This photo that you see right here is of a boutonnière I had made for me to wear while interviewing tomorrow in beautiful-if-only-you-could-see-it-under-the-mass-of-snow Madison, Wisconsin. The job for which I’m interviewing may have something to do with ketchup, relish, mustard, and buns. Also, it may be considered one of the most post-college jobs.

It’s not that I want to get all of your hopes up, but let me tell you, I’m pretty excited about this opportunity. I don’t want to turn this blog into something personal. That blog will come later and depends on how I do with the interview.

Note: If you have any incling as to what I’m doing, don’t post it! Shhhh. ‘Tis secret!

Moose McGillycuddy’s sets the benchmark for bars on Maui. Having been a sort of panoptic presence on the north part of Front Street Lahaina since 1983, Moose McGillycuddy’s is a time-tested landmark known for its cheap, decent eats, an early bird breakfast and dinner that help offset the cost of getting to and staying in Hawaii, and its relaxed, not quite down-to-earth atmosphere. I’m not sure what exactly one is to expect from “going out on Maui,” but the restaurant/bar lives up to just that after hearing the locally produced commercials Maui’s radio stations.

Don’t get my wrong, I appreciate Moose’s mastery of all that is kitsch. Alone, it gets mildly annoying and the commercials are that bad. That is the material that sets the bar for going out in Maui and it is also what I had to deal with one recent Friday night.

If there is one word to describe that experience it is not what you are probably thinking right now. Everything mentioned actually could actually be fodder for a slightly tacky, reasonably fun joint. Instead of going that route, it’s as if all that was meant for good revolted and created a beast. And that beast is dangerous.

Upon entering the establishment, you might think it would be a good idea to grab a seat while getting warmed up for the dance floor. While Moose’s brags about their eats, don’t expect any after dinner is over  — no pub fare, no french fries, nothing. The group I with had a little run in with the waitress when it came to splitting the tab. It almost got violent. Just avoid the whole ordeal by spelling out your desires as you order. Don’t worry if you feel like you’re treating the waitstaff like imbeciles. It’s best to take the offensive or else they’ll get you first. Better yet, ignore the servers and head to the bar yourself.

The Friday night DJ is in need of a good scolding. Even nerdy college-age DJs with no sense of rhythm or music who started their business as a way of making ends meat by MCing high school functions did a better job than that guy. Do not play a song from 0:00 until the fade-out. And, no, Snoop Dog should not be trailed by Burning Spear.

The demographics of the patrons is interesting. At worst, it’s downright disturbing. Old and young, tourist and local meet in one unwieldy amalgam as if sat down and lectured to play nice. Here are some people you might meet on the dance floor:

• The C-walking, Maui Built-wearing braddah. There is only one of them. He tries getting the girls. He never does. He’s creepy.
• The unstoppable mother-daughter-freak-dancing-duo. They are both drunk. They are always on vacation. They are usually about 30 and 55. They hope the photos don’t follow them home.
• The Mid-life crisis chap. Local or tourist and comprising a majority of the guys on the floor or hovering nearby. Looking to bring back his youth and rejuvenate (nevermind. I don’t care to go there.), he tries getting women of all shape, size, color, and creed to dance with him as fervently as the mother-daughter-duo. One stipulation: the women must at least 15 years younger.
• The “I just turned 21″ (or at least “my license says I’m 24″) group of girls.Wait. Nothing wrong there, not until you mix them with the the aforementioned man half-way to retirement.
• The regressive moks and tiddas who swarm the dance floor when the reggae comes on. Four words: Just like high school (assuming you graduated from public school in Hawaii).

Overall, the experience is complicated by the unmet expectations. The commercials on X 92.5 lead the average restuarant-goer there will “always be hotties and occasionally some naughties.” Their words, not mine. But you won’t find them in that half-empty restaurant-turned-club that you heard of and probably read on in Fodors.

Despite the long history of the chain that put Moose’s in both the local folklore and the guidebooks, the restaurant boasts nothing original. Any longtime in Maui should remember the advertisement’s for Blacky’s Bar and remember their claim to the coldest beer in Maui. Hidden away in certain shady corners of the Lahaina Moose’s are posters claiming to serve the coldest beer in the universe. I guess you’ve got to move over, Blacky, the Moose has gone and outdone you. I’m sorry, but that kind of one-upping sounds like a bunch of second grade boys bragging how far high they can kick a ball: “I can kick the ball to the sky.” “Well, I can kick the ball to the moon.” “Oh yeah, I can kick the ball to the universe.” Or if we are talking about the children of Blacky and The Moose: “My dad has the coldest beer in Maui.” “Uh huh, my dad serves the coldest beer in the YOO-NIH-VURSE and Maui’s part of the universe!“

Maybe Moose’s needs a better chance. Evidently, it’s Tuesdays at Moose’s when the place really goes off. But what you get when you do a Google search of that phrase is this video as one of the top results.

