Top 40 Lists

As I count down to 40, I don't want to dwell on the downside, but once in a while the passing of time gives me the blues. This winter, I’ve had to rally the troops. And by troops, I mean the endorphins in my brain. Those brave endorphin boys have been battling their hearts out while I wrap my head around being on this planet for almost four decades. Wowza. 

I have fun with it though. I can laugh at myself. It's just hard to find that right balance of comedy and drama in this life, ya know?

I look like a werewolf did it with a skeleton. I'm finding gray hairs in places that are terrifying. If this were the Middle Ages, I'd be dead by now. I'm so old I remember Atari and Anthony Michael freaking Hall. I mean, what the hell? It feels good to laugh about it.

Another way that I rallied the troops was by making these lists. It's kinda weird, but I enjoy messing around in a notebook, focusing on a list. My brain feels like it's just chilling on a nice round of Tetris or a word or puzzle game. The only downside to nerding out on a list is that I'm not using that time to work on stories/ actually get real shit done, in a literal sense, in the real world.

But like I said, I don't want to dwell on the downside.

So, fixating on these lists was a big win for my OCD. For God's sake, I scrutinized the exact order of a bunch of shit that doesn't really matter. But I know where to draw the line, and that's at Honorable Mentions. Picture me as a no-nonsense bouncer wagging my finger to Honorable Mentions tryna enter the club... Alright, that was fun.

Nick's OCD checking out these lists. 

Whoever reads this, I hope you get at least one recommendation that makes your life very slightly more worthwhile. (I mean, a lot more enjoyable would be nice but we gotta manage our expectations.) Best case scenario, my opinion has a positive impact. Which is another way of saying someone gives a shit.

In doing this project, I realized I want to read more books by women and watch more movies by black directors and, you know, grow as a human being and support the art made by people that are different from me. Don't get me wrong, I stand by my ridiculous lists 1,000%, but Holy White Dudes. Just, white dudes, everywhere. Many of them ranging in age from old to dead. The Babe Ruth New York Yankees of history.

It clicked that I have more to learn from women and people of color and so on. I think it's only gonna take a half-century for me to show those signs of growth. Fingers crossed, anyway.

These are the top 40s of my favorite bands, movies, books, and video games. Don't ask for Honorable Mentions cuz they've been bounced.

