Oh, Coldplay, You Hurt Me

It's not always easy being a Coldplay fan. Sure, they've sold a gazillion records and have made some of the most gorgeous rock tunes of the last decade, but they're an easy target for hipsters who think they haven't been any good since "Yellow." One of my favorite music critics mocks them mercilessly. Plus, I have a lot of friends who love themselves some Radiohead, and you really don't want to get them started. (Example: My dear friend B. refers to Coldplay as "a photocopy of a photocopy of Radiohead.") And like a chump, I always take the bait and waste my breath defending Chris Martin & Co. as makers of artful yet accessible music, then launch into a diatribe about how there are far, far worse bands, and why don't people pick on them, goddammit.

Anyway, I was oh-so stoked when I got tickets for Coldplay's Viva La Vida tour stop in Tampa. Then somebody in the band got sick and the show was postponed. When friends started saying, "Dude, sorry your show got canceled," I got all shrill: "Not canceled! Postponed! It's not the same thing!" Well, it's officially canceled. After weeks of speculation, Live Nation began sending out the sad, sad emails about refunds.

Guys, how could you do this me? All summer long, I listened to friends' ecstatic reports about seeing U2 and Incubus and Bruce Springsteen, patiently waiting for my moment — mine! — to hear "Cemeteries of London" and "The Scientist" live. This is the thanks I get for (pointlessly) rebuking the naysayers? You don't call yourselves COLDplay for nothing.

Of course, you'll release another CD of soaring anthems, I'll eventually get to see you play live, and all will be forgiven. In the meantime, those tweets about your awesome gigs in (insert European city here) aren't helping me heal.

Noise pollution

While we were in Atlanta last weekend, we met a friend of our in-laws who is from Ghana. She met President Obama when he was in Ghana over the summer, and she's a fan. The conversation eventually turned to American politics and the hoopla over health care reform, and she asked me a question I couldn't really answer: "Why are people so angry? I don't understand."

I muttered something about a segment of people being wary of anything that smacks of "socialism," even if they couldn't define it at gunpoint. I also explained that the complexity of our current health care delivery system makes it difficult to have an informed, coherent conversation about reform, and that people are frightened in hard economic times. But the more I talked, the more I realized that none of those arguments explained the vitriol or the naked rage we'd been seeing on the news.

I feel compelled to say that it is absolutely OK to disagree with Obama's health care proposal or any of his proposals. Rock on. Dissent plays a huge role in our nation's history, and it's nice to live in a country where it won't get you thrown in jail, or worse. But the town hall meeting shenanigans and the congressional heckling and the protect-our-kids-from-Obama sentiment and the commentator fear-mongering have nothing to do with policy or ideas.

Back in my hometown, the city school system decided not to let students watch the president's speech because doing so would take 18 minutes out of the school day. Really? When I was in high school, it was routine for pep rallies to last two class periods during football season. But a speech about staying in school and taking responsibility for your education is too distracting. Right.

If my reaction to all this appears delayed, it's because I'm genuinely troubled by what the "health care" debate has revealed. Or maybe it hasn't revealed anything so much as reminded us of that thing's presence, however diminished it might be.

R.I.P., John Hughes

I can't even form a coherent blog post right now. The Summer of Gen X-Related Death continues.

Shot Through The Heart

I've written before about how much I've enjoyed Ultimate Spider-Man, easily one of the most consistently well-written comics I read regularly. After a long, satisfying run, the title ended last week with No. 133. I'm still too upset to discuss this coherently, not necessarily because the book ended but because of the godawful way it ended. Imagine one of your favorite television shows going out in a giant, flaming ball of WTF, and you'll have an idea of how pissed off I am.

Brian Hibbs of The Savage Critics put it perfectly: "Fuck. Seriously, you can't do a wordless comic for $4. FUCK, and no, you can't end your run on the book on such a downer note. Especially not a book like this."

Thanks, Marvel.

"Battle for the Cowl" Defeats Me

It's Easter, a day when many are reflecting on resurrection. Which brings me, of course, to Jason Todd.

