Mastering a house full of monkeys

We've stumbled on a fun show on TLC called Jon and Kate Plus 8. For those who haven't seen it, it's a reality-type show about the life of the Gosselin family. They have two sets of multiples -- twin girls, and sextuplets -- three girls, three boys.

I guess I've reached the point in my life where kids are cute and hilarious. And parents, too.

The dad cracks me right up. I totally dig his sense of humour. I think I'd be a dad like him. The mom has a great voice and is almost equally funny. How they don't lose their minds is beyond me. The chaos of one or two kids looks maddening. They manage eight kids and still have a sense of humour.

TLC has been running sets of four episodes -- one new, three reruns -- in packages. They go onto the PVR, and 'manda and I can snuggle on the couch and crack up at the shenanigans. As reality shows go, it's very down-to-earth and not plot-driven.

One episode we saw tonight featured the kids getting a chore chart. It looked like they ordered a custom one from a web site. Only the two oldest kids, aged 7, can read, so the little ones followed the pictures. I don't know if it's brilliant parenting or just the nature of three-year-olds, but the little ones got right into the act and scurried around doing chores. Sweeping, making their beds, sorting laundry. Of course they don't do it right. You can't expect them to. They're three. But it's well worth rewarding.

I think I would've benefitted from such a chore chart when I first moved in with my lady. It took some training and tears to get me to load and unload the dishwasher the right way, sort the laundry, clean the bathroom, set the table and so on. I'm good at it now. She hardly even has to ask...more than once. I've become quite domesticated.


Oo! A lull in the Latvian noise outside! Perhaps I'll sleep tonight after all! No ... no, weight, they're at it again, louder. If I can't cope with a street full of Latvian hockey nuts, how can these parents cope with a house full of shrieking children?

Movies 'bout money -- good and bad

I watched a pair of movies with 'debt' in the title over the past few days. One I liked, the other I didn't like much.

I expected In Debt We Trust to be an activist movie in the style of, say, Michael Moore or the Super Size Me guy. It was more like the latter, without even as much balance as the former.

Danny Schechter takes on the credit industry from the point of view that people who fall victim to crushing debt are hapless victims of an exploitative monster industry. While I don't disagree that Americans in particular have been buried by sometimes questionable practices of credit companies, I felt the film let the consumers off the hook too easily. Yes, people are sucked in by too-good-to-be-true offers which shouldn't be offered in the first place. Yes, people are sucked under by payday loans. But after all the reading I've been doing lately, the reality that spending less than you make is the key to staying afloat is virtually ignored. The film portrays slow death by debt as a virtual inevitability in American society.

I really did like the spooky prescience of the movie's portrayal of the housing bubble. It was made before the recent credit crunch, but predicted it precisely. It said sub-prime lending was the hot hot thing, but pointed out how ludicrous and ultimately doomed the whole scheme was.

All in all, I'd say pass on In Debt We Trust, unless you get a kick out of reinforcing a victim mentality.

On the other hand, I was angered and entertained by Life and Debt, which I found when I was looking for the other movie. I got the titles all mixed up.

Stephanie Black's film about how the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank have affected Jaimaica taught me a lot. Stuff I didn't know about Jamaica, but more importantly, stuff I didn't know about the IMF and World Bank. I had no idea how those bodies worked and what they do to countries.

The movie felt balanced, yet outrageous. It was entirely sympathetic to Jamaica, and unflattering to the IMF. The World Bank and America come off like an evil empire. Sure, that's fashionable here in Canada, but it appeared to be backed up with fact. It has the same "holy sh!t, do Americans know that their country does this?!" impact that Michael Moore's films do, without the sense "oh, come on, dude, you must be kidding" angle that Moore sometimes brings.

If you're itchin' to get mad with a movie about debt, choose Life And Debt over In Debt We Trust.

Spend wisely, gang.

You can play my music on your blog

If I understand this correctly, there should be a box of some kind to let you play my songs here on the blog ... and y'know what? You can put it on your blog, too! Just go to my page at onlinemusicnetwork.ca to get the code. I'm gonna see if I can slap this up on the sidebar, too.







Visit Big **** Superstar on onlinemusicnetwork.ca now!

New Big Ass Music

Hallo, all! I hope the winter isn't wearing you all down. We've had storm after storm here in Halifax, but from what I see on the news, it's nothing like southern Ontario has been getting this season. Keep warm and safe!

I've put two new songs up on the Big Ass Superstar page at onlinemusicnetwork.ca.

Ticket To Spain is a cover of the opening track from Cub's second album Come Out, Come Out. I really like the way the drums turned out.

Buenas Tardes Amigo is a cover of "the Mexican song" from Ween's Chocolate and Cheese. It's my most ambitious production yet. It's more than seven minutes long and features a dramatically building mix of acoustic and electric guitars, drums, and even a string section! It's one of the few times I haven't piled a ton of effects on my singing.

Check it out and enjoy! (And slug me a good rating or review if you feel like it!)

Big Ass Music now online

I've signed up to a new service that's in beta testing right now. It's designed to be a MySpace/YouTube kind of site for Canadian musicians, focusing for now on Atlantic Canadian musicians.

I've put some songs up for listening. For the first time, you can now hear some remastered tracks in hi-fi from my first album Serotonin, and a couple of tracks prepared for the (eventually) forthcoming album Mind The Gap.

You can also sign up to be "a fan". I don't know what that gets you. Odds are I won't be mailing out candy and newsletters.

Check it out: the web site is www.onlinemusicnetwork.ca, and my profile page is at http://www.onlinemusicnetwork.ca/members/60/.

Rock on!

Cygnals: Ween: All about the high shit

From the pages of Cygnals Zine, Issue #9, Spring 1997

Remastered MP3 audio to replace the old MP3. (I found the cassette this weekend, w00t.)

---

"It's all about the high shit." The first words out of Gene Ween's mouth upon answering the telephone.

I can only assume he was talking to sidekick Dean Ween (Mickey Melchiondo), sharing a downtown Detroit hotel room after spending the night on the tour bus. Gene, known as Aaron Freeman to the police and anyone who needs his real name, is groggy, but fresh from a good healthy shit.

Based on previous interviews with Gener I'd read in other zines, I figured I might be in for a tough time. But little did I know that Gene Ween would be a more challenging interview than any politician or scientist I've ever talked to.

I introduce myself. "Did you just talk to this guy?" asks Gene to Dean. "Yeah, you were in the toilet," he answers. Woo-woo. Gene/Aaron puts down the phone, grabs a cigarette and comes back for the interview.

