The World Needs A Stronger Blog...: 11/1/07

30 November 2007

From the mailbag

A while back I posted something about Bape. I was trying to sort out what the deal was with grown men rockin' pajama clothing. Anyway so I got this the other day via email:

“[sic] Mate, Bape is legendary, your obviously, no offence, but a bit of a geek. its the latest range of high class clothing created by talented people. try and put some style in your wardrobe, stop letting mummy dress you.peace ”

I was sorta disappointed it seems to be from a Brit. I always thought the Brits new fashion and this dude is dissing me because I don't rock Bape?! Fuck.

Evel Knievel has died at 69

Hang The Conor McNicholas

My buddy G. Moz tipped me to this story a few days before it went public but hey, I got distracted and forgot to post it up and now everyone knows.

Oh well. Better late than never, no?

“Bigmouth has struck again and, heaven knows, he’s miserable now.

Morrissey is suing the NME and its editor for defamation after the music magazine quoted him on its cover this week as saying: “The Gates of England are flooded. The country’s been thrown away.”

The magazine lambasts the former Smiths frontman for taking a “naive and inflammatory” stance on immigration by employing language that “dangerously echoes” the British National Party’s current manifesto.

Morrissey’s reported comments come 15 years after the NME accused him of experimenting with racist imagery in some of his solo songs and by draping himself in a Union Jack at a gig in Finsbury Park, North London. The singer, 48, says that his words have been taken out of context and now, after one of the most intense relationships in British music, Morrissey and the NME could be heading for the High Court.” {Times Online}

[body redacted]

Oh, and speaking of Brad Pitt; Brad is taking his buns and going home, vowing not to film any more nude scenes – because he doesn't want his kids to see his grundle when they grow up. Also, either he's being cinematic or just hedging but it sounds like Brad's fixin' for an early retirement. Funny, I had him pegged for a Robert Redford type thing.

Pitt who is now 43 recently told the BBC: “I figure I've got very few films left. Who knows how many I'll get to do now, so I want to do something I'm interested in. Otherwise, I don't want to bother. I think it's a younger person's game.”

Osama down in the polls

Osama Bin Laden is so over. Toast. Yesterday's Post. Yawn.

His new tape sucks and it's just boring. Dude should've given up while he was ahead. Quit when you're on top.

Now Osama's like some old band making bad records in the twilight of their career, besmirching the classics in the process.

Your boy Osama posted some audio recording on a website earlier today, saying it was unjust for the U.S. to invade Afghanistan for sheltering him after the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks and yadda yadda yadda.

It's like bro, what have you done for me lately? You're still with this same routine; this same shit. It's getting old. Tired. Useless. Impotent.

Osama was all "the war was waged against the Afghans without right," and that foreign troops have not followed the "protocol of warfare," resulting in civilian deaths. Yap yap yap yap yap...

Osama finished by urging Europeans to force their governments to pull their soldiers out of Afghanistan. Uh-huh. Whatever you say, broseph.

Your boy continued, "With the grace of God ... the American tide is receding and they would eventually return to their home across the Atlantic ... It is in your interest to force the hand of your politicians away from the White House". Yeah, we're packing shit up because it's done and we're bored.

It's sorta sad to see him go but the dude is old and washed up. Done. Over with. Outta here.

Afghani President Hamid Karzai even thinks you're a dick for causing mass bloodshed in his country and dissed you, saying your new message was "ridiculous".

How many times are you gonna denounce the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan and accuse foreign troops of killing civilians? Get a new tune, bro. Learn a new dance. Sing a new song.

You're done, bro. We're ready for the new Antichrist because you had your chance and you blew it.

The “57 varieties” thing is sorta like “who was buried in Grant's Tomb?” trivia. It's something dumb people can't help but ponder. And knowing the answer to a question like “what does the 57 varieties mean exactly?” somewhat solidifies your ranking as a high priest of infinite and useless knowledge.

Bewildered in Boston writes:

“Dear Fucko, I've always wondered why Heinz ketchup bottles all say "57 varieties," even though I have never seen but one type, whether it be on grocery shelves or in restaurants. What gives? Where's all the other 56 kinds?”

Well, Bewildered, “57 varieties” doesn't mean 57 varieties of ketchup, it means 57 varieties of food products in general. In fact there are only 3 varieties of Heinz ketchup: regular, hot, and low-sodium. And there are far more than 57 varieties of Heinz pickles, Heinz sauces, Heinz soups, and Heinz lord-knows-what-else.

In fact, if you count everything Heinz and all its divisions and subsidiaries make, there are something like 1,300 varieties, including 108 varieties of baby food, 60 kinds of pickles, and so on.

The number 57 has mystical significance to the Heinz company, but it has never had much to do with reality.

The slogan was invented by the company's founder, Henry J. Heinz, in 1892 while he was riding on the el in New York one day. Whilst reading the adverts in the car, his eye alighted on the slogan “21 styles of shoes.”

To pedestrian minds such as Bewildered in Boston, this probably does not sound like one of your landmark advertising mottoes, but that's why we're not millionaire ketchup barons.

Heinz, on the other hand, could recognise genius when he saw it. Cogitating briefly, he soon conceived the immortal words “57 varieties”, whereupon he got off the train and set about plastering the nation with the now-famous pickle-plus-number logo.

The one problem with this scheme was that at the time the company was manufacturing more than 60 varieties. However, Heinz stuck with 57, for what I've been told was “occult reasons”.

Heinz, as may already be evident, was something of a character. He started off bottling horseradish in a little town near Pittsburgh in 1869 (ketchup did not arrive on the scene until 1876).

He made a major selling point of the fact that he put his product in clear glass bottles, thus demonstrating that he did not adulterate his sauce with turnips or other false vegetables, as his competitors did.

Once Heinz hit on the notion of “57 varieties”, he constructed a number of hideous advertising signs at various strategic locales around the country. One, which was 6 storeys high, was located at 23rd and 5th and dazzled tourists with a 40-foot-long electrified pickle.

