Status Updates and Slacktivism

It seems like every week or two, somebody is urging everyone on Facebook to post some random thing or do some other random thing in order to "show support for" or "raise awareness of" some good and noble cause. I'm gonna come right out and say it: Bullshit. These things have precisely zero to do with any cause, and everything to do with somebody getting a kick out of seeing everyone do what he says. It's the world's biggest game of Simon Says, and it's a waste of time that actually draws energy away from these good causes.

The latest one is allegedly about child abuse. The post says: "Change your Facebook profile pic to a cartoon character from your childhood. The goal is to not see a human face on FB till Monday Dec. 6th. Join the fight against child abuse & neglect. Copy & paste this to your stat to invite your friends to do the same."

Color me stupid, but what does the second sentence have to do with the third? Why is it a goal to "not see a human face on FB till Monday Dec. 6th"? Whose goal is it? What does that have to do with child abuse? How in the name of Joan Crawford does changing one's Facebook picture constitute "joining the fight against child abuse & neglect"? Answer: It doesn't.

At best, it's slacktivism, the online version of Event Psychosis, which is the irrational belief that attending a concert or buying a red t-shirt will somehow magically make the world a better place. Guess what, we didn't end world hunger when we held hands and sang "We Are The World."

So how about we all stop pretending we're making a difference, when what we're really doing is amusing ourselves? Hey, if you want to put your favorite cartoon character on Facebook, rock the hell on with it. Go crazy. Just please don't for one second believe that some kid out there is going to be spared a royal ass-kicking because your avatar this week is the Herculoids.

I love cartoons. Really I do. I've loved Goofy since I was 3, I learned to read from comic books, I still watch cartoons in TV. I've been a working cartoonist for three decades. Cartoons are fantastic, cartoonists are magicians who make the world more wonderful, and I love to see cartoons in the profile pictures on Facebook. But let's not kid ourselves.

I get to say this because for me it's personal. You want to know how to recognize people who were abused as kids? Here's a clue: they seldom use words like "abused." They don't talk about dysfunctional homes and use a lot of jargon. They usually don't say much about it at all, but if they do, they say things like "my dad was a drunk, and when he drank he was a nasty SOB, and he kicked the shit out of us a lot." I know firsthand what child abuse looks like, and let me tell you, as much as I love cartoons, seeing cartoons on Facebook would not have made anything better when I was hiding in the bathroom cabinet hoping Dad couldn't hear me. So please stop insulting me.

Announcing your bra color or making smirky jokes about where you keep your purse is not going to take the spot off anyone's mammogram. Changing your profile to purple is not going to keep a gay kid from getting beat up by thugs, and Snoopy is damn-sure not going to protect any kids.

Just knock it the hell off. If you want to "raise awareness" or "join the fight" against some societal ill, leave your damn Facebook profile alone and open your goddamn checkbook.

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 26

What the hell, one more.

A little while ago, I gave Terri a little anniversary gift (a necklace from Ten Thousand Villages, a "Fair Trade" store here in Pasadena); before I gave it to her, I grabbed Katie's laptop, went to YouTube and fired up this song. So you get to hear it too.


Happy Anniversary!

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 25

One more from our wedding.

When we were making our wedding plans, we were pretty much on our own financially; we were paying for or doing just about everything ourselves, with some very generous help from a few dear friends. I did the (incredibly tacky) wedding invitations; our friend Sara came over and baked the cake and we decorated it together; our friend Kevin wrote a song and the processional music for us; other people helped prepare food and a thousand other things, all so we could start off our marriage without being thousands of dollars in debt.

About a month before the wedding, we took my mother out to the place we would be getting married (Orcutt Ranch in Canoga Park, a horticultural preserve and historic landmark) to show her around and share some of our plans with her.

She promptly began to drive me nuts, telling me all the things that we "simply must" or "absolutely must not" do at our wedding, lecturing us on the wedding etiquette of Boston circa 1956 and how incredibly tacky everyone and everything in California is by comparison.

