Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor

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

The Iceman Cometh.


in Movies

Remember that movie from 1984 where Timothy Hutton discovers the Neanderthal frozen in the arctic and then brings him back to life? Basically he thaws the smelly bugger out, hides him from some dissection-happy fellow scientists and then teaches him to sing Heart of Gold by Neil Young. While I think Neil Young is a God, I probably would have started with Bill Russell’s A Little Bit of Soap.

As you may know it’s been an unusually warm winter here in Boston so far, with this past week bordering on humid. And I thought I saw an Iceman on the way to work this morning. As he approached me, I tried to identify the sort of animal hide he was wearing, checked his hands for wooly mammoth flesh scraping tools and wondered if I’d be able to get him back to my laboratory for some guitar lessons without a net and a tranquilizer dart.

Then he asked me for a quarter. Previously driven inside by the bitter cold, Boston’s homeless have returned to the streets in force. My great contributions to science and guitar-driven rock will have to wait a bit longer.

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We’re Sorry Everybody. And Virgins.


in

I’ve already given this truly awful website some begrudging lip service here on Pye In The Face, but I’ve been forced to revisit it due to an article I just read in my friend’s newspaper. One of the guys who writes for him, Norton Tierra, runs down a refreshing list of reasons Americans have absolutely nothing to be apologizing about.

I could have used any number of photos from the eyesore in question, but I chose these two heartbreakers for the absolute plethora of Dungeons and Dragons jokes I’ll be able to mine. Is the sign pertaining to their disappointment at Bush’s re-election? Or the disappointment they feel because the rohypnol they bought from a fraternity brother before the kegger turned out to be Similac? Regardless, It’s still convenient that whatever EverQuest server they were using last Saturday night crashed long enough for them to contribute this photo.

In summation – Will you people please stop whining? Don’t apologize for Bush. Don’t apologize on my behalf. But since you already have, allow me to return the favor: I’m sorry you weren’t born a Kurd and gassed along with your entire family and then buried in a mass grave because that may have actually been preferable to screwing produce in your dorm room.

But someone eventually created a welcome alternative, the aptly entitled SorryEverybodyMyAss, at which the less snivelly members of our population are encouraged to submit antidotes to the disgraceful whinges on the original site. I decided to join the fray.

I’ve never liked the way in which household pets, particularly cats, are employed to relay the stomach-turning apologetic messages on SorryEverybody. This does little to help their already less-than-macho image. I found a photo of a fairly distressed looking cat on a shelter’s website, added the scroll and decided to give our feline friends a chance to pick their own party. If cats are indeed as smart as I’ve grown to believe throughout 30+ years of having them around, they’re certainly not Liberals by default. Even though they most certainly sound like them from time to time.

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Christmastime in Torontooooo.


in Heartwarming

Actually, I never really set foot in Toronto over the holidays. I just like the song. OK – I did pee on the side of a KFC off Dundas St. while my sister asked for directions inside. So technically, I set foot and also set a little urine if we’re splitting pubic hairs. But I did hang in Burlington, Guelph, Grimsby and Hamilton for extended periods of time, and took a few photos along the way.

Janet and I coughed our way up to Kingston on the Wednesday making the trip in about 7 hours which isn’t bad. But it turns out we didn’t need to pick up my mother’s car as we’d originally thought, so we could have gone Northwest through New York State – straight to Toronto – and saved ourselves a lot of time. So that kinda blew. Coupled with the blizzard that descended for the final 4 hours of the eventual 12 hour trip, it definitely blew. Goats.

The photo of Gooch and Art on the left was taken at the Albion in downtown Guelph. I recognized a guy I lived in residence with ten years ago, and also a T.A. that I’d had for a short-lived psychology course. It was very cool to return to the Royal City after such a long hiatus and recognize people I knew – but that was just the tip of the iceberg. On the right we see Jim, Art, Gooch, Myself and Lynn. This photo was taken at Frank & Stein’s where I eventually ran into another Mills boy and Tonizzo who used to work for me at the Bullring. I hadn’t seen him since the final night of exams in 1998 so that was a tsunami from the past. Don’t cringe – I’m topical.

Christmas day I posed proudly in my new jumper with Beatrix the cat. ‘The Bix’ is Janet’s roomate’s and we had to bring her with us because she’s still young and not very well behaved. Kinda like Janet’s roomate. Bix was fun to have in the car though – her fur improved windsheild visibility much faster than the defrost button. From there it was on to Uncle Richard’s for the annual Pye gathering – and as usual it did not disappoint. Most kids are bummed when they get clothes for XMas, but Seth found his robe a whole lot more interesting when I told him it made him look like Muhammad Ali and then taught him a few pugilistic poses. Then I slap-boxed the shit out of him because he’s only 8 and I knew I stood a good chance.

Kathy’s father, my father and Thomas’ father are brothers. Kathy’s father spent Christmas in Cuba with his new woman, Thomas’ father spent Christmas with us in Grimsby and my father spent Christmas alone in a Trailer in Florida. Well, he wasn’t completely alone. He had a cat and a deep-fried turkey there with him. Gordo, if you read this, you’re coming up next year. Stop being a… turkey. And finally Beatrix meets Gooseberry for the first of many violent, fur-flying encounters. Which was healthy because it kept Goose from attacking my Grandmother for 5 days. Pet/owner Love-hate relationship there. Basically, the cat loves to scratch the Christ out of her at every given opportunity. It’s adorable.

Right. So happy 2005, everyone. My New Years Eve was nothing special so I’ll spare you the details. Thank God the holidays are over for another year. I think I’d find medieval torture less stressful.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Short & Sweet.


in Monday's Quotelet

Appetizer: Using only 5 words, describe how 2004 went for you.

Loving life but still broke.

Soup: Name something you did in 2004 that you’ll probably never do again.

Match.com. There’s a petting zoo at the Kimball’s in Carlisle if I ever get that sort of urge again.

Salad: What did you learn about yourself in 2004?

I’m quite soluble.

Main Course: What news event from 2004 will stand out in your memory?

Bush winning the presidential election. History will be kind to him.

Dessert: Name something you purchased in 2004 that you really, really like.

My HP Media Center PC. I could gush about it for hours.

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Resolution Secrets Revealed: Show Us Your Teats.


in

My greatest New Year’s resolution victory had to have been back in 2001 when I vowed to quit smoking once and for all. I haven’t had a puff since. Yes I’m gloating – it’s no easy task. Would you like to know how I did it? Should I share my secret here, for the ages? I could probably make millions writing a book or creating a self help DVD, but since I’m in such a good mood today I’ll let you in on my little secret. Here’s how you quit smoking:

You quit smoking.

If you ‘only smoke when you’re driving’, you’ll end up right back puffing a pack a day. If you ‘only smoke after a meal’, same thing. If you like to light up ‘just once in the morning while reading the paper’, likewise plan on being right back at that smokey teat within a week. And if you only smoke when you drink, you might as well have never even bothered dropping it in the first place.

Here’s the tough straight poopy dope: any iteration of smoking will ultimately lead you right back to whatever sad habit you started with. Once I figured that out, removed it from my life completely and stopped pretending I needed to wean myself off of it like a newborn from a juicy teat it was actually kind of easy. So if you’re planning on dancing with the dragon this coming year, I want to say to you, best of luck. And teat, just one more time.

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