With a love that will echo through the ages,*

Nick

Bands/ Singers

40.) Foo Fighters

39.) Blur

38.) Outkast

37.) Prince

36.) Queen

35.) Black Sabbath

34.) Tame Impala

33.) Smashing Pumpkins

32.) Talking Heads

31.) Creedence Clearwater Revival 

30.) Neil Young 

29.) Bjork 

28.) Sheryl Crow

27.) Van Halen

26.) The Replacements

25.) Jawbreaker

24.) Rage Against the Machine

23.) Queens of the Stone Age

22.) Modest Mouse

21.) Johnny Cash

20.) Bob Dylan

19.) Mac Miller

18.) The Rolling Stones

17.) The Ramones

16.) Pearl Jam

15.) Pink Floyd

14.) The Strokes

13.) Cake

12.) The Clash

11.) The White Stripes

10.) Fiona Apple

9.) Spoon

8.) Jimi Hendrix

7.) Beastie Boys

6.) Nirvana 

5.) Led Zeppelin

4.) David Bowie

3.) Beck

2.) Radiohead

1.) The Beatles

Movies

40.) Silver Linings Playbook

39.) The Wrestler

38.) Stand by Me

37.) Aliens

36.) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

35.) Superbad

34.) Borat

33.) Scent of a Woman

32.) Austin Powers

31.) The Sixth Sense

30.) Terminator 2

29.) Office Space

28.) The Dark Knight

27.) The Prestige

26.) Once Upon a Time in Hollywood

25.) Best in Show

24.) This Is Spinal Tap

23.) Night of the Hunter

22.) Shaun of the Dead

21.) Dumb and Dumber

20.) Naked Gun

19.) No Country for Old Men

18.) Die Hard

17.) Toy Story

16.) The Empire Strikes Back

15.) Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

14.) Fargo

13.) Kill Bill

12.) The Truman Show

11.) The Shining

10.) Napoleon Dynamite

9.) The Shawshank Redemption

8.) Jaws

7.) Alien

6.) Pulp Fiction

5.) Goodfellas 

4.) The Royal Tenenbaums

3.) The Big Lebowski

2.) The Godfather

1.) The Godfather part 2

Books

40.) Dream Team: Michael, Magic, Larry...- Jack McCallum

39.) The Universe in a Nutshell- Stephen Hawking

38.) When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?- George Carlin

37.) The Road- Cormac McCarthy

36.) Life- Keith Richards

35.) The Sirens of Titan- Kurt Vonnegut

34.) Siddhartha- Herman Hesse

33.) Black Dogs- Ian McEwan

32.) Eating the Dinosaur- Chuck Klosterman

31.) The Hunger Games- Suzanna Collins

30.) Of Mice and Men- John Steinbeck

29.) Catch 22- Joseph Heller

28.) Cat’s Cradle- KV

27.) Moneyball- Michael Lewis

26.) Me Talk Pretty One Day- David Sedaris

25.) The Godfather- Mario Puzo

24.) One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest- Ken Kesey

23.) Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail ‘72- Hunter S Thompson

22.) A Song of Ice and Fire: Game of Thrones- George RR Martin

21.) Based on a True Story- Norm MacDonald

20.) Animal Farm- George Orwell

19.) In Cold Blood- Truman Capote

18.) Winesburg, Ohio- Sherwood Anderson

17.) The Martian- Adam Weir

16.) Life of Pi- Yann Martel

15.) The Green Mile- Stephen King

14.) To Kill a Mockingbird- Harper Lee

13.) Lamb, the Gospel According to Biff- Christopher Moore

12.) The Giver- Lois Lowry

11.) The Catcher in the Rye- JDS 

10.) Omnibus- Roald Dahl

9.) Cathedral- Raymond Carver

8.) Different Seasons- Stephen King

7.) Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs- Chuck Klosterman

6.) Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas- Hunter S Thompson

5.) Nine Stories- JD Salinger

4.) The Great Gatspy- F Scott Fitzgerald

3.) Slaughterhouse 5- KV

2.) Mother Night- Kurt Vonnegut

1.) East of Eden- John  Steinbeck

Video Games

(Oh no, he's writing again.)

Getting back to the matter of growth, I'm a sucker when it comes to the nostalgia of video games. I'm just an old soul with an old school Nintendo. The question is, is nostalgia compatible with growth? And well, I think a little bit of admiration-for-the past is OK, but it's more important to take a leap of faith into uncharted adventures. My note to self goes like this: play some newer shit for the top 50. I realize that games in 2023 are skull-crushingly awesome, it's just that I could legit play these 40 games forever.

40.) Castlevania- Nintendo

39.) NBA Live '95- Super Nintendo

38.) Perfect Dark- Nintendo 64

37.) X-Men Legends II: Rise of Apocalypse- Playstation 2

36.) Return of the Jedi- SNES

35.) Super Smash Bros- N64

34.) Overwatch- Playstation 4

33.) TMNT Arcade Game- Nintendo

32.) Castlevania IV- SNES

31.) Earthbound- SNES

30.) Super Metroid- SNES

29.) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Turtles in Time- SNES

28.) Legend of Zelda- NES

27.) Castlevania: Symphony of the Night- Playstation

26.) Silent Hill- PS1

25.) Super Punchout- SNES

24.) Street Fighter II Turbo- SNES

23.) Metal Gear Solid: Sons of Liberty- PS2

22.) Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time- N64

21.) Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past- SNES

20.) Resident Evil- PS1

19.) Grand Theft Auto: Vice City- PS2

18.) Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest- SNES

17.) Starfox 64- N64

16.) Goldeneye 007- N64

15.) Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 3- PS2

14.) Super Mario All Stars- SNES

13.) Madden ‘10- PS2

12.) Ken Griffey Jr. Presents Major League Baseball- SNES

11.) X-Men 2: The Clone Wars- Sega

10.) Resident Evil 2- PS1

9.) Super Mario World- SNES

8.) Mariokart 64- N64

7.) Zombies Ate My Neighbors- SNES

6.) WWF No Mercy- N64

5.) NBA Jam- SNES

4.) Donkey Kong Country- SNES

3.) Super Mario 64- N64

2.) Tecmo Super Bowl-NES

1.) Resident Evil 4- PS2/ Gamecube

*Homer says that on The Simpsons.