By the end of the afternoon, I turned to Terri and said "I am by God going to give that woman a stroke!" I immediately began thinking about things I could do at our wedding that would be appalling to her and appealing to everyone else. We tossed a few ideas around, and finally hit on one we liked.

On the day of our wedding, after all the singing and poetry reading, candle-lighting, vow-taking, praying and finally kissing, the minister presented us to the audience.

As soon as she said "I now present Mr and Mrs MacQuarrie," the speakers thundered to life and we made our way down the aisle to the roaring guitars of Bruce Springsteen.

My mother was heard to remark "Oh, for God's sake!"

Later, she asked us about it. "Born to Run?" I explained. "It's a love song. A dangerous love song, but still..."

Born to Run

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 24

There was a stretch of years when we used to host a cookout on the beach for our friends who attended the San Diego Comic-Con, back before it became the lumbering behemoth it is today. A bunch of us would all stay at one of the local campgrounds instead of paying a fortune for a hotel room, and in the evenings we'd hang out around the fire, toast marshmallows and sing songs. One of the regulars was a guy we knew as "Punchy," who happened to be a professional musician, a bass player.

A couple of years later, we had become fans of Steve Tyrell, a singer who was getting popular after having had a song featured in Steve Martin's remake of "Father of the Bride." We were regular listeners of the "Standards, Swing and Big Band" station in LA that is now gone from the airwaves (it lives on online as Martini in the Morning), which regularly played his music. One day, I called into the radio station at the right time, and won tickets to see Tyrell at the Catalina Bar. We were sitting there enjoying the show, when Terri gestures toward the bass player and says "isn't that Punchy?" And indeed it was. He put us on the guest list for a number of subsequent shows over the years, and he remains a friend.

The Way You Look Tonight.

By the way, "Punchy" is better known as Lyman Medeiros. You can find him at LMBass.com. You can also order his superb CD, "The Funky Supervillain" while you're there.

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 23

I think Bobby Darin is the best pop performer that ever lived. Better than Sinatra, better than Elvis. Yeah, I said that.

Darin had an ability to sing incredibly shmaltzy stuff and make it sound sincere, never cloying or gooey. Like this one. The lyrics sum up how I feel about my bride.

More

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 22

She & Him are otherwise known as Zooey Deshanel and M Ward, and they've been putting out some very good music the last few years.

Here is their cover of You Really Got a Hold On Me.

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 21

Earlier this year, we got to go to the Bowl for another concert. This time is was a night of indie music from The Bird and the Bee, She & Him, and The Swell Season.

The Swell Season is Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, whom you may have seen in the film "Once" (and if you haven't, what's wrong with you? Go see it. Now. I'll wait.)

Here's one of the songs from "Once", which happens to be a favorite film around my house.

Falling Slowly

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 20

We got to see Ella at the Hollywood Bowl about a year before she passed away. She put on a great show, despite being obviously frail; her voice was still strong, but what really struck me was how gracious she was. She seemed genuinely surprised that anyone would show up to see her; she thanked the audience over and over for coming, and just seemed like the sweetest little lady ever.

After she passed away, it turned out that the people I worked for were friends with the attorney handling Ella's estate; most of her things had gone to an auction at Christie's or Sotheby's or some such, and a lot of the ordinary household stuff was going to be sold at a yard sale. (I know, right? A yard sale in Beverly Hills?) I made mention of the fact that Terri loves Ella, and toward the end of the week, the boss came in carrying a bag for her; a cute vintage '50s style sundress in a blue check pattern. It had been in Ella's closet. Now it's in Terri's.

Here's another song that ended up in a Valentine's card.

Someone To Watch Over Me.

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 19

Several years ago, we got tickets to see Ella Fitzgerald at the Hollywood Bowl. When we got there, we discovered that Ella was ill, and some of her friends had stepped in to perform in her place. We got to see George Shearing, Benny Carter, and Sarah Vaughn, and it was a pretty good show.