Heinz also built an exhibition hall in Atlantic City on a pier that extended 900 feet out into the ocean; another monstrous pickle, this one 70 feet tall, perched heroically on the end.

After a few more demonstrations of this style of architecture, the citizenry became alarmed lest Heinz encumber every landmark in the Republic with giant pickles. When a rumour (unfounded, it appears) got out that he had purchased Lookout Mountain near Chattanooga, Tennesee, in order to scrape off the side and sculp a pickle of unprecedented proportions in the native granite, or whatever it is they have out there, there was a general uproar, with one partisan threatening to pickle Heinz 57 ways if he tried it.

The Heinz people are still quite attached to the number 57. The phone number at corporate headquarters in Pittsburgh is 237-5757, and the address is P.O. Box 57. The company does currently sell 57-thousand varieties in 200 countries and territories. Oh, and one of their salesman was a player for the Pittsburgh Steelers at one time, and you'll never guess what his number was. It is enough to make you want to swear off ketchup forever...

Which I nearly did one time.

We had some boyscout thing years ago at some convention center once and for whatever reason we spent the day making fake wounds on people. It was bizarre. It must've been some first-aid awareness bullshit or something for charity.

So we had some cheap special FX make up and whatever, but for blood we were using ketchup. People would step up and we'd create some hacky wound on their face and they'd walk off. It was really fucking strange.

But I swear by the end of the day I had sworn off ketchup for good. I couldn't smell ketchup without gagging for a good 6 months after that event. It was fucking gross. The smell of the cheap FX make-up and the powder and the whatever else we were using combined with the smell of the ketchup. I could seriously vom right now just thinking about it.

I do love ketchup though. Especially on scrambled eggs and home fries. And I first tried those ketchup potato chips in Montreal and they are fucking deelish.

Do you remember when Heinz was making green, blue and purple ketchup? What the fuck was that about?! Is it becoming hard to get kids to eat ketchup these days? What has happened to our children?

I mean, I'm assuming we went ahead with the wacky coloured ketchup varietals to attract kids, right? Has ketchup somehow become the new brussel sprouts?!

Brekkie for 2 in Midtown for under $20?
Hey, it can happen.

So our billionaire mayor and the Illinois-senator-turned-Cyrus-from-The-Warriors Barack Obama talked over eggs and home fries early this morning at a little breakfast spot on East 50th.

Breakfast at Barack's

Apparently Barack picked up the $17.34 check and left a $10 tip. This all according to their waitress, Judith Perez, whose life, sadly, is pretty much downhill from here.

My sources cannot confirm what the power brokers ate however I can confirm Barack was very impatient with his ketchup and did the thing where you stick a knife inside it to release the floodgates of sugary tomato goodness. What does this mean for his campaign? We really can't say.

Apparently Bloomberg had some cereal and then like my grandmother poured the remainder of his black coffee into the bowl when he ran out of milk.

Our billionaire mayor also wowed the waitstaff and ordered his breakfast in proper diner dialect.

“Dough well done with cow to cover”, the mayor said, and “flop two, over hard willl ya?”

All which translated means: buttered toast and a fried egg, flipped and cooked until the yolk is solid.

Naturally NBC is now reporting that there is already speculation about an Obama-Bloomberg ticket.

Georges Seurat & Shia LaBeouf

This may be the first, and last, time these two names are ever mentioned in the same article.

Georges Seurat's mysterious and luminous works on paper were once described as "the most beautiful painter's drawings in existence" and they'll be on display until 7 January 2008 at The International Council of The Museum of Modern Art Exhibition Gallery, sixth floor. HOLLA!

Oh, and I was trying to remember where I even first saw Shia LaBeouf on screen and I think it may've been in the awful Constantine with stupid Keanu Reeves or maybe Dumb and Dumberer?

Anyhoo, Shia, who was born in 1986, has announced plans to make a movie about... are you ready for this?... underground white rapper, Cage. Um, yep, you read right. LaBeouf is looking to play the Def Jux rapper, a.k.a. Chris Palko, in a forthcoming film about the MC's life, according to an article in the December issue of SPIN.

"I have been listening to Cage since I got into hip-hop when I was 12," LaBeouf said. "I grew up on the West Coast listening to a lot of 2Pac and Eazy-E, so when I found out that Cage was white, it was incredible. I'd never heard anything like that."

Um, wow.

After having gained a measure of fame due to his roles in tween hits Holes and the Disney Channel show "Even Stevens", LaBeouf contacted Cage about making a documentary about the rapper, and Cage allowed him to film his tour in 2006.

Talking to SPIN, LaBeouf made it clear that this will be a chance for him to subvert Hollywood's expectations of him as a squeaky clean boy next door, saying,

"It's kind of like how no matter what film De Niro was making, he was always ready to pull Raging Bull out of his back pocket. Cage is my Jake LaMotta."

Yes! Exactly, Shia! It's exactly like that! Seems the movie will also allow LaBeouf to explore themes of delusion and overstatement.

In other news, Abigail Breslin (Little Miss Sunshine) is working on a script about aleatoric music virtuoso/philosopher and mushroom collector John Cage while Daniel Radcliffe a.k.a. Harry Potter is working on a biopic about gospel singer Byron Cage.

Related: I heart Shia LaBeouf

A Caveat For All You Graveyard Shifters Out There

Maria Cheng, a writer for the Associated Press, chimes in with a rather distended albeit intriguing article about how working the graveyard shift will soon be listed among 'probable' causes of cancer. Maria quite obviously gets paid by the word. Word.

“LONDON (AP) -- Like UV rays and diesel exhaust fumes, working the graveyard shift will soon be listed as a "probable" cause of cancer.

It is a surprising step validating a concept once considered wacky. And it is based on research that finds higher rates of breast and prostate cancer among women and men whose work day starts after dark.

Next month, the International Agency for Research on Cancer, the cancer arm of the World Health Organization, will add overnight shift work as a probable carcinogen. The American Cancer Society says it will likely follow.

