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The Big Haunt: Halloween Costume Conundrums


in Heartwarming

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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Documenting Debauchery: The Littlest Bar In Boston.


in Heartwarming

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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Friday’s Quizzlet: Throwing Myself Off The Wagon.


in Monday's Quotelet

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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Colin Quinn’s Toughest Crowd: Comedy Central.


in Politics, Television

Colin Quinn gets a bad rap. (Update: more than a decade after I wrote this he’s become a best-selling author and has also conquered Netflix, Broadway and dominated every roast he’s ever been asked to participate in. He doesn’t need my misguided sympathy anymore.) So I’m going to tell you why I’m a big Quinn supporter, and an enormous fan of his Comedy Central show – “Tough Crowd” – which I was recently horrified to hear is in grave danger of being canceled.

tough-crowd-logo

A friend of mine, Troy, grew up with Quinn’s younger brother, Mike, in NYC. And I have it on very good authority that Colin is beyond a great guy. I love the fact that he messes up his lines. I love the fact that he mumbles and constantly self-depreciates. He’s a tough, salty, stand-up comedian who’s been walking the boards with uncomfortably sized balls since he was a teenager. And he truly cares about and intuitively understands the state of the planet today.

A lot of people don’t “get” him. But I find his uncomfortable, choppy, blue-collar style to be unique and honest – and have since I first saw him on MTV’s Remote Control in 1988. I had a comedy special he did for MTV, “Colin Quinn Goes Back to Brooklyn” on VHS and watched it for years. I wish I still had it. Anyway, my point is – me and Colin go way back. (Update: Some absolute saint of a human being has uncovered and uploaded B2B since I first wrote this post 11 years ago):

“Then use the fish as a reward!”

Tough Crowd is, in no uncertain terms, a brilliant show which we desperately need. That show used to be Jon Stewart’s Daily Show before it turned into the “Jon-Stewart-shows-a-clip-of-a-politician-he-doesn’t-agree-with-and-smirks-pompously-for-a-laugh” show. The Daily Show in the era of Steve Carell was one of the most consistently funny things on TV. But it’s become little more than a mildly disguised partisan send-up and I just can’t watch it anymore. I don’t refuse to indignantly – I simply can’t.

I would have also stopped watching the Daily Show if it had swung exclusively to the right instead. If I wanted to remain unchallenged, and have my opinion spoon-fed to me like pablum, I’d watch The O’Reilly factor while snorting Xanax or read nothing but the New York Times. Partisan comedy is not dangerous. It’s not challenging. And it’s most certainly not funny.

Enter Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn. If you haven’t seen it, it’s on Comedy Central every weeknight at 11:30 p.m. – or at least it will be for a few more weeks. The format is as follows: Four little-to-fairly well known celebrities, usually enviable veteran stand-ups who’ve been on the circuit for years and are extremely quick on their feet, sit facing each other while Quinn poses questions dealing with current events to which they then hash/lash out. It’s unscripted, save for the occasional skit-like segment, it’s brash, offensive to those who choose it to be, envelope-pushing, no-holds-barred and hilarious.

No one is safe, and no punches are pulled. The guests are from all walks of life – blacks, whites, hispanics, gays, liberals, conservatives etc. – and it can get pretty vicious. In one episode I sincerely thought Dennis Leary was going to punch Greg Giraldo in the face. In another Judy Gold (a Liberal/Jewish/Lesbian) took on Patrice O’Neal (a Black/(arguably) Conservative/Bostonite) in a battle over whose people have been more oppressed over the years. They hit hard, and they’re honest, and they’re always funny.

The Infamous Giraldo vs. Leary Encounter

There’s always an underlying respect among the guests – perhaps because many of them know each other from slugging it out on the brutal national comedy circuit for years – which makes this entire exercise possible and productive. There’s never any political correctness or sugar-coating, and everyone always walks away friends. It’s a bit tough to describe, and I suppose the main point of this article is to get you, dear reader, to watch the show and form your own opinion. (Update: the show has been off-air for a decade but luckily there’s a wealth of archival footage. The interwebnets are a beautiful thing.)

I read that the reason Comedy Central wants to cancel Tough Crowd is because it doesn’t retain enough of Jon Stewart’s Daily Show audience which precedes it at 11 p.m. To me that is tragic. To me that’s akin to canceling a Dylan show because everyone is going to leave after the opening act, N’Sync. I’m not criticizing Stewart’s lefty audience. I am criticizing those members of his audience that are sitting in their high chair waiting for Mom to open that next jar of Gerber‘s, skewing the demographics. And I am vehemently criticizing Comedy Central for catering to them.

Tough Crowd is like watching your friends, who all love and respect each other, argue in a bar on a Friday night. They speak their mind, they challenge each other’s opinions, and they all leave friends. Debate is healthy and we all need it in our lives. I cherish Tough Crowd, but it looks like the curtain is falling. Kudos to Colin – I’ll be watching wherever you end up.

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Google Gets Politically Correct – In Spades.


in

I work at an online ad agency. We have clients. Those clients pay us to manage their online advertising campaigns. Google has just scolded me and removed one of my client’s ads because I used a word in an advertisement they felt was “in violation of their policies and guidelines”. When Google takes down one of our ad campaigns, it hurts our client’s sales and therefore threatens my very livelihood. So you’ll forgive me if I endulge myself and share some of the the details with you now.

One of our clients is an electrical supply manufacturer. They make things like cable ties, butt splice connectors, wire markers, block spades, heat shrink tubing and fork terminals. Did you spot the offensive word there, folks? Not so fast, butty.

A block spade is some sort of a cable connector/insulator and is in wide use by electicians and contractors everywhere. This is also the term that Google felt offensive enough to warrant abruptly stopping my client’s sales of last night by removing their ads from their almighty publishing network.

I can see you’re confused. But then again, so was I. Let me try and explain.

“Spade” – on it’s own and only in certain circumstances – is an antique racial slur. When you’re referring to a poker game or planting a tree, it’s a perfectly acceptable facet of the King’s English. Dictionary definitions include: “sturdy digging tool”, “black, leaf-shaped figure on certain playing cards” and “castrated man or beast”. It can even be used as a verb when describing the act of digging.

Calling an African American a “spade” is something your Grandfather might have done right before cranking up his Model-T Ford or cranking one out to Betty Page. My point is, it’s not even a racial epithet that’s in use any more. If Google is penalizing electrical supply manufacturers for using the word, in an obviously non-pejorative format, I sincerely pity the garden tool and playing card industries. Oh, and Western civilization.

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