We did get to see Ella when she scheduled another date.

I picked this particular song because it sums up the reality of our marriage; I've never been one to make a lot of money.

I Can't Give You Anything But Love

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 18

A few years ago, Terri and I went to see one of her co-workers perform at the local Borders Bookstore. Her co-worker, Nick, plays guitar and writes songs with Marina V, a Russian singer/keyboardist/songwriter who has been a local favorite ever since then.

Underneath Your Sky

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 17

In the late '80s, we packed up and moved to San Diego for reasons that don't matter, except to say they weren't very good. We lasted about 10 months there before we came back to LA and eventually back to Pasadena. Not very long, but just long enough to lose some tenuous connections to friends we hadn't kept in touch with. Among those friends were the members of Train to Sligo, as the band broke up and the members scattered to the winds.

Some years later, an old friend and fan of the band mailed us a cassette (remember those?) of various artists performing songs we knew from the band and songs written by the band members. It turned out that Train to Sligo had been somewhat influential in Irish music circles; people like Mary Black and Maura O'Connell had recorded some of their songs, and a few of the members had thriving careers as solo artists.

Eventually, through the magic of the Internet, we got back in touch with the band members. The guitarist, Gerry O'Beirne, makes regular tours of the US about once a year, and we always try to catch a show when he comes through town.

Terri's favorite is "Western Highway," but it's not up on YouTube, so I've substituted Maura O'Connell's version.

Western Highway, preformed by Maura O'Connell

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 16

One of the nice things about living in Pasadena is that the downtown area is pretty lively; Old Town was a pretty hip spot for a long time, and it's still a cool place to go on a Friday or Saturday night. It wasn't always so. For a few decades, Old Town was the local Skid Row. Fortunately for us, we moved to Pasadena at the dawning of the downtown revitalization; there were lots of funky shops opening, but also a bunch of dive bars still in business, and the bums were gradually being replaced by street performers.

One night, Terri and I were taking a walk and enjoying the street life, when we happened upon an itinerant saxophone player. He told us he took requests, so I told him to play whatever he never gets to play and wished more people would request and handed him a buck. He played the slinkiest, sexiest version of Van Morrison's "Moondance" that I'd ever heard while Terri and I danced on the sidewalk. I later used the song as the inspiration for yet another Valentine's card.

Moondance

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 15

Paul Simon's "Graceland" came out in the summer of 1986, while we were expecting Ashley, our firstborn. It quickly became a favorite, and we also liked Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Clifton Chenier and a few other artists who guested on the album. Over the next few years, we played it a lot, and it was always a fun thing to listen to.

The most fun track Is "You Can Call Me Al," which also had a pretty silly video to go with it, in which Chevy Chase does a lot of mugging.

The song refers to an awkward party that Paul Simon and his first wife, Peggy, attended. The host got their names wrong and called them Betty and Al all evening. I like the clever lyrics, like "Why am I soft in the middle when the rest of my life is so hard?"

You Can Call Me Al

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 14

Sometimes I'm an idiot. I'm not really good at planning and working out timelines and things, so I sometimes do really dumb things, like agreeing to take on a big freelance project that had to be finished by about two weeks after our wedding. It involved sculpting a little figurine, making molds from it, and then casting about a 1500 pieces (with magnets embedded in the back) and applying decals to them. They were to be used as promo items for a really terrible movie that only my most geeky friends have ever heard of (it was "The Stuff," a horror movie about malevolent yogurt).

So the week after we got back from our brief honeymoon, we got to spend a whole weekend in our apartment, working around the clock to crank these things out. We convinced a few friends to come over and help, one of whom practically moved in with us for the duration. I stayed up 42 hours straight working on these, Terri went even longer, and somehow we got them done. We kept the turntable going the whole time; Kevin brought over a bunch of his favorites, we dragged out a bunch of ours, and just tried to stay awake and keep pouring the resin. We played Billy Joel's "The Nylon Curtain" (possibly his best album, but kind of a downer) countless times. The other album that we played over and over was Dire Straits' "Brothers In Arms."

