Back from the Slayer show at the Tweeter Center, my first and possibly only stop there this summer. The Tweeter Center's been my home away from home these past 3 summers, but no longer. Tonight's Slayer show might be my first and last appearance at Camden's big house.
Also on the agenda of firsts and lasts is taking a camera to a metal show. Shit. I can't mix it up properly in the pit if I'm constantly worried about breaking the camera in my pocket. What was that Fight Club quote? The things you own end up owning you?
Got some excellent shots tonight, but also got a few clunkers like the one at the top of the page and the following.
This is a hat worn by the girl in front of me. For some reason, my camera switched from instant snapshot to a 5-second delay mode. I thought I was taking a picture of Children of Bodom, but instead I got this camouflaged chapeau. I feel a bit like the Greatest American Hero--I lost the instruction manual to this camera, and I have no idea how to use its power. Sometimes it's great (Lollapalooza 2005), other times the pictures are as shitty as my high school photo class snapshots (which I tended to solarize to compensate for my declining vision). Not sure why a digital camera is taking blurry pictures. Maybe the metal was just too fuckin' fast.
A review of this show will may appear as Blistered in the Sun in next Thursday's City Paper.
Speaking of the City Paper, I managed to escape the notice and ire of Philebrity this week when they named names of CP staffers with blogs. Probably because this fucking blog is updated once a decade and only read by my mom (Hi Mom). Nonetheless, Pat Rapa hit the nail on the head when he called Philebrity on the whole blogger complains about other blogs bullshit. I'm guilty of it. Coincidentally, I have a picture of myself sitting in the clog featured on the Philebrity post. I'm a tourist.
SLAYER!!!!!
Friday, June 16, 2006
SLAYER!!!
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Happy Slayer Day!
Today is the National Day of Slayer!
I'm sure there were other metal bands that considered releasing an album today in an attempt to beef up their evil fan base (at least the ones quickly parted from their money), but Slayer went ahead and took the bull by the horns and declared a national holiday in their own honor. Any word on how the Prince of Darkness feels about being usurped?
Additional listening if you don't have any Slayer in your collection or if the 35-minute Reign in Blood gets worn out before its 48th playing at midnight.
Danzig: His whole solo catalog
Iron Maiden: The Number of the Beast
White Zombie: La Sexorcisto: Devil Music, Vol. 1
Marilyn Manson: Antichrist Superstar
AC/DC: Highway to Hell
The Charlie Daniels Band: "Devil Went Down to Georgia"
The Rolling Stones: "Sympathy for the Devil"
Ice Cube: "Horny Lil' Devil" (not about Satan, per se, but Cube's new album drops today)
The Mountain Goats: "The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton" (for a little perspective on these bands and the kids who listen to them)
Avoid Stryper's To Hell With the Devil at all costs today.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
How Can Rock So Right Be So Wrong?
The New York Times ran an article on the National Review’s list of the Top 50 Conservative Rock songs. At Number 1 is the Who’s “Won’t Get Fooled Again.” Personally, I don’t give a fuck about the politics behind this classic song (although it reignites the debate between the artist’s intended message vs. the message interpreted by the audience), but the article was an eye opener. According to the National Review conservatives embrace the sad identity of “disillusioned revolutionaries” ready to conform to society. What a bunch of quitters. “Meet the new boss / Same as the old boss.” New or old, the boss is still an asshole. I always thought conservatives were assholes, but I didn’t know they were proud of that distinction.
Domestic spying and wiretapping are conservative values, right? The list includes "Sweet Home Alabama," which defends the Watergate break-ins, so why aren’t “Private Eyes” and “Every Breath You Take” on this list? If conservatives hate a "nanny state" so much, why are they monitoring American citizens like babies?
Seriously, I feel bad for a group that claims Sammy Hagar for their own.
*The New York Times articles are only free for a couple more days, and the original list at the National Review will cost you, but you can still read one entry for free (for a short time).
SEPTA Run by Vampires
"There's no debate, it's called gravy not blood, I mean pasta sauce." Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula shills for SEPTA and drives the Night Owl bus.
I've long suspected that SEPTA was run by a bunch of belligerant, know nothing know-it-alls bleeding this city dry, but who knew they hired actual vampires. Their "Genuine Philly" ad campaign can be neatly broken down into three categories: food, fightin' words, and ignorance.
Goodwill Rescinded
Not sure if this is a case of SEPTA biting the hand that feeds or whether I gave them enough rope to hang themselves. Either way, all bets are off and SEPTA can fuck off.
After praising SEPTA for their handling of the 15th Street shutdown a couple weeks ago, I was confronted with the ugly face (literally) of SEPTA on Friday. As SEPTA employees were mopping the floor at the 8th Street station I walked through the wet area. One mopper said, "It's wet, are you stupid?" The whole damned station was wet, and I remarked, "It's wet everywhere, jackass." This drew a chorus of heckling from his fellow employees, "It's wet everywhere. It's raining, it's raining." Never try to match wits with a SEPTA mopper.
Mopping the floor of a SEPTA station isn't exactly buffing the marble floor at Versailles, and in my defense I probably subconsciously walked on the freshly mopped area because it was just slightly less urine soaked than the rest of the station.
Mystery solved
A while back I reported on a trash play pen at 34th and Market that had been there for over a year. On Tuesday, there was a SEPTA truck parked next to this eyesore and by the afternoon it had been cleared away. It only took them a year to clean up their mess, but SEPTA got there...eventually.
Monday, May 22, 2006
No Iron Maidens from Philly?
Philadelphia ladies of metal, Bloody Knee Jerk still loves you, even if Ozzfest doesn't.
I can't decide if it's good or bad that the Search for Miss Ozzfest contest is skipping Philadelphia (or Camden) on August 4. It's a given that this contest is sexist and probably involves catcalls from meatheads; however, there are many attractive ladies of metal in Philadelphia deserving of attention. I suppose they could drive to Scranton, if they really want to be objectified.
For Ozzy, there will only be one true Iron Maiden.
Monday, May 15, 2006
No Amnesty for Superman!
President Bush's speech tonight on immigration neglected to mention a red-and-blue-tighted illegal immigrant who has been operating in the United States for decades.
Superman may have saved this country countless times since 1938, but that doesn't mean he should be granted immediate citizenship. That is amnesty, and it is "unfair to those who are here lawfully." It doesn't matter that he escaped from a planet that was about to explode, Superman became an illegal alien the moment his spaceship crash landed in Smallville, Kansas, U.S.A.
According to Bush's plan, Superman "will have to wait in line behind those who played by the rules and followed the law." Why should this alien who has been saving this country singlehandedly for almost 80 years become a citizen before an illegal alien who served in the U.S. Marine Corps for 26 years? When Bush talks about "jobs Americans are not doing," he means joining the military, cleaning toilets, and saving the Earth from Terrance Stamp.
Under Bush's proposed temporary worker program, Superman will be allowed to save our country from meteorites legally for "a limited period of time" and then go back to his Fortress of Solitude at the North Pole. With the new temporary work program in place, employers will have no excuse for hiring illegal immigrants, and finally Bush will be in a position to prosecute Perry White, editor of that liberal rag The Daily Planet for hiring a "Clark Kent."
Until his work permit comes through, Superman will be held in the brand new detention center Bush plans to build on the moon to hold illegal space aliens. Sure there's no air on the moon, but according to our president if illegal aliens "walk across miles of desert in the summer heat," they'll certainly volunteer to go work on a lifeless rock. Let's hope the temporary work permits run out before the air supply.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Shortest Time to Extinction Ever!
The coolest thing since the liger.
50% polar bear + 50% grizzly bear = 100% awesome.
Also 100% dead because someone shot it.
It went from mythical creature to endangered species to extinction in the span of an afternoon.
Looks like 2 Live Crew were on to something in 1989.
Mama Bear and Papa Bear went for a walk through the forest
Mama Bear asked Papa Bear could he eat her porridge
Papa Bear said 'shit bitch, you must think I'm sick
Just get down here, on your knees
And suck this badass dick'
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Why Inquirer, Why?
Another "liberal rag" bites the dust.
Today's Philadelphia Inquirer ran a picture of a Ku Klux Klan member on page A6. That's it, just a picture and a caption. There's no story accompanying the picture (taken at an anti-immigration rally), so why is it being printed?