Up to now, the U.S. organisation has considered the work-cancer link to be "uncertain, controversial or unproven." The higher cancer rates don't prove working overnight can cause cancer. There may be other factors common among graveyard shift workers that raise their risk for cancer.

However, scientists suspect that overnight work is dangerous because it disrupts the circadian rhythm, the body's biological clock. The hormone melatonin, which can suppress tumor development, is normally produced at night.

If the graveyard shift theory eventually proves correct, millions of people worldwide could be affected. Experts estimate that nearly 20% of the working population in developed countries work night shifts.

Among the first to spot the night shift-cancer connection was Richard Stevens, a cancer epidemiologist and professor at the University of Connecticut Health Center.

In 1987, Stevens published a paper suggesting a link between light at night and breast cancer.

Back then, he was trying to figure out why breast cancer incidence suddenly shot up starting in the 1930's in industrialised societies, where nighttime work was considered a hallmark of progress. Most scientists were bewildered by his proposal.

But in recent years, several studies have found that women working at night over many years were indeed more prone to breast cancer. Also, animals that have their light-dark schedules switched develop more cancerous tumors and die earlier.

Some research also suggests that men working at night may have a higher rate of prostate cancer.

Because these studies mostly focused on nurses and airline crews, bigger studies in different populations are needed to confirm or disprove the findings.

There are still plenty of skeptics. And to put the risk in perspective, the "probable carcinogen" tag means that the link between overnight work and cancer is merely plausible.

Among the long list of agents that are listed as "known" carcinogens are alcoholic beverages and birth control pills. Such lists say nothing about exposure amount or length of time or how likely they are to cause cancer. The American Cancer Society website notes that carcinogens do not cause cancer at all times.

Still, many doubters of the night shift link may be won over by the IARC's analysis to be published in the December issue of the journal Lancet Oncology.

"The indications are positive," said Vincent Cogliano, who heads up the agency's carcinogen classifications unit. "There was enough of a pattern in people who do shift work to recognize that there's an increase in cancer, but we can't rule out the possibility of other factors."

Scientists believe having lower melatonin levels can raise the risk of developing cancer. Light shuts down melatonin production, so people working in artificial light at night may have lower melatonin levels.

Melatonin can be taken as a supplement, but experts don't recommend it long-term, since that could ruin the body's ability to produce it naturally.

Sleep deprivation may be another factor in cancer risk.

People who work at night are not usually able to completely reverse their day and night cycles. "Night shift people tend to be day shift people who are trying to stay awake at night," said Mark Rea, director of the Light Research Center at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute in New York, who is not connected with the IARC analysis.

Not getting enough sleep makes your immune system vulnerable to attack, and less able to fight off potentially cancerous cells. Confusing your body's natural rhythm can also lead to a breakdown of other essential tasks. "Timing is very important," Rea said. Certain processes like cell division and DNA repair happen at regular times.

Even worse than working an overnight shift is flipping between daytime and overnight work. "The problem is re-setting your body's clock," said Aaron Blair, of the United States' National Cancer Institute, who chaired IARC's recent meeting on shift work. "If you worked at night and stayed on it, that would be less disruptive than constantly changing shifts."

Anyone whose light and dark schedule is often disrupted -- including frequent long-haul travelers or insomniacs -- could theoretically face the same increased cancer risk, Stevens said.

He advises workers to sleep in a darkened room once they get off work. "The balance between light and dark is very important for your body. Just get a dark night's sleep."

Meanwhile, scientists are trying to come up with ways to reduce night workers' cancer risk. And some companies are experimenting with different lighting, seeking a type that doesn't affect melatonin production.

So far, the color that seems to have the least effect on melatonin is one that few people would enjoy working under: red.”

Hmmm, well I can certainly attest to life on the graveyard shift; or even worse, life on the morning zoo radio shift. Out of bed by 3:30 AM, at work by 4 or so, show goes live at 6 AM. You're usually home by noon. This includes nodding off in traffic and falling asleep at the wheel on long stretches of straight highway, maybe a fender bender or two. Get home, nap until 3 or 4 PM, wake up, eat some sort of food and be completely fucking out of it until it's time to get up again at 3:30 AM. Repeat 5 times a week plus a Sunday morning shift running infomercials. Then, there's life as a bouncer at a bar. Get to work at 10PM. Stand there for a few hours like a monkey in a corner, check fake ID's, throw people out for being stupid, have a drink with the bartender, get home around 5 AM. Repeat. For best results combine with never seeing daylight, ever. In the winter leave your house before the sun is up and leave work after the sun has set. Radio stations and bars rarely have windows. Neither does this place I'm working in now. Today, life is hell.

Could this be some sort of Edward Cooper worthy conspiracy? Perhaps the guvment sees the night shifters as the disposable dregs of society and this is some sort of population control to thin the herd. The master race millionaires certainly don't make their millions leaving for work at midnight. Hmmmm... Oh, Milton, where are you now?

What does this mean for Dave Attell? Matt Lauer and Al Roker? Did Katie Couric really leave the Today show because her schedule was giving her cancer?! Someone needs to warn Meredith! Oh no, what about Rob Morrison and Darlene Rodriguez?! Trish Yodice!!!!

Oh How I Wish The World Were Covered In Vernis

The author first fell in love with vernis in a pub in Ireland. There was a girl at the bar who sorta looked like Kate Hudson. Feeling gay as a spring day, I inquired as to her handbag for I'd always admired that particular hard-shell lacquer finish but had no idea what it was called. It always reminded me of that chocolate syrup you pour on ice cream and then it hardens; Magic Shell I think it's called?

Anywho, she looked like a German nurse in from WW2, for she had a creamy white Louis Vuitton monogram vernis doctors bag. I don't believe they even make it anymore, dahling. And even though at the time she was with the other side, I still warmed up to her and her Plaster of Paris pour.

Why it wasn't long before I furrowed my best brow and said,

"But excuse me, my dear, but what ever is that polish on your tote called?"