After putting her through that less than two weeks in, I'm frankly amazed that she's stayed with me for a quarter-century. Patience of Job, I tells ya.

Walk of Life

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 13

With each of my children, I had a particular task that was mine alone; I was in charge of bedtime. When they were babies, I rocked each of them to sleep on my shoulder and sang to them. It wasn't until they were older that they got critical of my dubious singing ability; as babies and toddlers, they didn't mind it.

This song was a particular favorite for each of the three. It's another one from Thom Moore of Train to Sligo, though it was recorded by one of his previous bands, Midnight Well. As a matter of fact, this is the song from which Train to Sligo took their name. Thom wrote it for his daughter when she was a young girl attending a boarding school outside of Sligo, Ireland, and would take the train home every two weeks. It seemed that the train home went too slow, but the train back to school went far too quickly.

The Scholar

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 12

If you're going to take a three-week driving trip through 22 states and 4 Canadian provinces, you really better take along some music you like. Of particular necessity is something uptempo, lively enough to keep you awake, but also quiet enough for the kids to sleep through, because you're going to want to do some driving at night, especially through the godforsaken desert.

One of the albums that filled this slot for us was Marvin the Album, by a New Zealand band called Frente! They are best remembered for their acoustic cover of "Bizarre Love Triangle" and for an adorable cover of "Let the Sun Shine In" from the Flintstones, but they had a lot of really good songs and a unique sound. This song is just so relentlessly happy you have to sing along, and every time I hear it, I remember stopping with my bride and children at weird little roadside attractions in the middle of nowhere.

Accidentally Kelly Street

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 11

This one's a twofer; it has two separate meanings for us.

Way back in the day, a couple of our favorite concerts were performances by the great Manhattan Transfer.

Later, in 2001, we made a cross-country drive for a family vacation, camping the whole way, and part of the journey involved stopping in every town named in Bobby Troup's classic song, "Route 66." We stopped and took a picture in each town along the way to prove we did it.

So here's Manhattan Transfer singing Route 66.

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 10

One of the movies we liked back in the '80s was "When Harry Met Sally"; not that Billy Crystal is that brilliant of an actor, and a little Meg Ryan goes a pretty long way, but the movie was fun. Bruno Kirby and Carrie Fisher had some good bits, the cinematography was a love letter to New York, and it had a great soundtrack. Harry Connick Jr. was just getting well known, and this movie really put a spotlight on him.

This particular song made it on this list because it formed the basis for a perfectly adorable Valentine's card that Terri made for me one year, using stickers she found at the Rose Tree Cottage, a lovely little group of shops here in Pasadena that specialized in British imports.

Our Love is Here to Stay, by Harry Connick, Jr.

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 9

This is more "my" song than "our" song, but every time I listen to it I'm reminded how important my wife and family are. I should play it every day.

It's of course by my hero, Harry Chapin.

Story of a Life

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 8

Back in the '80s, there was a revival of standards, swing, lounge and big band music, led in part by Linda Ronstadt's recordings with Nelson Riddle, in part by Harry Connick, and in part by a lot of other people, like K.D. Lange recording with Tony Bennett, Manhattan Transfer being at the top of their game, and Frank Sinatra recording with damn near everybody.

This was one of Terri's favorites, and of course it got referenced in one of my Valentine's cards for her.

I've Got a Crush on You, by Linda Ronstadt & Nelson Riddle

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 7

So we got married, and about a year later, we found ourselves living with this baby that showed up. Right around the time Ashley made her appearance, David Byrne had a hit with a song about the joys of tormenting a baby. The song became a popular one at our house as well, especially at bedtime.

Stay Up Late, by Talking Heads

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 6

A few weeks after we got married, we went to a gig by a singer friend of ours, Janie Cribbs. Janie was the vocalist with that Irish-Trad band I mentioned before, Train to Sligo, but around this time, she was branching out a bit, singing a little jazz, rock and blues, especially songs she'd written herself, which was something new at the time. We were a little surprised when she announced "here's a song for people who've just gotten married" before singing this song. (It wasn't just for us; there was another newlywed couple in the audience as well.)

