1. A challenge goes out to local bands to write a playoff song for the Bruins, the way Al Jourgensen wrote a goal-scoring anthem for the Chicago Blackhawks.
2. "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" turns 100 years old this year, and it's the third-most-sung song in American history, behind Happy Birthday and the national anthem.
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Whoa! Lifetime steals Project Runway
Somewhere in middle America, Meredith Baxter-Berney has busted out her pink sequin jumpsuit, as Variety is reporting like whoa that Lifetime has stolen "Project Runway" from Bravo. The elderly network awarded Heidi & Co. a 5-year deal.
And now Bravo, realizing Wednesday night fodder "Top Chef" is essentially the Pizza Hut of reality TV, has filed a lawsuit saying they weren't given right of first refusal or whatever. Personally, I'm eagerly awaiting the original production of crossover sensation "I Know My First Name is Michael Kors."
And now Bravo, realizing Wednesday night fodder "Top Chef" is essentially the Pizza Hut of reality TV, has filed a lawsuit saying they weren't given right of first refusal or whatever. Personally, I'm eagerly awaiting the original production of crossover sensation "I Know My First Name is Michael Kors."
Saul Williams speaks about Nike ad pitch
A few weeks ago I was startled to hear Saul Williams' lethal electro-hop anthem "List of Demands" used in a Nike ad. So in advance of his show tomorrow night at the Paradise, I chatted with the NYC poet/rapper about his decision to sell the song to the corporate giant, which appears in the Herald today.
Williams is one of the more engaging and thought-provoking artists out these days, and his reasoning behind the pitch is solid, even if some fans are bullshit. But it's a podium, as he said, and damned if I'd criticize this guy for wanting his message heard. He has it right, even if he chooses Nike as the vehicle.
A few years ago, Carl and I caught his show at Axis just as “List of Demands” was released. It was an early, mid-summer gig on the Evil Strip, with the Red Sox out of town but the Eurotrash on their way to Lansdowne at 10pm. Williams hit the stage around 8:30 or so, with about 30 people in the room. It was so barren you could hear the bartenders talking ragtime, and his DJ looked flustered when he walked onstage. Suddenly, Williams came out, told us "it's not (our) fault the promoter fucked up," and invited everyone on the stage. He ripped shit up a good 45 minutes as the crowd formed a semi-circle around him, instantly creating a basement-show vibe and a personal party for those attending. I didn't mention it in the article, but he vividly remembers that show, and called it one of his "favorite shows of all time." Mine too. That's how Saul Williams rolls.
Williams is one of the more engaging and thought-provoking artists out these days, and his reasoning behind the pitch is solid, even if some fans are bullshit. But it's a podium, as he said, and damned if I'd criticize this guy for wanting his message heard. He has it right, even if he chooses Nike as the vehicle. A few years ago, Carl and I caught his show at Axis just as “List of Demands” was released. It was an early, mid-summer gig on the Evil Strip, with the Red Sox out of town but the Eurotrash on their way to Lansdowne at 10pm. Williams hit the stage around 8:30 or so, with about 30 people in the room. It was so barren you could hear the bartenders talking ragtime, and his DJ looked flustered when he walked onstage. Suddenly, Williams came out, told us "it's not (our) fault the promoter fucked up," and invited everyone on the stage. He ripped shit up a good 45 minutes as the crowd formed a semi-circle around him, instantly creating a basement-show vibe and a personal party for those attending. I didn't mention it in the article, but he vividly remembers that show, and called it one of his "favorite shows of all time." Mine too. That's how Saul Williams rolls.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
Rock of Love 2's Final Deuce
Ok, damn. The Rock of Love 2 battle between the Groupie, the Soccer Mom and Real Doll took a backseat just six minutes into tonight’s show because... holy fuck... we saw Bret Michaels’ un-obscured ...HEAD! No cowboy hat glazed in Rodeo’s vag, no obnoxious-ass Sunset Strip bandana. Just Bret’s sweet golden locks, flowing like it was a motherfucking photo shoot for “Look What the Cat Dragged In.” It really put everything in perspective.
Anyway, tonight was the “Meet the Parents” episode, except for Daisy who has no family since she was spawned outside a porno shoot at Area 51 the same year "Look What The Cat Dragged In" came out (and since it came out in the 80s, we can’t retroactively say the album “dropped.”). While it would be hard to top last season’s alcoholic performance by Heather’s dad and the hick riot-act by Papa Lacey, these shows are always good. And I was just about to make a crack about Destiney’s Dad being on Alien Nation the same year "Look What The Cat Dragged In" hit Sam Goody shelves when it’s revealed he has terminal cancer. He seemed mad chill with the leopard print forehead tat and the New Hampshire head shop purple velour jacket, and he and Bret definitely bonded. He was psyched as shit to have his baby girl end up the Dr. Scholes insert to Bret’s boot-alicious face. My roommate even predicted the “In Memory Of...” still at the end, and sure enough, the dude has already passed on. Suck city.