The Back Cover

This is the message I have in mind for the back cover of the book, which should be available in September.

Do you keep a plastic robot in your parents' basement to teach you a lesson about fatherhood? Is it possible that the secret catalyst of Hitler's rise to power was an embittered puppet? Are grade school pizza parties the real reason my friends and I drink too much beer? Aren't the correlations between playing Mariokart: 64 and sadomasochism striking? If time travel were possible, wouldn't you use it to restrain a certain fan of the Chicago Cubs with busy hands? Isn't it obvious that David Bowie's fear of flying led to his recording of “Space Oddity”? Doesn't the dwarf planet Pluto seem like a likely stalker of Jodi Foster? Have you ever thought about what happens when one conjoined twin earns entry into heaven while the other is banished to hell? Has it ever occurred to you that the resurrection of Jesus Christ might have been part of an elaborate April Fool's Day prank?

No? On all accounts? Damn. I really thought I was on the brink of making a sale.

Fear of Flying

B.A. Baracus and John Madden have something in common. Granted, B.A. Baracus is a character and John Madden is a real person, but don't stop reading on account of that. The former is the Mohawk-rocking enforcer played by Mr. T on the insipidly macho '80s show The A-Team. The latter is the blustery and retired football coach and analyst. Their similarities are not striking on the surface. The two differ starkly in matters of hairstyle*, wardrobe, skin pigment, and tolerance of crazy fools. But they share a severe phobia, the topic of this essay: Aerophobia, the fear of flying.

David Bowie, the eclectic and eccentric explorer of psychedelic glam, is also afraid of flying, which in part explains why he adopted the surrogate persona of Major Tom for “Space Oddity,” his epic song about a doomed and intrepid astronaut who loses his way somewhere in the cosmos. The hero of Bowie's invention meets the tragic fate that the songwriter portends for those foolish enough to defy the Earth's gravitational pull in a floating tin can.

But I'm digressing far too early on. I've been warned about that.

Hey, did you know that Marge Simpson also suffers from Aerophobia? I love The Simpsons, from season 2 through 8, especially. Did you know that Homer Simpson's flummoxed profile was etched into my right bicep when I was eighteen? It's true, and before I turn 40, that tattoo is totally going to get me laid.

Oops.

Returning to Mr. Bad Attitude Baracus** and bloated gasbag John Madden, their mutual phobia is vexing when you consider how their manly personas are in contrast with suffering from an abject fear. Male chauvinists tend to think phobias are exclusive to women, that they're always the ones afraid of spiders, mice, guns, chainsaws, and unprotected sex. Baracus and Madden, both broad beacons of manliness--one known for launching terrorists and evil drug lords through plate glass windows, the other for squiggling X's and O's on a telestrator to enlighten fans and players alike about the nuances of America's greatest and manliest sport--are afflicted with a dire phobia. Baracus squeals in a hysterical tantrum every time he catches wind that his partners want him to board an airplane. It is rumored that Madden curls up into the fetal position and wails in a terrified falsetto the words to “Rocky Mountain High” every time he overhears a John Denver song on the radio. *** Such weaknesses hardly reflect the behavior of two macho guys.


At a recent backyard bonfire, as I spoke with my friend Tony, both of us sipping on Keystone Lights on a tranquil summer night, Tony revealed that he fears flying, too. My hope is that someday B.A. Baracus, John Madden, David Bowie, Marge Simpson, and my friend Tony will all be in the same support group for Aerophobics, empathizing amongst themselves, lending each other shoulders to cry on and so forth.

In terms of manliness, Tony ranks much closer to the likes of Baracus and Madden than an effeminate neurotic such as David Bowie. Tony hangs dry wall for a living, he swings a sledgehammer for a good chunk of his workday, he manages fire-pits and grills with nonchalant aplomb, and he plays on a rugby team dubbed the Wolf Pack.