Here is a recording of that song, recorded that night. Because it's a transfer from a 20-odd year-old cassette copy of a copy, the sound quality is a bit dubious, but I like the song anyway.

(If you happen to be in the Seattle area, Janie lives on Whidbey Island and performs all over the place; go listen to her and tell her I sent you.)

We Touch, recorded live at At My Place, Santa Monica

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 5

Before we got married, at our first Valentine's Day together, I made a card. Being a little on the dramatic side, I made a big one, 20" x 30" in size. I lettered it up with a bit of "Irish Traditional" poetry I found on the back of the Dexy's Midnight Runners LP, the one that had "Come On, Eileen" on it. It went:

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms
That I gaze on so fondly today
Were to change by tomorrow and flee from my arms
Like fairy gifts fading away
Thou would still be adored as this moment thou art
Let thy loveliness fade as it will
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still

A while later, Terri gave me a card that contained a bit of poetry by Thomas Moore, which said:

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets
The same look which she turned when he rose!

Eventually we went looking for that poem by Thomas Moore, and discovered that the two poems were in fact two stanzas of the same poem, and that it was a traditional Irish song. It's the tune Bugs Bunny tries to play on the booby-trapped piano, but he always hits the wrong note, until Yosemite Sam shoves him out of the way, plays the tune correctly and blows himself up.

Those Endearing Young Charms, performed by Allison Krause.

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 4

Another song from our wedding. This one was another we had to leave out in the end. I loved it when I heard Johnny Mathis sing it on a TV special promoting the Muppet Movie, but back then we didn't have YouTube, so all I had to play for Terri was the version from the movie. Frank Oz is a multi-talented guy, but he is not a good singer; because of the limitations of Miss Piggy's singing, the song changes key a lot, making it incredibly difficult to sing as it was scored in the songbook.

Finally, after a quarter of a century, I can show my bride why I wanted this song in our wedding.

Never Before, Never Again

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 3

Another wedding song, this time from a really terrible movie that pretty much nobody remembers, but Terri liked the song. We ended up having to leave it out of the wedding because the couple who were going to sing it weren't able to do it due to illness. Too bad.


Endless Love, by Lionel Richie and Diana Ross.

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 2

We chose some pretty eclectic music for our wedding; Billy Joel, The Muppets, Lionel Richie, Bruce Springsteen among them.

One that I picked was the Billy Joel song, "You're My Home."

Both of us had a bit of a nomadic upbringing; I lived all over the South Bay and then San Gabriel Valley, she lived in Palm Desert, San Diego and eventually SGV. The sentiment of the song seemed appropriate. And it's still true.

You're My Home

25 Songs for 25 Years, no. 1

Twenty-Five years ago today, a young lady took leave of her senses, stood in front of a bunch of people and married me. This was possibly the only time in our life together when I exercised better judgment than she did; she was dumb enough to marry me, and I was smart enough to hold her to it.

Over the course of all those years, there has been a lot of music that's been part of our lives. For the rest of the day, I'm going to post songs that have had some significance for us, or that remind me of key events in our life, or that we just like.

When we were dating, I lived in Glendora and Terri lived in Sherman Oaks. To complicate matters, I worked nights and she worked days. I got off at 7:00 AM, she went to work at 8:00; she got off at 5:00, and I went to work at 10:00. That gave us very little time to be together, and it was at least a 40-minute drive each way.

I had a favorite tape in my car, recorded by an Irish-traditional band named "Train to Sligo" (remember the name, you'll hear it again today); one of their songs, written by the band's leader, Thom Moore, tells the story of a poor sot who is so in love that he walks 12 miles from Killeshandra to Cavan every Sunday to spend a few hours with the girl he loves before making the long walk back. I could relate.

Cavan Girl.