Monday's Quotelet: If I'm Lion I'm Dyin'.

Simba's winning entry in the third annual Taronga Zoo Pumpkin Carving Competition helped secure his species' position as 'King of the Jungle' for another year.

Friday's Quizzlet: Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fruitier.

The woman who writes the quizzlet questions is on vacation, apparently. Which is fine - because I'd usually rather rub a salted piece of pork in my eye than answer some of the gems she comes up with. So what's a guy to do? I'm brain-dead today after a rowdy Bruins game last night with the GoonSquad, so I'll just rattle off a few fun facts regarding this weekend's festivities.

If you're coming to the Big Haunt 2, and I know a lot of you are, please carpool. For flip's sake designate a driver. Concord is a haul, and the Po-Po will be out in full force. We'll have plenty of food and non-alcoholic options on hand. And respect the neighbors. There aren't many of them, but stay off their lawns and don't scream your heads off coming or leaving. And certainly don't drive your shitty SUV into their living rooms.

But to keep things Quizzletty, I will pose a question to all of you: What, in your fevered recollection, is the absolute worst Halloween costume you ever rocked?

I'll Get Married, Eh Joker? Obviously.

About 4 years ago, Jason did something that made Amy mad. Nothing major he assured me vaguely, but a gesture would definitely be called for and so he turned to his old pally Dave for a quick sentiment-turnaround. As we drove through Guelph, we passed by the restaurant where Jason and Amy had had their very first date. He got out of my car, grabbed a vine covered post in front of the establishment, looked longingly at the front door - and asked me to snap a photograph. It was funny and cheesy in a sincerely homoerotic sort of way, and I had a feeling it would get him out of whatever hole he'd dug for himself.



Now, I thought my involvement in the backpedaling would end there, but shortly after my return to Boston a few days later I got an email from him asking for the photo - with a few requested alterations. "Take any photo of Amy you have, and then have me like... thinking of her in a thought bubble in that picture you took in front of the restaurant." My response was likely something along the lines of "Jesus, what the hell did you actually do, anyway?" Regardless, I got straight to work and came up with exactly what he'd described. I don't have a copy of it anymore - I am hoping he does and will send it along.

The picture worked, obviously. They've been together a long time now and this morning I got the phone call that I'd long hoped would come - they're tying the knot almost exactly a year from this very evening. So congratulations, you two. It's going to go well, and I'm honestly very happy for you both. You can show me your undying appreciation for my lifesaving graphic talents by seating me, and not Mitch, next to the hottest single bridesmaid.

Wednesday Wadio: Sloan's 'I Can Feel It'.

"Sure, these songs might sound like a lot of shit you've heard before... but as you listen, Sloan's affectations and flourishes materialize and you hear the band for what they really are-- not a cloying, uninspired rip-off, but an intelligent band with a sense of humor and a great ear for pop hooks." - Pitchfork

Listening to Sloan's first album, Smeared, reminds me of peeling potatoes. When I first arrived at Guelph University in 1992, I got a job in the kitchen of the biggest on-campus pub. While I would eventually go on to run that joint and several others by the end of my 6 year professional scholastic stint - I spent a good 3 semesters covered in grease, throwing poutine across the slick counter to drunken frigtards. Or, my peers, if you want to split hairs.

There was a Crisco-encrusted boom box in the back with several gummy mixtapes that we used to listen to during those long nights in the galley as I grew to call it. One of which had Sloan's remarkable first single, Underwhelmed as the first song on side 2. The mix belonged to a coworker who'd jammed it with all kinds of mediocre Canadian bands of the era - Watchmen, Tea Party, Grapes of Wrath, 54-40, Wide Mouth Mason - and the anticipation of the Sloan tune, which stood out from the rest of the flotsam like a ray of light, kept me going. But it was ultimately another song from their soon to be released second effort, recently voted the #1 Canadian album of all time, Twice Removed that would endure until today as my favorite by these special sons of Halifax.



"Sloan's Twice Removed album was nearly rejected by its label and caused the band to lose their record deal. It also caused certain members of the band under serious duress and nearly broke them up. So how does that become the most beloved Canadian album of all time?" - Chart Attack

I Can Feel It is jammed in at the very end of the record, and I admittedly overlooked it for a few years as a result. But it's stood the test of time and I wanted to 'big it up' right here on Radio Pye. It starts with a cheery guitar riff that sways along so, so very catchily. The bass doesn't conform to standards and plays its own little melody at points. The lyrics are simple, but I've surmised after many listens that the protagonist is a jilted lover who can take a little solace in the fact that "at least I'm still cool to one girl" - his little sister.

