From the monthly archives:

October 2004

Endangered Species Spotted In Toronto.

by Dave on October 29, 2004

in

My friend Peter, whom I previously thought was the only living Conservative working for the City of Toronto, sent me an interesting photo today. The backstory: Someone told Pete they saw a Bush/Cheney sign in the office window of a city councilman. Reeling from disbelief, Pete sought out the window in question and after an exhaustive search through hostile territory (Toronto City Hall) Pete located the politician in question.

I’ll let Pete name the aforementioned gentleman in a comment if he so desires. Barometrically speaking – for my American readers – the discovery of this rare breed of Canadian conservative is akin to a Nepalese sherpa stepping in Yeti doodies. Fair play to you, sir. You’ve got balls. Not to be confused with Yeti balls, which are generally covered in a shockingly white, light peach fuzz. Don’t ask me how I know that.

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Appetizer: Name a board game you enjoy playing. What’s fun about it?

I think that a true nerd is some who embraces it – and who truly revels in their nerdiness. The type of guy that will speak Klingon to another nerd while there are single women in the room. You get the picture. Anyway, my point is that Bryan and Art bought me a great DVD/board game for my birthday last year called Scene It. You answer questions about movie clips, etc. It’s great fun – the only problem is not only have I smoked everyone who’s ever played it with me, I do so well that the games only last 15 minutes. So I fear that may make me a nerd of some sort. But I’ll fight the classification tooth and nail.

Soup: How’s the weather been in your area lately?

All weather, wind patterns and barometric pressure has been on hold in Boston due to the World Series. Normal forces of nature will resume after the parade tomorrow, and I’ll gladly update you then. A stupid question deserves a…

Salad: Do you consider yourself an emotional person? What types of emotions do you experience most often?

Does crushing disappointment count as an emotion? If not, then put me down for ‘ennui’. Jesus, I sounded like an Allston hipster just then. Pardon me, I was due at a Kerry rally at The Model an hour ago.

Main Course: List 3 songs you’ve been listening to recently.

I listen to ‘There Goes The Fear’ by The Doves daily. It’s my absolute favorite song of all time, and has appeared on just about every mix I’ve made since early 2002. Even the rap ones. I’ve also been listening to this amazing and really hard to find song called ‘Here It Comes’ by Longwave. I’m not a big fan of the band’s other material but this song just does it for me. And finally the new U2 song, Vertigo, is superb. Loving it and looking forward to the rest of the album. Not crazy about the iPod tie-in though. Or any of their albums from 93-99.

Dessert: What’s on your refrigerator door? Magnets? Photos? Calendars?

Trailer Park Boys magnets. A photo of me, Jill and Sara taken on a Boston harbor cruise 2 years ago. A Christmas photo sent to me by Becky, Phil and Cole. A photo from PJ’s wedding with him, me, Henry and Harkins. An alarming brown smear which I’m sincerely hoping is Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup. But it gets weird in that apartment sometimes – so you never know. Until you taste it.

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Red Sox Revelry – This The Last Of It. Promise.

by Dave on October 28, 2004

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Yet another small batch of photos from last night that have made their way to my inbox. This should be the final set, but it’s going to be a very busy couple of days down here and I’m sure this site will be rife with images of Boston barfights and buggery spanning the rest of the weekend.

Comment from Kyle: “I just like the fact that Dave was the only one not drinking, but looks more liqued than anyone else“. I like it too – It seems I really don’t need alcohol to have a good time. Just plenty of clown porn and amphetamines. Have a look at the photo on the top left: In case you were wondering why the Red Sox won so easily, it’s because I’ve been rubbing my “lamp” all week. Oh… And that candle that was on the table at Tiernans, too.

And here we all are in the middle of the mess that was Faneuil Hall. I’ll be glad when Halloween is over, because I’m tired of looking like Jason Priestly on steroids. I need a haircut, a shave and a reason to stop TiVoing 90210.

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Red Sox vs. Office Productivity. Sox Win Again.

by Dave on October 28, 2004

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How hideously unproductive is your office or place of business right now? So far this morning, I’ve gotten 58 Red Sox related e-mails and probably as many instant messages. My boss is bleary-eyed and incoherent, our sales guy has failed to show up for a meeting and God forbid we talk about a client rather than the victory parade on Saturday.

I say we all pack it in and meet up on my roofdeck for beers and BBQ. How anyone is supposed to concentrate today is beyond me. Oh yeah, they’re called professionals. Know any?

