Among my favorite topics of discussion is yapping about the worth of music, of songs relative to influence or longevity.

For example, I say Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was the most influential tune of the 1990s. Duh. No shit.

However, I also say Alanis Morrissette's "You Oughta Know" was right behind it. For as much trash as she released afterward, her mid-1990s classic is possibly the best female rock-n-roll song of all time.

It doesn't have the soul of a Janis Joplin classic. "Try" or "Me & Bobby McGee" come to mind. "Piece of My Heart," too.

But damn does it have some angst.

If she had just stayed on that path (damn you, Dave Coulier!), Alanis might have been the next Janis. Alas, she recorded "Ironic" and several other frivolous pieces o' crap. "Hands In My Pocket" is the exception though. I've got a soft spot for that track.

On the other hand, I don't know that her hit had much influence on other female artists. Perhaps, Tracy Bonham? Her hit "Mother Mother" was quite full of angst, and Dilana kicked the snot out of it on Rock Star the other night.

When I think of songs from this decade, however, only a handful come to mind, and I don't know that any will have staying power. First and foremost, I think the song of the decade, thus far, is "Clocks" by Coldplay.

It's soft with the piano but hard with the intensity, pop feel but worthy of a rock arena. Plus, it catapulted Chris Martin's group into an echelon of band maintained by folks like U2. Reminds me very much of U2's "Beautiful Day," which is one of their best.

My buddy T and I also think highly of Franz Ferdinand's "Take Me Out." It's got groove but definite new wave, punk-like roots. Although it wasn't a big hit, Interpol's "Narc" is just 10-out-of-10 perfect, and damn do they sound like Roxy Music.

This decade, so far, has been all about the acoustic solo artist. John Mayer. Jack Johnson. David Gray (whose album "White Ladder" might be the best of the decade so far). Ryan Adams (who might be the best of the bunch, even if he records a new CD every three weeks).

Nevertheless, I've decided what song would take the honors on the female side of the rock-n-roll train this decade. As much as I don't like that whole Linkin Park, Staind, P.O.D. sound, Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life" has yet to grate on my ear.

Her voice is sexy, dramatic. The song has depth and texture, musically. Oddly enough -- and don't laugh -- the only other song from a woman that I think compares so far this decade is Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone." Maybe somebody needs to trigger my memory here, but it won't change how great that song is on its own.

In fact, I've read a number of places about other rock-n-rollers, credible folk, who have said, "Hell, dude, that's good s***." Not like when Sonic Youth covered the Carpenters, but like in a "Why didn't somebody bring US that song?" sort of way.

Still, the only one among these that will have a ton of influence, I suspect, is "Clocks," which I hearby declare officially -- until I think of some other tune (this ain't scientific, people) -- the best rock song of the decade thus far.

We don't see JN in these parts (read:Oklahoma) much these days.

From the Class of 1988 in Henryetta, Okla., JN went on to become a hot-shot Washington, D.C., reporter. He works on The Hill and hobknobs with the Hoi Palloi of federal politics.

That's the way we see it, but I suspect his life as a reporter is a tad less glamorous than that to him. I think for all of us who chose journalism as our life's work, we soon realize that the word "work" is much more in operation than the descriptive term "glamorous," even if others see it differently.

However, that doesn't keep us from trading shop stories when he comes down. On the other hand, we don't get to talk all that often, so JN and I typically spend most of our time, when he visits, telling old war stories of old friends, parties, women and embarrassing moments.

We have plenty.

Rooftop wailing and parlez-vous Francais?

Impromptu fights among a pair of strangers looking for a quick score on our young Vietnamese vixen friend.

Moving a certain Orange Chicken from a Homeland parking lot to a neighborhood up the street upon Kansas' 83-79 win over OU in 1988.

I won't say who's who in each of these stories to spare reputation and, possibly, a criminal charge.

Kidding, of course.

Within the chart I created for myself outlining the path for my 36th year, one of my primary goals was to spend quality time with good friends more often. Thanks to the flexibility allowed for me at work, I was able to have dinner with JN tonight.

Nothing fancy. We had a little Golden Corral, which is among my favorit-o guilty pleasures in the whole world although my waistline hates it. JN's mom was there, and we basically yapped like we just picked up from the last conversation some two years ago.