I know I need to let this go, but I am so annoyed after reading the second installment of "Battle for the Cowl." Why am I still reading it? Because I am naive and like to give things the benefit of the doubt. I want to keep up with my favorite characters, even if they are trapped in an unworthy storyline. I want to believe D.C. has a perfectly good reason for bring Todd back from the grave.

So here we have my favorite Robin, Tim Drake, dressed like old-school Batman and battling my least favorite, Todd, who has declared himself the new, gun-toting Batman. Todd has shot Batman's son, Damian, who for some reason has morphed from the fearless, criminal-murdering badass of "Batman and Son" to a pesky, frightened kid. Drake beats Todd with a crowbar, a scene that attempts to echo those harrowing panels from "A Death in the Family". Sigh. In the end, Todd impales Drake with a batarang, a scene that attempts to echo those harrowing panels from "Identity Crisis." SIGH.

I know when I've been beaten, no pun intended. I have to accept that there will never be a reason good enough to justify Todd's return, and that it will always piss me off. I'm giving myself permission to ignore the final installment of this series and its counterparts. After all, Wikipedia is free, and the new "Batman and Robin" book will begin eventually.

R.I.P. Rocky Mountain News

Final Edition from Matthew Roberts on Vimeo.

Newspaper journalism is a lot like a fraternity. Once you've been a reporter or an editor (and endured a certain kind of hazing), you consider yourself a member of the profession long after you've left. So I've been taking all the news of layoffs, furloughs and cutbacks a little personally.

I don't know anyone who worked at the Rocky Mountain News, but the news that it was closing today — just straight up shutting down — genuinely saddens me. It's Colorado's oldest newspaper. Won four Pulitzers in the last 10 years alone.

This moving video says it all.

Morons Are Ruining The Theater Experience

At some point during last night's viewing of "Dark Knight" at the IMAX, I decided that I am %$#@ing done with movie theaters, unless I absolutely, positively cannot wait for the DVD. I used to love the theater experience. Ever since my first life-changing, big-screen film ("Star Wars" in 1977), I have been an avid cinema lover. I still love movies. But I hate what stupid people have done to the communal experience of enjoying them.

I admit that I am easily distracted, so when someone comments incessantly during a film, it takes me out of the moment. It's the same with the glowing, blue screens of cell phones, even if they are silent. To go to a movie these days means dealing with this constantly, though the indie/Miracle 5 crowd tends to be much better behaved. I don't understand the point of paying upward of 8 bucks to have a conversation you could have had for free in your living room. Is it really necessary to text the equivalent of " 'Sup?" 10 times in the middle of a pivotal scene? Again, you're paying for this. This isn't a generational rant, because I enjoy a good text conversation. Just not while I'm at the movies.

But to me, the most egregious thing a moviegoer can do is to bring a small child to a thoroughly inappropriate film. At this point, everyone knows that "Dark Knight" features a brilliant and deeply disturbing portrayal of the Joker by Heath Ledger. People are shot at point-blank range, impaled with pencils, found dead in body bags. Oh, and we haven't even gotten to the part where Aaron Eckhart's Harvey Dent has half his face burned off. On what planet would it be OK to let your children, approximately ages 6 and 8, watch this - especially on a big-ass IMAX screen?

I tried to give the couple the benefit of the doubt. They were speaking a foreign language, so I thought it possible that they weren't as aware of the content as an American filmgoer might be. And then I decided that was ridiculous. This is a global blockbuster. And it's not like they left after the first, second or 14th act of violence on screen. At one point, the oldest girl was crying in her father's lap, her head buried in his shoulder. He was comforting her, but as I glared daggers at him, I longed to scream, "Why in the hell are you still here? Take this poor, frightened child home immediately!" Or as Christian Bale might say, "What don't you *%$&ing understand?!"

I was annoyed by the kids' high-pitched chatter, but it was almost impossible to enjoy the movie knowing that these girls were going to be exposed to so much scary stuff. And it's not like complaining to the manager would have helped, because small children are allowed to see a film like this as long as they're with a guardian.