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Curse This! – Boston Wins The World Series.

by Dave on October 28, 2004

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I won’t recap tonight’s game. I won’t repeat what I wrote last week about Red Sox Karma and deserving to win. I don’t need to delve into how much I respect Boston Baseball fans, who after being served up steaming hot disappointment for 86 years straight, still report for duty every spring as the most fanatical, faithful and fervent fans known to the sport. What I will do is share a few photos I took tonight for anyone wondering what it was like to be in the city of Boston the year the Red Sox finally reversed the curse, and won the World Series. I am surprised I made it home without being open mouth kissed by another man, hit over the head with a trash barrel or stomped silly by a police horse. Because that’s what usually happens to me on Wednesday nights.

Here’s Ris, Me, some old guy who kept trying to sneak into our photographs screaming about booze and hookers, and Ted. Or maybe it was Ris screaming about booze and hookers. I was caught up in the moment and don’t really remember. Six Diet Cokes will do that to a guy.

There’s Chrissy flying her colors in Tiernans where we all watched the game. I have a great video clip of the place erupting after the last out which I’m going to try to compress and post. Then there’s a guy sitting on someone’s shoulders waving a broom in Faneuil Hall. Get it? If the specifics of broom humor (I must have seen 30 people carrying them tonight) needs to be explained to you, Bob Saget might be more your speed.

What major sporting event championship would be complete without the obligatory “arsehole up the flagpole” photo? I’m sure this guy was dragged down and beaten by police like a flatulent stepchild shortly after this blurry mess was taken, but alas – my camera is absolute shite in the dark. I’ll post some better photos tomorrow as they’re e-mailed to me. And there are Ted and I amongst the swelling sea of ‘Revere Rickys’ screaming “fuck yeah dood!”.

What really struck me about tonight was an overwhelming sense of unity. Fans of all creeds and colors – with no personal connection to each other other than they were all simultaneously out of doors – high fiving, screaming in people’s faces, knocking each other over for a good dry-humping. And no one was killed by a stray pepper-spray packet which is always a bonus. It was all very touching. Jesus, there was a lot of touching.

The parade is Friday, and it’s going to be a long weekend of revelry – Boston championship style. See you all at The Big Haunt.

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I am more of a hockey fan, but every fall I’ll get just a little fairweather and start watching Sox games if situations get interesting – and let’s just say it’s been a long week of TV. If you want to read a great Red Sox Blog, there are none finer than my friend Kent’s who has kept the faith remotely for years, all the way from Atlanta. So I’ll leave the excrutiating post-game analysis to people like him and just make a few high-level comments on why I think the Sox were able to mete out such a brutal pennant-winning, arse-whipping to the Yankees last night.

In a word: Karma. God, the powers that be, Miss Cleo, the Universe… whatever you want to call it… finally had had enough of Jeter’s snide expressions, A-Rod’s 22 million dollar blueberry yoghurt lips, pompous fans who forget that their now-toppled dynasty was bought rather than built and… um… that smug little Jeter bastard again. The looks on the faces of the NY crowd after the last out were just savory. It’s been so, so easy to be a Yankees fan for the last few years. And we were all so, so sick of you.

I remember in particular a shot of Billy Crystal in one of the luxury boxes, his face still pressed to the glass in disbelief a good 5 minutes after the game had ended. You can’t win all the time, Bill – I know it hurts. But I guess you already learned that lesson way back when The Legend of Curly’s Gold was released. Crystal is a great symbol for Yankees fans in general: Sitting high on their perch, looking down their noses at other teams instead of cheering their own, never dreaming they’d soon be unsurped by one of the greatest underdogs in sports history.

Popular Red Sox credos like “Keep The Faith” and “Cowboy Up” turn the attention and the onus inward. They’re meant to inspire and motivate the team and faithful fans alike. The best the Yankees can muster is “Who’s Your Daddy?” which just encourages people to dismiss and insult the opposition rather than root, root, root for the home team. And Jeter’s response to curious reporters last night? “It’s not always the best team that wins.” It’s not always the best team that comes back from a 3-0 series deficit to then whup the opposition by nearly double digits, either. Oh wait – you know what, Derek? It probably is. Sorry, I got caught up in the undertow of your ginormous ego there for a moment.

Too bad, so sad. What comes around already went around, and you lads get to spend the rest of the fall polishing your Bentleys. While the Red Sox Nation spends it showing New York that millions of dollars are never a match for perseverance, unity, character and class. Of course, I DID pass a guy on the way to work this morning wearing a “Jeter Swallows” T-Shirt. But for the sake of this article, let’s just keep that between us fairweather Sox fans.