Warner was kind enough to send me a copy of Ween's current release, 12 Golden Country Greats, an enjoyable mix of Ween wackiness with country hurtin'. A country record from drug-punk-funk-alterna-whatever boys Ween? What must the record company have thought? "They didn't really know until it was finished, until we handed it in." Once finished, they were good about promoting it, I'm told, but I still haven't seen a video from it.

Ween's drug use is legendary, but Gene says that's over. "Not after the big bust in '92, there's no big drug lifestyle anymore. I can't talk about it. Pretty ugly." Yeah. Right.

I made the mistake of bringing up one of my other favorite bands, They Might Be Giants. I'd read Ween doesn't like them. "No, not really. Can't say as I do. A little too smart college boy for me. I was never into smart college boy music."

Aside from an anticipated tour with Marilyn Manson (is he kidding?) And last year's tour with Foo Fighters, Gene poo-poos opening for anyone. "It's something that we've never really done, and it's something that we're not going to start doing. I think we're a little different than that, our whole trip. Forty minutes in front of Beck isn't really where it's at. There's nobody out there that I like enough to do that with. Ninety-nine per cent of opening bands stink. Cuz of these stupid fucking club people who try to find a They Might Be Giants type band. So not only aren't they like They Might Be Giants, they're worse than They Might Be Giants. Which is hard to imagine."

Stupidly, I mention I saw TMBG opening for Hootie (ack!) And the Blowfish at Skydome a week earlier. "That sounds like a nightmare. Goddamn. Why am I even talking to you?" I lose his attention even more. "I got athlete's foot, I think...uhh, yeah?"

Pushing my luck after talking to Ween about Frente, I ask if he's heard of Cub. "Cup?" Cub. "I think 99% of that cute girl shit sucks. Alternative girl-rock. Very popular right now and they all sound the same."

After nearly twenty minutes of trying to pull more than "yeah" or "it's cool" answers from Gene, I wrap up the interview.

---

Follow up 2008:

- The October 23, 1996 show that I interviewed Ween for was later released as Ween's first live album, and a must-have for Ween fans. The release of "Ween: Live in Toronto" marked the launch of Chocodog Records.
- I have some rare photos from the show on the old Cygnals site
- Full audio of this interview has been resourced and remastered in MP3
- Reference file for the interview: 1996-10%20-%20Interview%20with%20Gene%20Ween.mp3

Cygnals: David Bronstein

From the pages of Cygnals Zine, Issue #9, Spring 1997.

"Get off the couch, get out of bed, go to the phone and call the number on the screen!"

** Remastered audio to replace the old RealAudio. Now in MP3! How modern!

If you've had the good fortune to be channel-surfing late at night, among the exercise equipment, food processors and motivation courses, you've no doubt found Dial-A-Date.

Surrounded by bikini-clad dancing girls, the self-proclaimed 'Prince of Love' David Bronstein compels viewers to "call the number on the screen" to "talk live to real single and women and men."

I tracked down Bronstein at the North York
headquarters of the Dial-A-Date empire, B&W
Entertainment.

"I'm an actor, that's all I am," he says.

Bronstein has appeared in a few movies, on CBC's Toronto After Hours, on YTV and USA Cable Network's Dog House, and on the syndicated film trailer show Hollywood Camera. (He was later replaced by granite-jawed pretty-boy Dan Duran. "The station, whoever was carrying it, thought I was an idiot. They hated me. They hated my goofiness. They hated my personality, whatever I was doing.")

After all this, Bronstein found he wasn't getting a lot of auditions. Fed up, he fired his agent, hooked up with partner Andrew Wells and grappled to produce his own show. TV production isn't cheap, however. Facing the prohibitive costs of writing a script, selling it, shooting a pilot, and shopping it around, Bronstein decided the now-common infomercial route would work best: buy the whole half-hour and program it yourself. Rather than sell advertising time during the show, he set up a 900 line to generate revenue. All, he says, to get his Seinfeldesque mug on TV.

On a few weekend mornings, I've seen Bronstein pushing a stroller on the subway. He's lived with wife and family in Toronto for 10 years. He seems like an otherwise nice guy. So, of course, the obvious question: is David Bronstein really the obnoxious Prince of Love we see on TV?

"Not the same guy," he confesses. "The persona I portray when I go 'Hey, baby, hey gorgeous, hey sweety,' I'm portraying all the guys who go to clubs who are all hot and cool . . . do you watch Saturday Night Live? You know the segment where they have the two disco guys? That's the role I'm playing on TV, because I'm not that guy. I wish I could be that guy, and have that kind of confidence when I go to clubs. On the screen, the role that I turn on and off light a light switch when I'm shooting, I wish I could be that. But when I go to Vegas with Andrew, my partner, he takes me to clubs because people recognize me, and he meets girls that way. But I don't have the guts to go up to girls and say 'Hey gorgeous, you're beautiful, what's your name?' -- I don't have the guts to do it. I wish I did!"

Now that you've seen the other side of the leering guy with the waving hands, dancing with the bikini girls, you might be surprised to know that the folks on the line are indeed "real single women and men, the kind of people you'd meet in clubs and bars, but you're too chicken to talk to."

Here's how it works. The people who appear on the show get access codes for the Dial-a-Date computer. They log in from home when they feel like taking calls. Then Joe Couch Potato calls the number on the screen, and is presented with a menu of who's logged in to take calls. He presses a button and the computer calls Real Single Chickee at home and gives her the option to take the call or not. They're connected, they chat, and she gets paid by the minute to talk to the guy. Of course, the longer she gets him to talk, the more she makes (and the more he pays).

"It just so happens the dating business is a great business," he says, "because it never goes away."

But that's not the end of it. "People are staying home more and they're going out less, and that was the whole point of bringing personal ads to television was to create a night club in your home so you don't have to go out and meet anybody because I'm going to bring them into your living room."

Bronstein and Wells want to take the interactive phone world even further.

"There's a billion types of shows I want to do. Dating is great, but Pepsi, they have Orange Crush and grape soda . . . for more shelf space. I read an article about how there's so many overweight people. I want to do a show giving you your own personal nutritionist-diet person you can talk to over the phone live, so they'll tell you what kind of foods to eat, and how much to weigh your food, and what'd you eat today, and talk about nutrition."

What's left once you have the market cornered on by-the-minute billing for fat folks and lonely people? Well, having a panic attack? Call the number on the screen!

"People are depressed, people have been abused, they have nobody to go to, nobody to talk to. So I want to do a show where people can call in, and you can talk to all these social workers who are out of work, and all these therapists can work from home and talk to these people. Yes, it'll cost them money on their phone bill, but the whole reason they're out of work is because the
government's not giving them any money. Everything costs money, but there's a big market for that -- unfortunately."

