Praise: Pie throwing. Nothing like a good cream pie in the old puss of someone who's pissed you off or violated your personal credo. If you can hit the target via a well-placed loft, that's even sweeter. But if you can't, it's still better than…

Pan: Shoe throwing. It's somewhat more violent, less universal, you need good aim, and at the end of it all—hit or miss—you're down one shoe. Though as your weapon of choice, it's much easier to conceal than the above.

I thought I'd come up with a new recurring feature for the Random Thoughts section of the site called "Praises and Pans." The idea, as you may guess, is to give kudos to something that's considered overlooked or unsung, while pointing the finger at something related, complementary, or relevant. So for the premier P&P, I offer:

Praise: Malcolm Young of AC/DC. One of, if not the most, solid rhythm guitar players in the history of rock and roll. He's the guy back there keeping the signature riffs alive while his brother Angus is tearing it up at the front.

Pan: Guitar heroes. Where did the guys (like Angus) go who could take those 16 bars of a song to dizzying heights of shredtasticness(™) before settling back into the final chorus? Guys whose names you knew before you remembered what band they played for? The gunslingers, the wizards, and not the wankers? Can you even name a recent rock tune by a current band with a memorable solo?

"I made you a mix tape" must rank up there as one of the creepiest phrases that you can hear from someone you don't really know that well. Though I've never been on the giving or receiving end of that phrase, I know a few people who have been handed a mix tape (or CD or whatever) and were completely put off by it. Were too afraid to even listen.

Next stop… Stalkerville.

If you lie to the person on the other end of your cell phone conversation about where you are, should you really be making/answering that call? This crossed my mind the other day in the bathroom at work, hearing one end of a conversation eminating from a stall: "Huh? Yeah I am, but… No I'm not in uh… I'm at the sinks," he said, covering, after I'm sure his conversation partner overheard the WHOOSH of the next toilet over flushing. How important was that call?

I've heard the words "life coach" come up a lot lately, as in, “I want you to meet Barry, he's my life coach.” Now, I can't decide which aspect repulses me more — the idea that someone needs a coach in order to live, or that there are people out there preying on the weak of heart and feeble of mind to legitimize a profession of "life coach."

How did we come to this, people?! Did someone wake up one day and say, “God, this living thing is so hard. If only there was someone who is not me to tell me exactly how I should be living my life. Because, after all, who knows me better than some stranger I give money to?”

Did our parents, grandparents or great-grandparents need life coaches? Hell no! They survived the toughest times this country has thrown at them by their own determination and resolve. So before you decide you can't figure this crazy world out because they stopped making your favorite brand of yogurt, think of your great-aunt Agnes who had to strain water through a ketchup-smeared napkin to make enough tomato soup for her extended family of 15. I'm sure she'd smack your fool head with a wooden spoon, old-school style.