But my better judgement kicks in and I think my life will be a whole lot better if I stick to watching Tuesday Night Moose Fights on YouTube than venturing back to that dance floor.

He has dashed all hopes for My Bloody Valentine and David Bowie. I just hope that I’m not being to optimistic about some of the others. But Justice and Portishead should make for a couple of good shows.

Without Bowie or My Bloody Valentine, the festival has little chance of outdoing itself this year.

Because Coachella poster tend to vary only slightly stylistically from year to year, and each year, there seems to be a hot bunch of about 30 acts that ends up attending about 70% of North America’s music festivals, the posters and lineups are easily faked.

Ever since 2001, the posters layout have included the Empire Polo Club field and palm trees in the foreground at the bottom with the backdrop being the Coachella valley and the sky above being illuminated at different times of day. The 2007 poster featured a late-afternoon/early-evening sky so it makes sense that the time of day move forward an hour or two. Both do so, but I find the night sky in the second poster to be a little ambitious.

It is not the stylistic differences that would invalidate either poster, instead, the focus should be in the lineups. These are the files I worked with to count the acts.

Here are some things I like about both of them:

• Portishead as one of the main acts
• Radiohead as a headliner. This also coincides with that rumored Goldenvoice East festival. Radiohead last headlined in 2004, but Red Hot Chili Peppers have done the same thing, having headlined in 2003 and 2007.
• My Bloody Valentine. They’ve already announced three shows. Why not make Coachella their first reunion show?
• Feist and Broken Social Scene (after all, last year featured RATM and The Nightwatchman), Beirut, Cold War Kids, Architecture in Helsinki, and The Mars Volta

I do have a problem with  The Go! Team and Rilo Kiley returning after two and three years. But it could happen. There are a couple other recent returnees such as M83

The twilight hour makes more sense.

I don’t know what to think about Oukast, not My Bloody Valentine, headlining. I guess it could work, but Outkast has gone quite cold. Unless, of course, there is a surprise in the mix.

Now, there is one major problem with the nighttime poster. The guides were not added. They were included when I saved to the image. Dubious at best. Let’s take a closer look at the lineup.

Here’s my favorite part: David Bowie headlining the first night. That is an intriguing choice and it would definitely help keep 2008 out of 2007′s shadow. Really, he’s just as ambiguous and elfish Goblin Kingish as Björk and provides a good deal of celebrity power.

This poster has too many flaws and the biggest is the act count. The first day is on par with what is to be expected but the final day has only 30 acts. But who says you can be a wishful thinker? I’ll hold my breath for Bowie.

Thought, anyone?

Okay, I’ll admit it, the Mr. Yoo saga might not be much of a saga. The last few days have yielded absolutely no Yoo sightings so I have no proof of his exhibitionism that I mentioned in the last blog on the subject. Sadly, despite some certain goading, I’ve heard nothing from his domicile.

I had cast some bait in the form of a letter to the editor. I wrote it on the second and it was published the Sunday after. Thus far, no bite. At least not yet. I might need to assure somehow that he reads the letter.

If you’re interested, you can go check out the slightly edited version online. Aside from inserting an unnecessary comma, removing a couple words and messing up an instance of subject-verb agreement, changing city to county in reference to ordinances (I intentionally used city because that’s specifically what the neighbor said, neglecting that Maui has a county government), and editing out a beloved semi-colon, the published version isn’t that much more exciting–it’s only The Maui News.

But for those of you deciding you’d rather not click the link to mauinews.com or who would like to compare versions, I’ve included the original text:

Speaking as a mainland-born, yet long-time resident familiar with Hawai’i’s local culture, I can attest that not being local can present special challenges for those trying to adapt.

Regardless of the complexities of the cultural tension, there are things that those unfamiliar with the local culture can do to ease tensions and reduce the alienation of themselves or others. The International Herald Tribune ran an article on Nyamko Sabuni, Sweden’s controversial Minister for Integration and Gender Equalize that highlighted her blunt advice to immigrants (Jan. 12, 2006). Speaking as an expatriate herself and aiming to reduce the de facto alienation that immigrants face in a new culture, she urges immigrants to Sweden to “make an effort to adapt to the society where they live.”

