The Devil Inside

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

“So now that you have a sense of our objectives and strategies, which should look familiar, let’s go over to the right so you can see where all of this fits….”

It was Sunday evening  a couple of years ago and I was at home, standing at my workspace, practicing the presentation I was supposed to give the next morning.

“Yeah, yeah, Jacobson; I’ve heard all this horse$%&# before!” an imaginary voice interrupted; a booming growl with a Scottish accent. “Your goddamn content strategies and leveraging. Let’s move on!”

The voice I heard was from Logan Roy, the fictional patriarch portrayed by the Scottish actor Brian Cox at the heart of HBO’s excellent Succession, which my wife Wendy and I had finished watching earlier in the day. Succession, a dramedy which just ended its four season run last Sunday, centers on a family, clearly based on the Murdochs, who run a global media and hospitality empire. The acting is incredible all around and I can’t recommend the show highly enough. But it’s Cox’s portrayal of Roy that I always found most intriguing.

For years corporate titans have been painted with fictional broad strokes, usually for the sake of laughs and satire. And while Succession is darkly funny, what makes the show so unique is now real the Roy family’s dysfunction appears. Each member of the family, not to mention their loyal corporate lieutenants, battle for the attention and affection of Logan Roy. And he just doesn’t care. Not one iota. Throughout the four seasons Logan Roy says and does whatever he wants, accepting the consequences as they come. He’s arrogant, vulgar and charming. And I can’t help but wondering what it would be like to live like that. For a day. Heck, even a morning.

You see, I’m one of these live-and-let-live, we’re-all-in-this-together types. Our kids groan when I use one of my favorite family words, “compromise.” I don’t like drama but like reaching a consensus. And I identify as an extrovert; I get energy from people.

But of course, like all of you reading this post, I also have another side and can be impatient and grow crabby quickly when things aren’t moving along like I want them to. I’ll speak my mind and the people who know me well personally and professionally understand I can be direct. Yet, even when I’m direct I try to be polite and affable.

Yet during the entire time Wendy and I were watching Succession I found myself having these walking daydreams where I, like Logan Roy, didn’t use a filter when dealing with people, no matter who they were. Just said exactly what I was feeling, regardless of the situation. Oh man; I’m sure the repercussions would be pretty dire if I actually spoke and acted like that. But I bet it would also feel good, rewarding. Almost liberating.

I believe the reality is that we’re drawn to fictional “antihero” characters like Logan Roy, Walter White, Tony Soprano and a whole host of others because they represent a little piece of all of us that we know is really there but we keep under wraps. And that observing their actions from a distance is quite a bit more fun (and a lot less painful) than actually emulating them.

Image credit: HBO

Taylor Made

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

My wife Wendy and I had a conversation with our kids the other night at dinner about generations. In particular, we were discussing how certain generations, namely Boomers and Millennials, get the lion’s share of attention. And then there’s the generation that Wendy and I belong to – Generation X, which gets practically none.

The thing about being part of Generation X which I find particularly interesting is we’re simultaneously everywhere – leading businesses and contributing to the economy, raising children, caring for our parents, but simultaneously nowhere. For example, outside of Justin Trudeau I’m struggling to think of another GenX country leader.

But I believe someone from the arts world has been slowly and steadily emerging as a “spokesperson of our generation” – 46-year-old singer Corey Taylor, front man for the metal band Slipknot and the more melodic Stone Sour. Taylor is also a published author, does spoken word performances and will soon be releasing a solo album. But I imagine he, for the most part, remains largely unknown. He’s been everywhere and nowhere. And my sense is that’s exactly the way he likes it.

Now, I am far from what you’d consider a “maggot” – what Slipknot fondly refers to legions of their loyal fans. I’ve never seen them live, although I hope to at some point in the future. Except for perhaps “Snuff, I couldn’t try to sing any of their songs. But, and even if this sounds hokey I really don’t care – listening to Slipknot makes me feel a certain way, particularly if and when I’m angry. It’s not so much that the music helps me wallow in my anger; it’s more as if it allows me to own it, embrace it.

