After the last blog, I told myself, "Self, don't write when you're feeling down. It looks bad."

...so, I didn't. See how that worked out (as in, nearly disappearing for a month and a half)?

I also refuse to even think the words "it can't get any worse" (because it always can).

At the end of the week that saw the deaths of Ed McMahon and Farrah Fawcett, and the recall of Michael Jackson to his home planet, I got a phone call from someone I hadn't heard from in 4 years, telling me to check the newspaper... specifically, the obituaries.

That's how I found out a co-worker and good friend, who I hadn't seen o heard from since he went over to the Phillipines to do missionary work, had passed away.

Now I remember why I was happy to leave that job: some people just don't know how to deliver bad news.

Out of that long, fuzzy weekend of parties (my youngest graduated from pre-school) and funerals (well, more like a memorial service... no body, since the Phillipines hadn't released it yet), I got the distinct feeling that maybe... just maybe... it was time to kick myself out of my fugue and start living again.

So... I got my mind back together. I tried to determine if it's a mid-life crisis, but decided the whole transition from midnight-shift convenience store clerk to programmer qualified nicely... since that's over: end of mid-life crisis.

I also got dragged to another of my wife's concerts: REO Speedwagon, Styx, and .38 Special. Styx put on an outstanding show, but REO almost ruined it by making it political (is there anything more annoying than dealing with a preachy singer for 2-3 minutes between songs, when you are at the concert to escape from the crap he's preaching about?!?). .38 Special was... well, there.

The highlight, though, was a special on tickets for Creed on August 11th. Looks like 5 of us (my wife, our oldest, his friend, one of my friends, and me) are going; it's going to be epic.

In other news...

I found some good books at a flea market on a road trip out in the middle of nowhere: State of Fear by Michael Crichton (it will change the way you look at global warming) and The Face That Must Die by Ramsey Campbell (has to be one of the most off-beat horror writers around... definitely an acquired taste). I also found a $5 copy of Jason X (awful movie I've seen several times... I saw it, and immediately had to have it) and Far Cry (finding a second-hand PC game anywhere is notable these days... makes me hopeful for the future of mankind).

After seeing Styx, I hunted down a copy of Paradise Theatre on CD (oddly enough, my cassette seems to have disappeared). I'm happy.

Finally... I'm writing an editorial by the end of the week (barring an intervention). Keep your eyes peeled.

Have a good week, and stay warm.

Once upon a time, I mentioned that I had very bad luck with cars. Unfortunately, that trend doesn't seem like it'll end any day soon.

Last year, while on my way back from a job interview, the tread on my tire decided it was bored and parted from the tire itself. While I was driving the car. At 70 MPH.

My first impression was, "****, that's loud." Next thought was, "I had better pull over, because it's really hard to steer."

When I pulled the car over, I was shocked at the damage. The side marker light assembly was shattered, along with the lens. The tire was a total loss, and since I was leery of all tires at the time, I just replaced all four. Because I was still several miles from home and had no way of letting anyone know what had happened, I also got a cell phone for future emergencies.

Immediate cost: $250.

Fast forward one year...

New York requires that you bring your car to an inspection station once a year so someone can slap on a sticker that basically says "My car is safe to drive." I always thought it was a completely stupid rule: if a car is unsafe, I simply won't drive it, and I resent the $25 (it used to be $10 until emissions tests were required with the inspection) you have to pay for the "service."

In order to pass the inspection, you need all the lights and lenses intact. That meant I had to bring my car to an auto body shop to have them replace the damaged side marker light.

Cost: $40.

I picked up the car, and drove it home... and discovered, much to my dismay, that I was having a problem stopping. I had to jam my foot all the way to the floor in order to come to a stop.

Not good. Not good at all.

I waited until later that night (no traffic) and drove it across the street to the brake shop, and left it there along with a note to check the brakes, change the oil, and slap a sticker on to make me legal. I'm thinking it'll be a day (at most), about $1000 and NYS will be happy.

They called the next afternoon with really bad news:

That blowout? Turns out it did a number on the wheel bearing and spring on that side of the car. The broken spring cost me a strut on that side, too. Since the wheel bearing was wobbly, it caused to rotor to warp on that side and knock out the caliper as well.

In order to get me legal again, they had to (essentially) replace my entire front suspension and brakes. They also slapped on the "I'm safe, so bite me" sticker as well.

Cost: $2100.

That brings the total to about $2350... all for one blown tire.

I blame this on Seth Brundle. If he'd been smart enough to sweep for bugs, none of this would be necessary.

