Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor

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

Article Update: Pye 1 – Epson 0.


in

As promised, I have scanned and posted the photos that got me into so much trouble with a pack of monkeys in Malaysia. You can view the updated article here.

I haven’t used my scanner in about a year, and apparently XP is not supported by Epson – the makers of my prehistoric flatbed. But that’s what’s great about internet techies and geeks (“Hello, pot? I’d like you to meet Mr. Kettle Black.”) – someone, somewhere will always figure out a way to get something to work. After a quick Google search, I found someone’s homemade driver and was off to the races. Thanks, Eugene.

P.S. – Click my Google Ads. The ads you now see in the left hand column appear depending on an individual page’s content. So they change from comment page to comment page, and occasionally on the home page, too. As traffic to this blog increases, so do my hosting fees. So please, if you see an ad you find interesting, don’t hesitate to click it. I get a few cents every time you do. Much obliged.

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Am I Getting Old Or Does Rap Suck?


in Musical

I went out with some friends Friday night with the focus on dancing to rap music. I used to love rap and still have an enormous stack of CDs in my room. It all started back in 1986 when I bought Licensed to Ill on cassette. I had a strange Walkman that had a speaker on it, and my friends and I spent many hours at the playground shooting hoops and reciting “She’s Crafty” at the top of our lungs.

From there, I got into Run DMC, LL Cool J, Heavy D., Audio Two, Kool Moe Dee and all the big names of the time. My father rolled his eyes and declared it a phase. But six years later in 1992 I was blaring House of Pain and Das EFX out of my car like absolutely no time at all had passed.

The last rap CD I ever bought was Art Official Intelligence by De La Soul and I think I listened to it once. I realized I just wasn’t into it anymore – but why? It’s not that I stopped liking the rap that I listened to 10 years ago. Friday night was proof of that – we watched a bunch of old school videos before we went out and the group of 7 people in my living room were loving it, as was I.

But when we got to the bar and the likes of Ludacris, Lil’ Bow Wow, Fifty Cent etc. started spinning, I wanted to be back on my couch watching Everlast jumping around.

So I have to conclude one of two things. Either I am thirty and rap simply seems stupid to me now (but I like the older stuff for sentimental reasons). Or modern rap has taken a direction that I just don’t dig. When I get home tonight, maybe I’ll listen to some Notorious B.I.G. back-to-back with a little Jadakiss and I expect the answer will present itself fairly quickly.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Ashton Kutcher’s Salad.


in Monday's Quotelet

I stumbled across a website called Friday’s Feast a while back and signed up for it. I just got my first email from them. It’s a questionnaire aimed at bloggers that goes out every Friday. Bloggers who, apparently, are too dim to come up with their own content. But I actually think it’s pretty cool, so I’m going to play along. Look for these every Friday.

Appetizer: Who are 3 actors/actresses that you think are totally overrated?

Ashton Kutcher, Ashton Kutcher and this new kid, Ashton Kutcher.

Soup: Admit something. Anything.

I own Guys and Dolls. On DVD. And I love it.

Salad: If you could take back one thing you’ve said in your life, what would it be?



A stocky friend once overheard me call him “Fatty”. I had never referred to him by that name before (or since for that matter) and I have no idea why I chose to do it at that moment in time. That was 8 years ago, and our relationship has never been the same.

Main Course: What symbol would best represent your personality?

The Trailer Park Boys logo. Funny, crude and boozy.

Dessert: Choose a free gift: a daily back massage, dinner at a restaurant twice per week, or a brand new book twice per month.

The dinners. But eventually I’d feel guilty and opt for the books. I got through University only because the on-campus bookstore stocked Cliff Notes for some reason, and I have a lot of back-tracking and catching up to do before some sort of literary canon karma comes back and bites me on the ass. But I’d endorse Cliff Notes over any selection from Oprah’s Book Club. Oops – she’s currently endorsing Tolstoy. My bad. I swear last week it was Kathy Lee Gifford.

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File Under Finally: Poutine In Boston.


in Consumables

There’s a little gem (dive) at 14 Bromfield St. in Boston called The SideBar. It’s near Silvertone, The Beantown Pub, The Orpheum, etc. It’s famous for it’s cheap wings, immaculate bathrooms, courteous service, $6 pitchers and now a little slice of endangered Canadian cuisine: Poutine.

I stopped in at The SideBar on my way home from work tonight to help send off a friend of mine who’s moving to Colorado (Good luck, Dan!). I love the food there, and as plate after plate of cheese fries kept flying out of the kitchen I asked Ronnie, one of the owners, if he’d ever heard of Poutine.

“Poo-what? Jesus.” he replied. I explained to him that it was French-Canadian in origin, and very popular North of the border. “Hell, you can even get it at Wendy’s up there.” I said. “Well what the hell is it?” he asked. “Sounds f*cking disgusting!”

“Not as f*cking disgusting as it looks.” I assured him.

In a nutshell, Poutine is a bowl of fries, cheese and gravy. Where are you going? You should really hear me out on this. It’s been getting a lot of press in the U.S.A. recently (even Disney characters are getting in on the action) and I told Ronnie his could be the first bar in Boston to serve it. He could help spearhead the Canadian invasion which you should have already realized is imminent by now. Jason Priestly. Shatner. I don’t even need to go any further.

I asked him if he had any gravy in the back. He said he didn’t, but then disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes – obviously contemplating something. Obvious only because he had ceased swearing for 45 seconds. He then walked back behind the bar to serve some new customers who probably thought they had already heard every possible use of the ‘F’ word known to man before walking through the front door.

Then Ronnie went back into the kitchen and returned with an enormous bowl of what was quite possibly the most beautiful incarnation of Poutine I have ever seen in my life. He laid it out in front of me and my friends and slammed a fistful of forks down onto the bar. We dug in – cheese and gravy flying everywhere. “This is f*cking good, dude.” Ronnie admitted.

I’ll spare you the complete history, but Canadians in general – and especially the French – have weird eating habits. I bet before reading this, you thought our national cuisine consisted of nothing but tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, hot dogs and Kraft Dinner. And you were right.

But we have our proud Poutine too, and now an establishment in Boston where it can be enjoyed. Ronnie and the other owner Sebby, are intrigued – but still reluctant. I implore everyone to a) visit the almighty SideBar the next time you’re in the area and b) Ask Ronnie or Sebby to make you some Poutine! This could catch on. But I need your help, Boston. And some Alkaseltzer. And definitely not in that order.

– “What do I owe you for dinner, Ronnie?”

– “Nothing. You’re all set.”

– “Well I should hope so, since you f*cking ate it all.”

– “Get out.”

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Toilet Humor. Quite Literally.


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Can you guess where this photo was taken?

If you guessed “The South” – You’ve just won a brand new bottle of Toilet Duck. If “Georgia” was your answer, well done – I’ll be sending you a brand new box of 2000 Flushes. And if “Highway 38 in Georgia” was your wager, you hit the nail right on the head. Proceed immediately to the nearest CVS, purchase one of their generic toilet tank pucks. Chew. Repeat if necessary. Just tell your friends you had a blue raspberry Slush Puppy.

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