Pin the tail on the donkey

The "donkey" being me!

OK...due to the numerous (two that I know of) requests to tell the blog-world which celebrity I look like the most, I have decided to comply. Unfortunately, there is no easy answer to this question. Let's take it in stages.

There are times late at night after I've had my drink on that I really look like this guy. Of course that's how I look in my primordial brain. When I think even the hottest ladies around want themselves a piece o' Earl. Sorry ladies! This prize is taken!

Of course, when I wake up the next morning I look a hell of a lot more like this guy. Especially the hair. I can't seem to grow my hair long, it just seems to grow outwards. And in the morning, especially after a good night out, I tend to resemble Rev. Jim an awful lot.

My lady love (shiny!) wishes I looked like this guy. Hey, but if wishes were fishes we'd all be Pope, right? Huh? I don't even know what that meant.

I guess there are times when I kinda look like this guy. Pudgy and pasty, yeah baby! That's me. We are pretty close to the same age as well, so we got that going for us. I look much better in drag, though. Had to be honest.

I've heard that I sound exactly like this guy. I don't know if it's true or not because I have no ear for that shit. But I've heard it from more than one person. OK...it was one person who said it and my lady love (shiny!) agreed with him.

To be truthful...I have heard more than once in my life that I kinda look like this guy. His name is Charlie Steiner and he is a sports radio host and former ESPN personality. The beard, the glasses, the Jewish nose...and I'm Irish Catholic! I met a few of his old ESPN compadres once a few years back. Stuart Scott, Rich Eisen and Dan Patrick. And even they thought I looked like Steiner.

Dammit! I'm gonna get drunk tonight so I can look like that first guy again!

In my head.

At least for a little while.

Cough, cough...

Feeling a bit under the weather today. Just a chest cold, but I'm the worst sick person in the world so everything is magnified.

Just wanted to give/drop the names of two celebrities that we ran into in our past two trips to the city. The first was Bob Balaban. He was waiting for his car in the same parking garage we were parked in last week. It was a very un-eventful meeting. I pointed at him and said "Hey, Bob Balaban! How are you?" He said "Great. Thanks", and then he moved on.

The second was Danielle Brisebois. For those of you who don't remember her, she was the bushy eye-browed Stephanie on "All in the Family". She has left the world of acting to concentrate on her musical career with some success. I have to admit that I didn't recognize her. We were coming down from our hotel room on Saturday. When we got to the lobby, she and her two friends were heading up. I was staring at her chest, because...well, it was there. But my lady love (shiny!) recognized her right away. Had no doubt, and that's all the confirmation I needed.

Oh yeah, and I was briefly mistaken for a celebrity on Saturday also. We stayed at a hotel directly across the street from the theater where Chicago is playing, and my lady love's (shiny!) uncle performs in the show. So we headed across the street, talked to an usher (Not Usher...who is currently perfoming as Billy Flynn...he was sick that day) and we were told to head down into the musician's area to find him. As it turns out, he was heading out right at that time so we didn't have to look too hard for him.

So as were are coming out of the tunnel back to the front of the theater, I was the first one out of the gate. There were these two Asian women with autograph books and pens waiting for us. Their eyes lit up when they saw me and they raised their pens and books for us to sign, but I had to let them down with a soft "Sorry...I'm nobody."

Sigh. Maybe someday, Asian ladies....maybe someday!

God Warrior!

I don't know if any of you were lucky enough to see this last year. If not, lemme splain for the un-initiated.

There is this crap show on one of the crap networks called "Wife Swap" or something like that. Anyway, this one show had this 500+ pound, ultra-Christian maniac swap places with a real sweet, Wiccan astrologer (or something equally opposite to the crazy lady).

Wackiness ensued! That's what the point of the show is, I guess.

But the real kicker was the crazy lady's reaction when she finally got home. That's what the clip above shows. She went nuts. It was the best fucking thing ever put on television! EVER!

So I actually saw this episode live because I was spending the night at Mom's house and her and my sister love the show. It's an awful show, but I had seen previews for this particular episode and I was interested enough to sit with them and watch it. Sooooo glad I did!

My sister has a bit of a wacky sense of humor, so she went to the local mall and had a "GOD WARRIOR" t-shirt made up for me. Simple black with large white letters. It's awesome! I don't believe I had ever worn it outside my house, though.

Until yesterday.

Wore it under a sweatshirt when I went to visit my lady love (shiny!) at her restaurant. Sat at the bar for a bit before taking off my sweatshirt (dead sexy) to reveal my God Warrior-ness! Thought it would be a fun night of explaining the shirt, or pretending that I actually was THAT into the man/woman upstairs. You know...just for kicks!

HOLY CRAP! I got so many snide or weirdo looks from people! All from a goddamned t-shirt! It was both hysterical and uncomfortable at the same time. This one guy at the bookstore across the street actually asked if I was a Warrior for God or if I was just a dude that fought against gods. Hmm...never thought of that before. Guess the shirt is a bit ambigious.

Nothing causes folks to judge you more than when you either A) display your religion openly or B) poke fun at someone else's religion in the same manner.

And here I was just making fun at a dumb show with a crazy lunatic on it. Go figure.

Oh the shame!

So, I'm rapidly approaching 40.

Think I've mentioned that before, but it bears repeating. The thing about it is that you would think that a distinguished gentleman like myself would get over stuff that most people got over in their mid-teens. Not me.

I'm still ashamed to buy birth control.

That's right. Most men consider it a badge of honor. Sort of like announcing to the world "I'M GOING TO HAVE SEX TONIGHT! WELL, IF NOT TONIGHT THEN MAYBE SOMETIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE!" Unfortunately, I've always been really embarrassed by the whole thing. I know the clerk at the store will be snickering as soon as I'm out the door. "What are you gonna do with those? Make water balloons? Mwah-ha-ha-ha!"

I guess from the water balloon comment you can tell that our birth control method of choice is condoms. Sokay with me. I'd wrap my body in latex if it meant having sex on a regular basis. Latex body suit...hmmm? What was I saying? Oh yeah, condoms. Seriously, I've never been a big proponent of birth control pills if my lady love (shiny!) doesn't like how them make her feel and I really don't mind wearing them. Tough to find shoes that matches them, though.

Stupid, isn't it? Well the other day I was in the midst of doing some shopping and random chores about town when I remembered that I was out of condoms. Shit! Then I remembered that my girl (shiny!) wasn't spending the night with me that evening. I had a one-day reprieve. At least!

I did intend on seeing her. She was managing the restaurant that night and I thought I would pop in, have a few beers and bid her a fond good night. So I stroll into town and into her place when she spots me. She immediately comes over for a hello snog and whispers into my ear "I've changed my mind about tonight. Can I stay over? Did you buy condoms?"

FUCK!

So I waltz (that's right!) into the local drugstore where there is not one, but two teenaged girls working the counter. And they are retarded. Not actually disabled, but just stupid as all hell. Great!

I grab my condom box o' choice and a pack of gum. Yeah, I can't even go in and buy JUST a box of condoms...gotta get something else so they can think "Well...at least his breath will be fresh". I get to the counter and retard #1 is apparently training retard #2 who is manning the till. Great again! First she has trouble scanning the objects. Then she announces that it comes to $10.80 for the two items. This is all taking forever. And a line is forming behind me. A line of women.

I give her a twenty and a single in the hopes that it will assist her change-making skills. Not so. She looked at me with that retarded look of hers and said "You had enough with just the twenty?"

I sigh and say "Yeah, I know, but I figured you could just give me back a ten and 20 cents. Easier for you, right?" She didn't get it. She actually gave me a five and five singles instead of the ten. WTF? Then she said "Sorry...I'm not good at making change yet."

You know what? I don't think she'll ever be good at making change. Or dialing a phone. Or wiping properly. She's retarded!

So my embarrassing 1-minute chore took almost 15-minutes because of these retards. And a long line of customers got a very good idea of what the rest of my night was going to consist of...chewing gum and drinking away my shame!

PS - Never did use those condoms that night. FUCK!

Pickled to death!

So yesterday, I went with a friend to a local Pickle festival.

I'll wait here while you giggle amongst yourselves.

Finished? OK. Here's the deal. Apparently, there used to be quite a deal of pickles grown in and around the Greenlawn, NY area. The so-called Pickle King lived here back in the day. Blah, blah, blah...allotta history and shit. If you want to read about it, you can do so here.

I really wasn't interested in the local history of the pickle. I just wanted to buy some fresh pickles. And hang out with the pickle people, because frankly...what an absurd concept. A pickle festival? That's just awesome! And they have been doing it for around a quarter of a century. Pickle people come from all over to celebrate the wonder of the pickle here at pickle ground zero. Once again...awesome!

I bought a bunch of pickles as well as some pickled hot peppers and little pickled green tomatoes. Can't wait to have a Bloody Maria with those tomatoes as garnish. Yum! I was a bit disappointed in that they didn't have any pickle-related items like t-shirts or posters. I would have killed for a pickle shirt like this one.

And the activities were kinda lame. No pickle race, however, there was a pickle proclamation read by a local politician. Yeah, I know...lame. But I kinda like saying "pickle proclamation" out loud. Try it. Fun, right?

All in all, it was a pickle perfect afternoon.

Pickle, pickle, pickle!

Little Blue Pill

A few years back a bunch of us headed into NYC to see a funk band that was playing at Le Bar Bat. It's this weird tri-level club in mid-town decorated with, well...bats!

Don't really remember who the band was or what the occasion was, all I really remember was the hottest old couple I have ever seen! And I'm talking oooooollllllllddddd! He was in his seventies and she was in her mid-sixties, at least.

