PicoBlog

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This isn’t a summary of everything I’ve done (not enough) and all the wonderful things that happened to me (incredible) this year. I don’t enjoy looking back on a year near its end and summing up all the “accomplishments” — I much prefer the Belichickian “We’re on to 2024” — but I do want to take a moment to be grateful for all the wonderful things that happened to me in my last 12 months as a writer.

The year’s almost over, and critics like me are required to provide lists as justification for our continued existence. I chose the 10 Best Jazz Albums of 2023 for Stereogum (and got 18 jazz artists to tell me their favorite records of the year), and delivered an all-metal ballot to The Wire’s annual critics’ poll, which had exactly zero impact on the ultimate results. That’s all the ranking I can stand, so it’s time to take stock of things a little more loosely.

So.  I’m glad SNL fired Shane Gillis. I hesitate to call it the right decision because the right decision was not to hire him. But it was the better of two options.  I agree, as many have suggested, that he is likely to spin his ouster into a lucrative career as a [gag] #CancelCulture martyr. He will probably make tons of money from standup gigs and a much larger podcast audience and whatever sinecures the reactionary grievance apparatus is doling out these days.

Yelawolf - "You and Me" (Official) Source: Yelawolf "You And Me" lyrics Black boots, red cup Brown liquor, no suds Some bad motherfuckers just rolled up Yeah Firecracker, short fuse I pulled the plug out on you like a corkscrew No limit, no curfew Yeah To get everything I wanted in this lifetime I had to put my beliefs on the front line In every song that I sing

This marks the first "Species Saturday.” “Species Sunday” would also have been alliterative, which was the goal of the name. Alliteration, though cheesy, can be good—but I prefer Saturday. The Yellow-rumped Warbler seems a fitting bird to start with. Common enough to feel accessible, for people to feel a sense of connection or interest. Interesting eno… ncG1vNJzZmiikaKytLLRnqCtmaNjwLau0q2YnKNemLyue89osJ6knKTEbr7UpqeenF2srrOuy56p

When my girls were younger, maybe 8 and 10, a neighbor told us about this concept called yes day (also a book). The premise: kids get to do whatever they want for a single day (nothing dangerous or illegal) and parents must go along with their requests. Of course our kids were on board with the concept, so we agreed to try it on a weekend with a budget of $20 per child.

“Does humor belong in music?” This wasn’t exactly a new question when Frank Zappa asked it in 1986, via the title of a live album with one of his sharpest bands. Well does it? Open question anymore. Zappa wasn’t simply being rhetorical; cue up the version of “Baby Take Your Teeth Out” and then answer. Or maybe “Let’s Move To Cleveland.” These are wry, arch, nuanced  expressions in the tradition of Mark Twain; encountering them today puts one in touch with a moment when metaphor was common, when meta thinking was welcome.

I’ve written about our yearly trips to Table Rock Lake in Southern Missouri, but I don’t know if I’ve ever written about the town we stay in while visiting the lake. Branson. If you’re familiar with Branson, you immediately think of the strip with the shows and the bumper boats and the hillbilly-esque vibes, but we don’t stay in that part of town. We head out to the Ozark mountains to stay a week or so every year.