I know the Philadelphia Inquirer is cutting staff and enlarging its font size to fill the blank space, but now they are resorting to running wire service photos of the Klan from the Birmingham News?? WTF? The Klan's ignorance and racism are protected under the First Amendment, but why are they being publicized?
What is the story here? The Klan is still active in Alabama? Well no shit. Why is the Philadelphia Inquirer advertising this fact? Protecting free speech, even for racist assholes, is safer than outlawing these beliefs and letting them fester like a cancer. There is no need to advertise for these groups.
Earlier in the week MSN.com reported on the Spanish version of the "Star Spangled Banner":
Outrage over what's being called "The Illegal Alien Anthem" is already building in the blogosphere and among conservative commentators.Leave it to the Right-Wingers to insist on a unilingual country. Is there any form of tolerance, understanding, compassion, or integration that they won't shit on?
A lesson in synonyms and alliteration: Right Wing = Republican = Racist.
Addendum: 10:15 pm, May 7, 2006
After a conversation with a friend and some reflection, maybe the Inquirer was trying to make the subtle point that everyone protesting immigration is racist and the Klan is the face of that protest. Perhaps. I don't do subtlety well, and I probably wouldn't know subtlety if it hit me over the head.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Rage Against the Mundane
Perhaps it's telling that it took NPR and a Neil Young album for me to finally finish this stupid entry about the dearth of protest music in an era ripe for protest. This isn’t exactly Under the Rock, which is consistently well written and backed up by research. No, this is more akin to Smash Your Head On the (Punk) Rock: messy and haphazard with only a single source on the reference, excuse me, works cited page.
The Goats reunion show at the Khyber in January reminded me how sorely the music scene needs a dissenting voice in the current political climate.
Where have you gone Zack De La Rocha?
A nation turns its angry eyes to you.
This could be Rage Against the Machine's finest moment. So where the fuck are they? It's like Superman II all over again; 3 super villains are running the country (Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld), trampling civil liberties, and there's no one to champion the people.*
Zack disappeared after 1999's Battle of Los Angeles, but the seeds of his reclusion were planted in 1995 when the Smashing Pumpkins released their anthem to defeatism, "Bullet with Butterfly Wings." The kids were angry, the colleges were a hotbed for a slacker revolution, and then, like a wet blanket, Billy Corgan screams, "Despite all my rage, I'm still just a rat in a cage!"
With one catchy chorus he took the wind out of countless angst-ridden sails and thousands of kids walked the plank into conformity, and corporate America breathed a sigh of relief. Being angry and doing something didn't mean shit, so it was off to haircuts, dead-end 9-to-5 jobs, and Starbucks-style homogenization.**
After unknowingly being used as a corporate schill, Corgan's band fell apart, his solo album sucked, and he bought an ad (on the day he released his shitty solo album) admitting he sucked and wishing he could take it all back. Too bad, pumpkin, the damage has been done.
Who's taken up the fight? System of a Down? Pretenders to the throne. Ministry? They're still fighting the good fight, but their influence has always been limited (they never packed arenas the way RATM did), and their recent efforts have been sub-par.
Damn it's great to have the Goats back.
Donde es la rock?***
Maybe it's better that Zack burned out instead of turning into Audioslave.
The current breed of hybrid supergroups have left everything good about Soundgarden, Rage Against the Machine, Guns-N-Roses, and even Stone Temple Pilots behind when they formed. Absolute crap from Velvet Revolver, Audioslave, and the re-formed Guns-N-Roses (3 songs from the forthcoming Chinese Democracy were leaked earlier this year, and they suck).
*I originally had DeLay in there when I started this entry.
**OK, I'm oversimplifying the situation. Most of the frat guys and meatheads listening to Rage Against the Machine were destined for conformity anyway.
***I use "ser" (the permanent form of "to be") because I don't think the lack of rock is a temporary situation. These bands eat ass. In the halls of supergroups, they're not Cream.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
Juicy, Junior, Real Juicy
Woke up this morning with a swollen uvula, which prompted a trip to the Emergency Room. The damn thing felt like a golf ball on the back of my tongue simultaneously blocking my windpipe while also triggering a gag reflex.
This is the second time my uvula's tried to kill me. The first was about 4 years ago when I had an allergic reaction to Foster's beer (Australian for death).* Unlike that trip to the ER, I wasn't admitted to the hospital today. After an IV,** a dose of steroids, and a prescription for more steroids, my uvula shrank enough that I could swallow water, and I was discharged. Look for me to hit supernatural 500-ft home-runs and tarnish the national pastime this week. Juicing!
*I think I've made that joke about a thousand times, probably on this blog somewhere.
**Speaking of IV (as in the number 4), there's something about a fourth album that causes bands to ditch creative titles. Godsmack, whose album titles really aren't that creative to begin with, becomes the latest band to title their fourth album "four" (even though All Music Guide lists IV as their sixth record--that's a lot of mediocrity). Other bands taking off for the fourth: Cypress Hill, Stone Temple Pilots, Led Zeppelin (not really slacking as their first 4 albums were numbered), Seal, Blues Traveler, etc. While Coheed and Cambria's Good Apollo, I'm Burning Star IV sports a large "IV" on the cover, it is their third official release. 10-4, good buddies.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Mixed Bag
Holy Shit! Kudos to SEPTA for their handling of the closure of 15th Street station due to a fire earlier today. Riders who normally disembark at 15th for the free transfer to the Broad Street Line were forced off at 13th Street where they were greeted by SEPTA employees at EVERY turnstile and exit directing them to the free Orange Line interchange. I admit to being hard on SEPTA (deservedly so, I think), but they handled this situation well.
Earlier this month disgruntled Phillies fans showed restraint when SEPTA distributed chocolate "tokens" to riders taking the subway to the Phillies home opener. It's OK to take candy from strangers if they're wearing a SEPTA smock. As far as I know, no one jammed a "token" into the turnstile even though they were marked "Good for One Fare." Perhaps they recognized that the gesture would have missed its mark: the employee who would have had to clean out the slot wouldn't have been a SEPTA manager or policy maker.
On the down side, this eye sore has been blocking the subway entrance at 34th and Market for more than a year with no sign of any progress or work taking place. It has essentially become a trash playpen for broken beer bottles, crushed cans, a sneaker (left foot, size 11), and various debris.
This week it's become a cup holder. 
There are no signs indicating who's to blame for this fiasco, but inquiries are being made.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Didn't I Just Blow Your Mind, Again (Aussie Edition)
Following up on my last post, I received the same chain e-mail about the time and date aligning to 01:02:03 04/05/06 from an Australian friend with British spelling and a minor change. Down under (and pretty much everywhere that isn't the United States) the date is written day/month/year. So, if you slept through the aligning of the stars in the U.S. on April 5th, head to some other country to catch the "momentous event" on May 4th.
Thursday the 4th of May , at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06.
Everybody say, "huh, that's kind of interesting" and go back to sleep. 01:02:03 04/05/06 is the new 4:20.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Didn't I Just Blow Your Mind?
On Wednesday of this week, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in the morning, the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06.
That won't ever happen again.
The tidbit above came from a chain e-mail my aunt forwarded to me. Obviously the creator of the e-mail (presumably not my aunt) is short sighted. Unless he/she is privy to some end-of-the-world cataclysmic information, the time and date will be 01:02:03 04/05/06 again in 3006, 4006, 5006, etc. Maybe the author meant to write "That won't ever happen again in your lifetime."
Monday, April 03, 2006
Play Ball!
It's Opening Day 2006, and the St. Louis Cardinals are in town for their only visit of the season. I miss the days when the Cards would match up against the Phils and Mets for more than two series. Those rivalries produced some great baseball (particularly Cards vs. Mets), but I guess the geniuses at MLB thinks interleague games against the Tampa Bay Devil Rays are more exciting. Enough on that though, it's a new season and the Phillies have a new slogan...the Cardinals old slogan: Red Means Go! Real original, Philadelphia. The Cards retired that slogan in 2006 (it served them well the past 3 seasons) in favor of a slogan that touts the new Busch Stadium: Welcome to Baseball Heaven. There's no way the Phils could ever claim that slogan for their own.
I am off to the game this afternoon to duck beer bottles thrown at my head, and to watch the reigning Cy Young Award winner (Chris Carpenter) and National League MVP (Albert Pujols) square off against the 2005 NL Rookie of the Year (Ryan Howard). Can some baseball guru tell me when (or if) that has happened before in an Opening Day game? Let the Ryan Howard trade rumors begin (a la Schmidt, Schilling, Rolen, Burrell, Abreu).* The Sillies Phuck!**
Go Cardinals!