Whether the duet is supposed to be between him and the girl he "can feel" actually really digs him (but just doesn't know it yet) - or his sister - remains a bit of a creepy mystery to me. Jennifer Pierce from Halifax band "Jade" sings along starting at the first chorus and then comes and goes intermittently for the rest of the tune. It's an unusual structure for a song which also ends quite abruptly. But I will always love it and I hope y'all get a little something out of my own personal obsession.

And I was happy to see Sloan only recently played Peter Clark Hall at Guelph. Because I used to run that too.

Things I Have To Stop Doing Immediately:

- Peeping Growing Up Gotti. I swear I only watch it for Luigi, and that I'm not gay.

- Not bringing my camera to comedy shows. Last week I met Chris Elliott, and Friday night I got to hang out with Colin Quinn. I just know that we'd have been all sorts of photogenic with eachother.

- Buying things. I got a small raise and I've been spending like I'm George freakin' Hamilton for the past 2 months. Although the poster & ticket I had framed from this show look great over the fireplace. Which is great, because it's definitely time to start using the fireplace.

- Not eating vegetables. We're a captive audience here in the North End - unless it's a Haymarket day - and I've been surviving on tots, Puttanesca and Regina's. If that sounds tasty, let me assure you - it is.

- Pretending my cat doesn't produce more doodies than a rabbit... farm. I have this space age litter box you just roll over on its side, pull out a drawer and flush. I do it every couple of days, and it's invariably like emptying out your barbeque at the end of August.

- Staying sequestered in the city every weekend. All my readers know about the hectic summer I had, but my refractory period should be well past over by now. Luckily, I'm off to Concord this weekend for The Big Haunt 2. I'm in charge of music, pumpkin carving and the delegation of not being sober. Which should be quite easy with four half barrels and a bowl of Jim's special punch.

Monday's Quotelet: Ah Suki Suki Now.

Orchestrating the merger between Jenny Craig and Sumo Snacks, Inc. would prove more difficult than Suki had expected.

Friday's Quizzlet: The C*nt Of Monte Cristo.

Appetizer: Do you button shirts top-to-bottom or bottom-to-top?
Top to bottom. Doesn't everybody? You know how women's buttons are on the left, and men's buttons are on the right? Maybe it's the other way around. I'm a little confused because I wore my yellow kimono today. I'll get back to you/beaten up on my walk home through Downtown Crossing.

Soup: What is your favorite sandwich?
Those deep-fried Monte Cristos you get at Bennigans. Take a grilled cheese sandwich, and use mayonnaise to grill it instead of butter. Then dip it in batter and deep fry it. Then remove your heart from your chest, roll it in rough sawdust and place it back into your cavity like some sort of indecisive Mola Ram.

Salad: What was a family project you helped work on as a child?
My father built a sweet treehouse for me when I was a yute, and I suppose I must have helped a little bit. He took two computer crates, back when computers were the size of refrigerators, and stacked them on top of each other next to a 15 foot dead tree. He cut a door in the front, and then a ladder went up through both crates - so it was like a two-story apartment. Then he covered the crates in split logs so it looked like a cabin. The ladder continued up through the top of the upper crate and onto a big rickety deck he built on top of the stump. It was amazing and I will see if I can find and scan an old photo (update: found and scanned). There has never been a better treehouse in which to play doctor. Thanks, Kathy, wherever you are. Although I remember killing a lot of frogs in there, too. Jesus, that's hot.

A note on the photo - that's my Grandmother, Claire, in the aviators holding the Yorkie (Buffy) and her friend Pat standing behind me - we're a good 3 stories off the ground. Pat was a nice lady, but looked an awful lot like Roger Ebert. The photo was taken in Manotick, Ontario circa 1981. The beginning of my obsession with Raiders of the Lost Ark was only weeks away.

Main Course: When have you acted phony?
I was privvy to a nasty secret once, between a group of very close friends, that I pretended to be completely ignorant of for several days. I eventually, and for very good reason that I can't go into, spilled the beans and subsequently created a string of incidents that got very ugly indeed. I'm sure you've all been there. And probably with the same horrible, cum-dumpster of a girl. How is she, by the way? What's the matter? She can't call nobody?