But speaking of passing on... Destiney is gone!! Nevermind the fact she went on a reality show to bone the singer of Poison while her dad was dying. The real jester shit here is the tattoo (2nd place: we learn she was rejected in casting for Season One!!!). After finally settling on having the RoL logo tattooed on the back of her neck to commemorate “the experience” (Hey nothing says “good decision” like indecision at the ink parlor) Destiney is sent home, leaving us with the 78-year-old Mom and Daisy, who we now know was cheated on by Charles, presumably during the last Papa Roach tour. At elimination, when Bret asked if Daisy had anything else to say, I was hoping Rikki Rocket was gonna walk out and tea bag her. But no dice.
Whew. Ok. Next week is the finale, and Aaaam-brayyyy “turns up the heat” by saying she’s not wearing underwear to dinner. Just like someone born in the 1940s would say. Like Daisy EVER wears underwear.
Go Daisy Go. A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.
Anyway, tonight was the “Meet the Parents” episode, except for Daisy who has no family since she was spawned outside a porno shoot at Area 51 the same year "Look What The Cat Dragged In" came out (and since it came out in the 80s, we can’t retroactively say the album “dropped.”). While it would be hard to top last season’s alcoholic performance by Heather’s dad and the hick riot-act by Papa Lacey, these shows are always good. And I was just about to make a crack about Destiney’s Dad being on Alien Nation the same year "Look What The Cat Dragged In" hit Sam Goody shelves when it’s revealed he has terminal cancer. He seemed mad chill with the leopard print forehead tat and the New Hampshire head shop purple velour jacket, and he and Bret definitely bonded. He was psyched as shit to have his baby girl end up the Dr. Scholes insert to Bret’s boot-alicious face. My roommate even predicted the “In Memory Of...” still at the end, and sure enough, the dude has already passed on. Suck city.
But speaking of passing on... Destiney is gone!! Nevermind the fact she went on a reality show to bone the singer of Poison while her dad was dying. The real jester shit here is the tattoo (2nd place: we learn she was rejected in casting for Season One!!!). After finally settling on having the RoL logo tattooed on the back of her neck to commemorate “the experience” (Hey nothing says “good decision” like indecision at the ink parlor) Destiney is sent home, leaving us with the 78-year-old Mom and Daisy, who we now know was cheated on by Charles, presumably during the last Papa Roach tour. At elimination, when Bret asked if Daisy had anything else to say, I was hoping Rikki Rocket was gonna walk out and tea bag her. But no dice.
Whew. Ok. Next week is the finale, and Aaaam-brayyyy “turns up the heat” by saying she’s not wearing underwear to dinner. Just like someone born in the 1940s would say. Like Daisy EVER wears underwear.
Go Daisy Go. A nation turns its lonely eyes to you.
Giants pitcher bitchslapped by elastic band
From the Sporting News player update section:
Keiichi Yabu - Giants April. 6, 8:50 p.m. Keiichi Yabu's status for Monday's game is uncertain after he hurt his eyes when the elastic bands he was working out with Saturday became unhooked and snapped across his face.
Keiichi Yabu - Giants April. 6, 8:50 p.m. Keiichi Yabu's status for Monday's game is uncertain after he hurt his eyes when the elastic bands he was working out with Saturday became unhooked and snapped across his face.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Make Holly a Supermodel? NO!
It’s Friday, I’m in love, blah blah blah, but I’m also wikkid bummed that Holly won “Make Me A Supermodel” last night. I guess it’s no surprise, as skinny, moderately hot chicks get the most work, and the three remaining dudes weren’t all cat’s meow to begin with. But high comedy arrived when Ben’s fugly wife arrived.
Darling needs to get over to Chinatown and get herself some chin. And while she’s there, maybe she can buy a discount clue from one of those 99 cent shops, because if that shit wasn’t TENSE when Ronnie sauntered in, I don’t know what is. Clearly Ronnie and Ben sipped Guy-Tais in the Bone Zone during production. "Bromance" my ass, shit even R-Dawg’s Mom had to be all “They’re Just Friends!” Right.