*The Cardinals already have a pretty good 1st baseman, but Abreu in the outfield would be sweet, and it sounded like a distinct possibility for the Redbirds to make the move this past off-season. Even if Abreu’s best days are behind him (as many so-called experts claim), he’s still a dynamic player with sound defensive skills and a good bat. But if the Phillies faithful would rather have another Bud Smith, I’m sure the Cardinals can find one in their system. Actually, to be fair to Bud Smith, he did throw a no-hitter as a Redbird, and it was pretty damned exciting to watch (on TV). Not sure why the Philadelphia dis-Cards are still listing David Bell as the starting 3rd baseman when they have Abraham Nunez (Nunez is listed third on the depth chart behind Bell and Alex Gonzalez).
**Maybe it was carrying a sign with that phrase into Veterans Stadium that prompted the beer bottle thrown at my brother's head a few years back.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Spinto Band
The Spinto Band kazoo. My lousy picture does not do it justice. How on Earth a digital camera took an out-of-focus picture, I will never know.
Before going into a long-winded entry, let me skip to the chase: See the Spinto Band at the TLA tonight!
As one who knows and loves free swag, the Spinto Band kazoos chucked into the Starlight Ballroom audience on Sunday night (3/26/06) rank among the best. Sadly, I was not in position to snatch one from the air. Worse, the uber-hipsters who were able to make the grab, pocketed them and didn’t play along during “Brown Boxes”. Shit.
Too little, too late I paid a buck for a Spinto kazoo at the merchandise stand, so I am ready* for their TLA show on Thursday with National Eye and The Teeth (couldn’t find the official Teeth website, only lots of information on Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem). I have no qualms about making an ass of myself (and embarrassing those around me), as I did at the Belle and Sebastian/New Pornographers show at the Electric Factory a few weeks ago. Yep, I was “the yelling guy in Philadelphia” (A.C. Newman’s term) shouting for “From Blown Speakers”. I was NOT the dumbass who kept asking, “Where’s Neko”? That dude needs to do his homework before coming to class.
More later.
*Or I thought I was ready. Somehow I managed to pick the one broken kazoo (missing the membrane) out of the whole pile.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Super Drunk 40: Fistful of Steel
Touchdown Steelhawks!
This game was over the moment the Seahawks loped onto the field to "Bittersweet Symphony". Worst entrance music ever. It's the musical equivalent of saying, "We're just happy to be here." For the sake of continuity, the song did inadvertently tie kick-off with the half-time "entertainment" ("Bittersweet Symphony" borrowed from the Rolling Stones' "The Last Time"; lawsuit filed). The choice of music is particularly shameful considering the game was played in Detroit Rock City. There are hundreds of hard rock anthems from the Motor City that would have better fit the bill. Don't tell me the Nuge doesn't like football.
As for the game, obviously the Steelers wanted the victory more: evident by the way Bill Cowher was cradling the Lombardi Trophy like a newborn baby ("You will be called stitch face") in the commercials for the game. It was odd that ABC wasted valuable ad time to run commercials promoting a game already in progress. Were they afraid viewers might tune out or possibly get distracted by the barrage of advertising and forget there was a game being played?
Speaking of commercials (and who doesn't talk about the Super Bowl ads), Fed Ex failed the truth in advertising test (or they're promoting Intelligent Design) by showing cavemen alongside dinosaurs. Beer ads teach us that commercials don't have to be realistic, now Fed Ex demonstrates that they don't have to be historically accurate, either. Que sera.
I am 40 sheets to the wind, but I distinctly remember a piece in the Onion about a razor with 5 blades, and now it's come to fruition.*
*Link added on 2/6 thanks to this piece in Slate Magazine.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Bigger & Denser
So McDonald's got rid of the "Super Size" because the larger portions contributed to obesity. But now they've introduced the Double Quarter Pounder with cheese, and billed them hors d'ouevres (or so the ad campaign goes).
Super Size was at least truth in advertising. If you order a Super-Size meal, you could expect to be super sized. The Double Quarter Pounder is sold under the slogan "Pound One". Last time I checked, two quarter pounds only equal a half pound. McDonald's is encouraging consumers to eat 2 Double Quarter Pounders with their slogan. Super Sizing isn't gone, it's just gotten sneaky.
Read the page on Dr. Cathy Kapica, McDonald's Global Director of Nutrition. Maybe she can explain what "Grill Seasonings" are and why they are so essential to taste that it's worth adding 240 mg of sodium. As if being a "dietitian" with McDonald's simply isn't enough of a joke in itself, she lists her favorite part of the job as getting paid to hang out with Ronald McDonald. Well, when you work in the fictional realm of fast food nutrition, you're bound to make a few fictional friends.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Happy Bloody Birthday!
Today marks the first birthday of Bloody Knee Jerk and the 300th birthday of Ben Franklin, and I'm celebratin' with a delicious American brewed malt beverage served in a luxurious 40 oz glass container. True, I might be drinkin' a 40 even if it weren't such a momentous occasion, but tonight I'm tippin' the first sip to my man, BF.
The Daily News serves up a Franklin quiz that caters to the sub-moronic. They even botch the headline for the piece: "Put your Franlinania to the test". Franklinania? What the hell is that? Is it the state bordering Pennsylvania? Is it supposed to be Franklin mania or Franklin inanity? My suggestion: Test your Franklinsense.
The Philadelphia Inquirer enumerates Franklin's achievements. One in particular caught my eye:
lead the militia that drove hostile Indian tribes from the Lehigh Valley
There's no way to dress that up in political correctness without making Franklin look like an imperialist asshole.
Neither Philadelphia paper speculates how Franklin might feel about the security and inaccessibility of Independence Hall.
"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." -Ben Franklin
Click for more wisdom from the man.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Clap Your Hands Say FUCK NO!
As if "In This Home On Ice" didn't already rip off the Cure's "Just Like Heaven", now Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are taking a cue from Ticketmaster and ripping off concertgoers, and presumably their own fans since the ticket pre-sale is through their website, with inflated service charges.
Pre-sale tickets for the band's March 7th show at the T.L.A. are reasonable ($15), but what is up with the outrageous service and shipping fees?
Tickets (2): $30
Shipping fees: $9
Service fees: $6 ($3 per ticket)
Total: $45
Fuck that. Both tickets could be mailed in an envelope for the price of a 39 cent stamp. What is this 9-dollar horseshit?
Are fans supposed to feel OK about a 50% markup because the money goes to a indie rock band and not an evil corporation? No way. It's the principle, not the money. Fuck 'em.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Friday Fluff Piece
There goes the neighborhood. BKJ's reporting on celebrity gossip.
David Hasselhoff filed for divorce from his wife of 16 years. The Baywatch star cited irreconcilable differences, but I suspect that's just a cover for the love affair with Germany he's enjoyed for so long.
Taking cues from Snoop Dogg and 50 Cent, Axl Rose is suing a car dealership--but this time it's not Gary Barbera. A car dealership in L.A. has incurred the pint-sized wrath of the rocker-turned-recluse for reportedly failing to deliver two luxury sportscars. The lawsuit filed by Rose doesn't explain how Rose, who hasn't completed an album in over a decade, is able to afford these cars, nor does it answer when or if Rose will ever finish Chinese Democracy.
It's Friday the 13th. Go see The Goats reunion show at the Khyber.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Bruuuuuuuuce!
Bruce Sutter’s going into the Hall of Fame…as a Cardinal.
Look at that beard! It's going to look great on the HOF plaque and the statue outside of Busch Stadium.
The slug for the story on the Cardinals web site says it all: Reliever also played for Cubs and Braves in career. I love the use of “also” in that sentence, as if the Cubs and Braves are mere afterthoughts. Sutter may have won a Cy Young award as a Cub in 1979, but he got his World Series ring as a Redbird.
It wasn't all joy in Mudville on Wednesday, however. Cardinals great Willie McGee did not get enough votes to remain on the Hall of Fame ballot. McGee was a two-time batting champ (1985, 1990), four-time All Star, the National League MVP in 1985, and helped the Cardinals win the World Series in 1982. Sadly, he will not be joining teammates Sutter and Ozzie Smith in Cooperstown.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
I'm Scrooge, Byutch!