Personally, anytime I think to myself, “Hey, I'm playing RUGBY!” I know that I'm having a nightmare. A YouTube clip of me locked into a combative scrum would elicit a million hits. The clip would be titled, “Skinny Geek Pummeled into Coma on Rugby Field.”

It surprised me that Tony had such a palpable fear of flying, that something he found terrifying didn't scare me much at all.

Like all obsessive-compulsives, I am not without my phobias, but nonetheless, Aerophobia puzzles me. The odds of dying in a car accident are exceedingly greater than dying in a plane crash. The average motorist is so much less reliable than the average pilot. A pilot would sooner smash his own crotch with a wooden mallet than send a text message from the cockpit. Pilots are a competent, respectable breed. Have you ever shaken hands with a male pilot? The handshake of a pilot is firm and vigorous. His intention is to make your hand throb afterwards, but the gesture is done with gallantry meant to inspire confidence.

Pilots can be trusted not to guide the plane into the side of a jagged mountain with malice both homicidal and suicidal because pilots are usually content men who lead satisfying lives. This is mainly because it's easy for pilots to get laid. Women are insatiably attracted to them because pilots are adventurous, capable, courageous, and responsible (for the lives of 200 people at a time). Pilots also wear uniforms.

By the way, the fact that women are so profoundly attracted to men in uniforms bothers me because writers can't feasibly wear uniforms. I protest petulantly that being an individual who thinks uniforms are highly over-rated can be sexy, too, but no one ever seems to listen. Fair enough, I suppose. It takes a repugnant fool to argue with the truth.

Pilots exude authority and command respect. When a pilot is distracted by the intense glare of the Sun, he squints ever so slightly, gnashes his teeth and growls, “Fuck off, Sun!” Seconds later, it gets cloudy. The Sun retreats behind hastily formed clouds, thick as Texas-sized marshmallows.

Bus Drivers, on the other hand, tend not to be great conquerers of women. Their calling in life inspires feelings of tedium rather than adventure. There are ballsy dudes on bicycles in major cities who don't fear a brush with a bus. Flying in an airplane evokes enterprise while riding a bus evoke the realization that you're probably poor. Pilots have got to be more satisfactorily laid than their bus-driving counterparts.

I'm not entirely trying to worsen the wounds of the bus driver—it's an essential, respectable profession. It's just that, in a roundabout, peculiar way, the fact that pilots have richer sex lives than bus drivers makes me fear flying less and riding on a bus more. Screwing on an airplane is a cheeky achievement. Screwing on a bus is a desperate plea for a Hepatitis intervention. To boot, homeless people don't jerk off on airplanes. They can so rarely afford plane tickets. Buses are often seedy and filthy vessels of transport, and that rankles me as an obsessive-compulsive. The more I think about it, the easier it is to assert that riding in a bus scares me more than flying in an airplane.

I said so to Tony and he dismissed my argument. He considered it bizarre nonsense. Tony has never lived in Chicago as I did, without a car, and so the last time he stepped foot on a bus was probably for a high school field trip, nearly a decade ago. I didn't spend much more time debating the perils of bus travel because I was more at ease questioning Tony about his fear; it was and remains an interesting novelty to me.

It's dubious to seek validation for your argument based on a scene from the film Dumb & Dumber. The film is a sophomoric comedic spree and not typically known for imparting wisdom. It reflects poorly on your intellect when you're in total agreement with the words of a hapless buffoon—especially when the buffoon in question essentially fulfills the role of a character coined “Dumber.” But that is where my rhetoric ventured to next.

I asked Tony to recall the scene in which Lloyd, behind the wheel of a limousine, drives vivacious redhead Mary Swanson to the airport. Her demeanor is frazzled because she is about to drop off a briefcase loaded with ransom money as payment to the mob—who have kidnapped her husband. Lloyd wrongly assumes that her anxiety is due to a pre-flight bout with Aerophobia. Wanting to console her in his flirtatious stupor, Lloyd cranes his neck over his right shoulder, ignoring oncoming traffic, and says to Mary...

