions of those convicted of lesser crimes that share his space.

You can say all you want about me, but a Hudson always delivers what he promises. The story begins a couple of weeks ago when I was visiting a local retail store. I ran into an acquaintance that I hadn’t seen in some time, and while exchanging small talk I discovered that he was currently serving a couple of months for illegally borrowing his buddy’s vehicle.

It didn’t take long for that little bulb inside my brain to light up. I asked him if he had seen Wild Bill during his incarceration. Yes, he had. We made arrangements for me to meet him during a lunch break.

Earlier this week, I met up with my new best friend, who we’ll call Beavis. We started off by talking about the layout of the jail. Each wing of the jail has a handful of cell blocks, along with a rec area and, of course, the “hole” for those that have a little trouble dealing with authority.

Beavis resides in a cell block that’s two blocks away from Wild Bill, who has a whole block to himself. In fact, in the days before his arrival the entire block was cleared to make room for His Majesty. Now I understand the security concerns regarding Jank’s stay, but do they need to completely clear out an entire block? Couldn’t they just ensure that those that do share an area are low-risk offenders? DUI offenders, bad check writers, and others that are on work release are probably not going to even acknowledge his presence, let alone harm him.

Having his own cell block gives him one immediate perk not available to others. Each cell block has one television, and what plays on the tube is determined by a vote of the inmates (probably the only time the majority of these people have ever voted). Janks has no worries that he’ll not be able to watch Fox News 24/7, or that he’ll be forced to endure any hip-hop videos or the Chappelle Show.

Beavis added that this is not Wild Bill’s only perk not available to anybody else. For instance, Jank’s was allowed to bring in his own pillows and other personal effects. To you and I this may not seem like a big deal, but it is for those forced to spend their evenings with standard issue prison pillows.

He also gets to break the rules regarding visitors. The official rule is that the only visitors allowed into the cell blocks are their personal lawyers. Jank’s gets visitors all the time, and to the best of Beavis’ knowledge these are rarely his lawyer. I’m sure that everybody else doing time would love to have visits from their baby/mama’s.

Jank’s doesn’t even have to abide by rules regarding lockdown, which occurs at 10 pm. Beavis says that those whose work release allows them to come back to jail after ten confirms that Wild Bill is still free to do whatever he wants.

Not that everything is rosey for Wild Bill. Sure, he gets to bend a few rules, and is able to roam around his wing at will. But I heard from another source that there are a couple of guards that are enjoying having the big guy around. One story I heard regards one of the few times that Janks was forced to put in some manual labor. Holding a mop for probably the first time in his life, he just couldn’t get the job done well enough for a certain guard’s liking. I would have loved to have been their watching Janks mop that same area over and over.

This small embarrassment aside, it appears that our fearless leader’s stay in jail isn’t that far removed than an extended visit to a Holiday Inn. It must not be too unbearable, as he is refusing an opportunity to leave the jail for a few hours each day to put in some community service. That’s what galls me – he should be forced to put in some time at the public defender’s office…or, even better, he could be put on highway cleanup duty. Wouldn’t it be great to see him picking up trash at the very spot where GLAD wanted a recognition sign?