Maybe Amanda (what’s up with fake bitches named Amanda?) rolling up to see Perry was just as tense, but Evs City, he rolled over and died in her arms as soon as she rang the doorbell. But my concerns of Perry’s slutty gf shifted to Polly’s hand, where apparently her Erik Estrada-looking hubby glued some weird-ass statue to her paw. I was happy to see the producers found a way to remove it in time for the final – and USELESS – runway scene. And if the Holly Hubster didn’t go back to the Bravo-paid hotel to tag Amanda on the DL, then my whole world is a lie.
Anyway, now the second-best show on TV is over and done, and I’m left with the final episodes of Rock of Love II to hold over my trash-tv fix. I have to say, the MMAS cast had more character and intrigue than most shows these days, and I genuinely liked the final six or so.
But moving on, VH-1 sent me an advance copy of “Ego Trip’s Miss Rap Supreme,” which is essentially Part 2 of the “White Rapper Show,” so hopefully that fills the void. My girl Persia better be reppin’ in this shit. It premieres April 14, but I’ll have thoughts on it sooner, and something in the Herald that Monday.
Lastly, the Pill is tonight, and I just got an email from Camp Scorcese that “a crew” from Marty’s new film, Shutter Island, (The latest Dennis Lehane novel-turned-Boston-jerkoff-fest-on-film) is heading to Great Scott for some dancin’. Maybe I’ll throw on “Basketball Diaries” on the big screen in case Leo DiCaprio rolls up and busts a move to Pulp’s “Common People.” If it gets too ironic and roaches climb the walls, I can call my Daddy he could stop it all, yeah. xo
Darling needs to get over to Chinatown and get herself some chin. And while she’s there, maybe she can buy a discount clue from one of those 99 cent shops, because if that shit wasn’t TENSE when Ronnie sauntered in, I don’t know what is. Clearly Ronnie and Ben sipped Guy-Tais in the Bone Zone during production. "Bromance" my ass, shit even R-Dawg’s Mom had to be all “They’re Just Friends!” Right. Maybe Amanda (what’s up with fake bitches named Amanda?) rolling up to see Perry was just as tense, but Evs City, he rolled over and died in her arms as soon as she rang the doorbell. But my concerns of Perry’s slutty gf shifted to Polly’s hand, where apparently her Erik Estrada-looking hubby glued some weird-ass statue to her paw. I was happy to see the producers found a way to remove it in time for the final – and USELESS – runway scene. And if the Holly Hubster didn’t go back to the Bravo-paid hotel to tag Amanda on the DL, then my whole world is a lie.
Anyway, now the second-best show on TV is over and done, and I’m left with the final episodes of Rock of Love II to hold over my trash-tv fix. I have to say, the MMAS cast had more character and intrigue than most shows these days, and I genuinely liked the final six or so.
But moving on, VH-1 sent me an advance copy of “Ego Trip’s Miss Rap Supreme,” which is essentially Part 2 of the “White Rapper Show,” so hopefully that fills the void. My girl Persia better be reppin’ in this shit. It premieres April 14, but I’ll have thoughts on it sooner, and something in the Herald that Monday.
Lastly, the Pill is tonight, and I just got an email from Camp Scorcese that “a crew” from Marty’s new film, Shutter Island, (The latest Dennis Lehane novel-turned-Boston-jerkoff-fest-on-film) is heading to Great Scott for some dancin’. Maybe I’ll throw on “Basketball Diaries” on the big screen in case Leo DiCaprio rolls up and busts a move to Pulp’s “Common People.” If it gets too ironic and roaches climb the walls, I can call my Daddy he could stop it all, yeah. xo
Opening for the Clash. Kinda.
Life gets a bit stranger at TTs tomorrow night, as I'm the "opening act" for Carbon/Silicon, which is Mick Jones of the Clash's new joint with the not-Billy Idol dude from Generation X. It's a 90-minute long DJ set, and I go on at 9pm sharp. It's hella sold out, but I'm sure tickets are avail somewhere. Not that you're interested; I just wanted to post about it.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Hawk attack at Fenway Park!!
The Boston Channel swoops in with this breaking news:
BOSTON -- A red-tailed hawk attacked a girl on a tour of Fenway Park Thursday, drawing blood and sending the girl to a hospital for treatment.
The middle school student was touring Fenway with a group from the Memorial Boulevard Middle School in Bristol, Conn., when she came within 40 feet of a nest the hawk had built on an overhang near the press box.
The protective hawk swooped down on the girl, its talons cutting her head above her eyes. She was taken to Children’s Hospital by ambulance where she was treated and released.