"I read all these articles about the Internet. All these women are leaving their husbands because of guys they're meeting on the Internet. So I want to capitalize -- not on people's problems -- but there are a lot of lonely women there . . . I guess."

The net's getting to be big business, with neat stuff like live teleconferenced strip shows getting more popular. Bronstein likes it, and would love to get in.

"More people have telephones and TVs than have computers, which is why I'm on television, even though I want to do the Internet. We do have a web site. It's a very lame web site, at http://www.dial-a-date.com/."

Yes, the web site is very lame. Very very lame and full of bad grammatical errors. (Seeing
"you're" as "your" really gets me going.)

---

Follow-up 2008:

- This David Bronstein is not David Bronstein the chess grandmaster.
- He has a new website: DavesTVDeals.com
- Check out a whole pile of David Bronstein video clips
- Want David to pitch your product on TV? $20-thousand gets you the King of Late Night!

- Reference file: 1997-03%20-%20Cygnals%20-%20David%20Bronstein.mp3

Rush: Subdivisions: Mark Dailey: The Truth

More than ten years ago, I posted an item at cygnals.com correcting a "fact" in the Rush Frequently Asked Questions list:

- Neil says "Subdivisions" in the song of the same name, even though Alex is shown saying it in the video and does it live.
That's wrong. I've found who really says it.
If you live near Toronto, you know who he is. He's Mark Dailey, evening newscaster and "The Voice" of Toronto television station City-TV and also MuchMusic.

I'm thrilled to have first brought this fact to the Internet so many years ago ... and credit and thanks to Mike Wilner for the tip that sent me off on the research mission in the first place.

I spoke briefly with Mark about it back then, and posted a clip of him saying "Subdivisions". He confirmed it outright. Some still didn't accept it as fact. The story has sat idle, and the RealAudio sound is old and scratchy by modern standards. Besides, who likes using RealPlayer these days?
Here's subdivisions-dailey-1997-whole-from-ra.mp3 -- an MP3 version of the first RA file, which was mono, 11khz. I don't know if I still have the original master of the cassette source.

Well, I was going through my old Minidiscs recently and happened upon a follow-up chat I had with Mark Dailey in late 2002. It's provided me with a good opportunity to update the story and post some new audio -- this time in MP3, which wasn't the standard in 1997 that it is today.

Here's subdivisions-dailey-2002-whole.mp3 -- the new audio of Mark from 2002. Okay, strangely enough, he's completely changed his story. Now he's suggesting it's former Buffalo newscaster Nolan Johannes, who moved to a station in Pennsylvania in 1982. Is he trying to swerve us to preserve a sense of mystery? I think he's just joking with me. All signs point to Dailey as The Voice. I'm in the process of contacting Nolan Johannes to get his take.

Here's subdivisions-dailey-comparison-2007.mp3 -- a compilation clip with the following:

• a clip from the first instance of "Subdivisions" in the original song


• the centre channel isolated from that clip, to highlight "Subdivisions


• Dailey from 1997 saying the word, with effects, then without


• Dailey from 2002 saying the word, without effects, then with


• the original song clip again


• a centre-channel-extracted clip mixed with the 1997-with-effects clip for illustration

People have tried to edit the correction into the Wikipedia article about the song, but other editors have repeatedly nixed the change, even though the Mark Dailey article says exactly this.

I don't suggest using a "fact" on one Wiki page to corroborate a fact on another -- that's useless, circular logic -- but you're welcome to cite me, for heaven's sake. If I'm credible enough deliver the news every night, I'm certainly credible enough to quote on Wikipedia. Heck, my stuff has been used to support articles about Sam The Record Man, TTC's Lower Bay subway station, TTC's Lower Queen Station, and an article about Russell Oliver that has since been deleted.

I should also point out that some authors have accepted this reality. The book Rush Tribute: Mereley (sic) Players by Robert Telleria (Quarry Press, 2002)doesn't cite my web site by name, but says:

Contrary to popular belief, Neil does not sing the part "Subdivisions" (nor does Alex who filled in for concerts and in the video promo). It was actually Toronto newsman Mark Dailey's voice. (p. 181)

So ... can we settle this already? Mark Dailey says "Subdivisions" in "Subdivisions".

---

Reference files:
subdivisions-dailey-1997-whole-from-ra.mp3
subdivisions-dailey-2002-whole.mp3
subdivisions-dailey-comparison-2007.mp3

A genius tribute or spoof?

If you have an hour or so -- and I'm not saying I do -- and you appreciate visionary genius and absolute skill at editing -- and I do, kinda -- and you think Garfield cartoons are kinda lame -- you got me there -- then please, please, take some time and view the series of videos by Lasagna Cat. You may not laugh out loud at the first one you see, but digest a bunch of them and I hope you'll agree... this stuff is ... like ... good and stuff.

Name my robot

Still no flying cars, but the Jetsons world is starting to come through at BigAss HQ with the arrival of the Roomba robotic vaccum cleaner.

I got a Roomba Scheduler for Christmas from mom and dad and have had a few opportunities to put it through its paces.

It's cleaned the living room and dining room a few times, and does a decent job. It chokes on cords if they're in the way, and wedges itself helplessly under the coffee table from time to time, but that's half the fun.

It's not a hands-off toy. It demands cleaning after use. Emptying the dustbin is just part of the maintenance. It takes a bit more work to take the roller and brush out and give them a thorough cleaning. But that's, again, part of the fun. It's satisfying dirty work, like popping a boil, or cleaning the wax out of your ears, or a good puke after drinking too much.

Yesterday I cleared the clutter from the master bedroom and sent it on a mission to clean where the regular vacuum won't go -- under the bed, under the dressers and so on.

The Roomba spent an hour or so bouncing around the bedroom while I cleaned the litterbox. I cleaned the machine's guts afterward and ended up with a huge pile of cat hair, lint and detritus. After recharging, I sent 'im back for another mission. Another pile of stuff. This beast really cleans up.

The problem is ... he (she?) doesn't have a name.

Given that our household has two kitties named "Kitty", and Amanda's DS Nintendog puppy is named "puppy", there's a solid chance the new robot could end up named "Robot," "Roomba," or "Vacuum."

Suggestions?

1987 flashback on the Youtube

Hey, groovy gang.

I've tossed some old commercials up on to the YouTube.