The amazing thing about JN is that he knew what he wanted to do when he was 15. Be a journalist. I remember working on our high-school newspaper staff and having him chide me for goofing off ... and, I was. More than likely, I was talking music with somebody or flirting with a dame.

I don't actually talk like that: "flirting with a dame."

However, over the years, his passion became mine as well. We always talked that in a perfect world, one in which we had millions of dollars to spare, we'd start a progressive newspaper in rural Oklahoma with the goal of bridging what they call the "digital divide," in hopes of bringing real-time information to people of few means.

In this twosome, he's by far the more intellectual. The guy can talk Goethe one second and then invoke an obscure pop-culture reference the next. Lucky for me, he likes baseball and beer. That's more my speed, but as one of his colleagues once said, "I'm just a good-ol-boy."

I always hated that.

So many choices, so little time. I didn't even eat dinner tonight, although I must admit that my waistline might be slightly appreciative.

During the Summer o' 2006, Tuesday night has been the best night for boob-tube action, including the winding-down Big Brother and Rock Star series. The latter of these two seemed all but wrapped up by a Houstonian by way of South Africa, named Dilana, until a couple of missteps the past couple of weeks that had zero to do with music.

During a press clinic that the show did for each contestant, Dilana spoke poorly of other contestants and basically came off as a diva. Forgive my lack of detail here. I'm tired and bitchy, kind of like Dilana was last week.

Nevertheless, her vocals are riveting, beyond any musical reality contestant in history. She's legit as a rocker with substance and style, and tonight she tore up "Mother, Mother" with intensity.

On the other hand, everybody else save for possibly Storm Large did as well. In fact, it was the best night of music on "Rock Star" this season.

The trick to watching "Rock Star" is in appreciating the house band, who are collectively stellar. They've been written up in major newspapers and magazines, and -- frankly -- they're the key to the rise of this show.

Given the quality of performances by Ryan Star, Lukas Rossi, Magni and Toby Rand, this might have been the best night of quality music in the genre's history. If the shows producers know what they're doing in terms of marketing, they should at least consider a run at American Idol come springtime.

It's a longshot, but -- hell -- it's really been that good, and it proves that the show, in my estimation, is the perfect antidote for those who love musical reality competition but hate Idol. Of course, I love Idol and would TiVo them both.

My rankings for tonight are as follows:

1. Dilana - "Mother Mother"

2. Ryan Star - "Clocks"

3. Lukas Rossi - "Lithium"

4. Toby Rand - "Rebel Yell"

5. Magni - "I Alone"

6. Storm Large - "Bring It To Me"

My gut hunch still says that with only two weeks left, we're due a double-elimination night. With that said, I think the bottom three will be Storm, Magni and Ryan Star.

The bottom two will be Magni and Storm, with Ms. Large being the most likely choice for Tommy Lee's hatchet. If two shall go, take the Icelandic bald man with her.

While I definitely think the band, Supernova, would consider a woman to front them, particularly somebody as talented as Dilana, part of me thinks we're in for a J.D. Fortune-esque surprise with possibly Toby Rand winning the spot.

However, that's a superficial sentiment on my part because the dude has model-quality looks.

On the other hand, Ryan Star and Lukas Rossi are serious contenders as well. Oh, the choices.

In Big Brother All-Stars land, Tuesday was the night of the "ultimate betrayal," but isn't it every week? Erika nominated Danielle after Janelle won the power-of-veto, and Danielle proceeded to go crazy.

I also think Danielle might have been a tad drunk because they showed her drinking something that looked like wine, possibly?

Danielle and Chicken George are this week's nominees for eviction, but what the houseguests don't realize is that Thursday holds for them a double-eviction episode. Don't know what that means in terms of real time, but for us, the viewers, I do think it means the end for Danielle and Chicken George one way or the other.

That would leave us with Janelle, Erika, Will and Boogie, and frankly, that would make it anybody's guess. Also, it would make for the best television given the flirtation and downright macking that's happened between Boogie and Erika.

My dollar says Danielle goes first and then Chicken George.

That's not all on an otherwise hum-drum Tuesday night, though.