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OK. Maybe Just Stay Out Of The Water.

by Dave on October 20, 2004

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There’s definitely a theme developing on Pye in the Face this week, and I apologize if you’re not fully into the aquatic motif. But as soon as terrifying and weird-ass forms of new sea life stop washing up on beaches around the world I’ll get back to the breast jokes.

This story comes to us from New Zealand, where some sort of behemoth from the hockey puck genus washed up near Farewell Spit on Sunday. It measured 3 meters across and the estimated weight was somewhere around a ton. A Department of Conservation worker noticed it on the beach while out for a bike ride, said it was a good specimen and “did not smell” – which unfortunately precludes me from any serious attempt at a Michael Moore joke.

The creepiest thing about this beast (which New Zealanders apparently call a Sun Fish), is the expression on it’s face and – Jesus – it’s mouth. Look at the lips on the damn thing. If I stumbled upon it while jogging down the beach late at night, I might mistake it for Angelina Jolie. Or an inflatable E.T. sex doll. In either case, the jog would then come to an abrupt halt in favor of push-ups.

I’d like to suggest that scientists around the world start wandering the beaches with Geiger counters or begin looking for whichever North Korean nuclear facility is firing pucks of uranium into the Pacific. Preferably before my petty daily financial and work-related stresses are replaced permanently with Godzilla.

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For The Love Of Quinn: SAVE TOUGH CROWD!

by Dave on October 19, 2004

in Television

A lot of people saw and commented – via blog or IM/e-mail – on my post last week regarding the cancellation of Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn. If you haven’t read it, please do so and save us all some time this post around. The nutshell: brilliant, topical, bi-partisan, current event debate show featuring the finest stand-up comics working today which is being canceled on November 4th.

I was lucky enough to get a ticket to the final taping and will be traveling down from Boston with Brukkake on a little daytrip, but that’s a small comfort. An associate of frequent Tough Crowd guest Jim Norton and the related website CringeHumor.net, was one of the people who found my article on Google and contacted me. Yesterday he IM’d me again to let me know about a new site which I wanted to pass along to anyone who cares. And judging from my server logs, a surprising number of you do.

The main goal of SaveToughCrowd.com is to get fans to email decision makers at Comedy Central and let them know just how many people truly love and support the show. The email addresses provided include Doug Herzog: President & CEO, Marc Leonard: Vice President of Program & Promotions Scheduling, Debbie Beiter: Vice President of Production & On-Air Promotions and Peter Risafi: Senior Vice President of On Air Promotion & Off Air Creative. Please visit the site and send a message of your own. I have.

Tough Crowd is being canceled because it loses too much of the audience which watches the show preceding it: the formerly-hilarious-and-currently-partisan-but-always-reprehensible Daily Show with it’s host Jon Stewart (who isn’t fit to sniff Tucker Carlson’s bicycle seat). The official show-biz term is ‘hemorrhaging’. But in this case I’ll settle for ‘catering to lefty college students’. The underlying argument is that the show never got a fair shot, with 98% of all Comedy Central’s marketing thrown behind Crank Yankers, Wanda Does It, Chapelle’s Show and Blue Collar Comedy Hour. And, as a frequent watcher of the channel, I firmly agree. So please do your part.

But if you’re a big fan of Larry the Cable Guy – you’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about.

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Attack Of The Humbolt Flying Giant Squids.

by Dave on October 19, 2004

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More squidiness for those of you who still can’t believe that I spent last Saturday night writing about defunct Disney World rides. Over 1,500 Humboldt jumbo flying squid washed up on Long Beach Peninsula, and have been doing so in British Columbia and Washington as well. I guess that’s squid pro quo being under attack from soggy suicide bombers. OK that was a new low.

They’ve become so commonplace off the West coast in the past week that, in typical human fashion, people have started contemplating eating them. “I sure wouldn’t eat them. It would be like eating a deer on the side of the road,” said Greg Bargmann, a marine fish manager with the Washington Fish and Wildlife Department. “But if you catch them live they’d be good.” Hoo wee! Them squid’s good eatin’! Forget about roadkill possum sandwiches, let’s take a couple of shotguns down to the beach and catch us an eight-legger then go back and watch the Nascar. Whoops, wrong coast.