Softly she spun around and spoke, "vernis", as in "vernis, you fool", in betwixt slow sips on a tall perspiring Tom Collins.

And well, my lads, the rest is French lacquer history.

Sure enough, I would soon learn, vernis Martin is a type of lacquer named for the French brothers Guillaume and Etienne-Simon Martin. It is an imitation Chinese lacquer and was applied to a wide variety of items, from furniture to coaches. It is said to have been made either by heating oil and copal and then adding Venetian turpentine or by adding bronze or gold powder to green varnish.

It may be convenient here to draw attention to the remarkable invention which made Martin's varnish so famous. It was at the beginning of the 18th century that so many pieces of Chinese lacquer work were being imported into Europe, and European cabinet-makers tried hard to discover a process by which they could, if not actually copy foreign lacquer, which was produced by natural means, at any rate produce something which would answer the same purpose.

A Dutch inventor named Hans Huyjens made a varnish very like the Oriental in the finish he was able to produce with it. One of his workmen was a French - polisher named Guillaume Martin. Guillaume learned the secret, and it is said was able to improve upon it.

Guillaume had four sons who worked with him, and the varnish they produced became the rage in Paris, where they settled. The Martins applied their varnish, which became known as Vernis - Martin, to all kinds of furniture, and they were especially successful in the ornamentation of fancy boxes, brisé fans and even quite small objects like snuff-boxes.

In 1740 the brothers Martin secured a Royal patent for their lustrous lacquer substitute, and Vernis-Martin became the rage not only on the Continent but in England.

The furniture made under the Reign of Terror or the Directoire was controlled by the Jury of Arts and Manufacture, at whose instigation many fine relics of ancient France, as it was under its kings, were destroyed by fire.

This act of vandalism was performed under the Tree of Liberty in the forecourt of the Gobelins Factory. Not only were many priceless objects destroyed but other royal treasures were dispersed. Thus at that time many pieces of furniture, which had been made for kings and nobles, passed into the hands of commoners of other nations.

As the period defined as that of the Directoire indicates the time when the French people had for a time discarded kingly rule, so it also indicates to the connoisseur of furniture a period when a different influence was brought to bear on the trade and commerce of the nation. It is noteworthy that the names of French sovereigns, patrons of art at their respective periods, have assisted in defining periods in French art. Such periods are very appropriate in that French rulers were mostly great supporters of art, and the peculiar changes which came about in French art and furniture and other things is generally noticeable at the commencement of a new reign or era. Royal influences being very intimately associated with the art of a nation, we may look to some indication of change in the Directoire period and during the Revolution in France, the time immediately preceding the First Empire.

Makers who had introduced the royal monogram and regal ornament on furniture and in textiles suddenly discarded those emblems of sovereignty and substituted griffins, caryatides, and some classic ornament.

The sphinx came later, after Napoleon had returned from Egypt. There was then the torch for victory, and bay leaves symbolical of the praise meted out to the Conquerer. The honeysuckle or anthemion then introduced was an Egyptian ornament borrowed from ancient Greece.

P. Abdula rockin' the Louis Vuitton Monogram Vernis Houston. HOLLA!

photo: bettybl

Rest in Peace, Bobby V

Ah yes, my boy Bobby V; the piano-playing, coke sniffin, Bridgehampton restaurateur who fed Truman Capote his liquid lunch most days - died in obscurity on Tuesday as a taxi driver in Huntington, Long Island. Cue that Price Is Right tuba fart when someone loses...

Bobby had a healthy appetite for the booze and the coka and was forced out of his own business many years ago. But his name lives on at the Bobby Van's in Bridgehampton, as well as at four steakhouse outlets in Manhattan and two in DC.

The one I know best is a stone's throw away inside the Helmsley Building; the building that basically swallows Park Avenue whole like the gaping mouth of a giant liger bitchface.

Upon entering Bobby V's Park Avenue burger joint, one is greeted with the sight of a credenza groaning under the weight of large bottles of wine. A bar full of total Johnson's is on the left and looking into the 100-seat dining room, one sees the 30-foot high ceiling and windows that overlook Park Avenue. It's a great place to meet with The Total Johnsons about some spreadsheet-related bullshit at work while eating marbled Porterhouse ape-steaks and behemothic Maine Lobsters in madras shorts and boat shoes.

In his book about the Hamptons, Philistines at the Hedgerow, gossip-insider Steven Gaines called Bobby V's "an oasis of warmth and country bonhomie in the bleakness of the gray Hamptons winter"; yeah well ol' Bobby V was "reduced to driving a cab and was on dialysis" at the end, said my source who spent many a pleasant evening at the original East End restaurant - where Truman Capote would order "my orange thingee," which turned out to be 4 parts vodka, one part orange juice.

The watering hole became a hot spot the moment it opened in 1969, drawing such other regulars James Brady, George Plimpton, James Jones, Kurt Vonnegut, John Knowles, and helped establish the Hamptons as an A-list resort.

Van's ex-wife, Marina, had him cremated with no service and no announcement.

Bobby was 64.

Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima

Here it is, the iconic image of the end of the Broadway Stagehands strike. The Raising the Flag on Iwo Jima of our day. I've seen it everywhere today. But what the fuck are they doing?!

Are they all simultaneously hailing cabs? Ordering hot dogs at Shea? Buying stocks? Bidding on something at a sidewalk Sotheby's situation? Oh wait, maybe it means “Local One Rules” or “Local One Won”? Maybe I'm just dumb.

The lullaby of strikes lasted just over three weeks but Broadway stagehands and the league of extraordinary producers came to an agreement late last night.

Most of the 26 some odd shows darkened by the standoff will open again tonight.

Local One's website has this announcement for members: "The strike is over. Do not, I repeat, do not report for picket duty." Um, guys, usually the "I repeat" thing is for when you're giving a public announcement like over a loudspeaker, a megaphone or some sort of mass public address situation. I've never seen someone actually TYPE "I repeat" in a message before. I kinda love it.
Our fair city lost about $40 million in tax revenue during the showcase showdown because tourists left the famous theater district like an empty subway car with a human turd.