The chattering, texting teens a couple of rows in front of us paled in comparison. But I kind of wanted to kill them, too.

Unless you have a high-tech home theater, I still think that nothing can replace the shared experience of seeing a great movie with others. And let's face it; some movies are made for talking back to the screen. But this kind of clueless, naked self-absorption has become noticeably worse in the last decade. I feel old saying that, but it's true. Just one more thing for the ailing movie theater industry to worry about.

Is It Really Over For Edwards?

Back when it was still a three-wo/man race for the Democratic presidential nomination, I was pulling for John Edwards. I liked Barack and all, but I particularly dug Edwards' consistent message about poverty in the U.S. When Edwards dropped out of the race, I hoped he'd wind up as Barack's V.P. choice when the time came.

I still do. Except now, some pundits claim that his admission to an extramarital affair has sunk his political career. And I don't get it.

My heart goes out to Elizabeth Edwards who, on top of battling cancer, now has to deal with this humiliating bullshit. It's national news that her husband of 30 years cheated on her in 2006, and despite his vehement denial, speculation remains that he may have fathered the other woman's child. I hope he's telling the truth about that, and I really hope his kids don't know more than they ought to. What can you say? It's jacked up.

But I'm not defending John Edwards' "mistake," 30 years is a long time. A mighty long time. We'd all like to think our marriages are bulletproof, but as long as human beings are involved, there are no guarantees. I've been married for 11 years, and even when things are going great, I'm stunned by the amount of effort and compromise it requires. Plus, the Edwardses have lived through the loss of their 16-year-old son, cancer and who knows what else. A friend of mine who is in her early 60s and divorced said it plainly a few years ago: "You never know what's going to happen."

But people like tidy morality tales, so there is no way Edwards can share the ticket with Obama now — despite the fact that this has nothing to do with my tax dollars, foreign policy, civil rights, education, national security or the economy. I guess you could play the Family Values card, but look where the "restoration of morality in the White House" has gotten us.

Scrabulous Interruptus

Even if you aren't on Facebook, you probably know by now that Hasbro recently laid the smackdown the Scrabulous application via lawsuit. A collective "What the f***?!" went up yesterday as I and my fellow addicts tried to continue our games, only to see a terse message that Facebook users in the U.S. and Canada were out of luck. Never mind that my competitor A. and I were in the middle of an incredibly tight match. Or that I won my first game just last week.

From a logical standpoint, I understand where Hasbro is coming from. Scrabulous is a blatant, if teriffic, copycat of Scrabble. Hasbro wants people on Facebook to use the official Scrabble application, which reportedly sucks. And you can still play Scrabulous via its Web site, but it's not the same.

In terms of PR, however, Hasbro looks like a hater. A corporate hater who has pissed off hundreds of thousands of people hooked on the game. Any day now, "Hasbro Blows" T-shirts will be available on Cafepress. There are already several anti-Hasbro groups on Facebook with names like "Give Us Scrabulous Or Give Us Death!" and "Please God. I Have So Little: Don't Take Scrabulous, Too."

Thing is, I can't figure out how Scrabulous hurts Hasbro. If anything, wouldn't it encourage people to go out and purchase an actual Scrabble set? As far as I know, Scrabulous is entirely virtual.

Hasbro, give us free!

Goodbye, Catfish Pad

The Catfish Pad was one of those hole-in-the wall, word-of-mouth places that every town should have. The decor was minimal, and sometimes you couldn't find a parking space. The food made that irrelevant: Succulent fried catfish, grits, homemade coleslaw. It wasn't health food, and it was delicious.

So I'm saddened — and kinda pissed off — that a robbery has shut the joint down for good. According to the Tallahassee Democrat, two men held up the Catfish Pad on June 2, and that sealed the owner's decision to call it quits. Having a gun pointed at you will do that.

It's terrible to rob anyone, but targeting a beloved, local restaurant is really hitting below the belt. The restaurant business is hard enough as it is, and I have a soft spot places with character.