But what if these things were washing up on the East Coast – say, in a seafood crazy city like our own Boston? The Barking Crab would immediately become “The Flying Squid”. Harpoon would begin brewing Squidtoberfest, Fenway would begin serving Flying Franks, Humbolt chowder would become all the rage at Legal Seafood and a new nightclub would open up in the Alley called “Tentacles” which would attract patrons from as far away as Pawtucket.

Here’s a gallery from the website of a guy who apparently spends more time obsessing about giant squids than even I am capable of. Note in particular the photo of the two humbolts laid out beside a cooler to add scale to the image. Make that a large calamari to go. I mean, to run screaming.

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My sister went to Disneyland last weekend and confirmed what I’d heard for years and never wanted to believe. And no, it’s not that Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride is much scarier when you’re six. I’ll get back to this point.

Listen – don’t you just love it when they catch the giant squids? Last week off the coast of British Colombia, a salmon fisherman named Goody Gudmundseth netted a 20kg, 1.5 metre long Humbolt Squid. Also known as the Jumbo Flying Squid. Flying squids? Oh, Goody! Eventually Gudmundseth turned it over to the Royal B.C. museum for study, but said that he’d almost decided to “use the squid for bait or to eat it as calamari”. I don’t know what he was thinking about when he gave it to science. I mean just look at that delicious grey thing. Can you also jar up the squid juice out of the tub so I can pour it over my mashed potatoes tomorrow?:

But in 2002 a giant squid was caught off the coast of Tasmania that makes Goodie’s look like a malnourished Sea Monkey. Actually, it just washed up dead on the beach. Which is a good thing – they would have needed Captain Nemo, seaQuest DSV, Das Boot and Red October to catch this monster. The friggin’ thing was 60 feet long and weighed over 550 pounds! Add that to the fact that it reeked like a hundred dead carps in the sun, and you can understand why I was so excited.

As you can see by now, I’m a bit of a giant squid afficianado (form a line to the left, ladies) and so I found myself recently reminded of my favorite Disney movie, 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. The nutshell: Captain Nemo rescues Peter Lorrie and Kirk Douglas after he sinks their ship. He shows them his ultra-modern submarine – The Nautilus – holds them captive and then gets killed by a big giant squid at the end. That was really only half a nutshell. But I love the film and even had the LP when I was a kid which I listened to on a Mickey Mouse record player to no end like a good little Disney zombie. So I guess that’s where the whole squid fascination thing comes from. There are worse things to be fascinated by. Like shiny keychains or Kreskin, for example.

So I was understandably psyched when my parents took me to Disneyland for the first time in the late 70’s – because I knew full well there was a big, glorious 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea Ride waiting there for me. The nutshell: You’d force your parents to wait in line in the hot Florida sun for 2 hours because there were only 2 subs going around on a track which each probably held about 10 people. You’d get in and listen to Captain Nemo take you on a tour of the lagoon, during which you’d see sunken ships, mermaids, Atlantis and yep – you guessed it – a giant squid. It was, in all fairness, a pretty cool ride for 1971. And I always found it incredibly eerie (I made three trips to Disneyland and rode it at least 5 times, the last hurrah being in 1991.)

You can still take a tour of the old ride on a site made by a similarly disgruntled fan here. And this is a page full of horrifying photos a Disney employee made during the old lagoon’s final destruction just this past July. And I have to give full credit to this guy, who has assembled an amazing collection of videos he was sent in by folks who’d taped the ride pre it’s 1994 demise and some great footage from a former Disney employee who worked on ride maintenance (no small feat) for a decade.

So the first thing I asked Janet when she got back from Disneyland Monday was “Is it true that they closed the 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea Ride?!” To which she looked at me like she’d just caught me dressing up like Captain Kirk and acting out scenes with imaginary Romulans or whatever they’re called. Which she hasn’t yet, by the way. And then replied simply, “Yes.”

Incidentally, that bastard Eisner has closed Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, too.

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Appetizer: What is your favorite beverage?

A lot of Indian restaurants don’t have liquor licenses. I’m unsure if that’s because they don’t want to pay the fees or if it’s due to the rash of “Waiter, there’s a cobra in my soup” incidents prevalent in the late 70’s – but it’s a fact. I remember a place my parents used to take my sister and I in Ottawa when we were kids. You may think a lack of a liquor license would be an inconvenience to most – but as long as the restaurant didn’t sell any booze, people were allowed to bring and drink their own. So my Dad and his friends would go across the street get an armload of wine each and get juiced while gorging on tandoori and making inappropriate turban jokes (I remember “pull-start” being a popular one – I’ll explain it to you sometime in person). OK – long story short, so we didn’t feel left out, my sister and I would always order sweet lassis. This is not an affectionate border collie. It’s a non-alcoholic Indian drink made from yoghurt, and they are dee-lish. Friggin’ cobras.