The Patrick Stewart remake of Dickens's A Christmas Carol is on TNT. Somehow I can't get into this modern take on the classic. Stewart just turned away a group of men collecting for charity, and while the acting was passable, I expected him to shout, "Don't you know who I am? I'm Scrooge, for fuck's sake! My name is synonymous with stinginess! There's even a Disney character to explain my penny pinching to children. Now get out of here before you feel my cane!"
On cue, the Ghost of Christmas Past has arrived and Stewart asks, "Are you the spirit whose coming was foretold?" Scrooge is lucky this is the olden times or the specter's reply might be a little less cordial, "No, jackass, I'm just some flamboyantly dressed ghost hanging out in your bedroom at the exact hour that that other ghost is supposed to be here."
Someone should update the remake. Or stick to the adaptation.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Adios, Amigo!
Matt Morris's time with the Cardinals has come to an end. After a record of 101-62 with the "birds on the bats" he's moving on. No longer a young man, but still a damned fine pitcher, he's heading west to rejoin Mike Matheny (who always looks stoned) in San Francisco. The Giants offered him $27 million over 3 years (a lot more than the Cardinals could/would spend) to make him their number 2 starter. Even though he was the number 3 starter in St. Louis behind Cy Young winner Chris Carpenter and Mark Mulder, Morris was an undisputed leader of this Cardinals team.
Here's to you, Matty Mo. You'll be missed.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Richard Pryor, R.I.P.
Mr. Pryor, you were a funny motherfucker.
Thank you for making that last sentence possible.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Screw Monday
Well, yesterday was a big disappointment.
The Eagles and the snow failed to show up. The Eagles were completely missing in a 42-0 loss in Philadelphia to the Seattle Seahawks. Damn. The snow at least got on the scoreboard with a puny dusting.
Thankfully, I didn’t see the game until the 4th quarter when I got home from the Islands/Hail Social/A Sides show at the Church.
Hail Social have a legitimate reason to grouse about yesterday: their practice space was broken into. The band announced during their set that they are looking for a new place to play. No word on what, if anything, was stolen. If you can't put them up, help them out by buying their album.
Someone has to know something about these constant practice space break-ins that regularly occur in and around Philly.
WTF: Is "Next Great City" status based on having 30-plus Starbucks? They're fuckin' everywhere. So this is how Philly's been garnering the same kind of hype that Seattle had in the early 1990s. Get your coffee elsewhere.
Sports Wrap-up: New York City now has 2 baseball closers who employ "Enter Sandman" as their theme songs when coming out of the bullpen: Mariano Rivera with the Yankees, of course, and Johnny-Come-Lately Billy Wagner of the Mets.
Will Wagner and the Mets defer to Rivera, the elder Sandman in New York? If both closers keep "Sandman" as their themes, this could make for great tabloid fodder. The Daily News and the Post could carry a "Sandman" tally of saves on the back pages. The "Sandman" duel might even add some interest to the annual inter-league subway series, whose novel appeal is waning (coming soon: my rant that inter-league play is bad for baseball because it dilutes existing rivalries and the new rivalries it purports to create aren’t real because they’re forced).
Wagner is overlooking the obvious (better?) choice of entrance music: Richard Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries". Valkyries is some serious impending doom-type shit. Maybe Billy's trying to be his own man and stop living in Richard's shadow.
My man Izzy's choice of Sevendust on this list leaves me scratching my head, but not as much as Todd Jones' selection.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Happy Thanksgiving!
In honor of the season, I’ve prepared a feast of BKJ to give you food for thought, something to chew on, or turn your stomach. It’s all good, because I’m thankful for anyone reading and ingesting this curdled gravy skin of a blog.
I suppose the first thing I should do is establish the setting of this entry. I’m out in Lancaster County, where 80s hair metal lives forever on the radio, and Bryan Adams and Def Leppard drew the largest crowd of drunken Amish kids ever to Clipper Magazine Stadium.
Up (too) early after a night-before-Thanksgiving bender, my mom has the TV set so she can flip between the parades in New York and Philadelphia with one button.
9:20 Philadelphia/9:25 New York: After the Cookie Monster balloon in Philly it’s Thelma Houston performing on a float with dinosaurs (hooray for evolution, boo for the unintended implication that Houston’s prehistoric). This beats New York’s parade with cast members of “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels” by a mile.
9:26 New York: Sticking with the upscale parade, we have a group of kids singing, dancing, and obviously hamming it up in hopes of being discovered. I can’t believe one of the little brats sang that she’s thankful for her cell phone. I’m thankful my mom changed the channel, and I tell her so.
9:26 Philadelphia: Tony Danza’s hosting the parade, but Kelly Ripa’s on the way. Marching band and pre-recorded Thanksgiving wishes from Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, and The View.
9:30 Philadelphia: Bob the Builder balloon and the Brentwood High School marching band from Tennessee. Dave Roberts just exclaimed the Mrs. Incredible is hot and noticed her curves.
9:38 Philadelphia: Grease. God, I hate that musical. Is it too early for beer?
9:39 New York: Jersey Boys is a minor improvement.
While playing with the dog I lose track of time and space.
?? Philadelphia?: Jailbait cheerleaders performing to “Jailhouse Rock” and “Hound Dog”.
Got my bearings back, but I still don’t know what time it is.
Philadelphia is looking great (on TV). It’s a sunny day and the Cow Jumped Over the Moon balloon is bouncing off the Parkway followed by an Alabama marching band. Civic Pride moment: It’s great to see bands from around the country performing in Philadelphia. Cheers Philly.
Philadelphia: Danza’s departing and the Curious George balloon is deflating. What’s up with all the balloon problems? Oh shit, it's Annie. This little girl's shitty lip syncing has destroyed the illusion of the parade. Boo! I’m outta here.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Revenge of the Sixth!
File this one under old news.
Philly's the Sixth Most Dangerous City in America!*
This claim to fame beats that horseshit about being the "Sixth Borough" any day of the week. Yo New York! You don't have shit on our town with your 4th Safest City ranking. Pussies.
Go Sixers!
*Population of 500,000 or more.
Special thanks to all Camden residents who crossed the Ben Franklin Bridge to boost Philly's rating.
Monday, November 21, 2005
Camden: "We're # 1!"
Camden, NJ: Still the 'Most Dangerous' city in America.
Pop the tops on the Mad Dog 20/20, Camden. You have earned the right to celebrate.
In his concession speech, runner up Detroit's Mayor Kwame M. Kilpatrick spoke graciously, "You have to take your hat off to the city of Camden. They did what was necessary to defend their title."
And what was necessary were sharks. Not resting after their 2004 victory, Camden rechristened the New Jersey State Aquarium Adventure Aquarium and released sharks into the beleaguered waterfront city.
Running for his stripped SUV, one mauled tourist commented, "Holy shit! I thought I had gotten through the worst of it after that mugger shot me and took my wallet, but then a fuckin' shark bit my goddamned arm off!"
Inside Adventure Aquarium it was a party atmosphere.
Amidst a swarm of flipper high fives, one shark noted, "Look, it's simple, if you don't want your frickin' head bit off, don't come to Camden." A tankmate echoed the sentiment, "I live for this shit. All I do is swim and eat and make baby sharks."
Mayor Gwendolyn A. Faison looking relaxed, spoke from behind the 6-inch bulletproof glass surrounding her desk. "It takes a village. I thought Camden's title was in real trouble when they started charging $25 for parking at the Tweeter Center. It turns out my worries were unfounded; they had no intention of investing any of that money into the community."
Owners of the Tweeter Center parking lots were unavailable for comment but released this statement: With the recent announcement that Camden is the most dangerous city in America, we will be raising our parking prices to $30 next summer.
Undaunted by the escalating parking fees, one X-treme sports fanatic was hyped up about his stab wound. "Dude, this town is f'in X-treme! I live for the adrenaline rush!" At press time, at least three travel agencies were putting together X-treme Adventure tours to Camden.
Asked about the possibility of a three-peat, one carjacker was humble, "We’re taking it one season at a time." He added, "It's hard work staying on top with all the parity in the MDC [Most Dangerous City] league. You have to be resourceful. I trust in the mayor though. I mean, who would've predicted sharks. That just takes the cake."
Beaming with pride when told of the compliment, Faison leaned back in her throne, smiled broadly and shouted out the window to a bleeding pedestrian, "Be sure to tell the hospital that Camden sent ya, we have a reputation to maintain."