Fox debuted its new musical reality competition called, "Celebrity Duets," and even though I missed most of it because my secretary doesn't have my TV schedule (pronounced shhhedewl, like the Brits would say it) in tact, what I saw was actually excellent.

Early favorites include Alfonso Ribero, of Fresh Prince fame, and Jai Rodriguez, he of Queer Eye notoriety. They actually, literally, really could sing. Color me f***ing stunned.

With a format nearly identical to Idol and an equally puzzled, wacky Little Richard as a judge (he's the Paula Abdul of the threesome), I'm damn-near sure this show is going to be a hit a la Dancing With The Stars. At one point, Little Richard noted that one of the singers, Lucy Lawless, "made my big toe shoot up in my boot," which I think was a veiled sexual reference.

It also caused me to bust out laughing because I am sooo going to use that line. "Made my big toe shoot up in my boot."

It was possibly the most coherent thing he said all night, and the music legend will certainly be a viewer favorite given that he's clearly insane. Thursday will be a replay of tonight, I think, so I'll TiVo and watch a bit more thoroughly, although I don't have that much interest in breaking down Cheech Marin's singing abilities.

Last but not least, Bravo debuted a new reality series tonight called "Million-Dollar Listing," which follows some high-rolling real-estate salespeople. Looks good, but it's gonna have to wait on the ol' TiVo, probably until this weekend.

No links, and I sure as hell didn't proof this. Hopefully, as part of the return to an open blog format, you'll allow me the opportunity from time to time to divert from any structure whatsoever and just ramble.

Like Little Richard.

Now, it's time to make my big toe shoot up in my boot. Huh, what?

It's my favorite time of year, college football season. For me, it means quite a bit of work on the ol' Web site, but for most of the 85,000 fans who pack Oklahoma Memorial Stadium, it means a Sooner-style version of Mardi Gras.

The beer flows. The girls are smokin' hot. The Sooners are winning (usually).

Norman, Okla., and a hundred other venues like it are teeming with partiers in search of a good time and a 'W' for their alma maters. During my college years, it meant an afternoon of partying and an evening of partying.

That would be a full day of partying.

For me though, the most important aspect to this annual ritual is how well my beloved Sooners are doing. Last year's 17-10 opening-game loss to TCU left me with a pounding headache the size of Texas.

After a month full of bad news in Soonerland with the gridiron expulsions of Rhett Bomar and J.D. Quinn, we're back where we started last season with Paul Thompson at quarterback. The hope is that OU offensive coordinator Kevin Wilson has tweaked the OU offense such that it will highlight the Thompson's strengths.

All one has to do is recall Paul's first pass attempt last season to understand why the Chuck Long system was terrible for his abilities because, truth be told, our fearless football leader can't throw the ball worth a damn.

That's OK. Josh Heupel wasn't exactly Dan Marino either.

The South Dakota southpaw worked within a system that allowed him to utilize his gift: his mind. Although Heupel's first season was full of bombs and 300-yard passing games, his second and most glorious year was full of scrambles, dump passes and brilliant decisions.

From what most of us have heard, most of the Sooners actually like Thompson better than they did his predecessor, the player head coach Bob Stoops won't even call by name.

Bomar. Bonehead. Bo Derek.

You're not going to get Stoops uttering anything that closely resembles "Bomar" or "Rhett." Stoops' anger during these past couple of months has been righteous, and his action has been swift. A buddy of mine noted that Coach Stoops' decisions and clarity regarding the OU scandal have been executed in a manner that makes the Sooner Scandal of 2006 something for the case-study annals.

You know, like the way Tylenol handled its 1982 cyanide-lacing crisis. They acted swiftly and not without cost but garnered the respect and praise of pundits and consumers around the world.

Truth is, the Bob Stoops we've come to know and appreciate here in Norman doesn't give a crap about what we think in terms of his integrity. He knows it's high, and he demonstrated it this summer.

And, with great cost. There's no way this team is better off with Paul Thompson at quarterback than it would have been with Bonehead, er, Bomar.

Or might we be staring at a blessing-in-disguise?

For starters, OU will be forced to utilize Adrian Peterson like the old Houston Oilers did Earl Campbell. Many experts expect A.D. to get 30-35 carries per game.

I like our odds of success as long as they run him out of the I formation.