Soup: Name 3 things that are on your computer desk at home or work.

Home: An orange cat. If you ever get a naughty instant message from me, blame his fondness for keyboard tap dance/my fondness for liquor. Work: Photo of me/Venditti/Herb and a Tim Hortons can full of pens.

Salad: On a scale of 1-10, how honest do you think you are?

I’m a solid 9. It also would depend on whether we’re talking work or personal life here. But basically I’d tell the Eskimos I sold ice to to stop whining because they should be looking forward to their new life living on Florida swampland, instead.

Main Course: You get to change the name of a city. How bout it?

Boston would be re-christened “I Thank-God-Every-Day-That-I-Don’t-Live-In-New-York-Ville

Dessert: What stresses you out? What calms you down?

Less Money. Mo’ Money.

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"My Philosophy" on KRS-One’s 9-11 Comments

by Dave on October 14, 2004

in Musical

Voting in a corrupt society adds more corruption. America has to commit suicide if the world is to be a better place.” – Kris Parker.

At a New Yorker Festival panel discussion this week, KRS-One (aka Kris Parker) of pioneering rap collective Boogie Down Productions had a few choice words on the subject of 9-11. I just stumbled across this article, in the middle of a busy workday, and had to take a moment to mete out some sort of response (aka vent on this clown).

It was bad enough when Jadakiss‘ song “Why” recently posed the awe-inspiring question ‘Why did Bush knock down the towers?’ and then stayed at the top of the charts for several weeks. If you need a Jadakiss barometer, it was shortly after the line ‘Why’d Halle Berry have to let a white man pop her to get an Oscar?’ Rest assured – If I ever needed advice on rolling blunts, wearing nothing but red velvet tracksuits or how to look like Charles Barkley with Down Syndrome, I’d certainly give Jadakiss a call.

But Parker has always presented himself as a prophet and scholar. Someone who will always ‘teach the truth to the young black youth’. Here’s a quote from his 1988 hit “My Philosophy” which I didn’t even have to look up. You see, I absolutely loved this song as a kid and remember it line for line to this day: ‘… but I don’t walk this way to portray – or reinforce stereotypes of the day – like all my brothas eat chicken and watermelon – talk broken english and drug sellin’ – see I’m tellin’ and teaching real facts…’. Well, Kris, when you were 18 you certainly were. But I wouldn’t let you teach “Being a Phenomenal Cunt – 101” at this point, even though you’d be an phenomenal candidate.

His quotes yesterday in NYC only get better. In addition to saying “9/11 happened to them, not us,” he clarified “them” as “those who are oppressing us. RCA or BMG, Universal, the radio stations.” Or, whitey and jewey as they’re more commonly known in Parker’s insensitive little mind. He also claimed that he and other rappers “cheered when 9/11 happened.” I find that rather difficult to believe and propose someone share the 9-11 victim demographics with him which are readily available on the ‘internets’.

I imagine Kris Parker actually spent the majority of that horrible day the same way everyone else in this country did – frantically making phone calls, glued to CNN, trying to find out if their brothers, sisters, mothers and fathers were still alive. As Parker has lived in New York City all of his life, I’d even be willing to bet my extensive collection of BDP CDs. That is, if I hadn’t just thrown them all in the garbage.

** Follow – Up 10/15/04



Kris Parker has apparently re-thought his inane outburst and had this to say:

“I was making an objective point about how many Hiphoppas as well as the oppressed peoples of the world felt that day,” KRS continued. “I am a philosopher and a critical thinker, I speak truth and I urge people to think critically about themselves and their environment. Yes, my words are strong. Yes, my views are controversial. But to call me a terrorist is simply wrong!”

“Terrorist”? I’ll settle for “breathtakingly moronic”. Why do I agree with the distinction? Because not even a terrorist could put a bullet behind the ear of your fading career the way you just did.

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I’m having a Halloween party this year, as some of you already know, and I’m affectionately referring to it as “The Big Haunt“. It’s Saturday October 30th at the SideBar – and is shaping up to be as horrifying as the prospect of having to see Teresa Kerry on television every day for the next eight years. That abrasive, confrontational, overprivilaged windbag reminds me of a cross between Dame Judi Dench and Beula Ballbricker from Porky’s.