Visit my channel to see 1987 ads for:

• Water Pik - the one with the Cosby-sweater ventriloquist and the talking dentures
• The Brick
• Standard Auto Glass
• Royal LePage
• Remax
• Motts Clamato Cocktail - the guy who wants hot and cold running Clamato (what's with Clamato anyway? Was someone drinking tomato juice one day and thought ... mmm ... good ... but ... needs more clam.)
• Molson Export - you've spent all night in the cold rain fixing downed power lines. Now you need to get shitfaced. Ex says it all.
• Granada - wanna buy a TV or VCR? Go to the place famous for RENTING them! That's Granada! (Where's Granada now? Exactly. The last one I remember closed and became Adults Only Video on Yonge Street south of Gerrard.)
• Coors Gold - they don't make it any more.
• Burger King Chicken Bundles - they don't make these any more either. Think Chicken McNugget on a bun.

Also posted a WWF wrestling clip from 1986 featuring an in-joke I didn't get until years later. Randy Savage is wrestling a jabroni named Mark Faban. Vince McMahon asks Bruno Sammartino, what's this guy's first name? Kay? Bruno laughs at the notion of a wrestler named Kay Faban. Like, "kayfabin'". Okay, if you're not a wrestling nerd, you might not know what "kayfabe" means, but to have two announcers joking about kayfabe in 1986 was pretty....I dunno, pretty weird, I guess.

Now the CityPulse news test...

Jason White just blew my mind by telling me the Channel 7 Eyewitness News theme I grew up with -- WKBW in Buffalo -- had words. He didn't sing them.

He posted The Hilltop Singers, "Move Closer To Your World".

There's a whole web site about it.

But the music doesn't work. So here it is in MP3. Jason says this TV station tribute page also has it.

If you grew up in Western New York or Southern Ontario, check it out. Maybe you'll be as jaw-droppingly gobsmacked as me. (And if you're a Weinsteinophile, check out the Irv, Rick and Tom page.)

It reminds me that some time ago, I asked the folks over at the Big Yellow Board, SOWNY, if anyone knew the name of the song they used to use on Toronto's CityTV for the CityPulse News Test.

Turns out it's a Warren Zevon song called Nighttime In The Switching Yard. Here's a video at ArtistDirect. Mind blown again.

---

the%20hilltop%20singers%20-%20get%20closer%20to%20your%20world%20-%20eyewitness%20news%20theme%20with%20lyrics.mp3

Big Ass, small pews

My good buddy Sandra used to tell me how incredible it sounded when she'd go to musical performances. I'm not talking rock and/or roll bands, although they sound nice, too. She'd go to orchestras and choruses (chorii?) and such. She'd rave about them. I figured, meh, Sandra's all smart and stuff, and more cultured than I. She's probably right, but it doesn't sound like my bag.

Well, Amanda told me she'd be going to a thing this past weekend at a church up the street, and I figured ... why the heck not?

Friend-of-a-friend and super-nice guy we met at Laura's wedding, Andrew Killawee, runs a choral ensemble called Eventide. They were set to perform at Saint Patrick's Church on Brunswick Street. I saw Andrew at a party the night before and chatted a bit about it, and again figured ... why the heck not?

Saint Patrick's is beautiful. I'm not into churches all that much, but, jee-zus, they's pretty. This one, especially. Building began in 1883. It's a gorgeous building inside. Outside -- well, it was dark on Sunday night, and I've never really looked at the outside.

The most famous thing inside is the statue of Saint Patrick. His right hand was blown off in the great Halifax Explosion. (Great meaning large or immense, I use it in the pejorative sense.)

The church was scheduled for demolition after being delisted by the Big Catholic Church. It seems they've put that off, pending the raising of $600-thousand by next June. I think they're calling the campaign "Give Saint Patrick's A Hand" -- pun intended.

Anyway, the show.

Andrew's Eventide Choir was phenomenal. The church's high vaulted ceilings carried the 18 voices and let them float gloriously through the hall. Excellent tonality and timing. Even though I didn't know the words to any of the Renaissance-era tunes, I was impressed with the work. Fabulous stuff.

For an intermission, Andrew's roommate, who we'd met at another party at Andrew's house, came out to perform a piece he'd written. I'd have been impressed if a guy came out with a ukelele and did a three-minute ditty called "Churches Are So Pretty" ... but this was somethin' else!

His outfit was ... a violin, a viola, a cello, Andrew on piano, and the composer on saxomophone. Weird combo, yes, but it was freakin' awesome. It's mind-buggering to consider that this fella -- just an ordinary dude -- could not only perform an extended beautiful piece of fantastic music so flawlessly ..... but he wrote it! Hell, I can barely *remember* all three chords in a three-minute pop song, and this guy's writing masterful stuff for a five-piece quartet (?) and ... anyway, kudos to Andrew and everyone else involved.

And good luck to the people at Saint Patrick's. I'm sure Saints can get by with one hand -- I'm sure ambidextrousness is next to godliness -- but a Saint without a house is a sad sight.

Learn more about the church at their web site.

In the days before DVD

Not so many years ago, people didn't have DVDs. We had videocassettes. We had the Betamax vs. VHS wars, which are chronicled so thoroughly on the interweb. And people who wanted something better than videotape had Laserdiscs. They were big -- like the size of records -- but they had great picture quality, fantastic sound quality, and often had extra stuff... the kind of extra stuff we take for granted now on DVD.

This is a clip I found on an old VHS tape when I was doing some transfers at home. It's a clip from Buffalo's NBC affiliate, WGRZ-TV, Channel 2, on their evening newscast. It's a consumer segment asking whether it's a good idea to invest in a laserdisc player. I figure this clip is from early 1992, several years before DVD was introduced.

I get a kick out of past predictions of the future, and old-time fascination with technology that we now view as archaic. And I'm looking forward to the days when the stuff we consider high-tech is considered embarrassingly out of date. Hell, look at how far cell phone technology has come in just the past ten years.

Real live poet coming to Halifax

Hey, Haligonians.

Sandra sent me a tip that her friend and coworker Alex Boyd is heading this way as part of an east coast tour. He's a real live poet from Toronto. Sandra's had great things to say about him over the years. I went out with 'er to see him at a reading one night in Toronto -- I don't remember if I was able to stay for his segment of the evening, as I was called out on a reporting assignment and had to scurry out into the snowy night. In any case, if you have the time, I bet he's well worth seeing.

He and fellow poet and friend Dani Couture will be at:

Mahone Bay, NS
Thurs Oct 25, 8pm
The Biscuit Eater Bookstore and Cafe,
16 Orchard St

Halifax, NS
Fri Oct 26, 12 Noon
Spring Garden Road Memorial Public Library,
5381 Spring Garden Road

Halifax, NS (Dani Couture only)
Fri Oct 26, 8pm
Venus Envy,
1598 Barrington Street

I'd go see him, but we're off to Annapolis Royal that weekend for a romantic anniversary getaway. Go see Alex and buy his stuff if you're into the poetry thang!

