Demonic Hips

Thank god for the Internet. (Is it strange that I capitalized "Internet" and didn't capitalize "god"? Does that allude to what's really important to me?) I was lost on YouTube a few weeks ago and happened upon the most amazing link, something for which the Internet was built: a video of Shakira's "Hips Don't Lie" fused together with footage of Glenn Danzig borrowed from old Danzig videos and a snappy pseudo-Misfits riff. Click here for your enjoyment.

I'm a huge Danzig fan and have been since 1989. I still go to his shows when his tour takes him to Philadelphia and its outer rim. I find his music -- yes, even some of the new stuff -- inspiring and powerful. While some of his fans compare his lyrics to poetry, I won't go that far. But his words are certainly provocative. (An example: "I'm gonna stand on top of the world and / Challenge the heavens / Gonna bring you god.") He should be a motivational speaker some day. Or maybe a zookeeper. Or, better yet, a maker of crossword puzzles as the only logical successor to Will Shortz.

I had never heard Shakira's "music" before uncovering this gem. I think I've heard all I need to hear. I'm sure she's a nice person and a lot of fun to hang out with. She does a great "Robot" too, but I'm not in her camp, as the kids like to say. [Scene: "I'm just not a fan of your work, Shakira." Shakira says nothing, just stands there, eyes tearing up. "Please don't take it personally. ... Stop, please don't cry." She runs off, hands shielding her face. Crushed, she doesn't watch her footsteps and trips over a half-empty Slurpee. She twists her ankle, only worsening the pain that's eating away at her and undoing her confidence. Her bodyguard advances and blankets me in his shadow. "This is going to hurt, isn't it?" I ask. He cracks his knuckles and smiles sadistically. End of scene.] Sorry you had to see that. But I'm quite sure that sleeping on her bed of money will soften the blow of me not respecting her as an artist.

Oh yeah, the video. Watching that video for the first time was a peanut-butter-and-jelly moment. I've watched it at least three times a day since I dug it up and have shared it with other people close to me. Strangely, no one else gets nearly as excited. That's OK; we all have our problems. Even though the duet never really happened, it's reality as far as I'm concerned. In my mind, it did happen. But if that's the case, why can't I find the single on iTunes? Dammit.

It got me thinking of other great audio combinations that will probably never collide: Megadeth and Earth Wind & Fire. Sepultura and Keane. The Dixie Chicks and Agnostic Front. Jack Johnson and Doomriders. Cro-Mags and Rufus Wainwright. Anthrax and Public Enemy. Oh wait ...

So there is hope. Maybe one day Danzig and Shakira will not only record this great single but also tour together, collaborate on a musical, fall in love, get hitched and buy a dog. He can show her the finer points of mixed martial arts, black concert T-shirts and demons. She can teach him all there is to know about bare midriffs, Spanish verbs and things that sparkle.

It's destiny, I tell you.

Downtown

Why am I so stupid? I spent two weeks in Chicago and Madison, Wis., last month and forgot my camera. I usually visit Chicago once a month for work, but this was the first time I got to see downtown in the light of day for any extended period of time. It's a breathtaking place.

With all due respect to New York and Philadelphia (my hometown), Chicago is the greatest American city. I must admit that I'm by no means a "city guy," but I'm beginning to appreciate the charms of tall buildings and bustling streets. I prefer trees and mountains and streams and open spaces to the closeness and coldness and din of the city. But Chicago is just ... different. It's sort of its own wilderness.

I went downtown one Saturday morning, crossing my fingers that an impending storm would darken someone else's day. Luckily, the lakefront winds or whatever unseen forces are responsible for Chicago's schizophrenic weather produced blue skies and temperatures in the high 60s. I walked the city through the afternoon, from Lakeshore Drive to "The Bean" in Millennium Park (pictured) to the subterranean Billy Goat Tavern to the Wrigley Building by the Chicago River, logging close to 10 miles -- a guess -- by the time I found my way back to the parking garage. The pictures will be preserved, but only in the rattling box inside my head.

I'm spending more time in cities of late, including two trips to New York in the past two weeks. And last weekend, 45,000 of my closest friends and I ran in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure 5K in downtown Philly. Again, idiot me left the camera at home. I've lived here all my life, but it was the first time I got such a deep appreciation for the city itself. Maybe it was the endorphins. Maybe it was the promise of soft pretzels at the finish line. I'm harder on Philly than most people who live here, probably unfairly at times, so I was surprised at my newfound affection for the city. It's a beautiful place if you look hard enough.

Still, it's no match for Chicago.

The Way Things Are

I just finished reading a book called "The Power of Story." It's one of those self-help books to help lost souls find their way by changing the way they view and, therefore, think about life. A big part of the book talks about "the way things are," meaning the way people get conditioned to think about their lives, their pursuits, their days and their purpose on this earth as unchangeable. Mostly, "the way things are" is a negative device. People don't change because they're afraid, lazy or both. I fall into the same trap, mostly out of fear.

That phrase came to mind when I opened an e-mail of a recording shot in 1992, featuring a 12-year-old girl named Severn Suzuki speaking to world leaders at a United Nations conference about the environment. She spoke about the way things were in Vancouver, her birthplace. She spoke about how humanity had polluted the rivers and lakes, how species disappeared with little protest, how most people didn't share with others even in times of abundance, how we're poisoning the earth because we can't yet see the consequences ... because those consequences haven't yet affected us personally. That kind of stuff matters only when it disrupts our own interests.

This is the way things are. It was in 1992, and it still is today. I was glad to learn Severn has followed her pursuits and has made much of herself in the 16 years since she made that speech to the U.N. She's an activist doing good things for someone somewhere, according to her Wikipedia profile. It makes me hopeful that there's still time for me to do the same.