It would have been easier to swallow if my PC didn't decide to get flaky on me at the same time: the cooling fan on my video card locked up (fortunately, I caught the problem before it fried the GPU) and XP decided it no longer likes my wireless mouse ("Fatal Error While Installing," even though it has worked perfectly since Super Bowl Sunday). I had to dredge up an old optical mouse to fill in while I puzzle out how to get the laser mouse to work (it might be a conflict with the wireless router; since I can't find the frequency data for the mouse, though, I can't be 100% sure on that).

(Oh... no, it's not the mouse itself. I have it running fine on my laptop.)

It wasn't all bad. I did manage to pry myself away from everything long enough to hit up a local CD store and pick up the latest Testament album (The Formation of Damnation is excellent; I've been listening to it a lot, and it refuses to get stale), a couple of older Testament albums (Souls of Black to replace my cursed cassette copy... long story... and First Strike Still Deadly) and replacements for two old Flotsam and Jetsam tapes (When The Storm Comes Down and Cuatro). Nothing will cheer me up like a good solid metal infusion.

In all the confusion and chaos, my idea for my next editorial has flown off to Brazil. Hopefully, it sends a postcard.

So... here's to a much, much much better June. It can't *nope, stopping right there before I jinx it*.

Last night, I was out doing a bit of shopping and stumbled on something I hadn't expected: a "Fallout Trilogy" pack. It has Fallout, Fallout 2, and Fallout Tactics on one DVD for $20.

Since I didn't have any of those (one of those weird oversights... I had plenty of opportunities to buy the first two games, and somehow never bothered), I jumped on it.

I haven't installed it yet, so I don't know if there are any technical problems. I'm not in a big hurry to play it, either: after years of RTSs, turn-based anything bores me to tears.

(Yes, yes, I know... I can recite the mantra: "Fallout should be turn-based and isometric"... and it is a cIassic... so I'll have to get over it.)

"...and people sometimes lose their vision of where it all came from. They're sitting in the lap of luxury in a country built on three and a half million deaths..." Soldier's interview recording on "Unafraid."

American Soldier- If you've listened to earlier Queensrÿche albums, it may be a bit of a letdown; taken on it's own merits, "American Soldier" is a powerful and musically-solid album.

The styIe here is more progressive rock than progressive metal: slower tempos, down-key melodies, and easily-understood lyrics. This is probably a conscious choice considering the concept: songs that tell the story of a soldier, from his viewpoint. The most increble part of the album, though, is its lack of a stand on the current and past conflicts: it simply tells soldier's stories and lets the listener come to their own conclusions.

According to the band, they conducted dozens of interviews with soldiers from World War II all the way up to Afghanistan and Iraq; they used recordings of the interviews in many of the songs. This gives the songs a sort of weight to the message that they otherwise wouldn't have.

The album starts with "Sliver," a view of boot camp that had me flashing back over 20 ago to Navy basic training; the song is slow (boot camp is not slow) but intense (which they did get right). It's followed by the first of several stand-out tracks, "Unafraid:" the lyrics of the song are segments of two recorded interviews, one with a Vietnam veteran, and another from a Recon Marine from Somalia; the only singing is in the chorus. The contrasting views give the song an incredible power.

"Hundred Mile Stare" is a bit too downbeat, but seems to be about pre-combat jitters (unless I'm listening to it wrong). "At 30,000 Feet" starts with a pilot's interview, and the slow-to-mid-tempo pace matches the tale of a bombing mission. "A Dead Man's Words" (standout #2) is slow-paced, but a unique, almost serpentine riff drives the song and sucks the listener in. "The Killer" (standout #3) is an odd-tempo song, but the almost-chaotic rhythm matches the inner conflict of a soldier asked to pull the trigger on another human being. "Middle of Hell" jars badly with it, however: almost too contemplative and dreamy to follow "The Killer."

"If I Were King" (standout #4) has an incredible emotional impact from the outset: an interview with a Marine telling the story of a friend getting killed in combat. The song itself is about dealing with losing a friend in combat: contemplative, sad, and intense. You can't listen to this song without tearing up.

"Man Down!" (standout #5) uses a variation of the sinuous riff in "A Dead Man's Words" to open, but changes to a more frantic, metalllic riff to tell the story of a soldier after he's back in "the world." "Remember Me" uses a simple melody and rhythm to tell the story of a soldier trying to hold together a marriage across thousands of miles and a war; it's not a great song, but holds its place regardless.

The final standout is "Home Again," an emotionally-stirring duet with Tate and his daughter about missing your children when you're in combat. Although Emily Tate's voice seems to be a bit robotic in spots, the overall performance is incredible.

...and then you have "The Voice." I'm not sure how it fits into the album, and unsure what it's really about. It ends the album on a sort of "wtf?" moment.

Rating: * * * ½ (song-by-song, it would be * * ½, but the whole is greater than the sum of it's parts)

I'm currently contemplating a massive editorial, so keep an eye peeled. Cheers for now!