I’ve heard various interviews with Corey Taylor and have always found him quite interesting. He, to put it mildly, had a trouble childhood growing up in Iowa, living in homes that he referred to as looking like they belonged on a Black Sabbath album cover. Taylor speaks openly of his struggles with mental illness yet does it in a way that I believe is very befitting of our generation. He acknowledges, empathizes and moves on, not casting blame or seeking sympathy.

There are plenty of times when we (and what I’m really trying to say is me) are able to direct our sadness, anger or disappointment at a single source – a person, idea or, in some cases, event. But other times we feel this anger that goes deep and is source-less. It doesn’t have a face but it’s there right in yours. I believe that Corey Taylor understands that and internalizes it in his varied body of work.

I had a chance to sample some of that work yesterday evening as I listened to Spotify’s new “This Is Corey Taylor” playlist that features his work with Slipknot, Stone Sour, various side projects, plus some great covers, including Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game” and Dio’s “Rainbow in the Dark.” The playlist featured Taylor singing but also whispering and growling. And regardless of how it was delivered, I always seemed to appreciate and value what he had to say.

Image credit: Roadrunner Records

 

 

 

AC/DC’s Resiliency Lessons

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

There are snippets of music from practically all genres that I feel almost become ingrained in our psyche. We don’t actually recall the first time we heard the particular notes or melody; it’s pretty much always there. Like the drum and guitar intro off AC/DC’s song “Back in Black,” off the same-titled album which, earlier this week, had its 40th anniversary.

The story behind Black In Black is rather dramatic. To summarize, after building a career with steady albums and incessant touring, AC/DC as a band nearly unraveled in January 1980 after the tragic death of lead singer Bon Scott. But they regrouped, bringing singer Brian Johnson on board and releasing Black In Black six months later. And AC/DC’s impressive resilience didn’t stop there; it’s been a constant with the band’s career. Here’s a look at some AC/DC resilience milestones that I believe can influence all of us.

Don’t lose sight of your objective
Throughout their many decades together, AC/DC never stopped being a hardworking, hard-rocking band. They wrote albums, recorded them, toured behind them and never stopped. It’s hard to knock someone off a path when your path is unending.

Know what you’re good at, what you’re not, and then stick to it
You won’t find a ballad on an AC/DC album, or jams, or prog-like interludes. You’ll find deceptively simple-sounding riffs, admittedly juvenile lyrics and songs that rock from the very first note. I don’t know about you but when my back is against the proverbial wall I’ve always sought comfort in any endeavor, personal or professional, that gives me the most satisfaction.

Be yourself, even if it seems as though everyone is doing something else
Unlike countless other bands, AC/DC never went through different “styles” or “periods.” They didn’t embrace Disco, didn’t start using synthesizers, didn’t concern themselves with prevailing trends of the day. AC/DC looks and sounds exactly the same today as it did decades ago. It’s easy to compare yourself to others and struggle, as they say, to keep up with the Jones’s. Admittedly, it’s much harder to be yourself.

Never forget who you answer to
I was fortunate enough to see AC/DC live several years ago at St. Paul’s Xcel Energy Center. Guitarist Angus Young, of course wearing his signature schoolboy outfit,  walked toward center stage to genuinely thunderous applause.  I remember him removing his cap and making a jaunty bow before strapping on his guitar. Then he never stopped moving, helping comprise to this day what is one of my favorite concert experiences. AC/DC never forgot the fans they answered to and I believe this audience dedication has served them well throughout the years. I believe the notion of resiliency is most effective when we remember who we answer to, even if, in many cases, it’s ourselves.

Remember that it’s not all about you
While Angus Young served as the visual centerpiece of AC/DC, his late older brother Malcom served as the visionary behind the band. Connecting it back to Back in Black, it was Malcom Young who called and informed Bon Scott’s parents of their son’s death, who helped his devastated band pick up the proverbial pieces and record the signature record which, incidentally, remains the second best-selling album of all time, behind Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Know that resiliency doesn’t happen in a vacuum.

Of course, it wasn’t always smooth sailing for AC/DC after Back in Black. They faced plenty of challenges and overcame them the same way the band always had – through hard work, grit and determination. And that to me, really sums up the band and their legacy – taking something difficult, that requires a ton of effort and sacrifice, and making it look easy enough to try it. To inspire others to follow in their example.