Thanks again to Sandra for the heads-up.

Buying a bunch of stuff -- are Dean Ween's pickups next?

Seriously, I'm not manic right now. I'm just feeling creative as heck and spending money and having trouble falling asleep.

I just bought a bunch of new gear for the Big Ass Recording Studio: an audiophile sound card, a set of awesome studio monitor speakers, and a new mixing console. It ought to be great, once it all arrives and gets hooked up.

And I was sitting here tonight thinking ... man, I should go get the guitar restrung and tuned up if I'm going to be doing a bunch of recording and mixing soon ... after all, Amanda got me a gift cert for the Halifax Folklore Centre so I can have that done ... but wouldn't it be awesome to upgrade the stock pickups in my Fender Fat Strat? Probably. I love the guitar, but I bet it could sound even more awesome if I had improved pickups. Y'know, I think it was partly inspired by overhearing some college kids talking about guitars on the ferry this morning. Anyway....

Problem is, I don't know a damned thing about guitar pickups. I know a humbucker from a single-coil -- and I know I rarely play the single-coils on my Strat 'cuz they feel like they don't cut through like the neck-position humbucker.

So, I go a-cruising on Google to find out what kind of pickups guitar hero Dean Ween uses. And I find a brand-new article on Fender's web site about it:

You know, I have other guitars -- I have a lot of guitars -- but I use my one Strat for everything; for all of our touring and all of our recording. I have one Strat that just sounds and plays better than any other one; a '61 slab-board neck bolted onto, like, an early '80s '62 reissue. And then I put the same pickups in all my guitars -- it's got a Hot Rails in the lead position and then two Fender-Lace Sensors in the middle and the neck. That's my go-to guitar for every track and every gig. It's been re-fretted, like, five or six times since I've had it. And, apparently, it was used on Private Dancer. That was the story I got.

So, there you go. No idea what those pickups are about, how much they cost, or anything else about 'em. But now it ought to be easier for anyone else to find out about Dean Ween's Strat pickups. Rock on.

Vacation wrapup, way way late

Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya. But life's been busy for the past month or so. Lots to blog about, so let's get at 'er, starting with this wrapup of the big Big Ass Summer Tour 2007.

Saturday, July 21, Amanda and I set out on a big drive, aiming to get to Riviere-du-Loup by sundown. First stop was Wendy's somewhere to try the new Baconator. Yes, two quarter-pound patties of fresh-never-frozen beef, six strips of bacon and two slices of cheese. The Baconator delivers. It's a little mushy, and the first half is best, 'cuz it's hot.

It was a cloudy, rainy day heading through New Brunswick. But more distracting than the rain was the accumulation of bugs on the windshield. I used the gas station squeegee to wipe off the slime each time we stopped for gas, but we could barely keep ahead of the insect carnage.

Arrived in Riviere du Loup and negotiated through the town courtesy of Mapquest's left-right-left-right-left-right-left directions, instead of going straight down one road. Ended up at Motel Boulevard Cartier. You'll note that the motel is attached to the local St. Hubert Chicken restaurant. In fact, the check-in desk is right next to the take-out counter. Check that... the check-in desk is the take-out counter. We checked in to the unremarkable but perfectly passable room. No non-smoking rooms available, unfortunately, so it felt like a real old-school experience, back to the days when all the rooms were smoking rooms. I promptly noticed a fly on the ashtray, turned around, and was delighted to find a flyswatter sitting on its own hook. Thwap! First amentiy used.

St. Hubert, in my mind, has always been the franglais equivalent of Swiss Chalet. And I luvs me some Swiss Chalet. So we ambled over to the restaurant to try out a quarter chicken and frites. This ain't no Swiss Chalet, kids. Tastes like cafeteria food. We added a bit of Nova Scotia flavour by purchasing some Keith's beer (Keith's Red, weirdly enough) to enjoy with dinner. Entered to win a Keith's guitar. Haven't won, so far that I've heard. Our friendly server Benoit told us about a fireworks show scheduled for 10pm down by the water. Cool beans! I luvs me some fireworks, too. If Swiss Chalet had fireworks, they'd be on to something, man. Fireworks show was better than the July 1 one in Halifax, I shit you not.

Next day was time for the killer drive of the trip, from Quebec to Bradford. Lunch was at McDonald's ("Mc Do'"), and the difficult problem of ordering a Bic Mac, no pickles, no sauce (my choix du jour on the rare times I go to the Arches) en francais. Amanda grew up in Northern Ontario (town of Swastika -- look it up) and actually worked her previous job in french, and we negotiated frickin' Paris together, so I figured ordering a Combo #1, no pickles, no sauce would be a breeze. But me, I learned Ontario core french, in which they teach you the names of things. French immersion, sure, you sound like you know the language, but you don't always end up knowing what stuff is called. Amanda was unsure what "sauce" was in french, even when I suggested that it may be "sauce". Pickles were a whole other matter. I asserted that "cochinons" was the word. She didn't know. So, between her and the counter man, I got a Big Mac sans sauce, but avec pickles. I could pick those off. Pickles, it turns out are "cornichons". Unsure so far what "cochinons" is, if anything.

Goddamn Ontario driving. The drive from the border to Toronto is ... is ... is ... no fun. Just no fun. The 401 isn't beautiful to drive on. Worse still when there's a collision and rubberneckers and idiots thinking they can get a tiny bit further ahead by cutting through the service station, then coming out four abroad into a one-lane merge, ending up driving on the shoulder, and ... anyway, Amanda convinced me not to shout anything out the window or hop out and slug someone in a Rav-4.

We crawled into Bradford quite late and found a Pizza Pizza open late. I don't miss Pizza Pizza pizza. Panzerotto Pizza and Wings, yes, I miss that. Toppers Pizza is good, too. But Pizza Pizza isn't the kind of pizza I miss, you know what I mean? Settled in for a nice night at Amanda's folks.

Off to my old stomping grounds on Monday. Bradford is just north of Newmarket, where I was raised. We hit Upper Canada Mall, where I worked at Compucentre as a teenager. Ate in the food court (Made In Japan/A Teriyaki Experience), shopped around, bought my nephew some cool sunglasses at some baby-stuff store. Saw my old house. Jee-zus, Newmarket has grown. Huge. Very different.

