Eric G. Wiley

As you listen to this song, pretend you're in your car, pulling out of the parking lot of your workplace to begin your *last drive home before the weekend and that everybody you drive past is looking at you in admiration of how much you rock.

*Last drive home assuming that you aren't a waiter, cook, chef, mailman, cop, fireman or suicide hotline worker. If you are any of these, merely substitute 'your two days off' for 'the weekend'.

The music I post here must meet at least two of the three following requirements. It must:
* Rock
* Make me laugh [Sardonically, gleefully or...jollilly. That's right, you heard me.]
* Have something to do with Ohio

This week's song met all three requirements.
Title: Destroy Cleveland
Band: Cleveland Ohio's H100's
Genre: Raw Thrash

Listen [1.06MB MP3 46seconds]

Posted by Eric Wiley at 12:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Checked out the server logs this morning. One of the neat things about them is that they can tell me what operating system & web browser our visitors are using. Somebody rode into our site yesterday on a Win98 OS running Internet Explorer 4.01 browser. Wow!

Why wow? Because that browser was released in 1997. To put it into pop culture perspective: Internet Explorer 4.01 was cutting edge technology the year that Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Ally McBeal and Dharma & Greg premiered on television. It was the best Microsoft had to offer the same year the Backstreet Boys were dominating the airwaves with songs like "As Long As You Love Me". It was also the year I resolved not to see "Titanic".

It's probably someone's mother desperately occupying herself on stupid sites like this while she waits for her son, who is "good with computers", to call or stop by to share his love & tech support. If that's the case, then she should know that her son is probably very busy and, besides that, he's a Mac guy and hasn't the foggiest idea of what to do with a PC. Besides, he only USES a computer at work and doesn't fix computers for a living so please stop telling people he's a "Computer Expert".

Love you. I'll stop by on Sunday.

Posted by Eric Wiley at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Written by "Porchclimber"

Sup. I'm seriously tryin' to keep my cool right now. Finally got my computer privligis back an don't want to mess that up. I got another browser window open set to full screen behind this one as backup in case I gotta do a quick switch so they don't see my headline. It is logged in to a prayer forum.

So last week the guards raided all our cells. Took our mattresses, pillows - everything, and threw it in a pile in the middle of the cell block. They found EVERYTHING: My slammin' scrabble game I put together from stolen keyboard buttons, my pencil drawing of my girl lookin' her best, my pet cheewawa (Chico) I made outta' human hair - it took 274 days to make him. I started out makin' him a natural cheewawa color, but it took too long cuz they ain't too many blond dudes in here, so after a while I just wanted to get him done and started grabbing whatever hair I could get. He turned out a nice calico. I loved him.

The guard who found him straight up disrespected him. He reached in the cubby I made in my mattress and pulled him out. Soon as he laid eyes on Chico he said "Jesus Christ!" and jes' threw him down. The other guards was crackin' up and the guard who found him got pissed and kicked Chico into the trash pile.

What's effed up is they took away my privliges. Like I wasn't already a destroyed man. They destroyed me and then enilated me, too.

My 30 minutes is up.

Posted by Eric Wiley at 10:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Have you ever wondered about the social implications of being a dairy cow? Well Mike Sophia did, and then he made a dreamy, earnest song about it called 'Cow'. Listening to it is sort of like finding an old recording of yourself you made as a kid and hearing it for the first time in years. Funny, low-fi, endearing and a little embarrassing.
>>> download MP3 [5MB Playtime: 3:36 seconds]

Posted by Eric Wiley at 02:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I noticed a big difference in my environment while walking the dog at 5am. After months of hearing only the wind, the clack of bare branches and the occasional dry leaf scraping across the ground, my ears were greeted with the most welcome sound: Hundreds of frogs peeping away. Either their internal clocks or the outside temperature told them to dig out from their muddy beds and start singing.

This, to me, is the best sign of good things to come. The robins have been here for a few weeks, but they've always bumbled a bit on their timing. Those red breasted loose cannons lost all credibility with me years ago. I can't count the times I've seen this winged "harbinger of spring" come barging in to Ohio, perch itself on the nearest ice coated branch, and start yammering on about how winter's over while I'm mushing through four foot drifts to get the mail.