"The girl is fine," said Red Sox spokeswoman Susan Goodenow.
Raptors often build nests at Fenway Park during the off-season. "Massachusetts Fish and Wildlife was already scheduled to visit Fenway today to look at the nest. They were on the way when the attack happened," Goodenow said.
A hawk was videotaped by reporters touring Fenway earlier this week when it perched on a railing outside luxury suites at the ballpark.
The nest and the egg were removed from Fenway by the Boston Animal Rescue League. The hawk flew off after the attack.
BOSTON -- A red-tailed hawk attacked a girl on a tour of Fenway Park Thursday, drawing blood and sending the girl to a hospital for treatment.
The middle school student was touring Fenway with a group from the Memorial Boulevard Middle School in Bristol, Conn., when she came within 40 feet of a nest the hawk had built on an overhang near the press box.The protective hawk swooped down on the girl, its talons cutting her head above her eyes. She was taken to Children’s Hospital by ambulance where she was treated and released.
"The girl is fine," said Red Sox spokeswoman Susan Goodenow.
Raptors often build nests at Fenway Park during the off-season. "Massachusetts Fish and Wildlife was already scheduled to visit Fenway today to look at the nest. They were on the way when the attack happened," Goodenow said.
A hawk was videotaped by reporters touring Fenway earlier this week when it perched on a railing outside luxury suites at the ballpark.
The nest and the egg were removed from Fenway by the Boston Animal Rescue League. The hawk flew off after the attack.
Rumors are true
For those keeping score at home, the Paradise Lounge closed on Tuesday, giving the last-second boot to its April commitments. Pretty short turnaround, especially considering the Live Nation/Dise people said they were unsure of what was going on late last week. One rep emailed me late Thursday to say nothing was "set in stone." They must have an All-American team of officials over there to crystallize their reconstruction plans between Friday morning and Tuesday. Goodtimes.
My speculation: the Joe Dunne & Live Nation partnership, which bought the Dise from the Lyons Group last month, breaks down like this: Dunne (an Irish pub owner) takes over the Lounge and make it another Lir/McGann's, while Live Nation operates the main room. Of course, no one wants to fucking talk about it, so who really knows. Maybe we'll get another House of Bruise. My odds are still 50/50 the Paradise is called the Fillmore Boston by 2009.
In other news, convincing your girlfriend you take Viagra each day before you hang out together might have been a better April Fool's Day gag than the whole "got a job in LA" thing.
My speculation: the Joe Dunne & Live Nation partnership, which bought the Dise from the Lyons Group last month, breaks down like this: Dunne (an Irish pub owner) takes over the Lounge and make it another Lir/McGann's, while Live Nation operates the main room. Of course, no one wants to fucking talk about it, so who really knows. Maybe we'll get another House of Bruise. My odds are still 50/50 the Paradise is called the Fillmore Boston by 2009.
In other news, convincing your girlfriend you take Viagra each day before you hang out together might have been a better April Fool's Day gag than the whole "got a job in LA" thing.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
April Fool's Day. So I hear.
So it's April 1, a day of conniving trickery and evil tomfoolery, and my ballyhoo'd ass got off to a rousing start this a.m. by leading Queen B to believe I was called to Los Angeles to interview for a job at L.A. Weekly (which I applied for last week or so). I certainly will be getting my ass kicked later this evening.
In other news, today's Herald Hotline is filled with goodness: Lee Genesis gets run over by his own car in Miami; Dropkicks go Gold; and I share more dirty thoughts on Sunday's Rock of Love. While I don't normally come up with the headlines, that "Genesis 03:29 - Let there be brakes" is all sorts of Vanya.
Also, only two more days until the finale of the second greatest show on TV, Make Me a Supermodel. My ruble is on Ronnie; the lady likes Perry. But if Holly finally shuts her southern drawl piehole, we're all truly winners. (Except Perry's ex who is banging Britney's boyfriend)
In other news, today's Herald Hotline is filled with goodness: Lee Genesis gets run over by his own car in Miami; Dropkicks go Gold; and I share more dirty thoughts on Sunday's Rock of Love. While I don't normally come up with the headlines, that "Genesis 03:29 - Let there be brakes" is all sorts of Vanya.
Also, only two more days until the finale of the second greatest show on TV, Make Me a Supermodel. My ruble is on Ronnie; the lady likes Perry. But if Holly finally shuts her southern drawl piehole, we're all truly winners. (Except Perry's ex who is banging Britney's boyfriend)
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