But she was crackin' for a sixty-year old. I guarantee you there were dudes in the audience wishing they could hit that. I'll include myself with that group. Fake tits out to here, short little mini-skirt, kickin' legs...um, I don't remember if she had a face so I can't comment on that.

Her man was not so hot...in fact he was decrepit. Bad suit, bad hair, could barely walk, but here he was with his hottie boom bottie younger woman.

What made them stand out was a 30-minute session of dirty dancing right in front of the band that just abso-fucking-lutely freaked everyone in the place out! We were mesmerized. We wanted to look away, at times, but we just couldn't. She was rockin' back and forth on his erect (yes, erect) penis that formed a large tent in his bad trousers. She was grabbing him by the ears and jamming his face into her crotch. She would turn around and bend over while he pantomimed possibly illegal sexual maneuvers behind her. She would stick his face into her ample cleavage while he made motor boat noises. BBBRRRRRMMMMSSSSKKKKYYYY!

It was awesome!

We have no idea how the old feller didn't keel over from cardiac arrest right then and there, but God bless 'em! Oh yeah, and the Pfizer Corporation for making it all possible.

I wish every evening could include something like that.

Booze, a fireplace and Playboy

Busy with work today (shut up Slyde!), but needed a break so I thought I would share with you a little tale from my drunken past. Well, my present is fairly drink-filled as well so maybe I should just say my past. But I was drunk...so there!

I've been a Playboy centerfold model.

Well, not officially, but I think I made a pretty good case for myself one night. Lemme 'splain.

In my mid-late 20's I worked with a huge group of similar-aged folks at this financial services company. We all hated our jobs and we all liked to drink. Our favorite time to drink was Friday night Happy Hour. Our Happy Hour, of course, lasted for something like seven or eight hours but you get the point.

There was this one joint down the road from us that was our joint of choice every Friday night. Our whole day was planned around leaving work 15 minutes early so that we could get a parkings spot that wasn't 3 miles away. It was right by a local airport so it had a military/airplane theme and a huge outdoor patio area. We loved that place! Many an evening were spent outside near the fire pit drinking un-godly expensive beers and bad shots. Good times.

Anyway, this one night we were indoors towards the back of the bar. There was a little walkway between one section of the bar and another and for some reason there was this huge, un-used, stone fireplace there. It was big...big enough for me to crawl into. That fact will become important a bit later in the story. Made no sense to me why a fireplace would be there, but there it was.

So I'm having drinks with Slyde and a few other friends (Cristina and Alice, I believe). We were sitting in this little cut through area and I am sitting directly on the huge slate in front of said stone fireplace. Don't know what we were talking about, but I looked around and said outloud: "Hey...doesn't this place remind you of something out of a Playboy photo-shoot?"

At this point my friends either pretended to have never seen a Playboy or they just laughed out loud...I can't remember. Most of them just scoffed at me saying things like "What the hell are you talking about?".

That's when I decided to show them.

I whipped off my suit jacket and I started a posedown. Here were some of my favorite poses:

• On hands in knees, ass towards camera, shyly looking over my shoulder.
• Sitting down, one hand behind my back to prop me up, the other spreading the privates.
• Demurely looking into the camera while licking one erect nipple.
• Laying on my stomach, elbows propping up head, feet in the air crossed above my ass.
• Standing next to fireplace, one arm covering breasts, the other cupped over privates.

I was a machine. I didn't let the howls of laughter from my friends nor the steady stream of bar customers on their way to the pisser distract me. I was in the zone.

I never did get a call from Hef, though. Nor from any magazine that would prefer to publish pics of pudgy, drunk guys. Sigh.

Beer me!

Went to a retailer's beer tasting the other night with new lady love (shiny!) and another bartender from the restaurant she manages.

First we stopped off at a decent BBQ joint in Bayshore named Smokin' Als to line our stomachs. I had the St. Louie Ribs and they were just ok. The chili, however, was fantastic. Real smoky (how did they do that?) with chunks of chorizo in it. Delicious! The rest of the stuff was just decent. Nothing to write home about.

We then proceeded to the beer tasting. Only restaurateurs, bar owners and beer distributors and their guests were invited. Got to meet a lot of interesting folks whose main interests were beer, beer and more beer. My kind of people.

There was one guy from Arcadia Ales somewhere in the Mid-West who had a fabu selection of English-style beers. His Double IPA (with a picture of The Green Man on the front) was terrific as was his Scottish Ale and London Porter.

I'm going to screw up the name of this one, but Unibroue (sounds like Uni-brow?) from Canada also was a hit with our crew. They make La Fin Du Monde and Maudite, so some of you may know of them. Great stuff! So were all the beers from Ommegang Brewery in upstate NY. They are owned by Duvel in Belgium and they make all high-quality Belgian-style beers. Our favorite was a Grand Cru (actually made by Duvel) that was of the Flemish sour variety. Awesome!

There was also this great, light, crisp pilsner from the Czech Republic called BurgerBrau. I could see sitting down and drinking 3 or 10 of them one hot afternoon. Let's not forget PBR. That's right...Pabst Blue Ribbon, bee-yatches! They represented as well. Our friend, Brett, got the coolest PBR wristband you ever saw from the sales rep. I'm jealous to death!

We ended up with a decent buzz and a ton of free swag including about two cases of various beers. Sweet! I so dig dating a beer goddess!

"Awww...that's so sweet!"

Slyde's tale of his trip to NYC to see Martin Short's Broadway show made me think of my favoritist Broadway experience. Hang onto your socks...this is gonna be a long one. And I've told this story before (on Slyde's blog, I think) in short form so it may be repetitive. Oh well. Deal with it, beee-yatchs!

Now, I'm not a Broadway guy. I'd much prefer to hand over 10 bucks at the local movie theater to see a good film than sit through a Broadway play. Sometime, just sometimes, it's really worth it. This one time was more than worth it.

Before "The Producers" came out and became such a huge mega-hit, I had heard that it was being adapted for Broadway. I was/am a huge Mel Brooks fan so I was instantly interested. I also needed something to buy for my girlfriend at the time for Christmas.

So I went online to pre-buy tickets for the earliest show possible. There really wasn't a buzz for it yet as most folks didn't know it was coming. It wasn't Opening Night...it was actually the first "rehearsal" night in Manhattan, happening a few weeks prior to the official Opening Night. Cool.

When my friend Cristina found out about it, she asked me to try to score tix to the same show...which I did. Somehow I managed, three days later, to get the two seats right next to me and my girlfriend for her and her husband. Like I said...this was all pre-buzz, but I still found it odd that I could get those.

Anyway, we get to Manhattan some months later for the show and we do the dinner thing at Carmine's, drinks somewhere else before rolling to the show. The lobby was packed and we ordered drinks and settled in towards the rear of the lobby...back by the emergency exits. That's when we hear someone knocking on one of the exit doors to get in.

We didn't know what to do. Should we let someone into a sold-out first night performance of the show? After weighing our options we decided to open the doors. It was Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft! MEL BROOKS AND ANNE BANCROFT! MRS. FUCKING ROBINSON!

They thanked us and we shook hands (I think I may have hugged her...I dunno) before they joined the party. I was dumbstruck! My friends Cristina and her husband then asked "Who was that woman with Mel Brooks?" AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH! I can't stand non-movie people!

So, if that wasn't good enough (and believe me I was high for two weeks after meeting them) the show was fantastic! Mel stood in the first row and conducted comically throughout. Hysterical! But it gets better...much better.

At intermission, we went out to the lobby to get another cocktail. As everyone filed in for the second half, me and my girlfriend stayed at the bar to finish our drink. I had to go tinkle so I told her to wait there and I would be right back. I turned around and there was Sarah Jessica Parker just standing there by herself. So I turned around and smacked my girlfriend to look over there at the Big Star. She was deep in conversation with the bartender so she didn't understand what I was saying. I didn't get that she didn't understand, so I just proceeded on towards Mrs. Broderick.

There were so many things I wanted to say. Her husband was awesome in the play...tell him I said Happy Birthday (don't ask why I knew it was his birthday on that day)...I love your show...I loved "Square Pegs". So many things!

All that came out was "I love you". I wanted to die.

But Sarah Jessica Parker, to her credit, was very kind. Instead of calling Security, she put her hand on my arm and said "Awww...that's so sweet!" with a great big smile on her face. I'm a fan for life because of that moment.


Epilogue
When I left her and went to proceed to the bathroom, I realized that my girlfriend didn't follow me over to the Big Star. I know had a decision to make. Do I A) go back past Big Star and tell girlfriend about her before I pee or B) not tell her and risk her almost certain wrath? I chose option A. So I snuck around Ms. Parker and whispered to girlfriend "Now act cool, but right now the only other person in the lobby is Sarah Jessica Parker". She responded by pushing me out of the way and running over to her screaming to put her in a bear hug in what was certainly the most un-cool act of hero worship ever witnessed. My work for the evening was done. Thank you.

Cat Power

One of the reasons I went to NYC earlier this week was to see the talented Chan (pronounced "Shawn", I believe) Marshall aka Cat Power play an early show at Irving Plaza.

Recent convert to the church of Cat Power, but damn is this one fine performer. Trying to describe her is like trying to describe your favorite bourbon. Husky, wood-smoked voice with trailer-trash beginnings aged into smooth honey-coated lyrics. She is an angel in blue jeans with a cigarette smoke halo.

Wow! New lady love (shiny!) might have to watch her back! Not like me to wax poetic like that.

One complaint that I have is the crowd at the show. Besides scattered pockets of fun people, everyone else seemed to be watching as if zombie-fied. I know her music is a bit somber and smart, but she was having fun on stage. Smoking cigs and dancing around...having fun! The rest of the crowd treated each song as a dirge and acted accordingly. Not us! We danced and drank Rolling Rock out of cans! Yezzir!