Photo credit: Robert Ellis

 

 

 

Bubbles

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I met a friend for coffee yesterday and their first question for me was if our family had let anyone into our bubble. They meant, given what’s been going on with the COVID-19, have we been finding ways to safely socialize; to take the necessary precautions and still go out and engage in the world. We discussed the challenges of raising teenagers and dealing with concerns over aging parents, of how the rapidly-approaching school year will play out. It was nice hearing, selfishly, someone face the same challenges and concerns and me. Then my friend and I moved on to another bubble altogether.

On the surface my friend and I were having coffee to catch up but it was actually somewhat of a planned political debate. We had been going back and forth via social media and text about a certain political matter that impacts both of us. It doesn’t matter what it is; suffice it to say we all face them, regardless of our politics, regardless of where we live.

This political matter was a doozy (they’re all doozys, aren’t they?) as it involved issues of  gender, age and race. I had a strong opinion about this matter; my friend had another. And while my friend made it clear they had no intention of changing my mind, they were truly interested in how I came to my opinion. So we discussed it yesterday, at length.

The more we talked, the more we kept coming back to one word: “Bubbles.” How we live inside them. How we think inside them. How easy it is to never leave them.

And the thing is, my friend and I even live inside the same bubble. We’re the same age; we live in the same neighborhood; we watch the same shows and listen to the same podcasts. But it’s almost, as silly as it sounds, like each of us were living in bubbles within our bubbles.

Ultimately, my friend didn’t change my opinion and I didn’t change hers; that really wasn’t the objective. But it was very helpful helpful to explore all the different variables, with all their nuances and complexities, even inconsistencies, that go into forming our opinions. One lesson I took away is to keep asking ourselves why, when it comes to our opinions. Why do we believe something to be the case? Try it; I’m telling you, it’s harder than it seems. But I truly believe it will help us get outside out bubbles a bit and maybe even reassess what comprises them.

My friend and I said our goodbyes, promised each other (and meant it), that we’ll do it again soon. Later that evening, my wife Wendy and I had friends over for after-dinner drinks – a husband and wife who live in our neighborhood. We sat outside, on our deck, chairs safely apart, with separate nut and pretzel bowls and the like.

These friends of ours had never been to our house before and the husband kept commenting how different the area of our neighborhood visible from our deck looked to him. He was seeing the exact same surroundings he always saw; most of which he pretty much took for granted. But the vantage point made it look entirely different.

I knew exactly what he meant.

Photo: Dan Mullan

 

Going Dutch

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

During the past couple of years I’ve become a fan of The Eddie Trunk Podcast, hosted by New Jersey-based radio personality Eddie Trunk. Each week features an interview culled from Trunk’s daily SiriusXM show. Listening to Trunk’s podcast is like living in a 1975-1991 time frame, musically speaking, and I mean that as a compliment. Although Trunk can come across as a bit too buddy-buddy with his quests, I appreciate him championing new releases by mainstay artists, as well as more obscure bands like UFO.

Speaking of obscure, I was listening to one of Trunks’s recent interviews – a two-part one featuring producer Beau Hill and guitarist Adrian Vandenberg. During the Vandenberg portion, Trunk praised the new album by his namesake band titled 2020 and suggested that fans of melodic hard rock give it a try. And I did just that the other night while making dinner, pulling the album up on Spotify.

2020 is your basic meat and potatoes rock album – nothing too special; solid, with some sweet guitar solos. Old school to the core. I listened to a few songs but they were pretty much background noise. Put it this way; if you were watching a movie about a fictional Hair Metal band on the Sunset Strip, trying to make it big, they would sound something like Vandenberg.

Suddenly I heard a melody and chorus that literally stopped me in my tracks. It was a power ballad that I hadn’t heard literally in decades. I walked over to my phone and saw the track was listed as “Burning Heart – 2020 Re-Recorded Version.”

And then it came right back to me.

Back in the 1980’s, our rural Connecticut cable provider was slow to offer MTV. So my brother Jonathan and I would watch hour after hour of pirated videos on VHS tape. And I vividly recall hearing “Burning Heart” by Vandenberg. I just never knew the name of the song or the artist.

So of course, later that evening, I pulled up YouTube and there it was – exactly as I remembered it. About the lamest video you could imagine. Performance-based. Low budget. And completely awesome.