That night we had steak and caesar salad. I luvs me some steak, y'all. Then Barb and Wendall took us out to the movies. We saw Hairspray starring John Travolta. Amanda turned to me in horror during the opening sequence -- "Oh my god. I forgot to tell you, this is a musical." No bother. I knew it was a musical. I spent part of the movie trying to figure out where they shot it -- Toronto, obviously, but it was neat to figure out all the locations. Good flick, despite Travolta, drag or not. The popcorn was fan-tas-tic. Fantastic.

'Manda's mom took us to Ikea on Tuesday. See, the first Ikea in North America was across the harbour in Dartmouth, but they closed it down years ago. Shame! So it was a treat to go to Ikea for the first time in more than two years. We didn't buy anything huge, but it was fun to dream. Ikea actually serves good food in its cafeteria. Meatballs and soup and little potatoes! By this point in the trip, I was getting very tired. Nearly fell asleep in the car to and from Ikea. Dinner was burgers and corn and more caesar salad. Good times.

On Wednesday, we had a surprise lined up for my parents. We'd been swerving my mom and for weeks about our vacation plans, based on my sister's suggestion of arriving unannounced. It worked. We pulled in to Stratford and visited with my sister and baby Ewan for a while, then rolled over to the 'rents abode and walked right in. My dad looked puzzled. Mom was in the basement doing laundry, so I just walked right down and surprised her. Clearly she wasn't expecting it. Oh, I forgot to mention -- a Baconator for lunch. We indulged in Dairy Queen after a dinner of BBQ chicken at Chris and Shannon's.

Amanda drove off to London the next day to visit her sister Amy, while I walked around town with Shannon and my dad. Stratford's a beautiful place. It was nice to spend some time with family seeing their town again. We took my folks out for dinner at the nice hotel -- prime rib for all! And DQ to follow! A fireworks show down by the water was supposed to cap things off, but it started inexplicably early. Who starts a fireworks show at 9:15pm in early August? Just ridiculous. So we missed the whole show. Back to Shannon's to hang out with them and the baby some more. That baby is such a hoot. Hilarious. Babbling and screaming and freaking out and making faces. Tons of fun.

The tour resumed Friday as we dined on nachos at Shannon's, hung out at mom & dad's a while longer, then hit the road for Toronto! We found Sandra and Byron's new house -- eventually -- I had the wrong address. Had the wrong address for a few weeks, apparently, as I sent her birthday card to the wrong place. Their new place is delightful! A renovated place north of the Danforth with lots of room and high ceilings on the main floor. Just fabulous. We went down to the Danforth for a filling and tasty Greek dinner. Byron even ate octopus, or squid, or some tentacled beasty that was in the middle of the plate of dips. It was great to see my friends again; it was like we hadn't been apart for long.

Amanda went out early the next day to visit with a relative, and I went to breakfast with S&B. Good food, good company.

Off to Quebec City! We managed to find a Lick's Homeburgers restaurant on the way out -- one of the things we really miss about Ontario. Big, juicy, garlicky burger. Yum yum yum.

The drive to Quebec was a long, long one. We took an impulsive detour through Trois-Rivieres in an effort to take the "scenic route." We should've learned from the Banff trip that the "scenic route" is just a narrower road with more trees. As we arrived in Quebec City, it began to pour rain. Like, seriously, lots of rain. Somehow, somehow, we got to our hotel, parked, and checked in at the Hotel Auberge du Quartier.

We learned that the beautiful breakfast room was no longer the breakfast room, and no longer beautiful. The man at the desk told us that a guest had recently returned to his room thoroughly drunk and puked all over his sheets. He pulled off the sheets and put them in the shower for a rinse. He left the water running and passed out on the bed. The shower flooded the place, and thus, the breakfast room was ruined. Shame. On the up side, we'd get breakfast around the corner, gratis. We hunted down a local pub in the rain and ate a well-earned meal -- some kind of fancy panini sandwich for me, chicken caesar for Amanda.

Br....

... (Oct 3 2007) okay, this post has been "in progress" for a month and a half now. Let's just say that the Quebec vacation was wonderful. We walked a lot. A lot. Walking and walking. Saw lots of beautiful stuff, and ate some great food. Took a horse-drawn carriage ride. I'm gonna rush through the rest of this.

I wanted to mention that on the first day, I noticed that Scientology was front-page news in the paper. Apparently the "Church" is trying to improve its image in the city by expanding its storefront operation. The paper had a two-page spread. Nothing about Xenu.

We also spent a delightful weekend in Annapolis Royal, staying at the King George Inn. The place is effing gorgeous, and Faith the innkeeper is a whirling dynamo of a host. Highly recommended. I think we'll stay there again. Having never heard of Annapolis Royal before, we were blown away by the rich history and quaint feel of the small town. It was the capital of Nova Scotia before anyone dreamt of Halifax. The oldest English-marked grave in the country is there.

We also went out on the Digby Neck, along the Bay of Fundy. We went on a disappointing whale-watching trip -- only saw a few whales, it was cold, and Amanda was sea-sick. Ate scallops of several varieties. They was good.

On the last day, we went to visit the famous Balancing Rock. A whole lot of stairs -- seriously, a lot of stairs -- and a nice view. Pretty cool.

Okay, this post sat unfinished for a long, long time. And it's, IMHO, still unfinished. But now you have a small idea of what we did on our summer vacation. For pictures worth several tens of thousands of words, check the appropriate gallery on my flickr page.

Yes, the inclusion of virtually everything I ate was intentional. Two weeks of eating and travelling, two weeks of morning-show shifts with dinner right before bed, and a recent habit of eating cinnamon buns at work have pushed my weight up to "before un-weighted" levels. Crap.

Sloan, finally!; The Man They Call Reveen; New album; New instrument

Sloan's from Halifax. I don't think they live here anymore. I've missed them playing here at least three times since getting the job out here. Friday night, they're playing a free show across the harbour in Dartmouth for Alexander Keith's birthday. Yeah, it's gonna be the buncha-drunken-fratboys experience, but what the hell -- it's Sloan, and it's free. Cappin' off a busy week, with Amanda's birthday funfest tonight (happy 29th, sweetheart!), and Laura G's farewell bash tomorrow night, the concert with J-White on Friday, and steak for dinner on Saturday.

This YouTube video from a concert last year in Stratford, Ontario is an illustration of why Sloan is so cool.

Oh, hey, I also went to see Reveen the Impossiblist recently at the Rebecca Cohn Auditorium. If you watch Trailer Park Boys, you've seen folks making fun of Ricky by calling him Reveen. I had no idea who Reveen was 'til I moved out here. Turns out he is to the Maritimes what Mike Mandel is to Ontario -- the stage hypnotist everyone saw back in college. 'Cept Reveen actually looks like Ricky from the Trailer Park Boys, and he's been doing the exact same show since the 60s or 70s. Reveen is in his seventies now. He's old as hell, as far as hypnotists go. He's been retired for some time, instead managing a big-time Vegas magician.