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Bright Eyes, Dirty Trailer
"I will die for you" is the new "Wash Me"
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Cease and De-Sixth!
How better to celebrate Philadelphia’s music scene than by calling it a New York suburb?
That’s the thinking over at Plain Parade, which just released a compilation of Philadelphia musicians entitled: Songs from the Sixth Borough.
Note to Plain Parade: The title for your Philadelphia comp is just plain awful. For shame. I expect this kind of misrepresentation from Jessica “My Chin Is the 6th Borough” Pressler, but I didn’t think you would market Philadelphia as a New York suburb.
Philebrity clued me in that Pressler’s fucked up, completely inaccurate NY Times article about Philadelphia was referenced on the Gilmore Girls. Who knew that that pile of dog shit would stink so long?
Memo to Ms. Pressler: Stop misrepresenting my town.
Half-assed letter of application to the New York Times: Dear Venerable Establishment of the Main Stream Media: I humbly offer my services to cover Philadelphia without blatant distortion of facts or comparing it to New York at every turn. In my coverage, I won’t sell Philly short in order to promote an agenda of mass exodus from the Big Apple (admit it, Pressler was just a tool in your grand scheme to get people to move out of your city, so you have a little extra sidewalk space). Thanking you in advance for the word and liquor money.
Sincerely, Jesse D’s nuts (take that apostrophe any way you like it).
Am I the only person in Philadelphia who rankles at these constant attempts to ingratiate Philly with New York? Does it not dawn on those who call this town the 6th Borough that they are selling Philadelphia’s independence (and indie rock) short? Oh, I get it. It’s just fun and no one takes it seriously, so I shouldn’t get worked up over it. Maybe I should just have a good time and let a $10 appletini at Glam melt my cares away. Horseshit. The joke isn’t funny anymore (and I’m not convinced it ever was). Philly represent.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
When the Music's Over
I grew up with this band; I remember when they were just "The Lovers". I apologize for that joke. It was the nasty biproduct of the Bigger Lovers' farewell all-you-can-drink concert. When the beer ran out, I sobered up, and had the kind of regrets that Richard Lewis knows only too well. That guy is not funny.
Monday, November 07, 2005
Your Slogan is Tasty and Stupid
In its efforts to protect seals, HSUS (Humane Society of the United States) has come up with an incredibly stupid and profitable slogan: "Club Sandwiches, Not Seals"
HSUS wants you to boycott Canadian seafood until the slaughter of seals ends. There has been no call for an embargo on Canadian bacon. The HSUS doesn't believe humane treatment of animals should apply to delicious animals, and they actually endorse the consumption of pigs (adding bacon magically transforms a sandwich into a club sandwich).
Well, if Paris Hilton sports the slogan, how stupid can it really be?
Strike Out
The SEPTA strike is over and employees are going back to work. For the past 7 days, this town was disabled by a lack of public transportation. In comparison, Chicago’s Transit Authority advertises that 100% of its buses are fully accessible to people with disabilities. That’s an ad campaign to be proud of, and it makes SEPTA’s "This is an Eating Town" ad look like crap.
Maybe something good will come out of this strike. I’m crossing my fingers but not holding my breath—except when going into a subway station. Clean up your act, SEPTA. Start with the Independence Hall stop at 5th Street and branch out from there. That station is a hub of tourist activity and sprucing it up would do wonders for your image. The way these subway stations look and smell is completely unac-SEPTA-ble.
Friday, October 28, 2005
(Buzz) Killing Moon
Consumer Alert: Blue Moon Belgian White is a Coors product.
I took a tour of the Coors Brewery in Golden, Colorado a few years ago and sampled Blue Moon. It pales in comparison to the true Belgian beers (with its measly 5.4% apv), so don't get suckered into paying inflated prices for this swill.
The label says it's brewed by the Blue Moon Brewing Company, and unless you search for information on Blue Moon you're unlikely to know it's a Coors product, which says to me that Coors is trying to attract consumers who look unfavorably on their products. And frankly, if a beer has to be served ice cold to be palatable (as Coors Light is marketed), who wouldn't look unfavorably on it?
Save the Seals
Phillybits has called on bloggers to use the Presidential Seal (pictured far right in honor of this administration) on their web sites, so I consider this entry my civic duty for civil disobedience.
Bush couldn’t give a damn about saving seals (or any other form of wildlife), but damned if his tighty whiteys aren’t in a bunch over the Presidential Seal (sorry for that unpleasant mental image).
The White House’s letter to The Onion for unlicensed use of the Presidential Seal has been widely reported. Personally I think it’s another way of drawing attention away from a leaking Cheney (common in older men according to WebMD).
The article in the New York Times about Bush taking issue with The Onion ends with a comment by White House spokesman Trent Duffy, “"Despite the seriousness of the Bush White House, more than one Bush staffer reads The Onion and enjoys it thoroughly," he said. "We do have a sense of humor, believe it or not." Obviously, Duffy’s sense of humor is not shared by Bush. Expect his termination within the month.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
There's Always Room for Jello...Except Tonight
Check out the dance card for tonight.
Ween at the House of Blues in Atlantic City
Jello Biafra and the Melvins at the First Unitarian Church
Clap Your Hands, Say Yeah! at the TLA
I had a ticket to the Ween show before I found out about Jello and the Melvins. I love Ween (and I can't count the number of times I've seen them), but the Jello/Melvins show is going to be INSANE! Plus, getting to A.C. just isn't as convenient as walking to the F.U.C.
The J/M show is sold out, so if you don't have a ticket go see Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! at the TLA and support Katrina Relief (Philebrity has free CYHSY downloads). Do not be a self-important asshole and show up at the Church thinking you're going to get in. You're not. About a month ago when CYHSY played the Church there was a big "Sold Out" sign in large print hanging outside the venue. Wouldn't you know a bunch of illiterate assholes didn't think the sign applied to them and tried to get in anyway. They were turned away cold, but in the process they blocked the entrance for people with the foresight to buy tickets in advance. They were lucky it was a pacified hipster crowd for CYHSY. Try that shit tonight, and you're going to get your fuckin' clock cleaned.
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Paid in "Full"
I read a long story today.*
Finished Tom Wolfe’s A Man in Full (excellent read—an immense, sprawling slice of Americana in league with DeLillo’s Underworld and Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay) that stretches from coast to coast and cuts across all stratums of society.
Although set primarily in Atlanta, Wolfe’s tale parallels Philadelphia (and probably every city in the U.S.—which may explain its vast appeal; people relate to it) with its shady land development deals, shifty politicians, tarnished sports superstars, and social maneuvering at every level (from intrapersonal to interpersonal). It’s a very cognitive novel. The wheelings and dealings that take place on a city-wide scale reflect the internal/personal decisions and motives of each individual. Man tackles issues of race, power, affluence, wealth, social standing, etc.…with everything tying together in the end as neatly (though not as pleasantly) as John Kennedy O’Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces.
One of the best parts of the novel is Wolfe’s ability to capture and contrast the relative insecurities, anxieties, and troubles of the working poor and the fabulously wealthy. It put the Terrell Owens contract in a whole new light for me. I sneered the first time I heard T.O. say he couldn’t provide for his family/children under his current contract/pay scale. This football star makes more money in a season than most Americans (myself included) will ever see in our entire lives, and yet he is crying that he can’t make ends meet. Of course, if Sunday’s game against the Chargers is any indication, T.O. has started waiting tables for extra income (and general consensus is he shouldn't quit his day job).
I probably shouldn’t feel compassion for the financial woes of someone so incredibly fortunate and rich as Terrell Owens, but after reading Charlie Croker’s mental distress over financial problems in A Man in Full, I feel better able to understand the anxiety Owens is feeling (if he’s not faking). Wolfe makes his points without beating the reader over the head with them. He cuts through race, gender, and economic status to render human every one of his characters, which doesn’t necessarily make them more likeable.
*Actually, I read it in early September.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Mass Transit
SEPTA, our sorry excuse for a public transportation system, has just unveiled a new marketing campaign. I'll leave it to others to question the timing of this expensive new ad campaign in the face of a potential strike on October 31. I'm going to question the campaign itself.
Philebrity had an entry on the ads about a week ago, but it wasn't until Friday that I came face to face with the slogans. The first two ads put the pun in "mass transit" as they both revolve around food and eating.
"This is an eatin' town, and I'm an eatin' man."
