Showing posts with label Beach Boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Beach Boys. Show all posts

Thursday, June 6, 2013

Grammar Snacks (Ecstatic Wax Edition)

The Semi-Misunderstood Semicolon
(Starring Captain and Tennille!?)

 I assume most of you know what a semicolon (;) is and where it’s located on the keyboard or touch screen. Most of you also know how it functions in modern-day communications: as the wink in a happy-faced emoticon, right? Yep, Mr. Semicolon is the Captain to Ms. Close Parenthesis’s Tennille. But here’s a little-known fact: the semicolon is actually a punctuation mark that has practical applications in our myriad writings. If that sounds like I’m insulting your intelligence, I’m sorry. It’s just that until he recently found work as one-half (appropriate since the prefix “semi-” means “half”) of the ol’ wink ’n’ smile, the semicolon had long been neglected—even misused.

It’s a story that somewhat mirrors the life of Captain Daryl Dragon. Once a master yachtsman and a helmsman of his own Carnival® poop ship, the Captain had his life forever altered when his prank-pulling first mate stirred some PCP into his morning coffee. With PCP onboard, the Captain determined that he could get to Jamaica faster by steaming his Carnival® cruiser clear through a small Caribbean island occupied by a Sandals® resort instead of going around it. He beached the ship, of course, and had to be forcibly removed from its bridge. (During the melee, the Captain was heard to say, “Don’t tase me, bro!” a full 25 years before it entered the national lexicon.)

Later, the Captain emerged from his angel dust-fueled rampage in the empty Sandals® lounge. Drinking Chablis straight from the box, the now-unemployed Captain, who was also well-known for plying more romantic waters with a few tickles of the ivories, stumbled over to the vacant piano to console himself with a melody.

Arriving early to knock back a few Tropical Breeze® daiquiris prior to her nightly torture fest of torch songs in the Sandals® lounge (where sandals aren’t allowed after 6 p.m.), singer Toni Tennille heard the Captain pounding out a rough but delightfully saccharine melody—the very one that would soon crystallize into the song “Love Will Keep Us Together.” And that is when Capt. Dragon and Toni Tennille consummated pop music’s greatest union as Captain and Tennille.

Unlike the Captain, however, the semicolon prefers not to be a lounge act with the close parenthesis; he simply wants to punctuate sentences—nothing more. But before we can grant him his wish, we must remind ourselves of the semicolon’s proper use. Let the following rules and their corresponding examples guide you.

Use a semicolon to join two independent clauses not joined by a coordinating conjunction. Further, from the Associated Press Stylebook: “…use the semicolon [within a sentence] to indicate a greater separation of thought and information than a comma can convey but less than the separation that a period implies.” For example:
On account of the idiotic yachting hat he always wore while banging on the piano, Daryl Dragon drew the nickname “Captain Keyboard” from the Beach Boys’ Mike Love; because of his penchant for drinking rum excessively and vomiting on women as he serenaded them with “I Get Around,” Mike Love got the nickname “Captain Morgan” from Daryl Dragon.

Besides joining two independent clauses, the semicolon also comes in handy within a sentence containing phrases with other internal punctuation, such as commas. For example:
The Captain shipwrecked his music career following an incident on the Santa Monica Pier involving Alka-Seltzer®, bread, and an unruly audience of seagulls. His career is survived by his wife, Toni Tennille of Long Beach, Calif.; son, Captain Jr. of Daytona Beach, Fla.; drinking buddy, Mike Love of Malibu, Calif.; 341 dorky yachtsman hats; AM radio; and millions of discarded LP records polluting America’s landfills, thrift stores, and rummage sales.

(Dear Mike Love and Daryl Dragon, the above story is a work of fiction. I'm broke anyway, so don't waste your time suing.)

Special thanks to Brieann Gonczy.

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Of Flat Surf and Beached Boys


The 50-year-old Beach Boys consummated their golden jubilee this week with the release of a new studio album, That’s Why God Made the Radio (the Almighty does not make radios, by the way)—the first Beach Boys album to include both Brian Wilson (a.k.a. the hero) and Mike Love (a.k.a. the villain) in more than—shit, I don’t know—many years. Detractors will say this album, like the band’s concurrent reunion tour, is a blatant cash-grab, that it sounds less like a rejuvenated band with its creative powers restored than a reanimated corpse in tattered beach wear. Gosh, people can be so cynical. Indeed, the Beach Boys' endless summer may have ended long ago, but they prove in all their geriatric glory that they can hang 10 (and brains) in the winter of their years. Well, except for the ones who are still dead. Anyway, as I prepare to bask in the radiating glory of wobbly old men hobbling around on stage in Bermuda shorts and unbuttoned Hawaiian shirts for one last go-around, I can cite hundreds of reasons why That’s Why God Made the Radio (again, God didn’t invent the radio; God merely tolerated its creation) justifies its existence. Allow me to share some of those reasons with you today.

That’s Why God Made the Radio deserves its existence and your dwindling disposable income because:

There’s nothing sweeter than being serenaded by paunchy septuagenarians puttering around in baseball caps.

In his catatonic, drooling state, Brian is still a genius.

Unlike Smile, That’s Why God Made the Radio is sodden with relatable lyrics.

Pining for the same simple things—summer, sun, cars, waves and babes—50 years later is cute. Or pathetic.

Empty, cynical nostalgia for a phony Southern California dream is deeply moving.

Brian’s fragile psyche makes this collection very poignant. (The same has also been said about every Brian Wilson-related recording since 1967—even his infamous “Smart Girls” rap song.)

The California Raisins haven’t made an album in over 20 years.

The gift shop at the Zuma Beach Shack Motel Resort and RV Rental needs a new soundtrack.

The hopelessly behind-the-times Beach Boys are timeless.

The Beach Boys think the kids are still buying albums.

It’s important to remember that as the ocean is deep the Beach Boys are shallow.