I’ve listened to “Burning Heart” multiple times during the past few days and each time it brings back multiple memories.  Of Connecticut. Of my teenage years. Of discovering something special. And then rediscovering it.

Vandenberg vocalist Bert Heerink emoting during the “Burning Heart” video. Image credit: YouTube

 

 

 

 

 

Hanks for Nothing

Editorial notes: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger. Contains spoilers regarding the HBO series Veep.

This weekend our family finished the HBO series Veep after watching on and off for the past few months. Starring the excellent Julia Louis-Dreyfus as the fictional Vice President Selina Meyer, Veep was an absolute hoot although a bit crass at times for kids (heck, even adults, as those of you reading who have seen the show can attest.)

Veep takes a very cynical view of our political process and Selina Meyer as a character is absolutely fascinating.  You, as the audience, start off almost feeling a bit empathetic towards Vice President Meyer given her lack of access to the President. But as time passes you realize she’s pretty much a repugnant human being- duplicitous, shallow and vindictive. She is cruel to the few people in her life she’s close to, including family members and her ever-attentive assistant Gary (played by Tony Hale).

Veep ran seven seasons and the series finale is fairly anticlimactic (isn’t that always the case). The closing minutes feature news footage of Selina Meyer’s funeral, which is promptly interrupted by an announcement that Tom Hanks (for purposes of this way-in-the-future story line, now in his eighties), has died. The newscaster drops any pretenses of care or interest in Selina Meyer and instead gushes over Hanks’ illustrious career.

At the time I thought the Hanks add-on was a cute bit, a proverbial cherry on top of the sundae. But it actually resonated deeper than I thought.

Our daughter Sasha and I were walking together yesterday along with the rest of our family and my father- and sister-in-law. Sasha and I started talking about Veep and she proactively mentioned the lessons she took away from the show.

“It’s really sad when you think about it,” said Sasha. “Veep reminds us of how quickly we can get isolated. And also, how quickly people forget about you.”

Wow. As they say these days, there’s quite a bit to unpack there. But Sasha and I had plenty of time left on the walk, so we started unpacking.

We talked of isolation, which, not surprisingly, brought us to COVID-19 and how Sasha hopes she and her friends will be able to go back to school, even if it’s some hybrid of virtual and in-the-classroom learning. But we also spoke of death, and what, ultimately, you’re remembered for. I’m not surprised Sasha has death on the brain brain; how couldn’t it be; she’s old enough to consume media; understands what’s going on around her.

But I ended up steering the conversation away from death yesterday, weaving it back to Veep and reminding Sasha that even though the show is of course fictional as well as satire, it drives how just how important it is to be nice to people or at the very, very, least, treat them decently and with respect. So you’re remembered in way that will endure beyond any news cycle.

Image credit: HBO

 

Artist to the Core

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

I was in the car recently, driving home, when I stumbled upon what I figured was a great Regina Spektor song. Strong piano melody. Right-in-your-face vocals. Catchy, but not in a Pop song kind of way. Then I realized it was a Fiona Apple song – “Shameika,” off her new album Fetch The Bolt Cutters. I kept listening, almost furtively, like I was doing something wrong, going against some principle.

After arriving home I began making dinner and, while listening to the rest of Fetch The Bolt Cutters, tried piecing together what it was I had against Fiona Apple. And I suppose, as ridiculous as this sounds, it was based on this unfair perception I had formed of her years ago. Back when the song and video “Criminal” were everywhere and Apple gave a much reviled acceptance speech at the MTV Video Music Awards. I pegged her as some young, entitled, pretentious whack job and dismissed her work as contrived shtick.

But while listening to Fetch The Bolt Cutters, I wasn’t focused on Fiona Apple as a person or persona – I didn’t need to, but on the work itself. Song after song, all unique, tuneful and well-constructed, with a common thread. It felt rewarding to be listening to an album in the traditional sense of the word.