Well, Reveen got up there with his sparkly tux and cheesy 1982-vintage soundtrack and hypnotized the heck out of some willing volunteers. Good show, but a little sad when he'd forget his place or get frustrated with his son/assistant reminding him of what's supposed to come next. And he left one guy still in a trance at the end of the show, forgetting to release him. Somewhere in Halifax, there's a guy who will forever respond to the phrase "peanuts, roasted!" with a hearty "shut up, you mug!" I particularly enjoyed Reveen shilling his own 1960s/70s self-hypnosis products before the intermission, telling us that he can't do personal appointments to teach superconsciousness, but he's now released a series of "long-playing records" -- side one, for example ... wait a minute ... I'm sorry, they're now available on compact disc!

Anyway, good time, good time. Front-row seats, so you can't do much better than that.

In other news to be contained in throwaway lines at the bottom of sporadic blog posts, I have a name for the new album (same name I was going to use the last time I didn't get around to finishing an album), and cover art, sourced from a photographer on flickr (credits to come later). I hope to take some time off in November to finish recording and production, with the final product out in time for Christmas distribution. At least that's the plan. Meh. Plans. Anyway, rock on.

Oh, one more throaway thing. Kijiji. Never been there 'til a coupla weeks go. Ended up buying a Casio keyboard from a dude. Amanda was kind enough to go pick it up. $150 for a decent MIDI-capable keyboard, stand and bench. Now I can add that extra layer of cheese to my music, and Amanda can amuse me with her keyboard dexterity.

Miscellaneous updates

Alright, in an effort to clear the backlog of stuff-I-ain't-blogged-about lately ... here's a clearinghouse post about things and junk.

My noon-hour news show has been dropped in favour of more talk-show action. They've shrunk the noon newscast to seven action-packed minutes. It's going alright. The big afternoon news wheel now starts at 3pm instead of 3:30. An extra half-hour of reading. Interesting times! Ratings are on. Let's hope for big numbers.

I think the station is really taking hold. I can tell because of the influx of crackpot callers. We've had recent contact from conspiracy theorists convinced of the reality of chemtrails, lizard people, cattle mutilation and, of course, the 9/11 doubters.

I earned my Yellow Belt at taekwondo just before the summer vacation. The test was a little nerve-wracking, with lots of new Korean terminology to remember. I'm still not smooth and graceful and balanced and powerful, but I'm getting a helluva workout and learning new kicks and punches and strikes and painful holds.

Britney Spears did not look fat on the VMAs. Her dance routine was weak, but she looked just fine, thankyouverymuch.

All these earthquakes lately! How long 'til the big one?

The Belgians want to prosecute the Church of Scientology for fraud and extortion, alleging unlawful practices in medicine, violating privacy laws and using illegal business contracts. Go for it!

I've been back in the studio recording more music. It's fun. Latest recording has been a bit of a departure from past rocking efforts -- taking on Buenas Tardes Amigo by Ween.

Biking to work is fun. Halifax is full of hills, so it's a challenge. I get to work sweaty, but I get home a lot faster.

Nova Scotia's Utility and Review Board has turned down an appeal by heritage groups seeking to block the construction of two 27-storey towers in downtown Halifax. I've got no problem with having such a development in the city. After participating in the process to review and/or challenge the construction of the giant Minto Midtown condos at Yonge and Eglinton in Toronto, I learned to separate NIMBYism from the bigger issues. As much as I don't want the Halifax harbour view blocked, I don't have any other real objections to the "Twisted Sisters" development.

I hear my alma mater Ryerson University now has the only academic HDTV studio in North America. Way to go Rye High! Thanks to Matt from RTA 95 who invited me to the Facebook alumni group -- sorry bud, I'm still not on Facebook. Anyone in the group is welcome to post this web address to the wall or whiteboard or whatever thing they have there.

I tried shrimp recently when Amanda bought some at the Superstore and we grilled it up with steak. And we both tried scallops (pronounced "scollops" out here). She liked them both more than I did, but I didn't hate 'em. Good on me for trying new foods.

Overhauling the old http://www.cygnals.com/ web site is on my perpetual "to-do" list, but it never gets "to-done", in part because it's been almost a decade since I've done any real web work. My 1997-vintage skillz don't hold up today. And neither does my software. Last time I redid the site, I was using Microsoft Frontpage. I find out today that Frontpage doesn't exist any more. So, I don't know what to do to remake the site. Idears?

Are you getting enough Vitamin D? CTV News keeps running stories about how taking 1000 IU of Vitamin D every day is supposed to prevent cancer and do other good things for yo' body. So that's what I'm doing now. Can't say it's making me feel any less cancerous, but, y'know, time will tell.

Calvin Klein coolmax underwear is fantastic. Happy birthday to me. Thanks, baby!

A PR person contacted me recently to ask how many visitors I get here at bigasssuperstar.com. I checked Google Analytics and was astonished at how many -- more than four-thousand, it said. That just don't seem right. Anyway, turns out the lady does PR for Philips Canada. Methinks she arrived here because of my earlier campaign to bring the Philips Bodygroom to Canada. In case you missed it -- it's here now. Hairy dudes, get it. Partners of hairy dudes -- get it for them.

Other web sites to keep you busy 'til I get at this thing again:

http://gigababy.blogspot.com/ - my old friend Cindy writes about celebrities, the news, stress, rage, anger, and motherhood.

http://www.wrestlingobserver.com/wo/ - The Wrestling Observer. Wrestling news without pictures.

http://www.wrestlecrap.com/ - The worst of professional wrestling.

http://www.x-entertainment.com/ - A funny guy who collects stuff in a way that would never be allowed in my home.

http://theswca.com/collectors.html - Don't make fun of my Star Wars collection. Compared to this, I don't HAVE one.

http://members2.boardhost.com/scrapbook/ - Ontario radio people who write on the internet. I'd say more, but they'd probably tear me a new one under assorted pseudonyms.

http://b4.boards2go.com/boards/board.cgi?user=OnTheAir2005 - Atlantic-Canadian radio people who only write nice things.

http://www.videohelp.com/ - Q&A about video editing, converting, encoding, etc. Geek stuff, for sure.

http://taggedbagged.blogspot.com/ - Look at all the Halifax graffiti. And look at how the "graffiti artists" who call themselves "writers" can't spell, use punctuation, or conduct themselves with any sense of decorum or respect. The blogger has a good heart, though.

http://alley.ethercat.com/door/ - Read what departed Scientologists have to say about their time in the "Church".

http://groups.google.ca/group/alt.religion.scientology/topics - See how spam, crackpots, trolls, intellectuals and wannabes interact around the subject of Scientology.

http://line6.com/ - You play guitar? You want these toys.

and finally ... http://icanhascheezburger.com/ - Funny cats. Lolz. Seriously, I'm laughing all day with this one.