Second, OU will be forced to dink-and-dunk, West Coast style. We'll get to see just how talented Malcolm Kelly, Juaquin Iglesias and Manuel Johnson are after the catch.

Third, the tight end will return to prominence in Norman. Freshman Jermaine Gresham will be a superstar right off the bat, and coaches have called Brody Eldridge and Joe Jon Finley the best blocking TEs the Sooners have had in their time in Utopia, Okla.

Fourth, the adversity OU has faced this summer, I think, means we'll see more of the riverboat gambler mentality Stoops demonstrated in his first season. Expect a ton more fakes, trick plays and risks than ever before. Just a hunch.

Fifth and finally, the summer of shock in these parts just might mean this squad is more of a cohesive unit than ever before. Some have written off the Sooners as mere Cotton Bowl contenders or worse. However, rallying around a guy you truly respect and admire, like Paul Thompson, might be just the thing to turn a bad summer into a great autumn.

Now, I don't have false expectations. Losses at Oregon, at Missouri, at Texas A&M, at Oklahoma State and to Texas are all possible. Heck, I don't discount the boys from Lubbock or those up-and-coming Baylor Bears, who took the Sooners to overtime in Norman last season.

I'd go so far to say that I'm not convinced we'll beat UAB, Washington or Middle Tennessee State. Hear me out.

UAB is a solid team, and I recall them whipping TCU in Birmingham 41-25 (two years ago) and giving other teams absolute fits, such as they did Tennessee last season. I recall watching Middle Tennessee State go into Nashville and beat Jay Cutler's Vanderbilt Commodores last season 17-15.

I would not go so far as to say that Oklahoma could lose to either team, but in this day and age, anything is possible. However, come college football season in Norman, Okla., a few things are certain.

The beer will flow. The eye-candy will be plentiful, and the Sooners will win much more often than they lose.

Nevertheless, the one thing Oklahoma fans should always keep in the back of their minds, should the season go sour, is that the moves Stoops and university president David Boren made this summer were absolutely the right ones relative to maintaining a high level of integrity.

Like I've said any number of times, the karma fairy rewards those who do the right thing. Even in football.

We'll see if I'm right. Go Sooners!

I've made it a point to outline my opinions as to the differences between Oklahoma and Texas in the 13 months I've been back in the Sooner State. For example, Oklahomans are much friendlier than the residents of any other state I've ever been to.

Salt of the Earth people. They'll offer you their last beer, help you pull your car from a ditch, and when they ram their pickup into you in the middle of a busy intersection, they won't drive off.*

* = as opposed to Dallas, where my buddy T and I once saw a pickup demolish a car at the intersection of Central Expressway and Lemmon Avenue in Dallas and then drive off like nothing ever happened.

Still, Oklahoma ain't perfect.

The roads stink. Hey, give us credit. Half of OKC is under construction, it seems. However, the highway roads in most parts of the state are third-worldish.

The barbecue is subpar. Way subpar. Of course, I lived in Texas, where barbecue is an art form, even at the chain restaurants such as Dickey's and Spring Creek.

That's not to mention the best barbecue joint ever IMHO, Mikeska's.

Finally, our electric service in this state is akin to playing the child's board game, "Operation." One wrong move, and everything is screwed.

So it was on Saturday night, the evening of my 36th birthday. Mom, C and I were at the house, getting ready to delve into another wonderful episode of "Grey's Anatomy," Season 1, when the lights went out.

And stayed out.

And stayed out until the heat and humidity from the outdoors welcomed themselves inside like Kato Kaelin did with O.J., as his guest, before the former football legend went all crazy with his Ginsu knife set.

Alas, while all the other redneck neighbors in Henryetta turned on generators and gathered outside for free-reign, beer-soaked piss breaks, we thought the only sensible thing to do was get in a beautifully air-conditioned car.

Strike one for the environment, baby.

Not much of a further point to this story, really. We were hot and wanted air, so we drove to Okmulgee, which at the time had its electricity, and browsed neighborhoods, both good and bad. Believe me, Okmulgee has a few really bad neighborhoods.

We went there, and I did my best to keep Mom and her bottle of bourbon from showing themselves off outside the front-seat passenger's window. Let's just say she heeded instruction well, meaning that my threat to tell the authorities about her cross-continental monkey importation incident of the late 1970s had a significant impact on her decision-making.*

* = I am totally just kidding.