"There's no debate. It's called gravy, not pasta sauce."
For years I wondered where the "there" was in SEPTA's old slogan, "We're Getting There." Now I know "there" meant the fucking food trough. It explains everything. Why did that bus fail to stop to pick me up? Because the driver's an eatin' man and he was too damned hungry to stop.
SEPTA: Call us incompetent; don't call us late for dinner.
Dubbed the "Genuine Philly" campaign, SEPTA's website translates the intended message of the ads: "SEPTA is the driving* force and fabric that holds the Greater Philadelphia region together." If SEPTA's holding this town together, then Philly's in a shitload of trouble.
Trading cards based on the ads are available at SEPTA sales locations and feature coupons for Reading Terminal Market, which make them more valuable than David Bell's baseball card.
*Oh those punny bastards.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
I Do Run On
"It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you/Without a strong rhyme to step to"
It turns out I curse too much in my blog to access it from work. Well, fuck. Guess I'll just have to access it from home at 3 in the morning when I'm awake and sick as a dog.
This entry, my first in about a month, is a little gross. If you have a sensitive stomach (one of the few symptoms I don't currently have), but are still jonesin' for a little Bloody Knee Jerk, check out this piece I wrote on Sufjan Stevens a few weeks ago in the City Paper.
Getting back to the point, I am illin' to the point where I'm coming up with nasal metaphors. My nostrils share an appendage (the nose, for those of you who flunked anatomy), but right now they couldn't be more different. The left nostril I've dubbed Philadelphia. It has some problems, but in general it's functioning fine. Just a few centimeters away across a thin membrane (which would be the Delaware River in this metaphor), my right nostril is Camden: full of pain, pressure, and possibly a crack den or two.
My sinus cavities run deeper than the mines of Moria, and right now there's something evil and burning down in the abyss. It has me wishing Superman were real and that I could somehow convince him to shrink himself and fly into my nose (like he does with that city in glass he keeps around) and use his heat vision to burn off all the mucous from the inside of my nose. Chances are Superman would become engulfed in snot, get lost in the dark tunnels, and die.
For all the blowing, kneading, medication, and even punching, "I'm still running" to quote Sleater-Kinney's "What's Mine is Yours". My next step is to get a suction pump, attach some aquarium air hose to it, shove it in as far as it will go, and syphon out the goo. Is there an all-night pet shop around?
This entry is as disposable as a used tissue.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Down on the Farm
With less than a month left in their inaugural season, I'm beginning to feel some urgency to publish this blog entry on the Lancaster Barnstormers that's been festering for some time as a "draft". This thing's still half baked, but maybe it will inspire baseball fans to take a road trip.
Saturday, August 6, 2005: Clipper Magazine Stadium
I was reminded of the brilliant George Carlin bit "Baseball and Football" when I went home to Lancaster to see my first Barnstormers game. My westward trek wouldn't be the only instance of homecoming at this game. The team's manager, Tommy Herr, is the most obvious example. A Lancaster native and solid second baseman for the St. Louis Cardinals in the 80s (including their 1982 World Championship), Herr was wooed back to the Red Rose city to lead the Barnstormers in their debut season. The Barnstormers entered the game tied for first place in the Atlantic Division (which includes the Camden Riversharks).
Final Score: Long Island Ducks 8, Lancaster Barnstormers 5
This game was over in the top of the first inning when the Ducks jumped out to a 6-0 lead with a whole lotta singles, and while the 'Stormers battled back and made the game interesting (the tying run was at the plate in the 9th), sloppy play and poor pitching doomed the home team (I had to figure out how to indicate the visiting side batted around on my scorecard).
It was Millersville University night at the ballpark, and the ‘Ville gave away free t-shirts and beer cozies. The stadium was awash in gold and black (MU colors), but just saying "Millersville University foul poles" summoned up STD connotations and the Ice Cube lyric, "found you a college boy who was worse than me, and he probably fucked the whole university"*. The Millersville Marauder was absent and the new mascot (the Marauder's parrot) can't dance for shit. He/she/it was out-Roboted by the Cyclo, the orange-red demon cow. Neither were any match for the winner of the Stoltzfus Sausage Dance Contest (the prize: sausages for the entire row).
Nicole Brewer, Miss Pennsylvania 2005 (and a Millersville alumnus) returned to Lancaster to throw out the first pitch. What? The Dairy Princess wasn’t available? They must be so proud at MU. She has a newsletter.
Brushbrushsmile.org sponsored a toothbrush race around the bases between innings. Two girls armed with giant toothbrushes raced in opposite directions from home plate around the bases, stopping to sweep the dirt off the bases along the way. Didn’t anyone tell them never to run with sticks?
Secondbaseman Travis Hake’s coming-to-the-plate music: “Thank God, I’m a Country Boy”.
Another between-innings race, this one sponsored by Herr's, with fans jumping around in potato (chip) sacks. With all these races and activities (rock wall, etc.), why are Lancaster County residents so fat?
Beer cut-off in 7th inning was standard. Not standard were the beers on tap. Selections from Lancaster Brewing Company sold for the same price as domestic drafts. Delicious brews: Hop Hog and a weizen beer (which may not have been from LBC).
Around the 8th inning I got into an exchange with an Atlanta Braves fan (I was wearing a Jim Edmonds t-shirt). The Cards had lost earlier in the day to the Braves (8-1), and Mr. Brave asked, “What happened to the Cardinals today?” I replied, “What happened to the Braves last night?” when the Cards had won 11-3. The conversation ended amicably when I told him, "Just take care of the Astros in the 1st round, if you face them." The Cards won the rubber match 5-3 on Sunday in dramatic fashion (David Eckstein hit a walk-off grand slam).
Guess the attendance contest answer: 7,545 fans. It was the 2nd largest attendance in Clipper Magazine Stadium History. I had guessed 10,500-something. I didn’t win.
Merry-go-round featured chickens, horses, Dalmatians, Raptors, giraffes, etc.
*from "Look Who's Burning" off Death Certificate.
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Woody Allen: Hobbesian
Woody Allen begins Annie Hall by telling a joke about two elderly women complaining about the food in a Catskills resort: "It's terrible"..."And such small portions". He goes on to explain that the joke basically encompasses his view of life.
I didn't automatically recall Annie Hall the first time I read Thomas Hobbes's The Leviathan in which he writes, "the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short", but somewhere along the line I began to wonder if Hobbes was making a joke.
It would help explain that cartoon about a boy and his stuffed tiger.
Burning Questions
Elvis Costello vs. The Pixies
"Alison" vs. "Allison"
"Veronica" vs. "Velouria"
If that latter comparison isn't indicative of drunkeness, try this one...
Would you rather live in a House of Pancakes or a Waffle House?
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Yo, Indy!
Attention Raiders!
Need better directions to the lost Ark than the headpiece to the staff of Ra? Look no further. The Ark of the Covenant isn't buried in Tanis, it's on 10th Street in Philadelphia.
Still searching? eBay doesn't have the Ark (yet), but there are all kinds of Raiders replicas, including the headpiece to the staff of Ra and the idol--which would make a great paperweight at work if it weren't a fertility God (too much potential for sexual harassment suits).
Wednesday, August 24, 2005
Welcome to the 20th Century, Asshole!
I got a cell phone on Monday.
Things I plan to do with my new phone.
1. Have an obnoxiously loud conversation on the subway.
2. Same as above but substitute "street" for "subway".
3. Talk while taking a leak at a Phillies game.
4. Answer it while in a meeting at work.
5. Take a call during a movie.
6. Download "Holy Diver" ringtone.
7. Drunk dial.
8. Forget to charge it.
9. Forget it at home.*
10. Drop it.
11. Lose it.
12. Repeat.
*Accomplished #9 today.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Tippin' the 40
This week's City Paper features a piece entitled "Cheap Shots" by Ashlea Halpern. This lady's a connoisseur of low-end liquor with an appreciation for Ice Cube. Damn! Her writing makes a man go weak in his bloody knees. I'm tippin' the 40 to ya, shorty.
In other alcohol-related news, Olde English 800 has some serious competition for the title of "Cadillac of 40s". Dogfish Head has produced a high-end Liqueur de Malt (pictured to the right)* that is delicious and pricey. The Liqueur loses points for its 7-dollar price tag and pre-printed brown bags, which just scream pretention when you're drinkin' on the stoop.
