"That Metal Show"

The promise of cable TV -- and now the Internet -- is the ability to serve quality programming to niches.

One of the better examples is VH1 Classic's "That Metal Show," a weekly roundtable talk show that treats hard rock and metal with respect but still keeps a nice level of low brow. New York DJ Eddie Trunk is the ringleader, but co-hosts Jim Florentine and Don Jamieson are no slouches in adding humor, knowledge and tough questions of the weekly guest.

The number of star musicians interviewed over the course of five seasons is a who's who's of metal, both well-known and should-be-known.

A centerpiece of the show is "Stump the Trunk,"  an interactive element where audience members try to best Trunk's metal IQ with questions that are all over the metal map. It's amazing how often Trunk comes out on top, answering arcane questions from fans who are hardcore beyond belief. Trunk and the guest(s) often are the only people in the studio not wearing a metal T-shirt.

Whether you're a metalhead or just a fan of music, the show is a fun and informative 30 minutes (w/extras online).

"Sh*t My Dad Says"

"Sh*t My Dad Says" is a great read."Sh*t My Dad Says" is a hilarious book. I recommend it to anyone looking for a long series of laughs. Or a fun book they can read 5 minutes a day. But I don't believe for a second that it's a true-to-life tale, as we've been led to believe. 

For those living in a cave, Justin Halpern's book is a spinoff of a popular Twitter feed that not only led to the best-selling book but now is a CBS TV series set to debut in the Fall. Starring William Shatner. Yep, that William Shatner. For reals. Apocalpyse soon to follow. 

"Shi*t My Dad Says" is obviously a recollection, of sorts. But there's no way a weasel kid could quote, verbatim, all this F-bomb-laced wisdom over the course of a decade. There's also no way a clearly educated man would drop expletive-laden "life lessons" like that right and left, hour after hour, day after day, year after year. I mean, could he? Even back in the day, when parents were actually allowed to parent?

Sue me, but I smell a little artistic extension at work. Halpern was a freelancer for Maxim when he started his Twitter feed, so he wasn't swimming in cash. Consistently posting "real" funny stuff on Twitter isn't easy, as anyone who Tweets regularly can attest. But if you're naturally funny, as Halpern is, who's to say a caricature of one's dad might not be a great character to build on? Just sayin. 

Here's the deal: When I see Pop with his own YouTube channel spouting this clever wisdom, I'll believe it. But when it's channeled through the boy, Halpern, I'll take it for what it is, which is great fun.

Update on Saturday, October 30, 2010 at 9:37 AM by Logan Molen

Jsutin Halpern is coming to Bakersfield. He'll be at Russo's Books at 1 p.m. Nov. 6. Let's see if Pop comes along.

"33 1/3: The Replacements' 'Let It Be' "

I listened to an audiobook version of Colin Meloy's bookI just finished my third installment of the "33 1/3" series of audiobooks in which famous or semi-famous people review classic albums.

I had a mixed experience with the first two.

Warren Zanes'  "33 1/3" take on Dusty Springfield's "Dusty in Memphis" was just awful because it never really got into the music at hand. Bill Janovitz's breakdown of The Rolling Stones' "Exile on Main Street" was much better, offering a straightforward analysis of an album that seems to get better as the years go by.

But Colin Meloy's "33 1/3" take on The Replacements' "Let It Be" was a surprise, in a good way. I'm not much of a fan of The Decemberists, the band Meloy leads. But I am a big fan of The 'Mats, whose mix of crash-bang punk and touching lyrics powered me through college.

Meloy dives into his review from the vantage point of an awkward teen growing up in small-town Montana. It's a perfect match for "Let It Be," whose songs are both immature and emotionally vulnerable in trying to address the mystery and agony of adolescence. There were more than a few segments where I felt Meloy was describing slices of my childhood. Like the first few listens of "Let It Be," I felt like someone finally understood me.