short fat guy online

Today marks the twentieth anniversary of my first U2 show.  Good God, I’m old.  Way way back in the mists of time, a small group of friends drove from CMU to the once and soon-to-be beautiful Fox Theater (not yet fully renovated at the time, I mean) in Detroit.  U2’s appearance was part of the first leg of their Unforgettable Fire tour.  The Waterboys opened the show.  U2’s crowd was so enthusiastic that their constant jumping and hopping threatened to send the balcony crashing down.
    Carter Alan, in his book Outside It’s America (which unfortunately I can’t find now or else I’d quote directly from it), talks about how the band were so intimidated by the rowdy crowd that they feared for their safety and eschewed the customary practice of going out and meeting the fans after the show.  What Mr Alan does not add is that the band did go out and meet fans after the show.  And I’ve got the autographs to prove it.
    Adam appeared first, showing up on the sidewalk outside the venue, with his back against an old station wagon.  He was wearing a suit jacket and holding a small cordial of wine.  Someone asked him where The Edge was at, and with a dramatic pause he replied drolly “The Edge…is in his underpants.”
    After The Edge showed up, he was swamped by fans.  I waited my chance for an autograph, listening to some other kid enthuse about The Edge’s unique guitar style.  Someone else called out to ask if he was wearing any underwear.  Even though he must have had no idea what prompted such a question was asked, The Edge replied calmly “I am, but I’m not prepared to prove it.
    I’ll keep my Bono story to myself.  Larry darted straight onto the bus, but we still managed to get some stuff signed by passing it on to the bus driver.
    Here are a couple keepsakes from that night…

Slashdot once again gives me fodder for today’s blog entry.  According to an article at Mediaweek.com, the FCC was receiving approximately 350 complaints a year in 2000 and 2001, up to 14,000 in 2002, and rising as high as 240,000 last year.  “According to a new FCC estimate obtained by Mediaweek,” reads the article, “nearly all indecency complaints in 2003—99.8 percent—were filed by the Parents Television Council, an activist group.”
    The PTC scours the airwaves (so you don’t have to) ears pricked for any troublesome act or statement.  Through E-mail Alerts, they will contact subscribers, in titillating vivid language, and instruct them what they shoud be complaining about.  Take for example this alert describing this cockup on September’s Big Brother 5 broadcast on CBS.  “Drew says: ‘Oh, [bleeped “shit”;], [bleeped “shit”;].’  Michael passes Drew and goes into the kitchen.  He puts his hands near his face and whispers aloud (he is miked): ‘Oh fuck’ [not bleeped].”  Oh great.  Now they made me say “fuck” on my website.  Shit!  I wish there was someone to whom I could complain to keep that vile language off my computer.
    But I digress.  The PTC has gotten pretty good at spamming the FCC, but not everyone is as fooled as chairman Michael Powell.  When Fox recently challenged a complaint, “the FCC’s Enforcement Bureau said it could find only 90 complaints from 23 individuals”.  A Fox spokesman goes even further: “All but four of the complaints were identical—and only one complainant professed even to have watched the program.”
    This is ridiculous as well was being unacceptable.  Therefore, I have signed up to receive their E-mail Alerts, and every time they tell me to parrot one of their complaints to the FCC I will use their webpage form to do exactly the opposite.  This is the only way to keep Up With People from returning to our Super Bowl halftime shows.

I got this from Astronomy.com’s “Astronomy Photo of the Day.”  It was suggested by Brian, who is visiting our workplace from the West Coast.  (Click on the image for the full-size version.)

Great Lakes’ “Lake Effect”