Anyway, here is one of my favorite songs she performed the other night. If you ever get a chance to hear it, enjoy the tempo change towards the end of the song.


Lived in Bars

We've lived in bars
And danced on tables
Hotel trains and ships that sail
We swim with sharks
And fly with aeroplanes in the air

Send in the trumpets
The marching wheelchairs
Open the blankets and give them some air
Swords and arches bones and cement
The light and the dark of the innocent of men

We know your house so very well
And we will wake you once we've walked up
All your stairs

There's nothing like living in a bottle
And nothing like ending it all for the world
We're so glad you will come back
Every living lion will lay in your lap
The kid has a homecoming the champion the horse
Who's going to play drums, guitar or organ with chorus
As far as we've walked from both of ends of the sand
Never have we caught a glimpse of this man

We know your house so very well
And we will bust down your door if you're not there

We've lived in bars
And danced on tables
Hotel trains and ships that sail
We swim with sharks
And fly with aeroplanes out of here

Bellboy!!!!!

Was talking to a friend of mine a while back about Keith Moon, former drummer of The Who. Moon died back in 1978 (when I was just a wee lad), and we were discussing the facts surrounding his death.

I had always thought that Moon died in an alchohol-fueled bender that ended with him choking on his own vomit. Don't know where I first heard this, but I thought that was the story. In actuality, Moon was seriously trying to quit booze and he accidentally overdosed on the very drug, Chlormethiazole, that was supposed to wean him off the stuff.

The story goes that Moon would take the drug, pass out, and then forget that he had taken it. Thus the accidental overdose.

Some weird stuff regarding what Moon was doing and where he died:

• Moon and his girlfriend attended the premiere of The Buddy Holly Story (about a rock star who died too young) with Paul and Linda McCartney the night before his death. After having dinner with the McCartneys, they left the party early and stayed at a flat owned by a friend, Harry Nilsson.
• Not only did Moon die in this flat, but so did legendary singer "Mama" Cass Elliot a few years earlier. Mama Cass even died in the same bed (!!!) that Moon died in.
• Nilsson was so upset at the loss of his two friends in his flat that he sold it...to Pete Townshend!
• Moon's alleged last words were "If you don't like it, you can just fuck off!" to his girlfriend after he asked her to make steak and eggs for breakfast.

I like Moon's last words, but my all time favorite last words were said by esteemed actor Oliver Reed (who performed in the film version of The Who's Tommy, and was a close friend of Moon). When asked if he had any regrets about his life on his deathbed (or so the story goes), Reed responded with "My only regret is that I didn't drink every pub dry and sleep with every woman on the planet."

Man after my own heart!

Just for Liz...

...and maybe for a few more of you folks (well, Kat and Slyde...the only ones who read this shit)!

You are right. Spending massive amounts of time with shiny new lady love has taken me away from my proper blogging duties. Won't happen again!

Labor Day. Such a non-holiday pour moi. While everyone else is preparing for that last trip to the beach or the last holiday bbq of the season, we decided to sleep in late and go to breakfast around 1:30PM. That's right! That's the way to celebrate "labor" day. By sleeping in and getting bad diner breakfast in the middle of the afternoon.

Know what I'm doing for the rest of the day? Taking a nap. Yeah boy! I'm taking this non-labor thing to the nth degree, boys and girls!

After I awake, I may (or may not) shower. I'll see what mood I'm in. Then maybe I'll watch a baseball game or pop a DVD in and settle down on my couch where I will probably, you guessed it, fall asleep. Drooling on my throw pillows.

What a lazy-ass day! Love it!

Tomorrow, I begin work for a new client. Yuck! That's the way you celebrate the day after Labor Day, I guess. Boo.....

Rainy days and Mondays...

...usually get me down. Not so with the past couple 'o days.

It seems as if it's been raining here for the past week or so now. After what seems like months of hot, dry weather we are finally getting some much needed rainfaill to make Long Island green again.

After a morning filled with phone interviews, business proposals and mindless spreadsheet crap, I met shiny new lady love out for lunch around 1-ish. Actually, she came by to pick me up in her new Mini Cooper...flash car!

See...we both took yesterday off to go for a ride and wound up in Port Jefferson for lunch. Took the scenic route the entire way there and back. It was semi-crappy out, but we still had a blast! Got some pizza and drinks for dinner and headed back to my place for some lovin'. Just a perfect overall Monday!

Back to lunch today. Afterwards, she was in a mood to see "High Fidelity" so she wanted to rent it and watch it on this rainy afternoon. Um, it's like my favorite movie evah! Duh! Of course I own it! 90% of my daily conversation comes from that film. And I'm soooo annoying to watch it with because I say all of the dialogue a half-second before it actually occurs. Chink in the armor, Ted...but I'm working on it.

She's beginning to see what makes me tick. Hope she doesn't get scared!

Uh oh, it's half past a monkey's ass...gotta go!

Sister

Listening to Sonic Youth tonight...enjoy!

Schizophrenia
Sonic Youth

I went away to see an old friend of mine.
His sister came over...she was out of her mind.
She said Jesus had a twin, who knew nothing about sin.
And she was laughing like crazy at the trouble I'm in.

Her light eyes were dancing. She is insane.
(Her brother says she's just a bitch. With a golden chain.)
She keeps coming closer saying "I can feel it in my
bones. Schizophrenia is taking me home"

My Future is static. It's already had it I could tuck you in.
And we can talk about it I had a dream.
And it split the scene.
But I got a hunch It's coming back to me.

Wooden Shoes

Saw a guy tonight who wears only those wooden Dutch shoes. I've seen him around town before and never really noticed the guy. Last week I saw him and finally noticed his footwear. I asked around and he seems to be some kind of mad genius that invented something important in the 70's.

Now he wears wooden shoes.

I need to invent something stupid/lucrative that would allow me to be weird and wear something like wooden shoes. I mean, it wouldn't be wooden shoes because we already got a guy like that. But something like a cape. Or a suit with tails. Or spats.

Something with class. Cuz I'm all about the class, kids!

None for me, thanks!

I hope my last post didn't give you the feeling that I don't love little Riley or that I'm a bad uncle. The opposite is true for both those statements.

She's the daughter that I will never have. I say that with absolute certainty. I don't want kids of my own and I don't believe I ever will want them. One of the first things that shiny new lady love said to me on our first date was that she never wants to have kids, and was I okay with that.

Okay with that? I almost proposed on the spot. Well, except neither of us believes in the whole marriage thing, but you get my drift. Marriage...kids...sorry. Great for some, just not me.

So, in honor of my beloved neice I am posting the lyrics to one of my favorite Jimmy Buffett songs which he wrote about his youngest daughter. It always reminds me of Riley Grace. Enjoy!

Delaney Talks To Statues
Jimmy Buffett, Mac McAnally, Amy Lee

Delaney talks to statues
As she dances 'round the pool
She chases cats through roman ruins
And stomps on big toadstools
She speaks a language all her own
That I cannot discover
But she knows I love her so
When I tuck her 'neath the covers

Father, daughter
Down by the water
Shells sink, dreams float
Life's good on our boat

Delaney draws me pictures
She finger paints the sand
We chase the dogs and hop like frogs
Then I do my bad handstand
She's growing up too fast for me
And asking lots of questions
Some I know the answers to
And some I'm looking for suggestions

Father, daughter
Born by the water
Surf's up, sun's down
Life in a beach town

And some of the things I've seen
Maybe she won't have to see
But there's a lot I want to pass along
That was handed down to me

Delaney talks to statues
As she dances 'round the pool
She chases cats through Roman ruins
And stomps on big toadstools
She speaks a language all her own
Just a little like her mother
And she knows I love her so
When I tuck her 'neath the covers

Father, daughter
Down by the water
Shells sink, dreams float
Life's good on our boat

Life of Riley Grace

Well I mentioned a few posts down that I had a long weekend. Actually it's turning into a long week, but that's besides the point.

My youngest sister is on vacation at Disney in Orlando with my nephew to celebrate the little brat's sixth birthday in a few weeks. Uncle Earl, being the great guy that he is, is stuck watching her 3-year old daughter until this Thursday when they return.

Don't get me wrong, I love my niece. Love her, love her, love her. She's is the most adorable thing and she has a way of talking that linguists can't even figure out. She's the best. She also needs more attention than ANYONE I have ever met on the planet! With most kids her age (she will be four in the fall) you can just sit them down in front of the TV with some Barbie movie crap and they will become catatonic. I'm not saying that's a good thing, in fact, quite the opposite. But sometimes you need a little "me time", man!

Not with this kid. She is constantly up your ass. "Play a game wid me", "Let's go fow a wok", "I wan you to sa-pin me" and it goes on. That's last one was spin, by the way. She can't really say words that start with "s" as they were meant to be said. Sleep becomes sa-leep, story becomes sa-tory, and smell becomes sa-mell. You get the drift? Actually, it's kinda cool. Like she invented her own form of pig latin. My sister and I have entire conversations where we substitute our "s" words for her "s" words. It's fun. Try it!

Today she is at day camp for a few hours so I can get some work done (and yet I'm typing this), and then it is beach time where she tries to swim out past anyone else. Yeah, that's fun! Especially considering my previously mentioned fear of sharks on Slyde's blog. Oh, I should mention that we are going to a bay beach, not an ocean beach so there aren't any sharks in the water. But there is seaweed and jellyfish and either touching me will induce a shark attack-like high-pitched scream! Good times!

Is it Thursday yet?



Here's a not-so-recent picture of the little rug-rat. That's not flash-induced "red-eye", by the way. That's the demon who dwells within her, and its trying to get out. Help me!

Victory is ours...

...victory is ours!