The Producers claim they’re down about $20 million from the strike, but since they'd secretly squirreled away another $20 million in a sneaky “strike fund” over the past few years by charging a few cents extra on every ticket, it means they’ve still got some pocket money, I repeat, they’ve still got some pocket money!

“Yes. Yes! In the face!”

This elegant n' classy sign can be found near the elevators on the first floor of the ~~Russian Tea Room~~ Municipal Parking Lot on 85th Street and 5th Avenue. It has that perfect combination of polite request and practical advice to dissuade peeing in the stairs. Someone has also drawn us a sketch of what appears to be a rough rendering of "Blanka", the electrical discharging character from Street Fighter 2, which I thought was a nice touch. It also looks like there is a "Frank '07" tag on the bottom right. Well, hello, Frank.

Though I'm not much of a video game fan, my favourite video game character, by far, happens to be Blanka. I'd just pound on the controls until he did that electric shock thing and everyone would call me "cheap". Oh well.

Blanka's in-game storyline states that he was once extremely pale and was known locally as the hombre blanco (white man) and adapted the blanco into his name Blanka. This is a strange storyline point because the language spoken in Brazil is not Spanish but Portuguese (in which that expression would be homem branco).

Blanka's green skin colour in the games is attributed to his constant use of chlorophyll from plants to better blend in with the jungle environment, a color change that eventually became permanent. His colouring changed in later games, making him bright green with vivid orange hair as opposed to the yellowish green skin he had in Street Fighter II.

Apparently Blanka's original prototypical name was "Big Dean Caves" - sounds like a porn star. But I guess he was originally going to look more like a caveman rather than an electric Hulk meets faker He-Man.

In his Street Fighter II ending, Sweet Blanka reunites with his mother, Momma Blanka, who recognises her son from those little anklets he wears. She reveals that Blanka was once known as Jimmy, before he was in a plane crash as a little boy. This crash caused him to grow up in the wild, although he has connections to a local village. Ever since the crash, Blanka had been separated from his mother.

However we are never told for sure why he does that electric charge thing now. I do know that Blanka ate a melon on a poacher's truck and thats how he traveled to civilisation for the first time from the site of his plane crash. Maybe he ate some wires from the crash site? Or maybe he ate a toxic melon? Hey, what the fuck do I know.

Vancouver Now More New York Than, Well, New York

Hey, kids, wanna see what NYC sorta looked like before all you idiots moved here from Michigan, ran the ghettos into the surrounding rivers and found studios in Bed-Stuy on Cragislist for $1475? Well, go see WATCHMEN in, um, March of 2009.

From WATCHMEN: The Backlot:

“After a couple months of shooting at various locations and on stages, last week we finally made the transition to our New York City backlot. Since the New York City that is rendered in the graphic novel is so particular, it was very important to me that our backlot speak the same language, the vernacular of WATCHMEN. In addition, the backlot needs to function as many different parts of the city, countless store fronts, street corners, alleys, etc. So, with that in mind, we set out to build own own custom backlot here in Vancouver, BC. In my opinion, the results speak for themselves.”

click to enlarge the photos

Battle of the Lightings

Oh, F going to the posh Sea Grill tonight for cocktails, V.I.P. models and L.E.D. Christmas trees, I know where I'll be - right plunk down on Atlantic and 4th looking up at that big ol' Williamsburgh Savings Bank Building a.k.a. "One Hanson", for tonight the clock'll be lit and turned on for the first time since August 2006!

From the CAPS LOCKED and loaded press release:

"TONIGHT – A TEST RUN AND ONE NIGHT ONLY -- BROOKLYN’S TALLEST BUILDING – ONE HANSON PLACE -- LIGHTS ITS FAMOUS CLOCK!!!"

Just as quickly as we get excited, however, comes the punchline, in lower case: "No date has yet been announced for when the clock will be officially keeping time and lit." Um, so you're just gonna flash it on for a minute and then turn it off again? Scratch that, I'm going to the Sea Grill to hang with Al Roker and Gemma Ward.

C'mon now, Crazyface

C'mon, Amyface, get your shit together.

The punk rock Aretha said yesterday she was canceling all her remaining planned concerts this year, saying she could not perform while her husband was in prison.

Stupid Blake Fielder-Civil is being held on remand accused of inflicting grievous bodily harm on a pub owner in an incident in June last year.

Punk rock Aretha has struggled with drugs and alcohol and has been criticised for some of her recent performances. Basically she was spitting at the crowd, they were booing her for mumbling through the tunes and overall just saying her shows were sucking.

Amy said on her website that her doctor had advised her to cancel all live appearances scheduled this year but also threw in a "I can't give it my all onstage without my Blake."

The crowd lashed out against Amy following her shambolic performance from her at London's Hammersmith Apollo last Saturday night.

Winehaus arrived on stage 45 minutes late, by which time some fans were already demanding refunds for their £30 tickets. Many sections of the crowd were booing before she even took the stage. Seemed like they were waiting at that point just to boo her when she finally appeared.

Midway through the performance Winehouse seemed bored and wandered offstage, leaving a backing singer to step forward and take vocal duties.

Ammo looked unstable throughout the set and at one point her beehive hair extension nearly fell off.

While performing "Valerie" as part of the show's encore, Winehouse left the stage again, halfway through the song, this time for good, once more leaving a backing singer to fill in until the show ended.

Yet still she is considered one of Britain's leading pop phenoms and has rarely been out of the pages of the country's tabloids which have closely followed her and her husband's increasingly chaotic (read: wanna be Sid and Nancy) lifestyles.

You may recall earlier this year she canceled a U.S. tour citing health issues as well.

I dunno, Amykins. You need to figure this shit out. The headlines are going to become "Amy Winehouse Actually Turns Up At A Gig" if you keep this bullshit up.

You're 24. Get your shit together, dump that hump Blake, and get your shit on the road. Life ain't that bad, babe. You've got a good thing going here. Give it a shot.

