Napolean Dynomite

is finally available in Bun-O-Vision.

I love this site. I could watch the JAWS parody all day.

I'll bet those golden tickets make the chocolate taste terrible.

Jere and I went to see Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory in SMELL-O-VISION last night. It was wonderful to see such a great flick outdoors on a summer night, but as for the smells ... not much for the ole snozzberry. Unless you want to count the guy smoking cigarettes behind us or the steady stream of mustard (which, I assume, came from a packet on the ground somewhere nearby). The folks who put this on get an A for effort. Unfortunately, I think that simple physics may have been to blame. It would have worked better in a contained space with the aromas shooting out of the ceiling or the walls. The ladies room in my company's building shoots air freshener out of the walls - I am sure that it can be done. Instead, there were people walking around with bright green wigs (oompa loompa style) waving big pieces of paper with dribbles of stuff on them at the audience.

Someone told me that when she went to a John Waters movie (I forget which one), they handed out little scratch and sniff cards. That's actually not a bad solution.

On the plus side, seeing the movie made me want to run out and buy candy straight away. So we did.

The Sox really made us sweat that one out. Against the Devil Rays, of all teams. The Devil Rays are like the the guys in Mr. Mom who try to keep Jack (the Red Sox) from winning Ron Richardson's (George Steinbrenner's) little obstacle course race. I'll bet that Papelbon's feeling good about himself this morning. Blowing Lester's win, and all. Anyone but Lester, right? The guy beats cancer, throws two awesome games and goofy ole Papelbon comes in and shits all over it. Way to go!

Be Cool or Be Cast Out

Did I get a nice shot of Jack and/or Meg during the show? Nope. Was I able to capture a pic of the tour bus or any of the roadies? Negatoid. I've got something better. I've got Work Clothes Guy. You know him. He's the dude that comes straight from the office, dashes to the merch table, then shamelessly throws on a spanking new tour t-shirt. He joins the crowd and pretends to fit in with everyone. As if that brown collar isn't really there, clashing hopelessly with the tomato red behind it. I especially like the faraway look in this guy's eyes. I am mentally picturing a spotlight shining down on him from above. I can see him busting out a lonely sounding ballad ala Michael Carrington in Grease 2. Except this dude looks more like Steve Carell.

Seriously, though, the show was fantastic. It's pretty amazing to me that these 2 people can fill an arena with so much sound. The set was, not surprisingly, all red. It had a cool upper level, accessible by 3 sets of stairs (again, everything was painted red, so only the lighting allowed one to see the actually components of the stage). Jack walked up on the level twice during the show, for a little variety, I guess. I really feel for Meg. She only gets to stretch her legs a little (she does the vocal on, "In the Cold, Cold Night" and she went to the main mic to perform it). The only complaint I had was that the roadies were all decked out like the Blues Brothers. A little much, I think.

We didn't catch the opening act. We didn't care. So, special thanks to my friend Anne for snagging the tickets for us and special thanks to her boyfriend, Lucas, for the candid shot of Work Clothes Guy.

Blowing Through the Jasmine of My Mind

Yipes, David's getting sued due to the fact that he had not signed enough autographs. God forbid the man should prioritize this over, oh, I don't know, playing baseball.

So, while I wait for the 1 pic that was snapped at the show last night, I thought I'd share with you a couple of random thoughts I had during my commute to work this morning.

1. Someone should open a billiard joint and call it: Nice Balls
2. Am i the only one who thinks that the Plymouth Breeze is akin to those lady style cigarettes that some people smoke? The capris or whatever they are called? Clearly, the manufacturer of this vehicle was targeting the long, skinny cigarette smoker. Speaking of cigarettes, you really ought to check out some of the old cigarette commercials on YouTube. I am particularly fond of this one.

When You Gonna Ring It?

Saw this duo tonight.



Was very good. Details and pic to come. Yes, only 1 pic snapped. But it's worth waiting for.

Week Off Pics

This place is on Comm Ave. I didn't realize it existed until the other day. The name of my old college a cappella punk band was Ankara2. So, if we are ever in the mood for Turkish delights, I suppose we could patron this new joint. [It is right near where Deli Haus used to be.] Incidentally, no Mr. Butch memorials in the Kenmore Square area. Not as of yet, anyway.




Danzig's Simmons Impression


New Shirt. Purchased so that I may represent.


New painting I am working on - by no means done. I've got more scumbling to do.


We finally painted our dining room table...


...and the bureau...


..to match the comforter.

Artbeat, Somerville's annual arts festival, takes place over the weekend. Always a delight.

I Said Baby, OH BABY, Can I Take Ya Home?