I want all the finest meats and breads brought to my table as we joyously celebrate this historic victory over our most ancient of foes. My men will drink the finest wine and bed the comliest wenches for Victory is ours!

I shall celebrate this day of days with grand festivals devoted to our valiant heroes, and I shall commission the building of the most opulant temple ever devoted to the Gods that walk amongst us!

Victory is ours!


PS - OK, that's the last time I will mention the Yankees historic 5-game sweep of the Red Sox for at least a few days. OK?

Thus far, thus good

After one of the longest weekends of my life (I'll explain later), it brings a smile to my face to see that the Red Sox had an even longer weekend than I.

With one more game to go this afternoon, the Yankees have crushed the hopes of the Sawx and their fans with four straight victories in Boston this weekend. Let's review some of the hi-lites for the Yanks:

- A real nice blowout to start the series on Friday afternoon.
- The longest regular-season 9 inning game in recorded history on Friday night.
- 18 (or 19) pitchers used by both teams on Friday for the double-header.
- Sal Fasano getting some time as a pinch-runner!
- Bobby Abreu reaching base safely in something like 17 or his 23 plate appearances. Not sure of the exact stats here, but it's ridiculous.
- Johnny Damon sticking it to his old team in Abreu-like fashion.
- Glorious comeback win last night with two HRs in the 10th by Giambi (5RBI last night) and Posada.
- Red Sox fans missing their last trains home. Ha! Twice! Ha Ha!

Anyway, probably ruining for the Yanks this afternoon by gloating like this, but so far the Boston Massacre 2 is going exactly as I planned it. Mwah-ha-ha!

A Bronx Tale

It's time to mention the great love of my life here on this hallowed site. A love that has endured decades, one that never judges me, a love as pure as the driven snow.

I'm speaking of the NY Yankees, of course. Make that the first place NY Yankees, thank you very much!

I became a Yankee fan at the ripe old age of 6. The rest of my family were Met fans, and why not? It was 1973 and the Yankees hadn't done anything of note since the early 60's and the Mets were just four short years off of their first World Series Championship. They made a truly miraculous run to the playoffs in '73 where they played the machine that was the Oakland A's in the World Series.

Having to be different, I chose to root for the A's in that series. Wise choice. At the time, my favorite player was Reggie Jackson so there was some merit to my interest in rooting against the Mets. My family couldn't stand me that year. The A's won and here was this little 6-year old asshole jumping for joy at the Met's loss.

I then made a conscious choice to become a Yankee fan. Couldn't really root for a team across the country, so why not root for the other team in New York? The Yanks were pretty terrible that next year, but they picked it up in '75 and '76 with World Series rings in '77 and '78. That was awesome! And then Thurman died and it all started to fall apart.

A lot of folks equate rooting for the Yankees to rooting for US Steel, but there has always been a sense of pride and dignity with that team...something that most sports franchises yearn for.

The Yankees begin a crucial 5-game set with the hated Red Sox on Friday afternoon. You know what I'm doing this weekend. May the baseball gods smile upon the true love of my life.

Go Yankees!

I'll take Manhattan

Didn't do my Monday morning Top 5 post like I said I was going to last week. It's a shame when a weekly tradition only lasts one week, isn't it? I listened to no music at all yesterday morning, in fact. Here's why:

So I was supposed to go to a simple dinner somewhere in town on Sunday night with shiny new lady love (we'll come up with a nickname soon) when she decided to kick it up a notch and head into NYC.

At first we decided to drive, but Sunday evening traffic into NYC is horrible due to all those Hampton-ites returning to the roost, so we bailed and hopped on the train. That's when things get interesting for me. Driving into the city is one thing. You have to be good. Can't drink too much because you have to drive home. Also you need to remember where you parked.

Taking the train means all bets are off, and this night...all bets were off. We started out the evening at a lovely seafood joint sitting outside on an equally lovely evening. It was one of those "early in the relationship" freaking awesome dinner dates. Even our waitress couldn't help but notice that we were gaga over each other. Fresh guacamole (sp?), awesome sampler of their four ceviche dishes, black bass in a chipolte sauce for me and a delish swordfish dish for her. Oh yeah, many beers and mojitos as well. Good stuff!

From there it was a short walk to Whiskey Blue in the lobby of the W hotel on Lexington Avenue. It's a nice, upscale hotel bar with a fantastic bartender making expensive drinks...all for little ole us! Tanqueray 10 gibsons were my beverage choice, while shiny new lady love went with vodka martinis. It was about right here when we knew it was going to be a long night.

After 3 rounds of martini lusciousness, I knew we needed to head over towards Penn Station because it was getting kinda late. But I also wasn't ready to head home and neither was she. So I suggested my favorite dive bar in Manhattan. One that I knew would still be open late on Sunday night...well early Monday morning at this point.

I pointed our cab driver over to Rudy's Bar & Grill over in Hell's Kitchen, the king of all NYC dive bars. It's one of those places that I really can't even describe. You have to go there to love it. Cheap draft beer, free hot dogs, worst bar floor in the history of bad bar floors, red tape holding together the pleather on in the booths, awesome juke box, and lots and lots of local flavor. Oooh, see what I did there? I did manage to describe it!

Anywho, in all my drunken days and nights at Rudy's I have never managed to make it to closing time at 4AM. Strike that objective off my list. At a little before 4AM (Monday morning...mind you) we finished our last PBR draft and we were whooshed out with the door getting locked behind us. I knew the next train wasn't for 45 minutes, so we had a nice leisurely stroll back to Penn and our awaiting train.

I still can't believe how many people were still out and about at that time of the morning on a Monday! I know its the city that never sleeps, but jeez there were a lot of folks! Anyway, long story short is that I blew off my work on Monday because we didn't get back to my place until after 6AM. Nothing like being out all night and seeing the sun come up before you hit the pillows. Larry Miller once joked about the 5 stages of drinking and said this "Let's be honest, if you're 19 and you stay up all night, it's like a victory like you've beat the night, but if you're over 30, then that sun is like God's flashlight." True dat...double true!

Anyway, it was one of those totally expected, absolutely magical NYC nights that seem to be getting rarer as I get older. Can't wait for the next one!

Great Comic Book Covers, Batman!

Hey kids! Slyde and I were in discussions the other day to come up with our Top 5 lists for greatest comic books adapted into film and also the greatest comic book storylines that we own in our collections.

Yeah, yeah...grown men with comic book collections. Deal with it. I have to say that I feel partially responsible for a large portion of Slyde's collection. When we met back in the early 90's, he was buying only a handful of comics each month. Then he came over to the dark side and started collecting dozens each month just like I was. We collected like that for years...going to conventions, meeting up at obscure hobby shops, rooting through back-issue bins. Then I stopped. Just about cold turkey, and I still don't think he has forgiven me.

Anyway, in anticippppation of our posts about the above sometime next week (hopefully), I decided to thumb through my comic book collection and post a little something about my Top 5 Comic Book Covers. I only considered super-hero stuff because there are just too many beautiful covers by Dave McKean, Glenn Fabry and others on some non-conventional titles. Nope, strictly dudes and dudettes in spandex here.

Click on the titles to see a scan of each cover. Here goes:

Top 5 Comic Book Covers (in my collection...that include superheroes)
1. Wonder Woman #199 (vol 1) - art by Jeffrey Jones. OK, not the creepy actor from Ferris Bueller's Day Off Jeffrey Jones, but the fantasy artist. So I cheated a little bit here because there are no actual heroes in tights on the cover, but I just love it so much. It is a simple little noirish cover that could go on just about any pulp magazine from the 50's. A little bondage. Scary dude hanging around in the background. Damsel in distress. It's got it all. I don't believe I ever opened this one up. I bought it solely on the basis of JJ's cover. Awesome!
2. Swamp Thing #7 (vol 1) - art by Bernie Wrightson. This one is great. Not only do you have the familiar horror style of Bernie Wrightson, but you have a cameo in the book and on the cover by Batman! This was also (I believe) Bernie's last work on Swampy. Too bad.
3. Amazing Spider-Man #300 - art by Todd MacFarlane. There may be other covers from Spider-man that were better, but this one was just so iconic. Spidey in the black suit, first appearance of Venom. All those 300's on the cover. OK...that last part sucked, but it was a real fine example of MacFarlane at the top of his game.
4. Marvel Premiere #15 - art by Gil Kane. I'm a sucker for cover art from the 1970's and this is one of my favorites. It's the first appearance of Iron Fist (one of my favorite characters) and the art by Kane is exceptional. Usually is with that guy, whether he is doing Batman or the Green Lantern. He always seemed to be on his game. Check out that dragon tat on his chest. Niiiiice!
5. Doom Patrol #121 (vol 1) - art by Joe Orlando. This one is a little harder to explain. I'm not a fan of Joe Orlando's work, generally. However, this one dealt with the death of the main characters in the Doom Patrol. Big tombstones on the cover with an awesome "You Decide" balloon to put the weight of these character's lives in your hands! This was at a time when you just didn't kill off your heroes. But the title was ending so it made great headlines back in the late 1960's. Turns out three of the four members were found to have not perished (shocked I tell you) when DC brought the team back together in the 1980's. That's alright. Still a great cover! And it was the sixties, so you know that Elasti-girl was hiding a little mini-skirt behind that stupid tombstone. Rowr!

The Midnight Star

't senAs some of you may have guessed, I love a good bar. Irish pub, dirty local joint, posh NYC lounge, anything with a little style and a lot of booze. That's what I like!

I live in a town on Long Island that is populated with some interesting bars. We have Irish pubs, English pubs, townie joints, cigar bars, tex-mex bars, big NYC-style upscale bars, smoky bars (which ignore the state-wide smoking ban), coffee bars, outdoor bars, upstairs bars, sidewalk cafes, and a host of sushi bars.

