SoFla writer-blogger Richard Pachter (who's done work for the Sun-Sentinel as well as other local media outlets), reports he was shopping for fixtures t'other day at an area Home Depot when he spotted, of all people, the frequently infamous Tommy Lee.

Like any of us confronted with such a contextual oddity - aging rock god in housewares superstore - he couldn't process the vision right away. But then it fell together: "He wore a loose-fitting shirt that covered up all of his tats, but the smirk was unmistakable."

Lee will be back around for the July 1 kickoff at West Palm's Cruzan Amphitheatre of the inaugural Crue Fest, a hard rock tourney to be headlined by Lee's band, Motley Crue. In announcing the Fest this week, Lee struck a philosophical, plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose sort of note, as quoted by the AP:

The second we hit the stage, everything is exactly the same. But when the house lights go up these days, everybody leaves and goes back to their hotel room or bus or airplane or whatever. It's different now. People have families and kids.

And shopping.

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Traditionally when a particular "day" is set aside to honor something or someone, the honoree is dead or dying. And maybe, with Record Store Day approaching, there's reason to worry about independent record stores - driven to the brink by downloading and the takeover of music sales by box retailers using CDs as heavily discounted shopper bait.

Nevertheless, indie stores of the type celebrated in High Fidelity persist, and many thrive in the vaccuum opened up by Internet traffic and the closure of major record chains. Browsing the racks and hanging around, with or without money and a plan, is still one of life's great pleasures.

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I'll be treating the Oscars like I did the Grammys and blogging the telecast right here. The awards start at 8:30 on Sunday evening, so check in any time after that. Keying in sun-sentinel.com/oscarblog will also get you to this address.

It may be the first year in memory that the Oscars sweat the Grammys, because the Grammys were unusually good.

And there's a not-insubstantial hometown hook, owing to the best actor nomination for ex-local Johnny Depp. As recounted by Sun-Sentinel freelancer Patricia Towle, when Depp sought help preparing to sing the lead role of Sweeney Todd, he went to a Los Angeles record producer and fellow SoFla expat named Bruce Witkin. Years earlier, Depp and Witkin had been bandmates in The Kids, an '80s punk/new-wave group that left this region for Southern California, where Depp segued into acting and Witkin became a producer.

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This rendering of a famous quartet is the work of a first grader who happens to be the daughter of a colleague. Can you name the band she's drawn? There are some visual clues here that might tip you off. Guess right, and you won't get a prize, but you'll have the lasting admiration of the Sun-Sentinel's many music fans.

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In our sister paper The Morning Call, in Allentown, Pa., transgendered singer-songwriter-harpist-pianist Baby Dee knocks down efforts to get background:

"I never reveal my birth name! Wikipedia can go to hell!"

We do know she grew up in Cleveland. But she calls biography "a bore" and as Morning Call correspondent Len Righi writes:

Bowing to her request, the conversation steers clear of such potentially boring topics as her days as a harp-playing bear in Central Park and Paris; a tricycle-riding accordion-playing cat; a Catholic church organist; a ''bilateral hermaphrodite'' at a Coney Island sideshow, and a Kamikaze Freakshow performer who lay on broken glass while concrete slabs were broken over her head with a sledge hammer.

None of which is discussed here.

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Song-based headline of the week: "Goodbye Rudy Tuesday"

As seen in various media outlets suggesting the Florida primary would be Waterloo for GOP presidential candidate Rudy Giuliani. Apparently, it was: Giuliani has ended his run for the White House. Besides Ruby Tuesday, here are some other Rolling Stones songs that might relate to the demise of Giuliani's political career.

Before They Make Me Run
Biggest Mistake
Dead Flowers
Might As Well Get Juiced
Please Go Home
Shattered

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A study confirms what horror novelists have long known: Clowns are terrifying to kids.

"Bad news for Coco and Blinko -- children don't like clowns and even older kids are scared of them.

The news that will no doubt have clowns shedding tears was revealed in a poll of youngsters by researchers from the University of Sheffield who were examining how to improve the decor of hospital children's wards."