Okay, that's it. I'm done for now. Time to make more news.

Watch it, buddy!

Thanks to dad for tipping me off to the kerfuffle involving CityTV's consumer advocate Peter Silverman, a crazy optician, a door and the Emergency Task Force. (We miss having CP24.)

Kudos to Peter "Watch it, buddy!" Silverman for taking a door to the face while standing up for the little guy. I went to school with Silverman's twin daughters. I almost had my first kiss with one of 'em. We had a "date" one time involving pizza at Frank Vetere's, and video games and playing with Star Wars figures at my place. Grade five.

Speaking of Grade Five, we just finished watching the new Fox game show "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?" Not an awful show, but a good reason to have a PVR -- you can watch an hour-long show in under 40 minutes.

It also reminds me that in Canada, we call fifth grade "grade five." One of those linguistic differences. Like in the States, they say World War Two, while in Canada, style indicates we say Second World War.

Barenaked Ladies Are Rock

There's something cool about seeing Rush in Toronto at Maple Leaf Gardens. There's something cool about seeing Barenaked Ladies at Massey Hall. But it's a different kind of cool to see Barenaked Ladies perform "Hello City," half a block up from Barrington Street, two blocks from the corner where beer-fueled, donair-stained late-night punchups helped inspire the song years ago.

We'd had seats for this show since the on-sale date back in September. Saturday's concert included a sampling of songs from the new records, both of which I've enjoyed very much. Most of the classic BNL favourites were also on the set list.

We had fantastic seventh-row floor seats Saturday for our first concert at the Metro Centre. Definitely a thumbs-up for the show. As I've noted before, I wish I could sing and perform like Steven Page. Dude kicks ass. Hell, the whole band did a great job.

Opening act Tomi Swick did a solid job. Imagine Tom Cochrane with Coldplay as his backing band.

For your enjoyment, and possible inducement to buy or otherwise acquire the new records Barenaked Ladies Are Me and Barenaked Ladies Are Men, here is the video for one of my favourite tracks therefrom, "Sound of Your Voice."

The Weather Man

We've watched quite a few movies recently, and will probably watch more now that we've found a great video store with a much deeper selection than Rogers Video. This weekend's feature was The Weather Man, starring Nicholas Cage.

I liked it. One blogger's review cites it as "the most relentlessly pessimistic mainstream American film that I have ever seen," but Roger Ebert rightly points out that "Every bad movie is depressing. No good movie is depressing."

The story about a weatherman who, despite trying hard to do the right thing and earn the respect of the people around him, continually fails and further sabotages his own life, felt very true. The first critic I referred to writes:

The Weather Man seems to be telling us that over time you become a shell of the person you once were and a pathetic, ever decreasing fraction of the person you one day hoped to be. You will squander potential and become incapable of giving meaningful love to anyone you care about. This doesn't happen as a result of some huge disaster or tragic mistake, no, this happens as a result of hundreds of minuscule failures every day. As you might imagine, this is excruciating to watch.

I've seem some tough-to-watch characters. Most of the characters in Happiness, for example. Crumb has some painful moments. Just because it's uncomfortable doesn't automatically make it bad or unworthy.

Cage's character, David Spritz, learns some things through the course of the film, gaining some insight and traction in his life, even if he doesn't get what he thinks he wants.

"Do you know," his father asks him, "that the harder thing to do and the right thing to do are usually the same thing?" As someone with a job that is among the less punishing occupations on the planet, it rings true to hear Spritz' dad point out that "Nothing that has meaning is easy. 'Easy' doesn't enter into grown-up life."

Spritz has something of an epiphany moment toward the end of the film. He doesn't exactly end up happy, but resigning himself to where he's steered himself through the winds of life, he realizes:

I remember once imagining what my life would be like, what I'd be like. I pictured having all these qualities, strong positive qualities that people could pick up on from across the room. But as time passed, few ever became any qualities that I actually had. And all the possibilities I faced and the sorts of people I could be, all of them got reduced every year to fewer and fewer. Until finally they got reduced to one, to who I am. And that's who I am, the weather man.

To someone whose life has turned out just how they'd hoped, and is able to say and do the right things with a consistency that leads them to the desired end phenomena, it may just seem like a sad story with no point. But I felt a kinship with the lead character, 'cuz, as that blogger said, "One feels at every turn, no matter how disgraceful his behavior, that he's just a guy trying to do what seems right to him in that moment."

To watch soon: Anchorman. I hear it's a little different.

Update on the TV show audition: After the casting call, I made the first cut, down to 120 people across six cities. Went back for a callback on the weekend, including a camera test in front of the panel and interviews with my support team. Next cut, down to 30 people, will be done July 24th. Shout-outs to the production staff who were curious enough to visit here, and kind enough to say nice things about my stuff.

Dean Ween's a bigger Star Wars geek than me

Ween is among my favourite bands. Star Wars is among my favourite movies. I never thought the two had anything in common, until I saw an article at starwars.com in which Dean Ween confesses his love of Star Wars:

"The coolest item that we have is the lightsaber that makes the actual sounds of Anakin's lightsaber when you move it around. We also have two cheaper plastic ones -- one green and one red, of course, and a cool rancor figurine, which is actually pretty big. We play this imaginary game where Jabba feeds Luke to the rancor and Luke closes the gate on him, killing him. You know the story."

Miggy's excuse for having so much SW gear around, apparently, is that he's now a parent. I guess when I have kids, I can justify having collectibles ("toys") around the house. For now, the only significant thing is a custom-made lightsaber replica built from the same parts as the original prop. It's sitting in a beautiful wooden box waiting to be passed down to the next generation.

So that's what Deaner is talking about. Interestingly (?) I can't recall ever hearing a Star Wars reference in a Ween song.

UPDATE: John Sadowski has photoshopped a cool picture of The Emperor zapping Deaner with lightning bolts.

It's okay to hate Star Wars: The Onion

The Onion AV Club goes over some classic movies that it's alright to hate, including, of all things, Star Wars:

Remove Harrison Ford's swaggering charisma from Star Wars, and what's left? The Phantom fucking Menace. And has there ever a soggier slice of white bread than Mark Hamill? The prequels