I love all these places. I have friends at most of them, either on the staff or just regulars that only go to one place. Don't get me wrong, I have my favorites too. There are two bars that I spend most of my time at, but I like to dabble in the fringe joints as well. Keep up my contacts with the bar weirdos, you know.

Last night one of said weirdos dropped into favorite bar #1 just around closing time to have a few beers and some shots. About 3 of each in a 20 minute period. And the so-called "shots" he drinks are mind erasers. Phew! Anyway, he couldn't figure something out with his new cell phone. He had a missed call and he wanted to see what the number was. I helped him figure it out, then he asked me to help him change the volume on his ringer. To make sure it worked, I called him with my cell phone to hear the ring. All was well.

So we usher the drunken fool out the door, and I help my friend close up the bar. It was around 1AM. Fast forward to this morning when a phone call on my cell interrupts some boring work shit I was doing around 11AM. It was the drunk from last night. You see, he must have woken up and saw a missed call on his phone and now he knows how to find out the number. He just forgot a few salient details in that it was me who showed him how, and that I had called him to check the volume on his ringer. I smiled for 15 minutes straight after that call.

God, I love this town and it's drunken denizens!

PS - The title to this post refers to a character in a movie. It was someone who loved a good bar and was referred to as The Midnight Star because "I'm always there, but I shine brightest at night". Can you name the film?

Way too much info...

OK, so shiny new lady love was over my apartment last night. She goes to the bathroom to powder her nose and says that I am almost out of toilet paper. I ask her to check under the sink, but alas...no tp.

Alright, so I store this in my head to make sure that I go out early to the market to buy some when I am getting my morning java and paper. I forget, of course.

Fast forward to this afternoon. Sitting at my desk doing some mindless spreadsheet work when the urge hits me to drop the kids off at the pool. Feel free to replace that last line with whatever euphemism you prefer for crapping. Mind you, I'm also IMing with a friend of mine when I tell him that I have to run and crap.

I go to the bathroom and there it is. A roll of tp with maybe two sheets left on it. What the hell am I gonna do with two sheets? Alright, I alert my friend online that I need to run to the market to pick up tp because I am nearly out. Jump into the car and head to the nearest market which happens to be this 24-hour convenience store/deli kinda place.

I find the Scott's tissues and grab two rolls and stroll to the counter. Now everyone in the joint, customers and employees, have to know that I had one on deck and I ran out of paper. I mean, nobody runs into this place for just two rolls of toilet paper...so they gotta know, right? I curb my embarrasment and pay for my goodies and I run outta there, because things are getting critical now. Ya know?

But, much to my chagrin, when I get home I find that the urge to purge has passed. CRAP! Hope this doesn't turn into a Kramer incident, if you get my Seinfeld drift. Oh yeah, my buddy on the other end of the IM says he laughed so hard at my plight that it brought tears to his eyes. CRAP, CRAP, CRAP!!!

What do you think? Too much information?

Dyslexics of the world, untie!

I seem to get this email in cycles every few months, but I thought I would pass it on. It's amazing what the human brain can do, even with very little effort.

fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. Cna yuo raed tihs? Olny 55% of plepoe can. i cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno't mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanmig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs forwrad it .

Brad Neely Rules!

Yeah, I think I'm gonna stop with that whole "Earl on..." bullshit at the beginning of every post. It's only been a couple of days, but it was even starting to bug me.

OK, so I dig that George Washington video/song so much you would have thought that I might have looked up it's creator, Brad Neely, at some point over the past few months. Just to see if he has done anything else. Right?

Well, I just got around to it and lookee what I found. Neely has been in the limelight before. You can read the article, but lemme sum up. A few years back, Neely recorded an alternate soundtrack for the film Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone that is available on CD (or downloaded from the web). It can be played while watching the movie with the sound muted and by all accounts it's hysterical.

Apparently, Neely was hanging out at a bar with some friends making fun of this lone dude playing pool while listening to something on his headphones. They imagined he was listening to a Harry Potter book on tape and they were substituting funny/dirty alternative dialogue amongst themselves. His friends convinced him to "do" to whole book his way, and voila! "Wizard People, Dear Readers" was born.

I haven't heard this yet, but damn if it doesn't sound like something fun for Slyde and I to do one night. I'm sure it will never happen. I mean, I've been yearning to watch The Wizard of Oz with the sound off and Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" album on for what seems like decades now. Heard that was a hoot too.

One of these days...

Earl on Washington

George Washington


Saw this on Violet Blue's (very often NSFW) blog a while back, and I watch it at least once every few days. The tune gets stuck in my brainpan in a most pleasant way.

Some things you may never have heard about our first president:
1. He had two on the vine.
2. He made love like an eagle.
3. He killed his sensei in a duel.
4. He saved children (but not the British children).

A treasure trove of info to be gleaned from this little gem. A little strong language in there, so watch the volume if you are at work.

Absolutely brilliant! I've shared this with Slyde and a bunch of others before, but it deserves to be my first ever youtube.com post. Enjoy!

Earl on Mondays

Taking a tip from Jack Black and the film High Fidelity, I wanted to start a tradition here that I may or may not observe in the future. A little Top 5 of Monday morning songs that I am enjoying, along with the lyrics to one of said tunes.

No rhyme or reason to today's selection, just started off a little mellow before kickin' it in. Then I brought it back down again...there are rules to making a great mix tape. I don't follow 'em, but there are rules.

In no particular order:

Top 5 Monday morning songs
1. "Badfish" by Sublime
2. "After the Gold Rush" by Neil Young
3. "Havin' a Good Time" by One Groovy Coconut
4. "Hey Bartender" by (Hed) PE
5. "Love in a Library" by Jimmy Buffett (always gonna include Bubba)

"Badfish" by Sublime

When you grab a hold of me Tell
me that I'll never be set free
I'm a parasite,
creep and crawl I step into the night.
Two pints of booze
Tell me are you a badfish too? Are you a badfish too?
Ain't got no money to spend
I know the night will never end
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef

Baby your a big blue whale
Grab the reef when all duck diving fails
I swim but wish I never learned
The water's too polluted with germs
I dive deep when it's ten feet overhead
Grab the reef underneath my bed
Ain't got no quarrels with god Ain't got no time to grow old
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef

Ain't got no quarrels with God Ain't got no time to grow old
Lord knows I'm weak
Won't somebody get me off of this reef

Earl on booze

Ok, so I'm a little buzzed tonight so I came here to post something both clever and funny.

Then I read Spinning Girl's latest post about her third sober anniversary. Talk about a buzz kill. Well, not quite a kill but it certainly wounded my buzz fairly well.

All I have to say is good for her. I took her quiz (from AA) and scored a grand total of 3 "yes" answers. Honestly, I was a bit afraid of taking it because I thought it would confirm that I really did have a drinking problem, but (according to the test) I may have been wrong. I didn't even lie, or convince myself that I wasn't lying. There was one question which I teetered on that could have brought me to 4, but in the end I felt honest enough to answer it as a "no".

I still think that my health would be a little better off without my current use of alcohol, but there is so much that I would miss without it. Great friends, great times, and really great booze. That's what I would miss the most...the great booze. Everything else could and would continue, but I just really, really like good booze.

Anyway, more power to you Spinning Girl. Glad you recognized a problem and were courageous enough to deal with it. Let's hope the rest of us are strong enough to follow suit, no matter what the problem is.

Earl on mindless web-surfing

Spent the day engaged in one of my more mindless bouts of web-surfing.

I was trying to find some minor-league statistics for a guy who played for the Columbus Confederate Yankees (oxymoron alert!) in the Southern League back in 1964-1966. Don't even ask why, but it involves a young lady that has caught my eye.

Anyway, seems as if the ole' internet hasn't quite caught up to my need for Class AA minor-league stats from before I was born. Sad. Well, not as sad as me spending an afternoon searching for said stats, but sad nonetheless.

One interesting tidbit I found is about a player named John Paciorek. He was the older brother of MLer Tom Paciorek who enjoyed a cup o' coffee in the bigs on one fateful day in 1963 for the Houston Colt 45's.

John's line in that game was as follows:

AB H R 2B 3B HR RBI BB SB AVG OBP SLG
3 3 4 0 0 0 3 2 0 1.000 1.000 1.000

Due to chronic back problems, the poor guy was never to play in the major league again. But what a day!

John isn't the only player to have a go at it in the bigs for just one day. Over 1,300 players enjoy this dubious honor. The most famous is probably Archibald "Moonlight" Graham who was a character central to the book "Shoeless Joe" and the movie it was adapted from "Field of Dreams".

So carpe diem, everyone! John Paciorek certainly did!

Baby steps, baby steps...

Hey kids! I finally decided to joing the Blogger community and step away from the comforting shadow of Slyde. I'll still stop in from time to time on his site (www.slydesblog.com), but I'll use this site to speaka my mind, whena I wanna speaka my mind. You have been warned! - Earl

Shark Attack!

By B.E. Earl

08/02/2006 04:20 PM EST

Hey guppies! We are currently in the middle of a ridiculous heat wave here in the Northeast. I’m spending the week house-sitting at my sister’s home while she and her family are on vacation. Unfortunately, much to my sister’s chagrin, my brother-in-law doesn’t believe in air conditioning. I mean, he’s not an atheist. He knows it exists, he just chooses to live without. So here I must make-do with a wonderfully shaded backyard complete with a fish pond, a beautiful in-ground pool and an even more beautiful cooler full o’ beer.

It’s rough, but I’m surviving. One of the things that is certainly helping is that the Discovery Channel is celebrating Shark Week with all sorts of great shark-like programming. I’ve mentioned my fascination with TDC previously, but I really become a zombie during Shark Week. I live for this shit!