And who the fuck is this Blake Fielder-Civil anyway? A roadie? A groupie? Where ever did Amy find this turd?

which way, doof?

Freud Is Freaking The F.ck Out Right Now

My friend G-Moz sent this over from Fun Fever:

Fun fever is right, how about some Grade-A Listeria!

“Modern Toilet is a restaurant in Taipei, Taiwan with a modern decor and a full-on toilet theme. All 100 seats in the crowded diner are made from toilet bowls, not chairs. Sink faucets and gender-coded "WC" signs appear throughout the three-storey facility, one of 12 in an island-wide chain of eateries!”

I love the distinction that they've got a “full on” toilet theme. Full on, as opposed to those other half-assed Taiwan toilet diners with only a few terlets but mostly regular booths and tables. This place is all toilet, all the time.

Bonus list of Foodborne illnesses & disease: E. coli O157, Salmonella, Norwalk virus, Hepatitis A, Campylobacter Jejuni

You had me at “My books are about killing God”:
Phil Pullman is my new hero

The Golden Compass is a new dreamy kids flick starring Nicole Kidman, Daniel Craig and Sam Elliot among others and written by 61-year-old British author Philip Pullman.

Though its being advertised quite harmlessly as "an exciting fantasy adventure" for children set in "a world where witches rule the northern skies, where ice bears are the bravest of warriors, and where every human is joined with an animal spirit who is as close to them as their own heart," the $180M Hollywood movie, which opens Dec. 7, is also drawing criticism from religious groups that describe it as "militantly atheistic," "blasphemous," "heretical," and "diabolical." And that's where it gets fun.

Ye Old Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights and the American Family Association are among the groups farting for a boycott and trying to basically ruin Christmas for kids who are amped to see this movie. Like I flipped the script on ya, huh?

The controversy stems from Pullman's His Dark Materials, a series of children's fantasy novels on which The Golden Compass is based. The books in the trilogy have sold more than 14 million copies since debuting in 1995.

Pullman has described himself at various times as either an atheist or an agnostic. HOLLA! The author has made it clear that he is not happy with the way religious institutions have answered those questions.

He told the Sydney Morning Herald, for example, that "my books are about killing God," and that he was amused that American Christians have been more critical of J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books than His Dark Materials.

"I've been flying under the radar, saying things that are far more subversive than anything old Harry has said," Pullman said. Ohhhh dip. We got beef in the childrens fantasy section; call store security!

He has stated a number of times that he wrote His Dark Materials in part to counter the Christian themes and values woven into C.S. Lewis' literary children's classic, The Chronicles of Narnia.

"Pullman's been pretty upfront that part of his intention is to write sort of the 'anti-Narnia' story," said Bruce Edwards, a Lewis scholar and professor of English at Bowling Green State University.

"I hate the Narnia books, and I hate them with a deep and bitter passion," Pullman says. Me, too, bro!

Stupid Chronicles of Narnia starts with a young heroine named Lucy ducking inside a wardrobe that opens into the dumb land of Narn.

In The Golden Compass, 12-year-old Lyra Belacqua hides inside a wardrobe, where she hears her uncle talking about Dust, a mysterious element that becomes a key component of the story.

Her uncle, Lord Asriel (played by Daniel Craig - James Bond, Layer Cake, Munich), is heading to the Arctic Circle to find this Dust, but the story's institutional villain, the Magisterium, desperately wants to prevent him from finding it. Not coincidentally, the Roman Catholic Church's sacred teaching authority is called the Magisterium.

Lyra has been given the last existing "alethiometer," or Golden Compass, a truth-telling device that answers questions formed in the mind, and is befriended by Nicole Kidman's character, Marisa Coulter, a scientist, world traveler, and secretly an agent for the Magisterium.

All the humans in Pullman's story are accompanied by their own personal "daemons" that take the form of animals and represent the person's soul or conscience.

Bruce, the Lewis scholar and professor of English at Bowling Green State University who I mentioned earlier, continues: "My understanding is that in the first film, the anti-religious message would be very muted," said Edwards, who is familiar with Pullman's books but had not yet seen the film. "I think the filmmakers have tried to sanitise it to give it some broader appeal."

He said the action and adventure sequences in The Golden Compass book eventually give way to "increasingly dense, thematically thick" chapters that "fall into a lot of soliloquies and speeches."

"By the third written text, it's very explicit that God needs to be 'taken out,'" Edwards said.

Compared to C.S. Lewis' skill at telling stories with spiritual metaphors, Pullman packs in his atheistic message "like a sledgehammer," he said.

Does the name Bill Donohue ring a bell? Well, it should.

Bill Donohue is the superhero / defender of evil / president of the Catholic League for Religious and Civil Rights; infamous for his public statements on matters that the Catholic League believes relate to the defamation of and the civil rights of Catholics in particular and Christians in general. In doing so he has gone after a diverse array of public figures, from people like Christopher Hitchens and Bill Maher, to businesses like Abercrombie & Fitch and Miller Beer, to institutions such as Bob Jones University. The dude is a bona fide nut.

Remember Opie and Anthony and "Sex for Sam 3"? Where Paul Mecurio encouraged a trashy Virginia couple visiting Manhattan, to have sex inside St. Patrick's Cathedral. When your boy Bill Donohue learned of the incident, he immediately contacted the FCC asking that it revoke the license of WNEW. With his undeniable power and influence Donohue led the charge which would get O&A ousted and sound loudly the death knell for "hot talk" radio in New York City.

Bill Donohue has gone after everyone from obvious targets like Marilyn Manson to Kevin Smith because of that stupid Dogma movie, to South Park, Michael Savage, CSI (the show, not the college), comedian Louis CK... the list goes on and on.

Donohue even has beef with Bush! the first president to defiantly mix chocolate state with peanut butter church. After Bush used the term "Holidays" instead of "Christmas" on the White House 2005 holiday cards, Donohue stated "The Bush administration has suffered a loss of will and... they have capitulated to the worst elements in our culture."