"drinkin' straight out the 8 bottle, do I look like a muthafuckin' role model?" --Ice Cube
*Halpern's article motivated me to get a 40, take a picture of it, and figure out how to put pictures on this damn blog.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Stupidity? It's in the Jeans
A fool and his money are soon parted.
Slate Magazine asks: will people soon stop buying $300 blue jeans?
Stop paying 300 dollars for a pair of jeans? I can't believe people started paying that much for denim pants. Who, besides celebrities, would pay this much for jeans? News Flash, Idiots: these celebrities usually get their clothes and jeans for free from designers who know there are about a thousand morons out there who will pay to wear the same brand.
Shit. Corporate casual dress code be damned, if I had a pair of $300 jeans I would live in them every day for a few years (provided they last that long) just to get my money's worth. But my point is, I will never own or wear a pair of $300 jeans (unless they fall out of the sky and are just my size, or inflation makes the dollar worthless and $300 is the new $20 bill). It is ridiculous. If you own a pair of $300 jeans (or god-forbid more than one pair), you had better be a philanthropist...otherwise you're just a selfish jerk. A friend informed me there are a lot of these "jean jerks" when I showed her this article. Walking home from work, I tried to spot one of these culprits. It wasn't easy. To the untrained eye, jeans look like jeans look like jeans in the well-lit outdoors. It's probably easier to distinguish designer trademarks in a dark nightclub...because you wouldn't want to go home with someone wearing the wrong pair of jeans, no matter how good they look. Right?
The designers behind these jeans are marketing geniuses. The consumers who buy these jeans are stupid with greed.
Sunday, August 14, 2005
The "Sixth" Incensed!
There was an article by Jessica Pressler entitled "Philadelphia Story: The Next Borough" in the New York Times today.
Pressler writes:
Philadelphians occasionally refer to their city - somewhat deprecatingly - as the "sixth borough" of New York, and with almost 8,000 commuters making the 75-minute train ride between the cities each weekday, the label seems not far off the mark.Who refers to Philadelphia as the "sixth borough"? Writers looking to make a name for themselves in the New York Times? I've heard many people refer to Philly as a road bump between New York and D.C., but that designation still acknowledges that Philly is its own town. Isn't Connecticut already the "sixth borough"? How many damn boroughs does New York need? Allentown has been reclassified as a suburb of New York City. The Big Apple is becoming the monster that swallowed the East Coast. Keep calling Philly the "sixth borough" and see how many bands start skipping our town because they assume Philadelphians will just commute up to New York via train or "the popular Chinatown bus".
They are the first wave of what could be called Philadelphia's Brooklynization.Let's hope that unfortunate name doesn't stick. At least she compared us to Brooklyn and not Queens.
"everyone knows someone who's moved here from New York," said Paul LevyNo shit? I think that statement is written in the universal truths of every city on the East Coast (and possibly farther, I don't get out of the "sixth borough" much). New Yorkers are like an infestation of locusts.
"We like going to shows here," Mr. Schmersal said. "In New York there are so many people, it's impossible to even get in to see hot bands."The next time you can't get into the Khyber to see a hot band, blame Ms. Pressler. She's probably inside at the show you can't get into, attempting to score free drinks with her press credentials. Just wait outside for her.
between sips of Yuengling lager at a bar in the Northern Liberties neighborhood, an artists' enclave north of City Hall.There you have it, the shining obligatory reference to Yuengling. An artists' enclave? Is that what Northern Liberties is now? Well, if it's in the New York Times, it must be true (just like $800 rent in Rittenhouse Square). Northern Liberties used to be such a nice working-class neighborhood, but artist enclave it must be. The next paragraph identifies Fishtown as the working-class neighborhood turned melting pot.
Pressler loses her focus at this point in her story (or maybe I missed a segue), but she stops talking about Philly as a "sixth borough" and focuses on people who move to Philly from New York, but don't commute back to Manhattan for work. Wasn't the commuting angle the whole point of writing this article on Philly as the "sixth borough" of New York City?
Sandwiched between New York and Washington, Philadelphia was a flyover city - trainover really - a place where a mayor had ordered the bombing of a neighborhood and where Eagles fans reveled in booing their own team, its chief popular exports cheese steaks and "Rocky."What exactly has changed? Eagles fans still boo (most recently, T.O.), and the FCC regulates that every national broadcast of Philadelphia must include footage of cheesesteaks and a Rocky reference (the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall are optional). While she's on the topic of Philadelphia events and personalities with national recognition, she's forgetting Live 8 and Will Smith. Why no shout-out to the Roots?
Want some perspective on Pressler's New York Times schmoozing? Read the first blurb in this column she wrote in November 2004. She is quite the chameleon (Philly isn't Brooklyn, Philly is the new Brooklyn; I refuse to use the word "flip-flop", but the agenda for her Times article probably grew out of this piece).
Pressler can't be faulted for the picture of the Khyber that accompanied the story (that was Ryan Donnell), but of all the bars in all the world... Yeah, yeah, I know the Khyber can't subsist on a small, local scene of hipsters alone, but does it really need to attract jerks? Isn't that the clientele of every other bar on 2nd Street? Here come the bastards. It's a good picture though.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Philly's Bermuda Triangle: Update
Walked past Dead Fred's (a.k.a. Foggy Ugly, etc.) tonight.
The property is up for sale, again.
What is up with that place? It rivals the Overlook Hotel for eeriness.
Found another rival to the Overlook Hotel through Google. Geek fun.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Radio Report
My report is entitled: Why I Don't Listen to Top 40 Radio
While driving around Lancaster this past weekend without a tape or CD (and A Prairie Home Companion on NPR), I made the mistake of tuning into a local music station.
Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends" might be the shittiest song of the new millennium (if pressed, I'm certain I could come up with a worse song).
I think deep down people know that Brittany Spears, Ashlee Simpson, and every boy band in the world produce disposable music that won't be relevant within a year; but Green Day used to be a legitimate band. The album (American Idiot) containing this turd won a Grammy for best rock album. This song emphatically does not rock.
The inanity begins with the opening line: "Summer has come and passed/The innocent can never last". Is this not the most overused imagery in the history of overused imagery? Summer as a passing time of innocence? The triteness of it all. They repeat that hackneyed couplet about a hundred times in the song.
How much payola went into airing this crap?
In conclusion: Green Day's new single sucks ass.
Support KEXP in Seattle and WPRB in New Jersey, they play good music.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Washington Square Park
Bravo Washington Square Park.
Today you had the fountain running and the eternal flame lit...at the same time!
And they said it would be done in 2000, 2003, and 2005. The squeaky CBS wheel gets the grease. I walk through Washington Square Park regularly, but I can't attest to whether the flame was lit before today.
Click here, here, and here to learn more about Philadelphia's Washington Square Park.
With the flame relit, let's see if we can get rid of those unsightly bike racks around Independence Hall. That crappy looking bunting isn't fooling anyone...the National Park Service is imprisoning our independence and rationing it as they see fit under the pretense of security. Things have improved marginally since this report, but the Park Service is threatening to erect a wall around the building. Maybe proponents of freedom should take comfort in the bike racks...at least you can still see Independence Hall.
Fuck that.
The National Park Service has been itching to put Independence Hall in lockdown since 1997. Those opportunistic bastards took advantage of 9/11 to railroad through their agenda (sounds like the war in Iraq, doesn't it?).
This is a sad situation for American liberty. If the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall aren't readily accessible to the public, then the terrorists accomplished their goal on September 11th...defeating the American ideal of freedom.
This guy gets it.
If the bike racks are an essential part of Independence Hall, then why aren't they pictured in postcards? Because they're fucking ugly. Shame on the National Park Service.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Ozzfestering
My Ozzfest "Blistered in the Sun" published last week in the City Paper, but there are always more notes than fit in one column. What follows is sort of a b-sides compilation of comments.
Ozzfest 2005
Arch Enemy filled OTEP's usual role as the token female-fronted metal act this year. Still no sign of L7.
As I Lay Dying followed Mastodon on the "Hot Topic" second stage making for a double-dose of metal based on classic American literature. Only As I Lay Dying's literary influence doesn't extend to their lyrics, and they lose metal credibility because their band name landed on Oprah's Book Club.