As I listened I also thought of what it means to be an “artist” – a term so ingrained in our world yet so completely subjective. I thought of the music artists that tend to fall into my bread and butter listening category. Many of them experienced their commercial heyday in the 1970’s or 80’s and known by people, if known at all, by a handful of songs. I’d imagine most people associate these artists and fans with the particular era in which they first heard the music. Then, if the music didn’t resonate, I’d imagine too that many of these people wrote the artist off. But I know that Peter Frampton, UFO, Iron Maiden, Anthrax – you get the picture, have been consistently recording new material and touring this entire time. These artists have endured; people just don’t realize it.

And then I realized I had done the exact same thing with Fiona Apple. I formed an opinion of her; an unfair caricature, actually, more than 20 years ago and never let it go. Then completely disregarded anything  she did following that moment in time. The only thing that made the caricature dissipate was actually appreciating her work. It’s ironic, don’t you think? (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

If you’ve read this far, I’d ask you to consider someone about which you have perhaps formed an unfair perception and it’s prevented from appreciating what they have to offer. Perhaps it’s an artist or public figure; maybe it’s just a private citizen; someone from your own orbit. Someone who has been out there all along, providing value. But you just haven’t seen it because you haven’t stopped to look (or listen) for it.

Image credit: Getty

TikTok Tunes

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

Our family has always been one to embrace routines and, especially of late these routines have been a source of comfort. Each evening, we make a point to eat dinner together. My wife Wendy and I will take our dog Astro for a walk before we rejoin our kids  – Ethan, 15 and Sasha, 13, to watch something on television. Then, we’ll have what I call “individual activity time” which truthfully means laptops for Wendy and me at a table and our kids with devices on the couch. And it’s from the couch that the music started emanating.

I’d look up from whatever it was I was doing at the time and ask our kids “Wow, guys. Why are you listening to that song?”

And then I realized; the songs were featured as part of TikTok videos. Both our kids are active TikTok users and during the past few weeks, here’s a recounting of songs I’ve heard … well, let’s just say way more than a handful of times.

“Smile” – Lily Allen
First of all, I want to apologize in advance because if you’ve read this far you’ll likely have this song in your head for the rest of the day. Catchy Pop songs don’t get much catchier than this one.

“Paradise,” Coldplay
I suppose it’s hard not to at least like or appreciate Coldplay; it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the band. But by the same token I never quite understood all the fuss people seemed to make about these gents. And hearing this song nightly has done nothing to change my opinion.

“Right Back Where We Started From,” Maxine Nightingale 
When I hear this song I mentally go right back (I couldn’t resist) to riding in our family’s battleship-sized Buick during the late 1970’s and early 1980’s when it seemed as though the song was always on the radio.

“Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” Rod Stewart
OK, so I’m cheating on this one a bit because, while I don’t hear the song in it’s entirety, the melody is featured in a meme our kids have watched quite a bit, which put it back on my radar. This too was a regular staple on the car radio when I was a kid. Out of curiosity I added the song to one of my running playlists and I tell you; it still holds up.

Kidding aside, my wife and I do monitor our kids’ social media activity closely and have had several discussions about best and not-so-good practices. And being interested in social media myself, I ask both our kids a bunch of questions, knowing that their experience using TikTok is so unique, so of their generation and of the moment.

They answer me just like you’d expect teenagers to answer their parents. Quickly, impatiently, so they can get back to TikTok. Away from my lame Dad questions.

I get it; I really do. Their time will come, eventually. So they might as well enjoy this time while it lasts.

Image credit: Kveller

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not Another Teen Movie

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

Our 15–year-old son Ethan and I are watching the final season of House of Cards and I was immediately struck by the character Annette Shepherd. Truthfully, I found the actress who portrayed her to be very attractive and somewhat familiar-looking. It took me a few minutes to realize it was Diane Lane who I first remember seeing (e.g. crushing over) in the 1983 movie The Outsiders, directed by Francis Ford Coppola and based on the 1967 S.E. Hinton novel.

As timing would have it, our family was flipping channels this weekend and came upon The Outsiders on television. My wife Wendy and I began cracking up and immediately shared our respective memories of seeing the movie. We insisted we watch it on television, at least a little bit.

Within minutes, Wendy and I both said the same thing to each other: “Wow, I never remember the movie being this bad.” Don’t get me wrong; it was an absolute blast to see such an incredible ensemble of actors, most who looked so unbelievably young. It’s just that everything about the movie – the dialogue, music, setting, just seemed really hokey and corny. Once Matt Dillon shouted “We’ll do it for Johnny!” (it would have practically been a crime not to watch that scene), we were done with The Outsiders.