A researcher polling the kids said that clowns were "universally disliked" and that some children found these painted jesters "quite frightening and unknowable."

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It is, in fact, a tree on a barge. If I hadn't seen it, I wouldn't have believed it. And if I hadn't photographed it, neither would you. Caught this afternoon on my trusty cellphone cam, riding down the Intracoastal under the Sunrise Ave., bridge. If I remember right, on the lip of the barge it said, "Tree Integrity, Inc."

Anyone know from whence it came and where it was headed?

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From The Dreidel to the Grave

A Hanukkah-time compilation featuring Anti-Flag, Mad Caddies, NOFX and other punk rowdies, courtesy of the NoCal record label Fat Wreck Chords.

The inspiration owes to Fat Wreck owner and NOFX singer-bassist Michael Burkett, a.k.a. Fat Mike, the label's resident, foremost and uppermost "Jewish punker," in the words of Fat Wreck publicist Vanessa Burt.

The "Hanuk-Comp," as FWC is calling it, is online-only and streams at this address with Adobe Flash Player.

Hava blast!

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I'm somewhat speechless, myself.

NEW YORK (AP) - Lynne Spears’ book about parenting has been delayed indefinitely, her publisher said Wednesday.

Lindsey Nobles, a spokeswoman for Christian book publisher Thomas Nelson Inc., said Wednesday that the memoir by the mother of Britney Spears was put on hold last week. She declined to comment on whether the delay was connected to the revelation that Spears’ 16-year-old daughter, Jamie Lynn, is pregnant.

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And the word of the year is ...

BOSTON (Reuters) - "w00t," an expression of joy coined by online gamers, was crowned word of the year on Tuesday by the publisher of a leading U.S. dictionary.

Massachusetts-based Merriam-Webster Inc. said "w00t" -- typically spelled with two zeros -- reflects a new direction in the American language led by a generation raised on video games and cell phone text-messaging.

It's like saying "yay," the dictionary said.

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I stole this from a new Sun-Sentinel blog, Watch This Now, a group effort by some coworkers who insist they don't get out much. If so, their hermetic existences lead them to some very cool online video, including this fine entry in the category of kids-don't-try-this-at-home.

What happens when you toss a dozen glow sticks into a blender? All I can say is, get this man a booth at Art Basel.

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This is pretty amusing. I can't decide what's less essential, Wavy Gravy renting himself or the Osbournes' charity estate auction.

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How smart was Leonardo Da Vinci? Well, as my colleague Emma Trelles notes, he basically had the first Blackberry - well, OK, it was a notebook on a rope. And it didn't make calls. But I'm betting his copious scribblings were more complex, detailed, interesting and computational than the bar photos and text-message blast-lists in your average PDA.

Now comes word that Da Vinci, ahem, encoded the score for a song that he himself wrote into one of his most famous paintings.

I pass this along advisedly, since it may encourage more Da Vinci Code mania. But still, it's a remarkable finding. Da Vinci apparently used the position of the hands and the loaves of bread in "The Last Supper" to spell out the notes of a slow, sad, dirge-y musical composition honoring the Bible's biggest celebrity roast. He gave his painting a soundtrack, in other words.

From reading the article, I don't get the sense that Da Vinci the songwriter would have eclipsed Da Vinci the painter. What I'd like to see now is someone turn the feat around, and write instructions for a painting into the harmonic, melodic and rhythmic components of a song.

And no, this doesn't count.

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You may remember this:

He's the bulbous mascot/cover model for Primus' knuckle-dragging classic, Pork Soda.

Well now we have this:

That would be the Jones Soda Company's carbonated Christmas pack, complete with ... ham soda.

As a commenter on the beverage maker's site notes, "Primus would be proud."

(First spotted on CNN, under the excellent headline, "Enjoy a refreshing ham soda.")

