Beatles v. Wings

So I got some iTunes gift certificates for Christmas and promptly used every last one of them on my latest aural endeavor - to listen to every Paul McCartney/Wings album ever recorded.

This is a somewhat monumental task. There are 30-plus albums.

Previously, all I've known of McCartney's post-Beatles output was a Wings greatest hits tape my Dad would play in the car during family vacations and PM's latest releases, from Flaming Pie onward.

My logic for doing this is as follows: I love the Beatles, they are the prototype for good rock music. McCartney was one of the four Beatles. In fact, he is one of the two Beatles whose songs I tend like (sorry Ringo and George, you just didn't bring it like Paul and John). It stands to reason that I will enjoy at least some of McCartney's solo/second band output.

As of this moment, I have listened to the first 6 PM/Wings albums. My general impression is that I liked the first two (which still feel Beatleseque to me) the others have been hit or miss. Mostly miss. Man, Paul could sure write some crappy/sappy/schlappy songs. Every once in a while he'll amaze with a "Live and Let Die," but more often than not he delivers a different kind of flaming pie.

My conclusion falls in line with one of my general life maxims - everybody needs an editor. People who think they don't are in sore need of a reality check. These are the same people who must like smelling their own farts in the shower. Sure, passing gassssss thusly gets everything out there, but, like the gentle correction of the editor's pen, there's a lot to be said for proper blue-jean filtration.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

With more than 5 billion scurrying around on Earth, I have always suspected that somewhere out there is another me. He either 1.) sounds just like me or 2.) looks just like me (lucky bastard).

Now I know it's true. And I rest my argument entirely upon the following two pieces of evidence:

1. A certain hawk-nosed ex-Journey front man can forget about ever doing a reunion tour (that is, if he wants to, which he probably doesn't; but that's neither here nor there.) Nevertheless, Steve Perry's voice somehow jumped across the Pacific Ocean and got stuck in Arnel Pineda's throat. Arnel's a 40-year old Philipino (football anyone?) Pineda has been hired to be the band's new vocalist.




2. This is a picture of me kicking it with my brother:

Except, that's NOT my brother! Holy crap! It's some random dude who walked into the Stockton-to-Malone car dealership where I was purchasing a new auto a few months back. And if you know my brother, you know that this dude looks exactly like him, right down to the goatee. It's freaking uncanny!

It is because of these two examples that I now, more firmly than ever, believe that a man is innocent until proven guilty.

Officer, it was my body double that jacked that 7-11, I swear!