It was I who brought in 370 Kenyan chimps into northern California. The rest was history.

Again, I am not sure why I type in the very first thing that enters my brain. Perhaps, I should refrain from doing so, submitting to my better senses in the hopes that I can provide this space with some much-needed structure and coherency.*

* = Probably will never happen.

Remember that Skidrow song, "18 & Life"?

OK, double it, and you've got me.

I managed to wake up before 9 a.m. on a Saturday, which is a testament to the discipline I invoked Friday night to get to bed just after midnight (or at least by 1 on Saturday) as well as the fact that no air circulates in Mom's house.

She has a phobia of the ceiling fan. Fears one of the blades will come flying off, rendering a visitor or herself headless. I say, "Bring on those godless ceiling fan blades."

This is America. F***, yeah. To quote "Team America," the movie or whatever it was called.

Anyhoo, for the birthday, I decided to share a couple of my favorite sites with the world. Before there were blogs in the form rendered by applications like blogger.com and Movable Type and others, a woman in New York detailed her life as a temp worker.

I read it as far back as 1998 and even communicated with her some before a trip to NYC. It's called Laura's NYC Tales, and I do believe they're working on some kind of movie related to the site.

The beauty of Laura's site isn't that she's a Pulitzer-caliber writer. It's that she is a coherent, descriptive writer at a very basic level, perfect for telling stories. You're never lost reading her work, and it never requires a re-read. At a basic level, she's the quintessential journalist; however, Laura merely writes about bad days at the office and creepy men.

I have literally spent hours at her Web site, and I suspect you might enjoy it as well.

Second, a new site I've been visiting is pamie.com, which is a blog from an L.A.-based TV writer named Pam, Pamela or Pamie Ribon. Can't figure out which.

Going from Laura's site to Pamie's blog is really like seeing the progression of man from the evolutionary monkey to something more akin to the horses' asses we are today. I kid. Nevertheless, Laura's site is written in long form and takes on a rudimentary design, while Pamie's is hip, cool and pithy.

Seriously, too bad that Pamie chick is married because best I can tell she's like my freakin' female twin, albeit one who's smarter than me.

Not that I'm interested in dating relatives.

Or married women.

I'll shut up now.

The friends and I watched Scrubs tonight over a plate of barbecue, part of a mini-celebration of my impending 36th birthday, which happens Saturday.

Typically, I don't make celebrating a birthday a big deal, but I have chosen to this year. Actually, though, this year is more about Aug. 29 than Aug. 26.

OK, odd segue. I admit it. I'll explain.

My dad was married three times, four if you count an annulment of some sort back in the 1940s. Although my mom won't like to read this, I always figured Dad's first nuptials was soaked in a blissful vat of some well-aged Scotch and a pack of Lucky's.

Being a jazz musician, he was kind of a walking, talking monument to the Rat Pack era. Unlike me, he was tall, skinny and really good looking. I'm shorter, stockier but still stunning, if I can say so myself.

Nevertheless, on March 14, 1964, Dad married the woman who would spring me to life. That was exactly 36 years and three days after he was born.

In the behind-the-scenes conversations we'd have, and there were many, Dad always said he was never really worth a shit until he married Mom. No direction. No discipline. He literally said he was a "worthless son-of-a" you-know what.

Now, I know that's not the case; however, I've always identified with that sentiment in myself. And, during tonight's episode of Scrubs, Elliott laid some harsh truth on a morbidly obese patient, commenting afterward that he brought his problems on himself, referring to the health issues he was having because of his weight.

My friend J basically said that wasn't cool, and I agree wholeheartedly.

It's up to each of us to look inward and decide what we're going to do with our God-given talents, whatever they might be. My talents are many in terms of music and writing and perhaps other things I'm not even aware of (feel free to leave comments detailing those talents ;-)).

Yet, when Dad reached his 13,143rd day of existence that pre-spring day, just months after President Kennedy was assassinated, the vision for his life turned by 180 degrees. He became, as I noted in a previous blog post relative to myself, "comfortable in his own skin."

It's not about accomplishments. It's about vision and maximizing that vision through accomplishment. The accomplishments need not be achieved so long as the individual constantly -- and with discipline -- works toward a lofty vision.