It was run-in on New Year’s Eve reminded me of this issue. Friends and family had gathered at my Sprecklesville home to set off fireworks when a neighbor, taking issue with the practice, celebrated with outright lying about city ordinances and by threatening to call the Police—not the way I’d choose to ring in the new year. Hawai’i provides a cultural melange that makes it nearly impossible to embrace every tradition; a common thread, though, is the Aloha Spirit. Swearing at neighbors, lying, and threatening to call the police is not the Aloha Spirit. Subscribing to the Aloha Spirit can do wonders to help one integrate into the local culture and to not put one at odds with others. Maybe once we can handle that, we can start making amends that are long past due.

That man moved out and the house was mostly vacant for a couple years before Gary moved in. When you think of Gary, picture somebody right out of the movie Old School (definitely not my favorite movie ever)–a 30-something-year-old bro who never really grew out of his fraternity days along with his mail-order girlfriend and english bulldog. All in all, he was a great guy but did have his flaws. One was made very evident during his mid-30th birthday kegger. Maybe that alone says it all. Regardless, let me say that I have never seen so many high school girls and moks in one place since, well, high school. His second flaw was his ex-wife, or at least that woman he had married who subsequently started suffering from chronic illnesses and with whom he was in a legal battle and not quite separated from at that point–that kind of “ex”-wife. While she was of no concern to us neighbors, she definitely did a job on his house, destroying his 42″ flat-screen TV and sports car. My parents, having pity on Gary, decided to at least help clean up that mess after the ordeal.

He moved out sometime in early 2007 and then the new guy moved in. It was not until after the fact that I learned he’s not one for celebration and last night, he introduced himself to those of us actually enjoying our New Year’s Eve celebration by calling the police on us. The funny thing about this is that there are many more dubiously legal activities we could have been participating in, although, this year, it seemed like most people on the island had relatively mellow celebrations. My brother and I had started making plans for the evening and by that, I mean that we had invested $200 in fireworks. That’s about where our plans were thwarted. It seemed as though all of our friends were doing some combination of not being on the island, spending time with old or young family (and for some reason, the young kids and elderly grandparents did not want to join us for fireworks at midnight), working, or hanging out at their house with just one other friend, too stubborn to come over and hang out with my brother and me. Fortunately for us, a good friend, Seth, had not yet finalized his plans and came over at 10 pm to help us usher in the new year.

Aside from a couple strings of Crackling Thunder Strings that we had set of before midnight as a test run, we found the three of us at that point with about $190 in fireworks and a 45 minutes to light them all off. We started small, finessing our style, lighting off one fountains one-by-one, and quickly progressed to three, five, ten, fifteen fireworks at a time. Now, there are many more dubiously legal activities in which we could have taken part, but the old man next door decided sometime after our fireball that had once been a pile of five Crackling Thunder Strings that we were the biggest threat to his rest. So the bear came out, chastised my brother and Seth for a few minutes, and thinking he had done a sufficient job, retired–all while I was grabbing the materials for the grand finale. Hearing the commotion, I came back armed with proper information but he was gone by that point. I mean, really, there are many more dubiously legal activities during

Just as we were finished setting up the grid of fireworks for the grand finale, the neighbor came out to chat a little. Asking me my name, I responded properly, approached him, and asked him his name. Then he informed me that he was the one asking questions. So we went merrily on our way, letting him know that he was quite in the wrong and he went angrily on his way telling us that the police were indeed on their way.

Having given up, the man started towards his driveway when David decided to ask the neighbor his name and he informed us it was F*ck Yoo (or is it Yu or You?). Then Mr. Yoo retired for the night calling down curses from above.

I’m not going to lie, the whole ordeal was just a bit inconvenient as we waited for the police until about three a.m. and they never showed In fact, I’m a little concerned for our safety. Mr. Yoo, what do you think about that because I am a little bit worried. Here’s what I think. I think I’m going to nominate you to head up a new neighborhood watch program.

Mr. F. Yoo, Director
Sprecklesville Neighborhood Watch
34 Ulupua Pl.
Paia, HI 96779

It’s not the lead paint that undoubtedly coats this charming little dashboard ornament that concerns me. No, there is something infinitely more disconcerting.

Please, whoever designed designed poor Ku’uipo, tell me why she’s playing the violin and why she does not have a bow.