Even though I'm not eating fried food these days, I sure am going to miss it.

Why Does Work Suck?

I've been thinking a lot about work lately. Not just my specific job, but also the general nature of work. I've had great bosses and terrible ones, stimulating jobs and sleep-inducing jobs. By and large, I think I've been lucky. I've never been fired, and while I haven't gotten every job I wanted, I got some of them. Even if the job was a bad fit, I always met a handful of people who became (and remain) good friends.

However, I'm struck by how few people I know who truly love, or even like their jobs. Maybe they don't hate their work, but I can count the number who seem truly fulfilled on one hand. Part of that is because I have a lot of friends in the newspaper industry, which is imploding. But according to several surveys I've read, it's a widespread problem. This article said that only 50 percent of American workers are satisfied with their jobs, down from 79 percent in 1985. That is staggering.

From what I've seen, the problem isn't necessarily the work. It's crappy/incompetent bosses and office politics that get in the way of actually doing the work. I get the sense that many people don't feel empowered to perform their jobs to the best of their ability, and that's a shame. I know the world is also full of lazy people who do enough just to get by, who blame their problems on others. That's a given. But when smart, talented, energetic people feel stymied, that's depressing. The horror stories told by Florida's state workers are legendary. And since I live in Tallahassee, I've heard a lot of them over the years. I don't know that private industry is all that much better, aside from the pay.

The floor is open. Why does the modern-day workplace suck so much?

Curmudgeons, Unite!

My late grandfather was the first curmudgeon I truly admired. There was an art to his grumpiness — a world-weary annoyance at all the random crap that used to punctuate his day. He was never mean or hysterical, just always a little pissed off.

I used to think you had to be old to qualify for curmudgeon status, but I'm not so sure anymore. I'm not even 40, and I'm sometimes surprised by how long the list of Things That Annoy Me has become. At this rate, I'll be screaming at kids (maybe my own) to "get the hell off my property" before I turn 45.

I thought of Grandpa Friday night when my husband and I went to see "Iron Man" (which was great). I don't have a problem with people chatting before the movie starts, but it became clear very early that we were sitting behind The Woman Who Laughs at Everything. Apparently, her husband is the wittiest man on the planet, though he appeared to be doing nothing other than eating nachos. Well into the previews, she leaned over and guffawed roughly every 10 seconds. I'd have moved, but the joint was packed. Thank God the action finally silenced her, or at least drowned her out.

In no particular order, here are other things that bring out my inner curmudgeon:

Talking at Concerts
OK, you've scored tickets to a fantastic show and have killer seats. You can't believe your luck. So why not celebrate ... by spending the entire 90 minutes yukking it up with friends? Seriously, why are you even here? Why didn't you just put "Roxanne" on repeat on your home stereo system and invite your equally clueless pals over? That way, you could have saved a lot of money and spared serious fans the aggravation. Next time, stay home.

Office Whistlers
We all have a little voice inside our heads that occasionally says things like, "You know that Manfred Mann song? Boy, it would be fun to whistle that from beginning to end!" Many of us ignore it when we're in close quarters with others. Not the Office Whistler. S/he has a song in his or her heart, and by God, s/he is going to share it. Repeatedly. Tunelessly. At an ear-stabbing volume. Indefinitely.

Underdressing
About a year ago, my husband and I went to dinner at Bonefish Grill, which is a pretty nice restaurant. It's not Le Cirque, but it's a notch above, say, Chili's. Most people were dressed like us — nice slacks and shirt, decent shoes, etc. But I distinctly remember several others in flip-flops, faded jeans and (my personal favorite) T-shirts bearing sports team logos. We all want to be comfortable, but is it that hard to throw on a polo shirt and a pair of clean pants? If you insist on looking like you don't give a shit at all times, I hear Wendy's makes a fine chicken sandwich.