I may have mentioned before that I was eight when the film Jaws came out. That is some serious shit to deal with when you are that age. Before Jaws came out, I was a normal, un-afraid kid. I swam in the ocean all the time. My folks would take the clan out to Jones Beach or Robert Moses Park and we would spend the day in the waves. After it came out, I was afraid to swim in a pool. Seriously.

Unfortunately, this is a phobia that has stayed with me all of my life. I’m still hesitant to swim in the ocean. I started to get over it a few years back when I was spending each summer vacation at a beach house on the North Carolina coast. I would swim out past the breakers and float for hours in the afternoon heat. Then while playing in the surf one day, a small hammerhead shark swam right between my sister and my brother-in-law while we all watched. This was right in the breakers! It was a small shark, probably no more than four feet or so long, but holy crap…it was right there where we were all playing in the surf!

The next morning, before the rest of the house arose, my brother-in-law took advantage of some nice early morning wind to go wind-surfing. I put on a pot of coffee and went down to the beach to watch. Soon he was so far out in the ocean that I couldn’t see him with a pair of binoculars. When he finally made it back to the beach an hour or so later, he told me that he couldn’t turn around (he is good but he still falls off a lot when he comes about) because he was being followed by a really large shark that was bigger than his 12-foot board! He had to wait it out until it the shark lost interest before he risked coming about. I would have had a heart attack right then and there!

So that was it for me. A couple of weeks ago out in Montauk, I dove into the surf once in the entire week I was there and I literally could not have run out of the ocean fast enough once I was through. I must have looked like such a pansy. 10-year old girls have more dignity about them.

My phobia, however, has only spiked my fascination with the creatures. As a kid, I read every book about sharks that I could find. I already knew about the U.S.S. Indianapolis by the time I actually saw Jaws, so I was really freaked out when Quint started telling the story. I could identify just about any type of shark just by glancing at a photo. I was obsessed.

I guess you can say that I’m still obsessed with sharks. My obsession nowadays seems to be limited, however, to occasional visits to www.sharkattacks.com and, of course, Shark Week on TDC. They seem to show most of the programming from previous years over and over again, but there is some new stuff here and there. Saw a great show last night about sharks in the Mediterranean Sea. Good stuff! How nice of TDC to fill an entire week’s programming to appease my appetite for real-life monsters!

Such a Nerd!

By B.E. Earl

07/19/2006 08:13 PM EST

Hey kids! And no…I’m not talking about Slyde. I’m referring to myself, actually. I was watching TV last night and I realized that more and more I am watching the programming on The History Channel and The Discovery Channel. Yes, I know the more enlightened of you have been watching for some time now. But if it wasn’t reality TV, a Yankee game or a good movie, it was likely that I wasn’t going to watch it.

When did that change? When did I become an info-tainment geek? I have no idea, but those two channels have gradually become my daily stomping grounds in the land of cable. Here are some of the fun things that I’ve learned on the boob-tube in the past few weeks:

The Little Ice Age (14th - 19th century) – This was never in any history book I read while I was in school. This period was hi-lighted (in my opinion) by the Year Without a Summer in 1816 following the 1815 eruption of Tambora in Indonesia. Heavy snowfall and frost were reported that year in much of New England and Northern Europe in both June and July! 1816 was also known as the Poverty Year or as Eighteen hundred and froze to death. Many New Englanders, fearing the worst, struck out for the West in an unprecedented move to warmer climates. The wet and cool summer of 1816 forced Mary Shelley, John William Polidori and some of their friends to stay indoors. They invented a writing contest to see who could write the scariest story. The results were "Frankenstein" by Shelley and "The Vampyre" by Polidori! How awesome is that?

Saladin ruled! – Muslim warrior and famous enemy of the Crusaders from the 12th century who united the Arab states under his extraordinary military prowess. Saddam Hussein likened himself to a Saladin, often referring to himself as a “modern-day Salah al-Din”. Curious in that Hussein waged a war of genocide against the Kurds in Northern Iraq, while Saladin himself was a Kurd. That, my friends, is how I like my irony served.

Paper crossbows don’t work – Apparently it is nearly impossible to construct a crossbow out of cardboard and paper and use it effectively to escape from prison. Well, I guess I kinda already knew that already. Oh yeah, and a helium-filled football will only travel slightly more than a regular air-filled one.

Asteroids will eventually kill us all! – Large meteors, asteroids or comets have hit the Earth in the past. Some believe that the extinction of the dinosaurs was a result of a large collision with one of these objects. It has happened before, it will happen again! Wait…never mind. I learned that last one from the Charlton Heston introduction to the film Armageddon. See…movies are educational.

Bigfoot was REAL! – Well at least there may be some scientific evidence that both man and a giant ape classified as Gigantopithecus blacki co-existed in Asia around 300,000 years ago. Although tales of its enormous size, largely due to its name, are hard to substantiate, it is possible that this co-habitation led to tales of the Yeti and Bigfoot-type creatures in many mythologies. Neato!

Eureka! I've done it! I've at long last proved the existence of Grape Ape!"

Wish You Were Here

By B.E. Earl

06/21/2006 10:30 PM EST

Hey kiddies! Earl again with some mindless musings, musical mayhem, misty memories and magical mushrooms. Ok, no mind-altering substances here, but I was on an alliteration roll. Thought I’d contribute a little some-some for my buddy’s blog here on the first day of summer (OK…it’s the first day of summer as I am typing. Let’s see when Slyde gets around to posting it).

(Editor's Note: Bite Me, Earl. I got it posted same day! So There! - Slyde)

It couldn’t be a more glorious day here on Long Island. I finished up some work around 3ish in the afternoon and took a walk down to the beach where my sister had taken my nephew, Cavan. Not the most normal of names, huh? But it’s actually the county in Ireland where my mother’s side of the family came from, and my sister was kinda sold on it. My father’s side of the family came from County Cork, and I’m glad she didn’t go for that. Corky would almost be too much for me to bear as an uncle. I mean I’m rapidly approaching 40, but that doesn’t mean that I’m too old to laugh at a kid named Corky. Funny is funny.

Back to the beach in our story. Our local beach is right down the block from my mother’s house in Blue Point, NY. It’s affectionately known as Mommy Beach by the locals because of the preponderance of moms and their kids. There must have been a sign posted today, however, because Mommy Beach turned into Hot Mommy Beach! When I was growing up, I can’t recall actually thinking that any of my friend’s moms were attractive at all. These women today…whoa! Way to go, ladies!

I mentioned that my mother lives in Blue Point. This is also where I grew up, although I’ve been on the north shore of Long Island for about 8 years now. For those wondering why the name sounds familiar, it may be because of its’ relation to Blue Point Oysters. Back in the early part of the previous century, Blue Point Oysters were the best oysters in the world and they were harvested from the waters surrounding our little town on the bay. Sometime in the 1920’s or 30’s, however, salinity levels in the Great South Bay rose to a level that became toxic to our poor oyster population. Some say that this was caused by a hurricane that swept over our barrier beach (Fire Island), flooding the bay and neighboring beaches. Any time you see Blue Point Oysters on a menu today they are most likely from the north shore out of the Long Island Sound.

Now all that lives in our bay are clams, and the harvesting of those are strictly regulated due to over-harvesting and pollution. When I was growing up, it seemed like everyone had a relative who was a clammer. My brother and my brother-in-law each made some money by clamming. I heard that last year only five or six clamming licenses were even applied for on the Great South Bay. Its amazing how quickly man’s influences on our surroundings can get out of hand. It’s too late for our oyster population, but maybe one day we can see a resurgence of the clam population in the Bay.

As for the musical mayhem portion of our program, I heard a couple of songs on the radio today that I hadn’t heard in a million years. OK…at least since I was in college. "Echo Beach" by Martha and the Muffins, and "Summer’s Cauldron" by XTC. It’s absolutely amazing to me that good, rare music like this is still played on the radio someplace. The station that was playing them was WFUV 90.7 here in New York which is a member-supported public radio station, of course. I guess that non-commercial radio is the only way we are going to hear these gems outside of our iPods.

Finally, this past weekend was Father’s Day here in the US. I qualified that because I’m not sure if it is on the same date in other countries. I know from a friend of mine that Mother’s Day is located elsewhere on the calendar in the UK, so maybe it’s the same with Dad’s Day.

It was a bit of a somber day for me as in two weeks it will be three years since my father passed away from a long battle with heart disease. The last time that I saw him before his final heart attack (and subsequent hospital stay) was when I took him out for dinner the Wednesday after Father’s Day three years ago. He was watching what he ate because of his condition, but boy did he enjoy himself. He always said that his favorite times in his life were having a meal with his family. He always began each meal with smile and a soft-spoken “good to be together” when his children were around. We still do that on the occasions that the whole family gets together for a nice meal like we do on Thanksgiving Day or other holidays.

Three days later I got a call at home from my sister telling me that Dad was in the hospital again, and it really didn’t look good this time. He hung on for a few weeks, but it was still a shock when he passed. It’s still hard for me to believe that it has been three years.

At his gravesite on Sunday, I found myself wishing that our first 26 years together were a lot more like our last 10. We were always close, but we really became friends in that last decade, and I find myself missing my friend more and more as the years pass on. I think about the trip I took him on down to the Florida Keys and I wish that we had done that more often. He said it was the best vacation he ever had been on. To quote Morgan Freeman from The Shawshank Redemption “I guess, I just miss my friend.”

With that in mind, I would like to wish a belated Happy Father’s Day to all the Dads and Grandpas out there, as well as to everyone else who has or had a father who was an important part of their lives like my father was. Cheers!

"I'll see you in Hell, Will Munny!"