For me, that includes leaving a mark through my work, through my music and with the people I love. That means I face the challenge of maximizing my achievements while ensuring that relationships with people not only endure but strengthen.

What that really means is that everything -- every little task, every waking hour, every choice -- needs to fall in line with that vision else it be tossed aside. Over the next year, the very same year in which my dad pulled it all together, that means I need to work to construct this vision, piece by piece, bit by bit.

To that end and without them even knowing, my friends got me the absolute perfect gift tonight, particularly metaphorically.

They got me tools, and if you've ever had a moment when your hopes, dreams and plans all come together to form something that is coherent (albeit mystical in terms of how it falls into place), well, then that was it.

Truth is, T & J should probably be fearful that I don't hurt myself with the gifts they gave me. Like T told me last week, I'm dangerous with power tools.

True indeed; however, this is the year I become a f***in' Jedi master. The challenge is to make sure, to ensure I don't abandon relationships for achievement. It all goes back to the adage, "Work hard, play hard."

No time to waste.

Work after a whopping five hours of sleep is always a bit laborious. However, today's the day we got the 528-page report from the University of Oklahoma regarding its investigation into fraudulent employment at a Norman car dealership.

Actually, it wasn't a "report." It was documentation related to the investigation; however, it all goes to the NCAA. Interesting finds were plentiful.

Coaches were interviewed, and they all denied knowing about players getting paid for no work. I believe them. The documentation indicates that most of the players went on their own to the dealership to secure employment, out of the eye of coaches and compliance.

Furthermore, many of the players took employment at Big Red not even knowing what their jobs were. Am I a lot porter? A detailer? WTF? Again, this points, and the summary report from Tuesday pointed to the premise that this wasn't so much one of those college-football-cheating scams as it was shoddy management on the part of a car dealership whose management wanted to "do the school a favor."

I promise you: OU doesn't need favors to garner great football talent. They've done fine by themselves for years and years and years. However, combine the "monster" of Oklahoma college football with good-ol-boys lookin' to get an in, and you've got a recipe for bad behavior.

The beauty of this scandal isn't that it happened. It sucks. Rhett Bomar was infinitely more talented at QB than Paul Thompson. The beauty is how David Boren and Bob Stoops and the entire university handled it. With precision. With decision. You're gone. You're gone. Done.

Who's next?

With the growth of the casino industry in central Oklahoma at a torrid pace, Stoops has long forbidden his players from going to them. One such player, named in a redacted part of the report (it's easy to figure out), was actually kicked off the team some time back for visiting a casino at one point.

Doesn't mean things like this don't happen at OU or at any major university; however, not everybody in this state or this area is a Sooner fan. Lots of OSU folks. Lots of folks from other states. Lots of folks who have to be co-workers with these athletes in these situations. Lots of folks who don't give a rat's ass about football.

In 2006, the digital age of instantaneous information, you will not be able to cheat without a high level of cheater's competency and get away with it. Period.

Anyway, with the rainy weather in the area, it was still a full day. We had a trial going on in Chandler and a Norman murder investigation beginning. However, the day wasn't without its highlights in other areas.

1. If you haven't visited perezhilton.com before, you really should. He's quite the gay gossiper, and he's been credited with outing Lance Bass. Basically, he talks shit about celebs, and he's damned funny and bitter doing so.

I won't note it in detail here, but his line about Joey Lawrence in the upcoming "Dancing With The Stars" season numero tres competition is freakin' hilarious. Gross. But hilarious. Disturbing. But hilarious.

2. I finally watched the last half of "Harold & Kumar" tonight, and I caught the insanely funny bit with Neil Patrick Harris. I had heard about it and had read the quotes, but I had never seen it.

I couldn't even begin to give their dialogue justice here.

3. Looks like freakazoid John Mark Karr's DNA won't match the DNA found at the scene of the JonBenet murder. This would culminate most likely in his release, something I have predicted all along.

Karr is a danger to society, in my opinion, but I am almost certain he had nothing to do with JonBenet's murder. However, I did creep a colleague out a few days ago when I bemoaned, "Awww, come on. He's just a romantic."

It's always entertaining when you can pull a verbal shocker like that. Not that I mean a word of it. He creeps me out, too.