Overdressing
This phenomenon is particularly familiar to those of us who went to historically black colleges. When I was an undergrad, it was common to see people (usually women) dressed to kill ... for biology class. I'm talking high heels, silk blouses, dangling earrings, designer purses. While I learned a lot about fashion by default, I've seen this taken way too far over the years. If you're only going to the mall or to Target, do you want to look like a "Sex and the City" refugee or a Kimora Lee Simmons impersonator?

Gum Poppers
I enjoy a good piece of chewing gum. However, I try not to telegraph that pleasure by chewing it with my mouth open or cracking the little air bubbles over and over and over and over and over and over and over again, until others want to jam a hand in my mouth and physically remove the Wrigley's.

What are your pet peeves? I mean, besides ranting bloggers.

The Florida Legislature Makes My Head Hurt

When you've lived in Florida as long as I have, you learn to put up with certain things. Hurricane season. Huge, flying cockroaches. The Florida Legislature.

I am not a wonk or a political junkie. But over the years, I've been fascinated by the breathtaking stupidity of some of the legislative proposals coming out of the state Capitol. I know there are lawmakers who are trying to do the right thing and who aren't wasting my money with boot contests, but the state of things is pretty depressing.

Never mind that proposed budget cuts ($4 billion) will hobble public schools and a number of programs that serve the sick and needy. No, what lawmakers really need to take a stand on is: evolution!

Yep, a current Senate bill would "(provide) public school teachers with a right to present scientific information relevant to the full range of views on biological and chemical evolution; (and prohibit) a teacher from being discriminated against for presenting such information." That's just a fancy way of saying, "You can't punish a science teacher for espousing creationism." That sounds nice and fair — except that the whole God-created-the-universe idea has no place whatsoever in a SCIENCE classroom.

I know plenty of Christians who are outraged that this is being seriously discussed in 2008. I mean, if you truly believe that God created the Earth in seven, 24-hour days and that evolution is some nutty theory that contradicts the existence of a higher power, um, OK. But I don't want you teaching science to my kids.

Then there's the bill that would require women seeking an abortion to first have an ultrasound exam. They could then either see the image or sign a form declining to do so. I understand that people feel strongly about abortion, which raises complicated questions I'm not qualified to answer. But neither is the Florida Legislature. A pregnancy, welcome or not, is an extremely personal and individual circumstance, and this level of meddling is so blatantly inappropriate and unnecessary.

Besides, I have yet to see this level of hand-wringing concern on behalf of the "already born" who aren't faring so well. Interesting that you rarely see impassioned marches on the Capitol or hysterical letters to the editor on behalf of kids who are in foster care or being neglected/abused. (Did I mention that Florida is one of three states that ban gays outright from adopting? One of three. In the entire country.)

Anyway, it's nice to know that legislators aren't letting their fancy boots go unappreciated. Thanks, guys.

Death to Canada Geese

My neighborhood has a gang problem. It is roamed by a pack of marauding Canada Geese who don't seem particularly interested in going back to Canada. In fact, they don't seem interested in doing much of anything except hanging out, blocking my driveway and crapping on every surface they can find.

Did I mention the crap? I don't mind sharing my property with God's creatures, but taking a dump on the driveway is just rude. I found an estimate online (which makes it official) claiming that one Canada Goose can poop a half pound per day. The evidence in my front yard suggests that is conservative.

The other problem is that these geese have no sense of urgency. They amble. You'd think they'd scramble at the sight of a car coming toward them, but no. When they're crossing my street, I have to drive right up on those suckers before they pick up the pace. Maybe they see my Volvo and think, "She's a tree-hugging liberal. She won't hit us."

I admit that I've had a bias against Canada Geese for years. A former colleague of mine once wrote a story about how they'd become a nuisance in Columbia, Md., and I will never forget this quote from one expert: "These geese couldn't find their way back home on the best day of their lives with a map and a compass."

OK, they are kinda pretty, and they don't have the creepy panhandling factor of the Muscovy ducks that populate a popular midtown lake. But they still suck. And the next one that poops on my driveway is gonna feel the wrath of my tree-hugging liberal garden hose.