Some faithful readers of this blog have confided in me that they don’t know what they’re going to be for Halloween, and they just can’t think of anything. I’m being Julian from Trailer Park Boys. All I need is a black T-shirt (done) black jeans (done) and to grow a goatee (almost done). I have two friends completing the set as Ricky and Bubbles and it’s going to be hilarious. No fuss, no muss – done. Sure, only 1/5th of the guests will have any idea who we’re supposed to be, but I’m not eligible for the costume prizes as the organizer – so who gives a Kerry’s chance at the Presidency.

Look dear friends – stop agonizing. I’ll reference Adam Sandler’s 1991 SNL Weekend Update piece “How to stretch your Halloween dollar“:

You can just use your own t-shirt! Go as Crazy One-Armed Man. [ stuffs one arm under his t-shirt ] “Hey, look at me! I only got one arm, and I’m crazy! Now give me some candy, or I’ll grab you with my crazy one-arm!”

You can use something that’s in your house, even.. [ laughs, holds spoon to his head ] How about a spoon? “I’m Crazy Spoon-Head! And I want some candy! I don’t have a normal head, I got a damn spoon growing out of it! Now, give me some crazy candy, dammit! Ow-ooo, this spoon makes me crazy!”

So stop getting yourselves so wound up about it. It’s just a little Halloween party. $6 pitchers, free food, a DJ and absolutely NO COVER. But you can always spend the night alone in a closet watching Ghoulies and eating nothing but stale candy corn and Hershey’s Special Dark bars. That would be fun, too.

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I hate being right all the time. I didn’t fall off the wagon this past weekend, I was run over by the wagon in the middle of a muddy cowpath. My cell phone broke so if I haven’t called you back, don’t take it personally. Old friends and good times though. I don’t regret any of it.

I have a new appreciation for The Littlest Bar. I have been there several times but always figured it was more of a tourist trap. I was wrong – we had an amazing time there (as you can see) and you should drop in if you’ve never been. It‘s located off of Bromfield St. near Park St. on Provincial. And it’s the size of your closet. They store cases of beer on the windowsill, the pay phone is located in the unisex bathroom and it’s jam-packed with only ten people inside. Apparently Monday nights are the busiest so I gander that means there’ll be a whopping twelve. And what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. And a rolling stone is worth two in the bush.

Damien was quick to demonstrate his personal rendition of Zoolander’s signature “Blue Steel” look for a local who seemed just a wee bit too interested. Linda and Betsy battled the chilly New England autumn evening by improvising headgear. You know, the legal capacity of the place is 38. And there isn’t enough room for a mouse to get a hard-on. But thank God they’ve got the souvenir thongs covered.

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Appetizer: What are your plans for the upcoming weekend?

I haven’t had an alcoholic beverage for nearly three weeks. And I’ve quite enjoyed my self-imposed sebbatical sobriety. But my ex, whom I have not seen in 3 years, is in town (we’re on good terms). And she’s Irish. Lock up your liquor. ‘Nuff said.

Soup: Who was the last person you talked to on the telephone?

Jim Fitzgerald, yesterday. But I rarely talk on the phone. Seriously. I’m not like Paulie from Goodfellas, who didn’t talk on the phone because he was afraid of wire taps. I simply don’t like phones. I have an aversion to them. I also don’t threaten or torture people when they fail to give me protection money on time. Stern brow-beating or the silent treatment is usually quite sufficient.

Salad: Name a hobby that you’ve tried but eventually gave up for some reason.

There have been many. I wanted to make stop-motion plastercine movies when I was a kid. That lasted a summer. I made a cool version of Friday The 13th. Went through a lot of red clay on that one. I also collected trading cards for awhile. Other Canadian kids were goo-goo over hockey cards. But I still have a photo album full of Raiders of the Lost Ark cards which I compiled in 1981. It got me a Cub Scout Collector Badge, and several severe playground beatings. I wasn’t always this large.

Main Course: What is the most important personality quality in a mate?

A nice ass. Oh, sorry. I misread that. A nice ass and the patience of a saint.

Dessert: Why is the sky blue (be creative with your answer)?

Because he’s worried that with all the recent successes of SpaceShipOne, he’ll soon have a traffic jam on his nose. I said ON HIS NOSE. A-one and-a two and-a three. I don’t dance folks, this it it. I’m here all week – try the veal.

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