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So said the infamous Black Knight in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and so said a very funny photo caption in our print edition's Sports front. The picture showed Florida Panthers goalie Tomas Vokoun thwarting a (Montreal) Canadien, on a night where he stopped a flurry of shots and carried the Cats to victory. (Ok, one goal passed through his pads, but still ... )

The caption led to a discussion of the origin of the phrase, "None shall pass." I thought it was Python but I couldn't recall which movie or TV show bit. An editor of mine thought it might have come from The Bible. So I Googled the words, and wouldn't you know it, Wikipedia had it all covered. Needless to say, Vokoun's confidence was more warranted than the briefly menacing, ultimately limbless Black Knight (played by John Cleese).

But can I say that Vokoun stumped Montreal?

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Is it just me and my TV? I could swear that during the Cubs-Diamondbacks playoff games on TBS (including the one on right now), there's this ... noise. A whistling tone of two notes (C and D flat - I checked) that runs continuously in the background, like late-night brain hum or tinnitus. I change channels, and it's gone. I mute the TV and it stops. It's also not there during TBS's commercial breaks.

Tell me I'm not going crazy. I'd rather it was a distant, collective grief sound emanating from all Cubs fans, but I don't think so.

p.s. Frank Thomas, a TBS postseason hire, is a great in-studio game analyst. He's smart, measured, and a delight to listen to and watch. (And that cursed noise doesn't follow them into the studio!) He's found a good pitch, presence- and delivery-wise, between voluble studio anchor Ernie Johnson and the ol' gamer Cal Ripken. I can easily see Thomas doing this after he's retired from crushing baseballs into the stands, unless of course he wants to coach.

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Here's a helpful Q&A on a showy style of drink service that I would have expected to come from South Florida. Instead, so-called "flair bartending," which resembles the knife-handling at Japanese steak houses, seems to be catching on to our north.

And lest you think flair bartending (which also needs a better name) is just the '80s recycled, flairtender Moe Harris explains how wrong it is to bring up the Tom Cruise character in Cocktail.

I’m nothing like Tom Cruise. That movie has probably done more damage for flair bartenders than anything else. People get this misconception that we’re spilling a lot, because he spills a lot. And the flair he does is actually horrible.

Every great expressive form, it seems, labors under misconceptions because pop culture has dumbed it down for mass consumption. In that respect, flair bartending ("flairtending"?) is like yoga and Kabuki.

Just a beer, thanks.

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I played Ted Nugent's Stranglehold on a jukebox about a month ago, figuring a friend who'd never heard it would enjoy the same things I do - the crunchy guitar, the spacey bass, and the backwards, decay-to-attack hiss on the cymbals. (Nissan liked it, too, for their recent Altima campaign.) For a guy who condemns drug use and blames its persistence on hippies, Nugent wrote one helluva stoner classic.

It's a shame I'll never again pay to hear that or any Nugent song. Not after this.

I can't provide a transcript of his remarks, because the video clip contains graphic, violent language that isn't going to fly on a daily paper Weblog. The sentiments are beyond ugly. Suffice it to say that Nugent, with this gun-waving tirade against four politicians he apparently dislikes, has talked himself out of civil society.

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This actually happened: An economist in Calgary studied which of AC/DC's singers, the late Bon Scott (Highway to Hell) or the extant Brian Johnson (Back in Black), had a more positive effect on a listener's bargaining abilities.

The findings, available here, suggest that Johnson's scratchy bellow will put more money in your pocket than Scott's throaty wail.

As someone who likes Johnson but favors Scott (methinks he sang with a little more humor and character), I have my doubts. But experts disagree. Here's the summary:

Among musicologists, researchers of popular culture, and rock and roll lovers of all ages there exists a common debate. That is, with respect to the rock band AC/DC, who is the better vocalist: Bon Scott or Brian Johnson? . . . Since 1980, there has been near constant contention regarding who was the better singer.

In this paper, we explore this issue. Since it is difficult to ascertain which vocalist
was better given the heterogeneity of musical tastes, our analysis does not focus on
the aural or sonic quality of the vocalists’ performances. Rather, using tools from the
field of experimental economics, and we consider which vocalist results in individuals
arriving at more efficient outcomes in a simple bargaining game.