By B.E. Earl

06/12/2006 4:16 PM EST

Hey cowboys and cowgirls! It’s yer old friend Earl here again with a little something for your perusal. I guess it has been a little while, and Slyde’s been bugging me to chip in. I had a few current thoughts on my mind that I was gonna write about, but that all changed due to the rainout of the Yankee/Red Sox game tonight. It’s been raining all day here on Long Island (and in much of the Northeast), and I was in the mood to just hang at home and watch a good movie in my pajamas. The rainout gave me an opportunity for just that.

I had one of five movies in mind for this cold and dreary evening. Five films that I had recently thought about and happened to have on DVD, so I wouldn’t have to bother with a trip to the video store. Snatch was on my list, I guess because of all the recent media surrounding the birth of Brangelina’s baby. Road to Perdition was number two, for really no reason at all other than that I haven’t seen it since first purchasing it on DVD. High Fidelity was also there because I have this odd fascination with all of John Cusack’s films, but I hold this one in a special place of honor. Bull Durham was right in there because, well, I WAS going to spend the evening watching baseball anyway and this is just about my favorite baseball film.

But no, I decided upon my umpteenth viewing of Unforgiven, the last greatest Western ever made. That last part was my own humble opinion, of course. I’ve been a fan of Westerns for a long time and if you had told me back in college that I would someday see a better Western than The Searchers or My Darling Clementine or The Wild Bunch, well I guess I would have told you that you were just plum nuts. But in 1992, Clint Eastwood did what I thought was impossible. Not only did he make a Western as good as those classics, but (once again, IMHO) he surpassed them. Just check out the simple and elegant title card that we viewers were greeted with that set the stage for what was to unfold:

She Was a comely young woman
and not without prospects.
Therefore it was heartbreaking
to her mother that she would
enter into marriage with
William Munny, a known thief
and murderer. A man of
notoriously vicious and
imtemperate disposition.

When she died, it was not at
his hands as her mother might
have expected, but of smallpox.

That was 1878.

What a fantastic way to start a film. “That was 1878.” With that one sentence we are given so much. No long backstory or exposition, just a simple peek into the world that we were just about to immerse ourselves into. From there the story unfolds. Will Munny (Eastwood) has become a pig farmer with two children from his marriage to Claudia. Times are hard, but he works hard at remaining a good man to his family in honor of his dearly departed wife. He has given up drinking, swearing, violence towards animals and killing. His wife had saved him from that life. As we are told time and time again in the next hour or so, “he ain’t like that no more”.

Over in Big Whiskey, Wyoming (what a great name) two cowboys were having some fun with the local whores when one of the young ladies giggles at the size of the teeny gun one of the fellas is packing. He proceeds to cut up her face in a fit of furious rage, and we now have the fuel that drives the rest of the film. Strawberry Alice (a ferocious Frances Fisher) convinces the rest of the whores to combine their savings to hire assassins to kill the two men who cut up poor Deliliah (a thoroughly underrated Anna Levine. I can watch The Crow just for her scenes especially when the Crow tells her that “Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children”. Her reactions were fantastic. Plus she has big cans).

Soon, The Schofield Kid (James Woolvett) comes looking for Will to help him out with the dastardly deed. His uncle had told him stories of Will’s past deeds and told him that he was the meanest son of a bitch he had ever met. Will joins up with the Kid, after convincing Ned Logan (Morgan Freeman), one of his former partners in crime, to accompany them. The town’s Sheriff is Little Bill Daggett (Gene Hackman), a former gunfighter himself who keeps the peace at any cost. The interplay between Bill and those entering his town to break the law drives much of the action for the rest of the film.

But action isn’t really what Unforgiven is all about. It’s about deconstructing some of the myths of the Old West that had previously been portrayed on the silver screen. In some cases by Eastwood himself. The Kid turns out to be a naïve young man who is star-struck at the thought of becoming one of the famous gunfighters that his uncle had told him tales about. When he finally sees how low and dirty the job of killing a man actually is (wonderfully represented by a killing in an outhouse), he finds he doesn’t have the stomach for it.

My favorite character in the film is W.W. Beauchamp (Saul Rubinek), a writer and chronicler of the Old West who has come to town with English Bob (Richard Harris). Bob has heard the tale of the whore’s gold and he has come to town to collect. Before he has a chance at contacting Alice, he is confronted by Bill who, in turn, proceeds to kick the living crap out of him. Beauchamp learns from Bill that English Bob is not the legendary gunslinger of yore, but a drunken coward who is lucky to still be alive.

Two tales are examined here. The Kid wants to know about something his uncle had told him about an incident in Lexington County where Will had killed two deputies who had come to arrest him with guns drawn. Beauchamp wants to know the real story behind the killing of a man named Corcoran by English Bob at the Blue Bottle Saloon. Will won’t or can’t comment on it as he insists he doesn’t remember what happened, although we find out from Ned that there most likely were more deputies than just two. Little Bill is only too happy to let Beauchamp know that Corcoran had done little to deserve being shot by English Bob, and in fact was unarmed at the time of his death because his weapon had backfired.

What is truth? What is myth? These are the answers Eastwood is searching for. Through the outsider’s eyes of Beauchamp, the moviegoer sees the transition from the deception of English Bob to the brutality of Little Bill and finally to the resignation and determination of Will Munny. Where is the honor in any of it? Was there any honor at all? Will Munny was a man just like any other man, he feels. His demons overcame his better angels in his younger days before his wife saved him. It’s only after the vicious and unreasonable killing of his best friend that we see those demons again. But it isn’t legendary skills with guns that lead to his success. It’s determination and luck. Will tells Beauchamp at the end of the film that he’s “always been lucky when it comes to killing folks.”

Will has no hope for redemption. He knows that he can never be forgiven for the things he has done even though he has done the best he could do to change the kind of man he is. When Little Bill utters his last words and tells Will that he will see him in Hell, all Will can do is accept it and respond with a soft-spoken “Yeah” before ending Bill’s life.

Friends often ask me what my favorite movie is. I usually respond that I love so many movies that it would be impossible for me to settle on just one. Every time I see Unforgiven, it becomes easier and easier for me to finally and truthfully answer.

“I guess they had it coming.” – Schofield Kid

“We all have it coming, kid.” – Will Munny

A Little T & A

By B.E. Earl

06/10/2006 8:11 AM EST

Hey kids! Sorry to disappoint, but the titular (hehe) T & A don't stand for what you were all hoping for. Nope, here to talk a little more about "T"equila and "A"ction movies.

First off, apologies to Elizabeth. I felt the need to correct her mis-spelling (did I just mis-spell that?) of mezcal on the feedback section of her site. I've explained that correcting folks is really the only chink in an otherwise glorious armor for me. It's a bad habit and I've got to work on it. To make things worse, it turns out that I was wrong to correct her! It can be spelled either way. Mescal or Mezcal. Unlike Liza, because it's Liza with a "z", not Lisa with an "s", because Lisa with an "s" goes "sss", not "zzz".

That being said, I was just going to share with you a little bit about the differences between tequila and mezcal. Because I'm an ass that way.

Tequila, while technically a type of mezcal, is only made from one varietal of agave. The agave tequilana Weber, blue variety or just what we gringos call the blue agave.

Mezcal can be made from any of five varietals of agave, with the most common one being espadin.

They are also distilled differently. Tequila is distilled at least twice while mezcal is distilled only once...giving it a harsher flavor. The agave hearts for tequila are either baked or steamed in above-ground ovens, while they are baked underground over charcoal and covered with palm leaves for mezcal. That's why you may taste a smoky flavor when you are enjoying your mezcal.

If you have never seen what an agave plant looks like, they are similar in appearance to cacti, but they are actually a succulent...like aloe. And they are HUGE! For some reason, I had always assumed they were about the size of a volleyball, but they are bigger than bean bag chairs. Really, really big bean bag chairs.

As for the action movie portion of our program, I was watching The Last Boy Scout the other day when I realized that this is where the evil started for Bruce Willis. Lemme 'splain. I love his films. I especially love when he steps out of character as he did in The Sixth Sense and Unbreakable. Great stuff.

What is that character that he gets to step out of occassionally? Why it's the character he first played in The Last Boy Scout. The former law enforcement type with the heart of gold who has witnessed or experienced some tragedy that has changed him into a world-weary, alcoholic private detective type. You know, the character that he played in Striking Distance or Die Hard: With a Vengeance or Mercury Rising or The Fifth Element or even Hostage and Sin City, to certain degrees.

Al of these films are a bit different, but the Willis character is pretty much the same. I guess John Wayne made a pretty fine living by just playing the Duke during his film career, but I never realized how often Willis has played this guy. The exact details are never the same, but you get the picture.

I wonder if there is a team of monkeys some place in Hollywood behind a door marked "Bruce Willis scripts" just banging away on keyboards. Does Willis even read these scripts or does his agent just sign him up and tell him that he's "you know, playing that guy again?"

That being said, I'm glad to see that John McClane will be back for one more outing as Die Hard 4 is currently in pre-production. Hopefully we will find out that he has gotten back together with his wife or that he has moved on since the last film. We need a little more of the wise-cracking hero we saw in the first two films and a little less of the world-weary alcoholic we saw in the third (and sooo many others!).

I Knew Someone Was Reading

By B.E. Earl

05/12/2006 11:00 PM EST

Hey kids! Earl here again, while Slyde is vacationing. There is a new show on CBS that I've become a fan of in recent days. It's called How I Met Your Mother and I started watching because I've had this little crush on Alyson Hannigan ever since I started watching Buffy a few years back. It's a harmless bit o' fluffy TV sitcom made watchable mostly by the hilarious turn of Neil Patrick Harris as the suited-up Barney. Funny stuff.

