Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor

Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.

Mark Steyn Is The Man.


in

As one of the only living and admittedly conservative Canadians, I feel some solace in now knowing that there is indeed at least one other. Actually, I’ve been reading his stuff for a year now via the Chicago Sun Times – but this is the first time I’ve felt a powerful urge to quote him:

“As for the most striking photograph of this disaster, it’s by AFP’s Jimin Lai. I haven’t seen it in any of the papers, oddly enough. It shows a tsunami-devastated village in Galle on the southwestern coast of Sri Lanka: a couple of rescuers are carrying away a body while, behind them, smack dab in the centre of the picture, a young man looks on. He’s wearing an Osama bin Laden T-shirt.

I gave up worrying “Why do they hate us?” on the evening of September 11, 2001. But, if I were that Osodden bin Loser guy watching the infidels truck in water, food, medical supplies and emergency clothing for villagers whose jihad-chic T-shirt collection was washed out to sea, I might ask myself a more pertinent question: “Why do they like us?”

New Year’s Eve I got in a fight with some chick regarding the USA’s lack of tsunami relief. I think the first reported number was 35 million. She went on and on about how she was ashamed of Bush, etc. I asked her where she’d gotten that figure, and when. “CNN,” she replied. “A few days ago.” I then asked her if she knew that the official death toll had since quadroupled -and that the USA had ponied up another 100 million (which has, in the last 2 weeks, risen again into the neighborhood of 375 million). She had no idea. And by then I was so utterly sick of talking to her that I abandoned any hope of a dry handjob in the SideBar‘s bathroom. That particular night, anyway.

I might ask myself a more pertinent question: “Why are my political views skewed the way they are?” But I already know the answer – In between handjobs, I read the news.

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The ‘david.pye.com’ Memorial And Other Changes.


in Pye in the Face

Over 5 years ago I started my first website – david.pye.com – and it grew into a silly little exercise that became quite popular amongst my friends. When I switched to the blog format, and changed my domain name, many of you were upset – having grown used to the larger galleries, the accompanying jokes and many other silly components. I was flattered yet torn, having decided the new format was really the way I wanted to go.

But as I’ve built out the new davepye.com, and ripped-off a lot of other people’s sites in the process, I’ve come to realize that a blog doesn’t have to conform to any convention over and above just exactly what I want. And there’s no reason I can’t work some of the former elements back into the new version of my own personal web shrine to… me.

You’ll notice a new series of links underneath the dot graphics of my face at the very top of each page. There’s now a link to an archived version of david.pye.com that will remain there for all time! The ‘gallery‘ button links to the old gallery pages (if you’re a new reader check them out – funny stuff) for the time being but will eventually become a new gallery much in the style of what I was doing before – with each photo having a funny caption, etc. I’ll figure out what else I’m gonna add in the months to come and for now there’ll just be placeholders.

As of this very afternoon, my old URL and email address are DEAD. Please update your favorites and address books. It’s all about www.davepye.com from here on in. I love doing this and am going to keep developing it into the most kickassiest of blogs, EVAH – I hope you stay tuned.

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Christmastime in Torontooo II: Citizen Candy Cane


in Heartwarming

So – like I said before, eh? – we’re hanging out at the friggin’ Apartment 58 nightclub right over Frank & Stein’s in Guelph and Gooch disappears into the bathroom. Which he’s been known to do. Holy fuck. Anyways, Gooch comes out of the bathroom like friggin’ 9-O and starts talkin abooot some new fangled christmas drink or something. So he goes “lemme through to the bar, eh?” and we stand back while he orders 7 kife Candy Cane Martinis. Fuck right off, eh? And… scene.

After I drank the thing and resisted the strange urge I suddenly had to slap a cock against my forehead, we all agreed that they were quite tasty. And you thought you had to be German, homeless or both to enjoy the mentholated madness of peppermint schnapps.

That’s it. That’s the story. I thought these photos which Art sent me today were funny and needed an excuse to fire them up. Not all my tales will be winners, folks. Possibly even somewhere less than half. But I keep them coming, and nobody’s got a gun to your head.

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How Do You Tell… If You’re Aging Well?


in Reminiscent

I was watching Reno 911 last night (now that Tough Crowd With Colin Quinn has gone the way of the Do-Do, things are tres bleak on Comedy Central) and I heard the line “white women don’t age well”. And it got me to thinking. What about white men? What about me and JJV? Can I get away with an article like this in Massachusetts, or will people start drawing comparisons between me and Josef Mengele? Anyway, I was looking for an excuse to use the photo you see below, which was taken in October 2004 – and was suddenly reminded of a very similar picture taken all the way back in 1999. Hence the painful carbon-dating which is about to commence. And subtle racism.

I think we’ve done extremely well. Herb wins for overall youth retention. Although I’m not entirely sure the shaved head of recent years is meant entirely for law-enforcement intimidation purposes. JJV wins hands down in the hairline category, as I’m having a few issues in that department, but has admitted to me recently that he’s like 240. Is it in bad taste to discuss a friend’s weight in public? Oh without a doubt. But he had it coming.

I’ll have to give myself top marks for keeping the weight down, and my recent health kick of the past year has really paid off (or let’s face it – I wouldn’t have written this). So all-in-all we’re not doing too badly. Come see us in another 5 years, when Herb is a stunt double for Al Roker, JJV pulls a ‘Brando‘ and I develop an intimate relationship with Sy Sperling.

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Revel In My PS Prowess: Sebby Reproduces.


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Sebby owns one of my favorite haunts, the SideBar on Bromfield St. in Boston’s Downtown Crossing, and he recently celebrated the birth of his daughter – Molly. Now, I very much enjoy busting Sebby’s chops so I decided to whip up a little Photoshop on the subject. And he fucking hated it:

I printed it out about 3 months ago on a color printer at work and brought it down on a Friday night. Sebby was working behind the bar and I slowly started passing the photo around to the regulars who began dying with laughter. “What the fuck is so goddamn funny you jerks?” he demanded repeatedly. I waited until he was distracted and then hung it on the wall near the cash register while we all continued to snicker. After about 10 minutes he finally noticed it, shot me a dirty look and then tore it down.

I figured the photo had served its purpose so I didn’t take Sebby’s rejection too personally. But when I went down to the SideBar a week later – he asked me to print him out another one! You can see it, now laminated, hanging on the wall behind the bar on the right hand side of the building. Better a late-good-sport than never.

P.S. – Are we still resurrecting wing night? The plan lost steam over the holidays. I may stop in for a lovely plate full of delicious deep-fried dead poultry slathered in vinegary hot-sauce as soon as tomorrow night. The backlash of living with a vegan.

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