Finally, for those of you who don't know, I start a new year of existence on Saturday. I'll be 36. One of the reasons I gave up on the jazz blog and reverted back to a looser and, hopefully, more entertaining version of my original site was because priority No. 1 for the upcoming year is for me to become more comfortable in my own skin.

To work on myself. Get my proverbial shit together.

Alas, that means taking on a higher level of discipline in my daily routine. My hope is that this site will be the outlet for the rude, gross, humorous and dark musings that enter my brain throughout the course of every waking minute.

The end result could be the ability to muster a moment of clarity, one so well mastered by the aforementioned Doogie Howser in "Harold & Kumar." So, if someone ever says to me, "We've been having a pretty crazy, night, too. We've just been driving around looking for White Castle but we keep getting sidetracked."

I'll merely reply, "Yeah, dude, you fascinate me. Forget White Castle, let's go get some p****."

Now, that's clarity.

Tuesday was one of those 14-hour work days I have in this business about twice per month. Sometimes in news, you have these days because of a breaking story, and sometimes it's because of something planned.

Today, we had both.

I'm using the glorious date-time stamp feature of blogger to post this on Tuesday when in fact it's 1:15 in the morning on Wednesday. So, check this out.

I worked 14 hours today, got a filling at the dentist, watched both the Big Brother All-Stars and Rock Star episodes off my DVR tonight, and I could still go another three or four hours.

But, I won't. Why? I have to help comb through 500 pages of an OU report to the NCAA regarding fraudulent football-player employment at Big Red Sports/Imports in Norman (under their previous ownership).

Through a Freedom of Information act, our ace reporter obtained documents for KOCO regarding the Oklahoma investigation. We were the first to air details of the investigation tonight at 6, including the facts that a) the university got the tip about Rhett Bomar and J.D. Quinn via an anonymous e-mail b) employment from all but one other player has been verified as being legitimate (good news, Sooner fans) and c) the bookkeeping at Big Red under its previous owners was so bad that not only was the investigation darn nearly impossible in some respects, it's a wonder they were able to maintain a business.

That's not my opinion. That's in the report. You can read it here.

This was only a status report to the NCAA from the university. Tomorrow, we get a much more detailed report, a 500-page report. Several of us will have to take parts of this so we can digest it in a timely manner.

Elections took most of my effort tonight, and per predictions I made at the dentist's office this afternoon, the races went to form. However, a lot of folks don't know that I have to enter those figures manually. Race by race. For two television stations.

They fed me, so I'm totally copacetic, once again proving that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Speaking of stomach, Howie's dismissal from BB7 was pretty hard to take last week. Not so much from me. It's just a freakin' show; however, he was bamboozled.

That's how BB is played, boys and girls.

I told my buddy Jerm he'd be great on this show but what I didn't tell him exactly was why. To win on BB, you have to be cool and duplicitous at times (no offense) and conniving (did I spell that right?) and confident to the point of cockiness.

Really, it's a compliment, dude.

He's off most of the summer when the show airs, I think, and I'm hoping my encouragement could net me a cut of his winnings.

Jerm could win a half mil on this show because he is like the boys from ChillTown.

That link takes you to the dude Jerm reminds me of, which would mean I'm the Will Kirby of the duo, and I'm just not nearly that suave or cool.

Color me more like Chicken George.

Nevertheless, Season 6's James lost the Power of Veto to Janelle and faces my reality-show doppelganger for an elimination vote on Thursday. Here's predicting a James exit interview with the Dr., Boogie, Erika and Janelle voting to evict James and Danielle voting to evict the Chicken Man.

I raced through Rock Star tonight, but saw enough to know that Ryan Star has climbed into the group of contenders. Of the seven remaining contestants, I'd say only three before had legit shots of winning the opportunity to front Supernova.

Dilana, Lukas Rossi and Magni.

Ryan Star whipped out a terrific original tune called, "Back Of My Car," which you can watch on the Rock Star site (along with all the performances), and put himself in the rare position of having improved each of the last five or so weeks.

Reminds me a bit of Kendra from Apprentice III for reality buffs out there. His rise these past few weeks caused co-host Dave Navarro to label him a darkhorse.