“There's really nothing to worry about, Mary. Statistically, they say you're more likely to get killed on the way to the airport. You know, like a head-on crash, or flying off a cliff, or getting trapped under a gas truck—that's the worst. I have this cousin—well, I had this cousin...”

At this point Mary urges Lloyd to keep his eyes on the road, to which he replies...

“Ooh. Yeah. Good thinking. Can't be too careful. There's a lot of bad drivers out there.”

What I said to Tony was paraphrased, and rather shabbily, at that. I smoke too much to remember that many words verbatim. As readers, you get the benefit of verbatim thanks to the wonder of DVD technology.

I felt like a recollection of this scene from Dumb & Dumber did wonders for my argument. Even a hapless buffoon like Lloyd Christmas can cite evidence to support his stance that driving is more dangerous than flying, and additionally, Lloyd's negligence behind the wheel speaks volumes about the intellect of the average motorist. (Not to implicate you, of course. No. Never you.)

Tony is pretty practical--a quality that can really hinder one's imagination, and so he said I was nuts for citing Dumb & Dumber as persuasive evidence for the case against Aerophobia. My thoughts were again dismissed with cordial authority, treated like little more than wisps of smoke cleared away by a hand-swipe.

Deferring and recharging, I listened further to Tony's explanation of why he's afraid to fly. At last it occurred to me why he feared airplane travel and I didn't. It was all a matter of Control and Faith.

My capacity for control is exceeded by that of Tony's. He provides a justification of control at his job, swinging sledgehammers, or while he's calmly tending the grill or thrusting a shoulder block as he struggles to advance past carnage on the rugby field. Me? I'm less in control of my life, what with the unemployment, the fact that my dad doesn't trust me to operate his grill—perhaps with good reason—and my fear of contact sports.

My capacity for faith, contrarily, exceeds that in Tony. I have faith in pilots because there is something cosmically profound about their handshakes, because pilots get laid frequently and therefore have stronger wills to survive. I trust pilots for being everything I'm not. Unlike pilots, I'm not too adventurous, capable, courageous, or responsible—and I don't wear a uniform. But I have enormous faith in all of the aforementioned qualities (wearing a uniform NOT INCLUDED, because I still think the perceived sex appeal of men in uniform provides a grim hint that women really prefer conformists to individuals).

With maximum faith but minimal control, death wish inclinations abound. This is why terrorists declare Jehads and fly planes into buildings with malice both homicidal and suicidal--because they have faith that a grateful and benevolent invisible man is going to greet them after the catastrophe, his arms stretching around the distance of 36 ravishing virgins on either side who can't wait to be banged by insidious lowlifes. Their lives are likely to be out of control, too. It's hard to get a job in a country that is war-ravaged and economically bleak. It's also hard to get a job when you check “Yes” to the box on the application that asks, “Are you a terrorist?” And consequently, without steady jobs, terrorists must strive to oppress women no matter what, because an independent woman is one who needs a damn good excuse to date a dude who doesn't have a real job.

Let's see Tony dismiss that as bizarre nonsense.

And incidentally, I'd like to declare that I am not in fact an Islamic extremist. My death wish is expressed with sadistic patience, by means of sweet, toxic nicotine. Not coincidentally, Tony rarely smokes cigarettes.


I'm not afraid of flying. For people, control is always subject to limitations, but Faith can be boundless, immeasurable. Forgive the sour grapes, please, but I think control is mostly an illusion, a tangibility that can morph into an apparition at any moment, regardless of our objections. When I lose control, I still feel human. When I lose faith, I turn into a monster. Maybe you can relate.



*Okay. Admittedly, Mr.T's hairstyle lookalikes are a very breed, limited to pro-wrestlers from the Cock Rock era who have all but become extinct due to overdoses of cocaine, steroids, and anti-depressants, which when abused at the same time, comprise a concoction that pro-wrestlers ominously refer to as the “Ultimate Piledriver.”

**As his name appears on wedding invites.

***Obviously, I hope you already know this, otherwise I hate to bear this bad news, but folk singer John Denver died in a plane crash. For God's sake, didn't you see the movie Final Destination?!