The sun was baking us like the crew of the Pequod, and it was too hot to move or breathe during the set changes, so I entertained myself by thinking up stories using the names of Ozzfest bands. It was a stupid game, but here's an example:
As the Shadows Fall on a Black Sabbath night, Rob Zombie decides, It Dies Today. Throwing his Arch Enemy into the Iron Maiden ("Excellent!"), he pulled the Killswitch Engage lever. Mama Zombie always admonished him to "Bury Your Dead", and Rob prepared for the Soil Work ahead.Yeah, that was lame, and that realization eventually cut through my heat-induced delirium and I walked through the crowd to the various vendor booths. As usual, there was a ton of free swag, and the best of it disappeared before noon, leaving only The Devil's Rejects postcards and temporary tattoos. At the Ozzfest table, promotional sampler CDs were free in exchange for your name and e-mail address. Despite the NHL strike, Bill Guerin (bigbadbill@bruins.com) scored again, and unemployment couldn't stop Ron Tugnutt (tugdeeznutz@nuttugger.org) from lending his John Hancock to the list.
The Trojan condom booth offered a giveaway that didn't add any additional weight to cargo pockets already bulging with free stuff. In the haze of Camden, the pure oxygen (bubbled through a green, minty liquid of unknown origin) was 5 minutes of heaven for the lungs. In addition to the breath of fresh air, Trojan distributed "Mint Tingle" condoms, which the chap at the booth said had the "same effect as Altoids" (wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more!). I was instantly reminded of "Bonita Applebum" by A Tribe Called Quest: "And if you need 'em I got crazy prophylactics."
The set times on the flyer distributed by 94 WYSP were for shit (in all fairness, there was a disclaimer saying that set times might change), so it was funny to see drunk guys turn their abandoned booth by the second stage into a make-shift piss tent.
Rob Zombie's gone Hollywood. He traded in his normally gloomy attire for a sunny Bruce Springsteen "Born in the USA" jeans and white t-shirt ensemble. Zombie seemed genuinely glad to be on the second stage, voicing his approval for "no worries about seats, tickets stubs, and guys eating nachos and slurpees." A slurpee would have been nice though.
Zombie's set with stage banter in parentheses: 1) Superbeast, 2) Supercharger Heaven, 3) Living Dead Girl ("for the ladies"), 4) Demon Speeding ("This girl thinks taking her top off will combat the b.o. rolling in waves to the stage."), 5) More Human than Human, 6) Demonoid Phenomenon, 7) Dead Girl Superstar, 8) Joe Walsh intro into Dragula, 9) Sweet Home Alabama into Thunderkiss '65.
Zombie paraphrased an interview he gave to the New York Times about Ozzfest being for the young, but also like a Brontosaurus never changing... He lost his point in the middle of the talk, and no one bothered to inform him that the name for brontosaurus (once one of the most popular dinosaurs of the 70s and 80s) has recently changed.
The Tweeter Center had the worst crowd control ever! Trying to move from the main stage to the second stage (or vice versa) was damn-near impossible. They funneled everyone through the Walt Whitman plaza and created a horrific bottleneck.
Overheard: "8 dollars for beer!? That's why I take my drugs and laugh at you all."
There was a guy trading beads for bared breasts. No one seemed to notice that this isn't fuckin' Mardi Gras. Women flashing for free (or paying to have their bare breasts airbrushed with paint) got nothing.
Damn! I have to get a pair of those rollerskate sneakers.
The Tweeter Center staff were not prepared for the level of aggression in the mosh pit. The Camden cops augmenting their ranks were off gafflin' free drinks from the concession stands. Instead of wading into the fray of the pit, the staff centered their attention on dragging a guy who scaled speaker tower #3 to the security booth. He was never heard from again (as far as I know).
Worst idea of the day: Mudvayne's singer performed in a gorilla suit. He's not getting his security deposit back from the costume rental shop.
"This is your fuckin' music! This is your fuckin' festival!"--Bruce Dickinson
Iron Maiden kicked ass! Bruce Dickinson was wired and bursting with manic energy. He brandished the Union Jack and sighted the audience down the flag's pole (like the barrel of a rifle) during "The Trooper", but the most theatrical moment was when Dickinson performed limbering stretches during the guitar solos. There was a different Eddie scrim for nearly every song, and a mechanized beast flailed its limbs during "Number of the Beast". Playing to the crowd, Dickinson paid many compliments to Philadelphia (even though he was in Camden), and set off the mirthless laughter of the damned when he asked, "Anyone here come to see the Dave Matthews Band?" before performing "Phantom of the Opera". An encore was demanded by Zippo salute. Encore: "Runing Free", "Sanctuary".
Throughout the night, the main-stage video monitors aired commercials for Mind Freak on a constant loop. Is this the price to pay for free Mind Freak cinnamon candies? Every time they showed Criss Angel getting shot by a bloated Jonathan Davis of Korn or being suspended from a helicopter through hooks in his flesh, I was desensitized to violence just a little bit more. It was a real nice network A&E once had.
During Black Sabbath's set, I found myself standing next to a very excited young woman who flashed her breasts in time to the music. Having been to 7 previous Ozzfests, I have seen a great many breasts, and I'm fairly non-plussed, but this woman loved Ozzy, and had interesting piercings. They were flaming sun-shaped breastplates that covered the areolas but allowed the nipples to pop through the center. They looked like decorative washers on pink, fleshy screws. There was no way in hell (unless he had binoculars, which he didn't) that Ozzy could see this diminutive woman baring her soul (and breasts).
When she turned to me (breasts momentarily covered) and chastized me for jotting down the set list, I remembered that the main characters (Kate Hudson and Patick Fugit) in Almost Famous had a similar exchange at a Black Sabbath concert. Juxtapose the heights, Hudson was taller than Fugit, and add partial frontal nudity, and it was just! like! the! movie!
Sabbath's set : 1) N.I.B., (let the flashing begin!) 2) After Forever, 3) War Pigs ("Generals gathered in their masses" Boobs! "Just like witches at black masses" Tits.), 4) Dirty Women (lots of flashing for this one), 5) Fairies Wear Boots, 6) Symptom/Sweet Leaf instrumental teaser, Electric Funeral, 7) Iron Man ("Ozzy is so hot!" Flash!), 8) Into the Void, 9) Black Sabbath (Zippo salute, Twin-nipple salute), 10) Sabbath Bloody Sabbath tease, Paranoid (yelling "woo!", holding breasts and shaking them). Encore: 11) Children of the Grave.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Next, They'll Block Out the Sun
It just occurred to me why Comcast is building a giant monolithic tower in Center City. They want to block satellite TV reception for DirectTV subscribers.
Last month, I paid $12 to ride the elevator to the observation deck of the Sears Tower. To date, that is the most expensive elevator ride I've ever taken--unless you put a value on time--in which case the 30 minutes I spent trapped in the elevator at the Congress Hotel in Chicago missing part of Lollapalooza was the most expensive.
I wonder how much it will cost to ride to the top of Comcast Center.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
For Whom the Bell Doesn't Toll
As anyone who knows me knows, I am a die-hard fan of the St. Louis Cardinals. So it should come as no surprise that last night I was rooting for the Phillies against the crappy Cubs (and especially Zambrano).
Much to my surprise, the Phillies were pitching well, and going into the 8th inning the score was tied 0-0. Then the Cubs hit a ball past David Bell to score 2 runs.
The Phillies clawed their way to within a run (or rather the Cubs walked in a run), and the tying run was on 3rd with 1 out. Bell was at the plate. All he had to do was put the ball in play and the tying run would score. Bell struck out.
Here's a quote from Bell: "He threw me a pretty good slider. Give him credit."
Give him credit? How about you stop sucking?
The Cubs pitcher had walked the previous 3 batters, including a bases-loaded walk. Why the hell was Bell swinging at balls outside the strike zone? Or swinging at all for that matter?
In true Philadelphia loser fashion, the Comcast Sports Net commentators said after the game, "There's no shame in losing to these guys."
The Phillies have a 55-52 record. The Cubs are 54-52. If the Phillies are ever to be contenders again, they need to beat their fellow .500 clubs.
In a game against the Cardinals earlier this season (a game the Cardinals unfortunately lost), Bell made 3 errors. Chants of "You're not Rolen" rose up from the cheap seats (OK, it was just me being an obnoxious jerk; and my friend quipped, "Yeah, Bell's not the DL.").
Why the Phillies didn't start Placido Polanco at 3rd base instead of Bell, I'll never know. Maybe they just like having a player named Bell to go with the giant bell in the outfield. Well, if that's the case then the Phillies have a couple of ding-dongs.