Jere and I attended the Brimfield Antique Show yesterday and in one of the tents, I saw a little crop of KISS stuff. There were several albums, including Hotter Than Hell. As a kid, I owned Double Platinum which was, essentially, a 2-album set of their greatest hits, up to the year 1978. It was my father's, actually, but he eventually gave it to me. He also owned both Alive! and Alive II on 8-track. Not really my favorite way to listen to KISS, but I am amused by some of the ridiculous things that Paul Stanley says live.

Anyway, since I've never actually owned Hotter than Hell, I never inspected the album cover. I studied it for the first time yesterday and learned that it has Japanese-inspired artwork and graphic design, including the text. At first, I thought this was some interesting version, meant to be sold and distributed in Japan, only. Not true. Since yesterday, I've learned the following (about the photography session for the album), from Wikipedia:

The album is also known for its striking cover: the front featured Japanese manga-influenced artwork, and the back cover showed individual band shots taken by Norman Seef at a wild party, and a composite of all four band members' makeup designs. Everyone present at the session (with the exception of Simmons) was drunk for the entire photography session. Stanley was so drunk he had to be locked in his car. Paul's drunken state can easily be seen on the album's front cover as it appears Peter Criss is holding him up while Paul holds onto Peter's leg.

I thought that Stanley and Gene were the reasonable, sober ones. This sort of shocked me a little. But, it is Wikipedia, which means that my grandmother could have written this for all anyone knows.

R.I.P. Mr. Butch

Mr. Butch in Allston, '83
Photo credit: Bill Swersey

Mr. Butch was a fixture in Kenmore Square back when I worked at the Bruegger's, across the street from what used to be Charlie's. This was the cool Kenmore. The one that claimed The Rathskeller, Pizza Pad, Blaine! Beauty School and Cornwalls (when it was below street level) as its own. Narcissus had just closed down and a "Soup or Salad" had just opened up. The Store 24 used to have a greeting card carousel with cards showing Divine in various John Water movie scenes. Shawmut, the greatest bank in the world, sat on the corner where the Sovereign now resides. It's changed institutional hands a bunch of times over the years since 1990 (I think it was Bay Bank before it was a Shawmut). Mr. Butch used to sleep in a vintage Volkswagen van in the bank parking lot.

I didn't know him personally, but I saw him all the time. My old friend Kenton, who once lived in a bachelor-style apartment in Allston, claimed that Mr. Butch was staying in his living room for a while. He and his 10 or so roommates let him sleep on the couch. One day, as the legend goes, a call came in for one of the dudes and Mr. Butch answered the phone. Evidently, the kid had a sick relative and a concerned family member wanted to alert him to his condition. When the kid came home, Mr. Butch said, "Are you Kenny?" (for the sake of the story, I'm calling the kid "Kenny," as I really don't remember what the guy's name was). "Yeah," the kid said, "Why?" Mr. Butch looked him in the eye, very seriously, then said, "Your uncle died!"

Ah, Mr. Butch, you were one of a kind.

Here's the article on Boston.com. And here is his bio on Wikipedia.

Is It Over Yet?

I love baseball.



I hate the All Star Break.



There is nothing more pointless than the Home Run Derby. Hey, let's watch a bunch of really seasoned power hitters take batting practice for a couple of hours! And then we'll act really surprised every time a ball gets hit hard! News Flash: These dudes get paid a lot of money because of their ability to hit. A really fun event would be to watch all these guys have an apple pie bake off or an Iron Chef-style cooking contest or something. A place where they are totally out of their element. I'd even like to watch them have a swimming competition. I don't know, it just isn't for me. I've never been a fan of this or any of the AS Break "festivities." The only thing I can honestly say I enjoy about it is the fact that you can finally root for guys you like, outside of the realm of meaningful baseball.

Go, Ryan Howard!

Coco Crisp

I hope the old fart, windbag types who call into EEI and complain about Coco Crisp will shut up now. I think he's proven himself as being a valuable (and affordable) player for the Red Sox. The grand slam the other day pretty much sealed it. I know these negative types will still call in and demand that the Sox trade him for someone else. I try not to listen to EEI. Most of the callers and many of the hosts are at complete odds with me, in terms of my opinion on the Sox. It only makes me angry and frustrated to listen. I'm actually surprised that the "Should we re-sign Manny?" discussions haven't begun with a vengeance. I hear mutterings here and there, but it isn't in full swing just yet. (Incidentally, I think we should try to re-sign him, but I know this will be contrary to the popular opinion. I guess, unless we can make up for all of his production by finding a different solution, we really ought to go for the re-sign.)

My patience with Lugo is really running out. He's the one who ought to get shit-canned.

Here's hoping that the Sox will sustain their lead in the division after the All Star break!

In other news, I have (somewhat) recently discovered that I am either sulfite or histamine intolerant. You know what this means, people? That's right. No more alcohol consumption without asthmatic and sinus-related consequences. Nice. Mind you, I will not stop consuming alcohol. It's just become a lot more, um, "for special occasions only."