The more I thought about it, I realized that it wasn’t so much that The Outsiders was a bad movie; it’s that it was very much a movie of its day. There was no way I would ever appreciate the movie the same way as I would when I saw it as a 12-year-old and all the years that followed when I watched it on VHS and cable. I had become a different person; literally and figuratively.

My experience watching The Outsiders is especially poignant because, as the parents of two teenagers, I increasingly find myself on the outside looking in. I’m not going to get into details – it wouldn’t be fair to either of them. But suffice it to say that our two kids face the same challenges many teenagers face and  truthfully, have always faced. And I try so hard to empathize with them – tell them that it happens to everyone; it really does, that those aren’t just parent words; they’re the truth. That they happened to me, plenty of times and I know exactly what they’re feeling; really I do. But I can see the expression in their eyes while I’m saying these things. It’s sending the same message I sent to my parents when I was their age; probably the same message you sent to yours: “You don’t really understand me and what I’m going through. Because it’s not happening to you.”

Of course, I won’t let our kids’ responses deter me. I owe it them and to myself, to keep being empathetic, to keep listening and guiding them. Because we all know that’s the way it happens as you go through your teens: that feeling of being on the outside, looking in, waiting to get through to the other side. Which never really looks the way you thought it would.

Image credit: Photofest

 

 

From Soup to Books

Editorial note: Opinions expressed here are solely those of the blogger

As I’ve recounted in this blog, I tend to get into figurative ruts. It started during my childhood when all I wanted to read was Encyclopedia Brown Boy Detective books and eat nothing but ham and iceberg lettuce sandwiches on rye bread (which sound pretty gross in hindsight). And all the way through my middle adult years I’ve gone through the same thing, usually, for some reason, involving music, authors and food.

Back in mid-March 2020, when the United States felt the full brunt of the COVID-19 pandemic and Minnesota, where I live, largely shut down, I was reading Michael Moorcock’s Byzantium Endures, a historical fiction novel that is part what is known as the “Pyat Quartet,” and tracks the surreal journey of antihero narrator Maxim Arturovitch Pyatni (Col. Pyat). I discovered Michael Moorcock, largely known as a Fantasy and Science Fiction writer, the previous fall and read a series of his novels before tackling Byzantium Endures and really enjoyed his work. So, very much embracing the insular, stay-at-home mindset that seemed to be prevalent, I committed to reading the Pyat Quartet in order and worked my way through The Laughter of Carthage, Jerusalem Commands and The Vengeance of Rome, each between 300-500 pages in length.

Around the same time, I began craving soup so started eating it for lunch, in lieu of the turkey wrap I’d been mindlessly scarfing down at my desk on weekdays for the past countless months. I knew there were healthier choices but the soup was good comfort food, quick and convenient to prepare. I soon got to the point where I ate it daily without much thought.

From mid March all the way through June, the Moorcock novels and soup became part of my daily existence. Each workday I’d take a break at noon and come upstairs from my home workspace to join our family for lunch and fire up a can of soup in the microwave. And then, in the evenings before bed, I’d read as much as I could of whatever novel I was on in the Pyat Quartet before falling asleep. No matter what else happened in my day, no matter what uncertainty I faced, I could count on these two constants.

I finished The Vengeance of Rome  and experienced a momentary sense of accomplishment, which immediately was followed by disappointment and, dare I say it, loss. After all, I had lived with these fictional characters in my head for months and now I had to let them go. But I had plenty of books to read and started more than one of them.

Around the same time, I decided I had enough of soup and went back to the turkey wraps. After all, who eats soup in the middle of summer!

But then, something just didn’t feel right; in fact, I felt almost incomplete. So I downloaded another Michael Moorcock using my local library’s app and within minutes I was off to the races. And I ultimately picked up more soup.

Fortunately, Michael Moorcock has been writing since the 1960’s and his Bibliography is almost endless. Plus, there are more than enough brands and varieties of soup.

These ruts tend to take a while.

Image credit: Mark DuFrene/Bay Area News Group