So naturally Superhero Bill Donohue, is urging Christians not to see The Golden Compass or to buy the trilogy for their children, saying that Mr. Pullman's "twin goals are to promote atheism and denigrate Christianity - to kids."

Although New Line Cinema toned down the anti-religious elements of The Golden Compass, the first book in the series is already more restrained than the second installment, The Subtle Knife, which Mr. Donohue said is "more overt in its hatred of Christianity," and the third book, The Amber Spyglass.

Mr. Donohue is urging parents to read a tract published by the Catholic League titled "The Golden Compass: Agenda Unmasked," saying that its readers "will be armed with all the ammo they need to convince friends and family members that there is nothing innocent about Pullman's agenda." Oh, shut the fuck up.

Pullman, in an online interview, said parents "should read the book and trust the book and trust your children. If you brought them up decent, open-minded, wise, and clear-sighted, you don't need to worry about them turning into little monsters or little atheists or anything."

I think that about sums it up. Donohue is the one who comes off like a lunatic. As usual.

Selected Captain Donohue quotes:

“You stuck your middle finger up at the Catholic church, and we just broke it, pal.”

“Hollywood likes anal sex. They like to see the public square without nativity scenes. I like families. I like children. They like abortions. I believe in traditional values and restraint. They believe in libertinism.”

“Hollywood is controlled by secular Jews who hate Christianity in general and Catholicism in particular.”

Stagehands Union and Broadway Theater Owner Talks Going Swimmingly

So swimmingly that at around 2 AM this morning, a union official who was outside having a cigarette break got into a fistfight with a panhandler who was walking around 48th Street.

“The Milford Plaza is the lullaby of Broadwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!”

The Truth About Absinthe

In the world of alcohol, absinthe is not a very well understood spirit. It's been mystified and highly romanticised over the 100 or so years it has been banned here in the states (until recently it was made legal - HOORAY!).

Many people falsely believe that it causes hallucinations or other psychedelic effects - not unlike Newcastle Brown Ale. Most of that is actually attributed to the heavy metals added to some old bootleg absinthes to achieve the louche (turning the liquid cloudy) effect. If ya drink enough mercury from your mum's old thermometer and you'll see something that's for shit sure.

The real effects of absinthe simply come from its absurdly high alcohol content. Currently, two foreign varieties are available on the United States market, with a slew of domestic makers readying a new product. When purchasing, make sure that your wormwood is between Kubler 53 (53% alcohol) or Lucid (62% alcohol).

Obviously it's all been very highly romanticised. Absinthe tastes like shit and burns like a rusty razor blade but hey, Oscar Wilde, van Gogh, Manet and Rimbaud couldn't have been faking it, right? Would my boy Henri de Toulouse fuck around and act on a placebo effect of green rubbing alcohol?

Surely Paul Verlaine knew the real deal. Picasso and Hemingway drank the Kool-Aid, too.

I've tried it, the real shit, not the new legal Marilyn Manson absinthe. I had it back when it was still banned and we could only get it whilst on tour in Budapest or Prague. We'd have to order it weeks in advance and our friends would sneak it to us backstage. And it tasted like actual dolphin piss and burned like hydrogen peroxide on a paper cut. And I didn't see any strawberry fields, just the sleepytime trio and Officer Blackout.

No evidence supports any hallucinations or other psychedelic effects. Few descriptions of these hallucinations exist from actual absinthe drinkers beyond a few quotes from poets after a long night of drinking. And you know poets, they live to exaggerate and romanticise.

So anyway, Gridskipper has a map of a few spots where you can have yourself a few shots of this ancient spirit and see for yourself that it was all bullshit.

Related: 09 October 2007 Absinthe, the sorcerous

From Jezebel: “Print advertisements for Camel No. 9 Cigarettes, the pink-packaged smokes meant to evoke Chanel No. 19 and appeal to the Manolo-obsessed and Cosmo-swilling female consumer, will be pulled from magazines by parent company R.J. Reynolds beginning in 2008. Executives for the company tell the Winston-Salem Journal that the decision to pull all print ads is not based on Congressional protests, but merely a "business decision."

According to the AP, the initial protest — which focused on tobacco advertising in women's magazines— was launched because Camel No. 9 ads "threaten the health of the teenagers and young women who form a large part of [women's magazine] readership.”

Gee, ya think?

If you were paying attention you'd have noted this was the second time today I've mentioned R.J. Reynolds... Hmmmmm

Mets News

NY Mets fans are a rare breed.

Die hard Mets fans still have hand held transistor radios and hang outside OTB in the summer heat listening to the games.

You know the guy at your local hardware store who sorta hangs out there all day, chews on his tongue and seems a little slow? Chances are he's a Met fan.

Oh, and you know that dude in your neighbourhood with the shaved salt and pepper head who always wears hunter green sweatpants, a flannel lined lumberjack shirt and mutters to himself in the supermarket? Yeah, he's a Met fan, too. In fact, he's still pissed about the Kevin Elster trade.

Anywho, reason being, theres some news in Mets radio land. Yesterday the Phillies announced that Met radio voice Tom McCarthy has signed a 5-year contract with them. The story notes that he'll do three innings of TV play-by-play (4th-6th, the three that Harry Kalas doesn't do).

McCarthy, nicknamed by some as "Gary Clone" (due to his similar Gary Cohen cadence and style) spent two seasons with Howie Rose on WFAN.

Not sure who will take his place. Some assume Eddie Coleman but if they were gonna have Eddie do it, they would've never even brought in McCarthy. I also read that John Sciambi(Marlins and ESPN announcer) had been considered before McCarthy took the gig. So I guess we'll see when pitchers and catchers report to St. Lucie in a few months.

“You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, "Who is that, man?"
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you'll say when you get home
Because something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?”

"Mister Jones" was Jeffrey Owen Jones, a film professor at the Rochester Institute Of Technology. He has been regularly identified as the subject of "Ballad Of A Thin Man" from Dylan's peerless "Highway 61 Revisited" album.