The frogs, however, are firmly grounded pragmatists. Our amphibian friends, being the lean & ripped fitness nuts that they are, have no external insulation and therefore can't afford to start whooping it up until it's good & warm and they're sure it's going to stay that way. These are they guys one ought to listen to in order to know when to be excited for the season of rebirth. So put your sweaters away, scrape off the grill and sharpen your tulip clippers because the frogs have spoken: Spring is here!

Posted by Eric Wiley at 08:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I remember the first few times I saw my father exude a blend of fear/panic/anger. Each time it was brought about as a direct result of something that I did. Like the time he left me in the car with the engine running and the emergency brake on.

The car, a stick-shift, was parked in a parking lot in our back yard facing a two story deep gully. These were the days before child restraint systems existed, so I was sitting in the front passenger seat. I had always been fascinated with the spring loaded button that protruded from the end of the emergency brake handle, and in experimenting with it succeeded in releasing the brake.

My father heard the crunch of gravel in the driveway as the car began slowly rolling forward. I did not get to see the explosive burst of speed that brought him to interior of the car as I was still fiddling with the emergency brake. My quiet examination of this mechanical wonder was abruptly interrupted as my body was thrown into the passenger side door with the swipe of a hairy forearm. The brake engaged with the sound of a giant zipper being pulled up and I felt the car jerk to a stop, although I didn't know it was ever moving in the first place. I heard heavy breathing and looked up to see the face of a man who was both angry enough to kill me and at the same time terrified that I might have died before he had the chance to do so.

Just one argument for having your children earlier in life rather than later. You may feel less prepared financially, but you'll still have the youthful quickness it takes to rescue your child from disaster in those inevitable hair raising moments. When the need arises, it's infinitely more valuable than a 401k...

Posted by Eric Wiley at 11:55 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Been a busy week, this. A very distant relative died last Sunday. His death brought about some sadness, of course, but there wasn't much time for that as we had to convert a small handful of local family members into a crack team of mobile catering experts, pronto!

The death of a family member triggers the immediate need for at least one person to step up as the full time logistical commander, along with the loyal service of several hospitality and catering lieutenants who will, in turn, be in charge of a motley crew of busboys and mules comprised of the children and teenagers in the family.

In this particular situation, I served as both a mule and a mule manager. Motivating unpaid & unskilled children of various ages to set up and break down a self-catered event was challenging. They craftily disappeared like wood-elves. Upon being re-found and assigned a task they sagged at both the spine & knee and experienced instant retardation. When asked to carry a case of Sprite, for example, one would have thought by their reaction that I had asked them to construct a rocket and pilot it into the sun.

Fortunately, in the end we had only a small amount of complete defections from the crew: The two oldest snuck out, drove away and [I strongly suspect] got stoned. But even they returned in time to carry out the last two bags of garbage.

Great Uncle John, I hope you got to see how much everybody enjoyed the lasagna we made in your memory. Please keep an angel's eye on your lazy grandchildren and pothead nephews. Amen.

Posted by Eric Wiley at 10:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Every once in a while you come across an insane woman where a side effect to her illness is that she sexually teases every man she comes across. They usually turn up at bars or as coworkers in high-turnover jobs. It is, of course, a sad sight that ultimately repels most conscientious men.

Last night I was flipping channels as a pre-sleep exercise and noticed something. Every local news station attempted to tease me heavily with promises of juicy weather information right after the commercial break.

They all had a similar framework: News anchor pimped up the fact that is was a blessedly gorgeous weekend, then passed it off to the weather person who feigned the beginnings of the weather report for the week. "You liked that weekend, didn't you? You want some more of that? You'll just have to give me some work for what you want. Watch these commercials and maybe when they're over I'll tell you it's gonna' be a sunny day tomorrow."

The first two "teases" I flipped onto were the catalysts for me to continue flipping because I hate inane attempts at manipulation. The third tease I stumbled upon gave me all the motivation I needed to move my thumb to the "Power Off" button and go to bed.

This modular tease technique has been used by newscasts for decades. It used to be annoying, but effective, because viewers had nowhere else to get their information. Now it is just annoying. We don't need to waste our time waiting for you to get onto the bar and show us your weather tits, Ms. Insane Local TV News. Thank you very much, but your overt gyrations and suggestive smiles only serve to clear us out of the room.