Our results suggest that having participants listen to songs by AC/DC in which Brian Johnson served as vocalist results in participants realizing more efficient outcomes. Thus, in terms
of a singer’s ability to implement efficient behavioral outcomes among listeners, our
results suggest that Brian Johnson was a better vocalist than Bon Scott.

I can see whole fields growing out of these arguments. Suggested future papers:

"Teenage Drinking: Hagar vs. Roth"

"Osbourne or Dio? A Comparison of Impacts on Surgical Technique"

"Airplane, Starship and Patterns in Charitable Giving"

Add your own!

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Here's an interesting claim for the joys of driving the Porsche Cayenne, an SUV, as touted in a radio spot I heard today:

"Whether you're charging through the curves of Sebring or down the nearest freeway offramp, the thrill is the same."

I'm sure it is if you're delusional, in which case you shouldn't drive.

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So I boarded a plane on Thursday afternoon for a brief trip north to visit family, and this particular Delta flight was piping music into the cabin. I settled into my window seat, half-listening as the plane filled up. An r&b song I didn't recognize came and went, followed by John Legend's congenial Save Room. If Delta's plan was to soothe ruffled fliers, this wasn't a bad choice. The repeated phrase "save room" could have doubled as a politeness tip.

But if I was looking for airline messages in pop songs, what was I supposed to make of the next track? It started with a flourish of pizzicato strings, and then came that darting melody. Could it be? I looked around to see if any else heard what I was hearing - but no. I was apparently alone at recognizing the theme song to HBO's Six Feet Under.

I am not making this up: A Delta flight played music from a television show about death. My compliments to the DJ. And yes, we all survived the flight. Maybe they'll screen Final Destination on my next trip.

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Clearly an SEC grudge match.

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As Steve Van Zandt, Silvio on The Sopranos, walked the red carpet with his castmates on Sunday outside Hard Rock Live, the following exchange took place. A radio reporter caught Van Zandt just before he disappeared inside.

RR: "Steve, one question."
SVZ: "Make it quick."
RR: "Do you spend a lot of time on the water?"
SVZ: "You mean like a yacht?"

And that was all. I love red-carpet journalism.

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This is a little off topic, but I'm choking on a remark by the chief of NASA -- yes, the space agency -- about the news media.

NASA's Michael Griffin apparently made some unpopular comments this month about global warming in an interview with NPR. I didn't catch that broadcast, and I'm not here to quantify his thoughts on climate change. (Go here if you care.)

What irked me was his followup. Here's Griffin explaining the NPR interview to NASA colleagues, as reported by the Associated Press (and carried by Wired).

Doing media interviews is an art. Their goal is usually to generate controversy because it sells interviews and papers and my goal is usually to avoid controversy.

OK, can we please retire the "just trying to sell papers" meme? I know it's a fun, easy, reductive line to toss off, especially when a piece of news annoys or embarrasses people, or contradicts their beliefs. But if it isn't false in every instance, it's a caricature of the truth. It makes no distinctions, and it demonstrates ignorance of what journalists do. Repeating it helps poison the environment in which the news media has to operate.

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South Florida singer-songwriter Jim Wurster sent me this note about a writeup of last Sunday's Kenny Chesney concert.

In your review today, you referred to You Never Even Called Me by My Name as a David Allan Coe song. Although Mr. Coe had a hit with the song, the author was Steve Goodman. Steve also wrote The City of New Orleans, made famous by Arlo Guthrie, and Banana Republics, popularized by Jimmy Buffett.

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Cue Bob Marley's Exodus.

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I was standing on line at a bank branch just a few minutes ago and out of a discretely placed ceiling speaker I heard it: the reedy organ, the Taxman-ish bass, the whispery "She's alone ... ". Yup, it was The New Pollution by Beck, playing as soothing house music in a bank. So is Beck the new Muzak or is branch-banking hip?

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