Jones was 63 and died of lung cancer at the beginning of November.

According to the widely held theory, Jones inspired the song after interviewing Dylan while he was an intern at Time magazine. The pair spoke at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival, just ahead of the singer's legendary performance where he went electric. Judas!

Years after the song appeared, Jones told Rolling Stone he was actually honoured to have been written about by Dylan.

"I was thrilled - in the tainted way I suppose a felon is thrilled to see his name in the newspaper," he wrote. "I was awed too that Dylan had so accurately read my mind. I resented the caricature but had to admit that there was something happening there at Newport in the summer of 1965, and I didn't know what it was."

Since his immortalisation in song, Jones worked in Uruguay and Spain writing and directing films. He then returned to America where he became a teacher and lecturer, and also worked for CBS producing several award-winning educational films.

His sister Pamela Jones said, "Dylan didn't paint a vignette of my brother that one would necessarily be proud of. But I think my brother was in the middle of history-making."

Although it is widely thought that Jones inspired the song, there have been other candidates for the protagonist, including a British journalist named Max Jones, who Dylan has mentioned himself.

with portions from The NME

Is Christina Ricci starring in The Anna Wintour Story or something?

Weeeeoooooooooh Lookie there Billy Lee!

Fives of people show up to watch Tony Stewart drive by

Us here Northerners be forgiven for knowing little about the fastest growing sport in the United States. NASCAR – the National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing – was founded in 1948 by Bill France.

Several years later, he founded the International Speedway Corporation, which owns the racetracks. In the 1970's, R.J. Reynolds tobacco became NASCAR's lead sponsor, and the Daytona 500 became the first nationally televised stock car race.

Still a family-owned business, NASCAR has annual revenues in the billions and is regularly cited as the fastest growing spectator sport in the United States.

Yes, but no one cares about NASCAR in New York City. Let's not mince words; everyone knows NASCAR is a redneck thing; a Southeast thing. Don't get all PC with me about NASCAR now.

Gotta love ol' JD sponsoring a race car

People care about NASCAR below the Mason-Dixie line, not on Madison Avenue. That much has not changed; there's a reason that proposed 80,000 seat NASCAR arena in Staten Island never broke ground a few years ago.

Regardless, today was motherfuckin' NASCAR victory lap day in our fair city.

NASCAR is basically a form of motorized professional wrestling and having NASCAR in town celebrating the end of their season with "Champions Week", complete with a goddamn "victory lap" in Midtown Manhattan is akin to having the Yankees World Series ticker tape parade in Munich.

Naturally I would suppose they have this NASCAR thing in the city as a tourist attraction. Gotta entertain them there tourists. Gotta make 'em feel at home even when they're on vacation somewheres difrent.

"That there looks like a good ole smokin' crack up, dunnit Jesse?"

The only reason I even know this went on today was because I was stuck in the collateral damage traffic; gridlocked on Madison for a good 25 minutes.

NASCAR's victory lap couldn't have come at a better time for the city as today is a classic "gridlock alert day" because of the tree lighting tonight.

But I'll be at the tree lighting as a guest of a V.I.P. J.Crew model I know so HOLLA AT YOUR BOY!

Oooh wait, now I'm hearing Thursday and Friday there will be a NASCAR "Fan Fest" at the Hard Rock Cafe in Times Square. Apparently the festivities finish up Friday night with an awards ceremony at the Waldorf-Astoria, where the NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Champion will be crowned.

Ummm... why would all this NASCAR ish take place down South but then when it's time to crown the coveted "NASCAR NEXTEL Cup Champion" you bring the circus to the Waldorf ?!!

New Yorkers are thrilled... or did they bus these clowns in from South Carolina?

Here a double-decker NYC sightseeing bus cuts off a race car

Hot Lunch

Who could forget public school hot lunch? Oh, and the famed "hot lunch line".

Even though I never once touched the stuff (I always brown bagged it) to this day simply contemplating the phrase "hot lunch" tickles the gag reflex of my very soul.

So today my co-worker is eating something which brought me back instantly to the smell of a cheaply fried something mixed with those grey recycled corrugated cardboard trays, a carton of whole milk... BARF!

I can't explain it but it's one of those smells that’s stored in your brain, quite obviously, forever. For I haven't been inside a school cafeteria in many moons and still it brought me back faster than a Rupert Sheldrake theory.

Gee, I don't know what it was that made it all so gross and unappetizing. Maybe coming from a Mediterranean family where food was our lifesblood and passion; something about the lifeless utilitarianism of a public school cafeteria sucked all the life out of those chicken patties and tater tots for me.

The lunch ladies were stereotypically old fraus; cranky and nasty with liver spots galore; dressed like surgeons serving up ladles of unidentifiable slop behind mammoth stainless steel counter tops which were as aesthetically pleasing as an emergency room. Hmmm maybe that's what did it?

Even in high school my phobia of school lunch continued. I never ate anything that wasn't shrinkwrapped. My normal lunch was a black & white cookie and a can of diet Coke. Healthy.

Around Thanksgiving they'd always have a Thanksgiving-themed hot lunch complete with a turkey shaped sugar cookie! I mean, it was just totally pathetic.

A retired Brother would stand at the head of the lunch line and call out the "specials" of the day. Things like "fish sticks" and "baked ziti in a cup for a dulla".

The lunch ladies in my high school cafeteria were actual zombies; chain-smoking Aqua Net zombies covered head to toe in liver spots just like you'd imagine.

The guy who ran the register would be smoking a cigar and dabbing his ashes on a wooden spike of soggy pretzels perched at the counter. Mmmm mmm mmm, that's good!

Senior year one day the toilets on the ground floor of my high school backed up. They backed
up so bad, dirty toilet water was coming up through the stainless steel sink drains in the kitchen. Can you imagine? I wanna puke now just thinking about it.

I had a shitty 64 oz. salad for lunch and now I've really made myself ill with my own words. That's a talent.