Why don't you go home and get yourself cleaned up, Ms. Local News? You've been off your medication for a decade or so now. Back when you still had your looks and there were less sources of entertainment in town you could get away with those antics. But now...well I hate to say it but now your attractiveness has faded and the fact that you haven't changed your moves to compensate is just sad.

Maybe you'll get better. When you do, please come back and join us for some fun. You know where you can find us - we'll be right here hanging out with Ms. Internet, Ms. Cable and all their gorgeous friends.

Posted by Eric Wiley at 07:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

1. Fresh Meat

If you don't know someone who can convert a currently live animal [cow, deer, lamb, pig] into a freezer-full of meat in your basement within 24 hours [subdivided into two lb. packages wrapped in white butcher paper and labeled with a grease pen], then you know someone who knows someone who can do it. Every Ohioan enjoys a maximum of two degrees of separation from a side of beef.

2. Fresh Water

The entire southwest portion of our fine country is a desert kept artificially green with water piped in from other states. Some day the repressed cacti will rebel and take back their dry land. Won't you be glad you live in Ohio when they do?

3. Hugs

Generous dual arm enclosure body locks. Whether coming or going, prepare to be hugged and hugged well. If you're a shy person visiting a home in Ohio, keep a table or some other piece of furniture between you and your hosts. As opposed to the "Bridge" style where both parties arch the back to ensure that the only things touching are hands-to-shoulders [this style hug is rarely seen in Ohio].

4. Comfort Casseroles

Crispy on top, hot & tasty below! Not hip, but your stomach won't care.

5. Natural-Disaster Proof

Even at her meanest and most vicious, Mother Nature can never take down more than five of us at once.

6. Square Feet

Ohioans enjoy kingly amounts of living space. None but the wealthiest of our contemporaries in New York has a den, game room, sewing room and Florida room.

7. Spare Parts

Oceans of inexpensive replacement car parts within a five mile radius. No matter what year your car was made.

8. Sauerkraut

Our German pioneers left their mark one each of our colons with this once per year treat. The perfect combination of stunt-food and comfort-food.

9. Farmers

This state is full of businessmen who somehow make a living selling us five-gallon-bags of delicious sweet corn for a buck.

10. FEST

Even the most introverted of us can easily make a friend by going to one of the hundreds of Fests held in this fine state. Oktoberfest, Italian Fest, Irish Fest, Pumpkin Fest, Coal Fest, Catholic Church Parking Lot Fest - Ohio is the capitol of the beer drinking, grilled food eating, live music enjoying FEST!

Posted by Eric Wiley at 03:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm a friendly guy, generally, and like to talk to people. I've noticed over the years that I freak some people out with my friendly approach, which always strikes me as odd. Apparently to some poor souls out there, me talking & smiling = "I'm going to kill you."

The fact that I'm married has greatly alleviated this social occurrence. People tend to treat me better when they discover I'm legally joined to a woman, and they're even more amenable when I have that beautiful woman by my side.

One of my favorite social benefits of being married, I call it my "Marriage Shield", is that I'm now freed up to talk to anyone I want. Guys don't automatically wonder if I'm gay and hitting on them (unless they happen to be gay themselves, in which case they assume I'm hitting on them). Women don't feel pressured by the fact that we're having a nice conversation to either blow me off or feel like they're leading me on.

The only time my Marriage Shield ever fails is when talking to women in their 20s. For some reason, a small percentage of women in that age group dig older guys. That's just fine with me. The downside is that they are blind to the Marriage Shield. Even when turned on to maximum power, they don't see it.

Like doe in the most wild regions of Canada that don't run from man because they've never seen one before, women in their 20s are completely unversed in the subtle social cues of the married man. They may see the ring as I casually pass it before their eyes, but its positioning carries no deeper meaning. Often, a conscientious married man will be forced to brutally wedge the "my wife" phrase into the conversation completely out of context, which [at best] results in mild embarrassment on the behalf of both parties. At worst, she'll flash a disgusted look and file you in her mental folder marked 'Creep'.

The only way to avoid this scenario with these nascent few is to accessorize your body with 'I'm married' paraphernalia: Belt buckles, t-shirts, buttons, trucker hats, etc. Or take the more built-in approach and just let your personal hygiene go to hell (I mean, you're already married, right?). Your choice.

PS: To those women who thought "Eric's not all that." while reading this entry: Jeez, I know!

Posted by Eric Wiley at 11:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)