The other performances that stood out to me tonight included Patrice's, whose original called, "Beautiful Thing," would have actually made a better pop hit than rocker and Lukas, whose rendition of a Killers tune was a case study in rock-n-roll style (if not substance).

Dilana -- the only one with superior talent, in my opinion -- was off her game a bit tonight, doing a version of The Police's "Every Breath You Take," that I had hoped would be a bit more paranoid and disturbed, like the song was meant to be performed.

When Sting sings that song low-key that's because there is some irony in his performance. When Dilana, and feel free to call me a sexist pig here, does it low-key, which she did, it felt like a copycat performance. It's what I expected a female rocker to do. I wanted to see her turn the tune on its head (or "Kill It," as Gilby, Tommy and Jason might say).

Nevertheless, the South African native by way of Houston should be safe easily, leaving Patrice, Storm and perhaps Magni again to battle it out to stave off elimination.

I think Magni will survive again, leaving Patrice and Storm to bear the brunt of Tommy's hatchet. That's right, with three weeks left in the competition, I think we'll see another double elimination.

If not, me thinks Patrice is headed home.

And, I'm headed to bed.

You know how ABC yanked "The One: Making Of A Music Star" after two episodes because it sucked so much?

I've done the same thing to my jazz blog. It sucked but not quite as badly.

Here's the thing about me and the piano. I'm undisciplined. Completely. I play what I want, whether it's a standard or some Beatles. I don't "practice" so much as I sit down and play, and I think changing the blog from what it was to a jazz-centric blog served as a mechanism to make me practice more and better.

It didn't work. In fact, I became completely bored with myself, listening to albums I didn't care about, pretending to love a genre of music I oddly enough can play but have never really cared for outside of a few select artists. Herbie Hancock. Miles Davis. Bill Evans. Vince Guaraldi. Oscar Peterson.

I could include 20-25 more on that list.

However, that part of my life and blogging is done. It's time to move on to bigger and better blogs, like this one, which pretty much will encompass what I've always wanted to maintain a blog about: my pop-cultured life.

What do I like to talk about? Hmmm. Simple.

What I hear on the radio, watch on TV, see on the news, read in the magazine or newspaper and me.

If that sounds like it could interest you, continue on. If not, I'll likely continue to bore you just as inept jazz reviews did. One of the reasons I made the switch from an Oklahoma-based news type of blog to a jazz blog was to give the site more focus while drawing me away from topics that raised my stress level: politics, the economy, religion.

Both sides of the political spectrum are completely self-righteous. The macro-economy is excellent right now, but what's frustrating are the millions of micro-economies across the country that are one paycheck from homelessness. And, religion isn't worth the effort of discussion.

For example, I've got friends who literally flipped out when I told them I was considering Catholicism. Why? Their stance on abortion and they don't like Mother Teresa. That sounds like a criticism, but it isn't. It's good to have that yang to a ying.

My stance on abortion still is that it ought to be completely illegal outside of cases of rape, incest or the health of the mother. Guess what?

That's not a fun topic at dinner parties, so I avoid it here.

The Catholic Church is also right in my opinion as it pertains to immigration, the war in the Middle East and religion's role in science, which church leaders firmly believe can be intertwined -- that is, science can be part of religion, not the other way around.

Nevertheless, without having somebody upon which I can bounce my fanciful ideas, even if a little nutty, I might go off and do something I regret or that isn't really totally simpatico with my value system.

Besides, the every-sperm-is-precious schtick is a bit more than I can handle though because God knows I waste a lot of those li'l bastards. So, I'm having second thoughts about Catholicism in that regard.

I mean, if I'm killin' a precious life every time I see a Mary Tyler Moore episode or Angie Dickinson drama, the good, sweet Pope won't like me claiming membership, no?

Anyway, these are all serious topics that interest me somewhat, among many others. Nevertheless, I'm keeping those to myself and striving to work toward some semblance of spirituality that fits my world perspective, my value structure and my schedule.

You'll never know what that is. Probably.

This blog is all about fun stuff. Reality television. Sports. Music. Movies. Stuff happening in OKC and Norman.

Reviews. Lists. Links. Sarcasm. Gossip.

Let's put it this way: If you actually get smarter from reading this blog over the next several months, I have done something completely wrong.