But check out this fishy bit o' dialogue that was used in this past week's episode. The main character, Ted, is bemoaning the fact that he is single because he is too picky with women. He wants the perfect woman, and he goes into deep detail about the type of woman she is. He finishes it up with the following:

Ted: "And she plays bass guitar like Kim Deal from The Pixies."
Marshall: "Or Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth."
Ted: "Any Kim from any cool band, really. Cant' be too picky."

Whoa, whoa, whoa...doesn't that sound a little familiar? Let me refresh your memory from a post of mine back on March 31, 2006. The topic was Sonic Youth and Pauley Perrette , but I originally started the whole thing by talking about Kim Director when I wrote this:

B.E. Earl: "Some of my favorite all-time women have been named “Kim”. Kim Deal from The Pixies, Kim Gordon from Sonic Youth, and I could go on."

Am I being ripped off here by the writers of a major TV show? What the hell! Where is my royalty check?

Actually, the chances that anyone who was a fan of that type of music back in the day were probably fans of both The Pixies and Sonic Youth, and if they were male they most likely had a bit of a thing for the aforementioned Kims. Still, I thought it funny and weird enough to write in about.

If you haven't seen the show, you should give it a chance. The five main leads spend most of their time in a bar getting drunk and hooking up (or trying to hook up) just like most of the twenty-somethings that I have ever known. Certainly a lot more believable than hanging out on a couch in a coffee bar all day and night long. I mean who has "Friends" like that?

Cinco de Awesome!

By B.E. Earl

05/03/2006 4:15 PM EST

Hola, ¡cabritos! As you may (or may not) know by now, I have a fondness for the holidays. Not so much Christmas, Independence Day or Thanksgiving Day, but the holidays that are a bit more fun and have a whole lot more to do with drinking. I’ve already posted about Halloween and St. Patrick’s Day, so I thought it would be fun to muse on the fun that is Cinco de Mayo.

First off, some history. The 5th of May is not Mexican Independence Day, as many people here in the US believe. Mexico declared its’ independence from Spain on September 15th of 1810. May 5th celebrates the victory of the Mexican army over the French (and certain Mexican traitors) on the morning of May 5th, 1862. You see, the French had come to Mexico along with English and Spanish troops to collect on certain debts from the Mexican government. England and Spain soon made deals and left. The French, however, decided to stick around and take over Mexico while the United States was in the midst of a Civil War. 4,000 loyal Mexican soldiers decided otherwise and trounced the French Foreign Legion. Some even believe that this battle assisted the Union in beating the Confederates in our own Civil War since Napoleon III was unable to supply the confederate rebels for the better part of the next year. Good stuff!

What does this have to do with my enjoyment of Cinco de Mayo? Nada! It’s all about tequila and chili for me! So, I’ve decided to give you my top five list of tequilas and my personal recipe for kick-ass chili. Let’s start with tequila shall we.

Tequila has become very popular here in the States over the past 10-15 years. So much so that there are now bars and restaurants that specialize in offering anywhere from 30-100 different types of tequila. Those places are awesome! Tequila is made from fermenting and distilling the sap of the blue agave plant (a succulent, not a cactus). You may have heard that tequila is a type of mezcal, which is true. All tequilas are a form of mezcal, but not all mezcals are tequilas. Got it? Alright, never mind. I could talk for hours about tequila, but I won’t bore you with the details. On to the list:

5. Cazadores (Reposado) – This unassuming bottle with the stag head label is just one fantastic tequila! Kentucky oak barrels are used to age the tequila giving it its’ rich, golden color. Drink it neat or on the rocks. Yummy!

4. Sauza Tres Generaciones (Anejo) – Featured prominently in Kill Bill 2, this simple, underpriced anejo is aged upwards of six years in small oak barrels. Very clean and smooth. My favorite to drink on the rocks with a twist of lime. Wanna have me some right now!

3. Don Eduardo (Silver) – Awesomely harsh tequila taste, and I mean that as a compliment. Maybe even a bit peppery, to me at least. Don Eduardo also makes a fine Anejo, but this is my favorite non-aged tequila around. Great as a shot, on the rocks or in a fantastic margarita!

2. Corazon (Reposado) – What a great bottle, and the tequila in it doesn’t disappoint. Aged in Canadian oak barrels, this is one damn fine sipping tequila. It also comes in a Silver and Anejo, but I like the taste of the Reposado the best.

1. Jose Cuervo Reserva de la Familia (Anejo) – I almost left this one off the list because it is so aged, so smooth that it almost doesn’t taste like tequila at all. Drink this one in a warm snifter and enjoy with your best friends. It’s like a little bit of heaven right there in a bottle.

I could have gone on and on about tequila, but I wanted to quickly get to my recipe for chili, so here goes:

Ingredients
1 ½ pounds ground sirloin
1 pound ground Italian sausage (sweet or hot)
1 large can peeled Italian tomatoes (not sure of the size, but the big can)
1 small can tomato paste (not sure of the size, but the smallest one)
1 bottle beer (user’s choice)
2-3 red, orange or yellow peppers diced (I like to mix it up for the colors)
2 green peppers diced
2 large onions diced
6 celery stalks diced
I large handful of jalepeno or similarly spicy peppers seeded and diced.
2 ½ tblspns ground chili powder
1 tblspn ground cayenne pepper powder
1 tblspn ground cumin
1 tblspn salt

- Add tomatoes (you can slice them up if you prefer, but include all the juice in the can), tomato paste, beer and spices to large pot on low-medium heat.

- Brown beef and sausage in large pan. Drain and add to pot.

- Sauté onions, celery and peppers in a little vegetable oil until onions are a little translucent. Add to pot.

- Bring to a slow boil and reduce heat to low. Simmer for 4-5 hours (or until the tomatoes break down) covered, stirring occasionally.

- Serve with sour cream, grated cheddar or Monterey jack cheese, tortilla chips and hot sauce for an additional kick.

As you can see, I do not put beans in my chili. I prefer just the veggies and the meat, but feel free to add some small red or black beans to the mix. Do so according to the directions on the bean packet, but then it won’t be MY chili recipe, now will it?

Enjoy Cinco de Mayo everyone!

Extra Innings

By B.E. Earl

04/05/2006 10:21 PM EST

Yowza, yowza, yowza! Thought I would expand on my last Sonic Youth/Pauley Perrette post with a couple of odds and ends regarding both.

The radio station that I heard Sonic Youth on a few weeks back was something called the Radio X Underground Network here on Long Island. It can be heard on 94.7, 94.9 and 104.5 on your FM radio dial just about anywhere in Suffolk County. Unfortunately the signal is pretty weak in my hometown of Huntington, but hopefully they will correct that someday. Their tagline is “transmitting from the top of a really big tree in Ridge”. So they will never be confused with the old K-Rock. They play a healthy dose of alternative music that is currently missing from the rest of NYC/LI metropolitan area. Besides WFUV (90.7FM), it is the only radio station that I really listen to.

What I didn’t mention in my last post about hearing “Titanium Expose” on Radio X is that I had never heard it on the radio…ever! It’s the last song on Sonic Youth’s “Goo” album, and at almost seven minutes long it is not what you would call radio-friendly. The only thing I could think of was that it was on the soundtrack of Pump Up the Volume, a 1990 film featuring Christian Slater as a teenaged underground radio DJ. Then I became really sad because I knew it was on the soundtrack of that mostly forgettable film.

You see, my obscure film trivia knowledge is the biggest factor in my not leading a fuller, more important life. I’ve been known to say that the portion of the brain most people use to lead a normal life is filled with utter nonsense about movies in my brain. Anyway, back to our story.

I started to hear more references to Pump Up the Volume on this radio station on a daily basis. They play an audio clip from it between songs. “Are you listening…are you out there?” or something like that. They also played Concrete Blonde’s version of Leonard Cohen’s “Everybody Knows” which was also on the soundtrack. Maybe they feel they have a kindred spirit in the character that Christian Slater plays. Who knows?

Now, I own the soundtrack. It’s great! It’s got Ivan Neville, The Pixies, Liquid Jesus, Cowboy Junkies, Beastie Boys and Bad Brains performing with Henry Rollins! All great stuff! I just think that it is a little weird for a new and developing radio station to have a soundtrack from an obscure movie made 16 years ago on its playlist. Weird, but I love it! I may be the only person listening who loves it, and at 39 I’m probably not the demographic that they were looking for, but so be it. Talk hard! Steal the air!

As for the lovely Pauley Perrette , you can read an interview with her in the current issue of Risen magazine that is on newsstands now. That is, if you are able to find it. I went to Barnes & Noble to see if they had it, but nay…they didn’t even carry the title. Then I went to Tower Records and an extremely helpful sales clerk informed me that they carry it in the Music section and even spent five minutes or so trying to help me find it in vain. I thanked him and continued to peruse the magazine racks because I wasn’t quite sure if it was actually a Music-type magazine. Just about to give up, I found it on the bottom rack next to a Heavy Metal magazine and a video game rag.

After reading it, I’m not sure how to classify it. They feature interviews with will.i.am from The Black Eyed Peas, Anne Rice, Danny Trejo (how cool is that?) and Pauley Perrette. I guess you can say that they feature artists from all mediums, but there is a great focus on spiritualism and religion in each interview. Maybe I should have gleaned from the title (the sub-title is “it’s not what you think.”), but I just wasn’t sure. Either way, it is an intelligent and totally different type of magazine that strays far away from the normal interview fare. You gotta love a magazine that will ask the hard questions like “Where do you see yourself in 10,000 years?”

You can check out Risen magazine at www.risenmagazine.com, if that kind of thing floats your boat. It comes with my personal seal of approval. Yeah, I know…that and $3.60 will get you a double tall vanilla latte at Starbucks. Sigh.