Dessert: Do you write letters or postcards? If so, to whom?
Your Mom. I send checks to people who send me bills. So there's a bit of give and take there. It's sorta like a relationship with a pen pal, you could say. A dirty penpal, who always wants something from you. I am in an unhealthy, abusive pen pal relationship with NStar.

Halloween Costume Request.

This venue worked well earlier this month for my DVD related request - so I'm going to give it another shot. Simply put - does anyone have a Drew Bledsoe jersey? Patriots, Cowboys, Bills - no matter. Just needs to say Bledsoe on the back. It's Halloween costume related, so you'll get it back in a couple of weeks. I've got a funny idea, and I'd rather not order something online that may not get here in time when this city used to be flooded with Drew-related schwag and there may be some remnants under somebody's bed. I quiver with antici......... pation.

Wednesday Wadio: Black Grape's 'Reverend Black Grape'.

"We all hated each other, I just started speaking to me brother again. But the rest of the Mondays, they're just a joke. One of the guitarists is selling encyclopedias door-to-door and another one's a cook. They're a bunch of d*cks. I tried me hardest to tell them not to split the band. It was just b*llocks. The rest of them thought they were rock Gods. They just wanted money. They didn't care about music." - Shaun Ryder on why he formed Black Grape

I love the Happy Mondays, and I get a lot of subsequent grief from friends and family surrounding that fact. But I simply can't apologize - Some people like marmite. Some people like anchovies. I love the Mondays and Shaun Ryder. There's no accounting for taste, as they say. Class, charm and the ability to pick up audible sounds, maybe - but never taste.



After the band imploded in 1993, Ryder and Bez formed Black Grape and had three top ten hits off the first album, It's Great When You're Straight, Yeah! The best of which was Reverend Black Grape and you can listen to it now by clicking the Zap button on Radio Pye in the left hand column. Surprisingly to many who wrote Ryder off as a drug-addled maniac (if the shoe fits...), Grape took the charts by storm during 1995 and many reviewers actually preferred them to Ryder's previous incarnation: "Heavily steeped in the funk, ex-Happy Mondays frontman Shaun Ryder comes off here like a Mancunian George Clinton as he babbles over top of a skilled, polyrhythmic unit that's far tighter than the slapdash Mondays." - Amazon

The hodgepodge tune includes a scitar, dancehall chirping courtesy of rapper Kermit, a rousing and uplifting chorus, old-school samples (listen carefully for the Hitler speech), bongos, some sort of snake-charmer flute thing and even a harmonica. The production values are riotus and there's a damn good reason this record made multiple 'album of the year' lists in the UK. Above the din, Ryder's trademark non-sensical lyrics still serve their purpose. It's more style than substance - Shaun is truly hooked on his own phonics (no, that's not a new type of meth-amphetamine), and it works:

"The title of the album partly expressed Ryder's decision to turn away from hard drug abuse, and this was indeed a comparatively sober effort given the artist's past reputation. However, his much-publicized "cut-up" lyrics were present, along with his trademark scat coupling of meaningless phrases..." - MusicStrands.com

Nope - Ryder, Bez and the rest of the two gangs aren't for everybody. But as I saw for myself when I snuck into the Mondays show here in Boston in 1990 (I was 16 or 17 - in retrospect, maybe it was a wristbanded, all-ages event) it's more about the party than getting the guitar tuned and hitting all the notes properly. Oh, and a fucking shitload of hard drugs, too.

Defender Of The Crown.

Nearly 32 years have passed without my having endured any signifigant oral trauma. Unless of course you count that one time in University when I woke up after a tryst feeling like my 'special purpose' had been sharpened by a beaver and added to a dam. Otherwise - lovely girl.

I'm told that my good dental luck stems from the fact that there is so much flouride in the water in Canada. I registered at a new dentist Friday after many years of truancy, and I now have an inevitable laundry list of repairs that are going to have to be made. The hygenist that cleaned my teeth said she had no comments regarding my general care - she was impressed. But as she packed up and got ready for the doctor, she eluded to a few issues that went beyond simple maintenance. My luck had run out.

Genetic enamel deficiency is the long term problem. If you want to suck face after looking at that link, ladies - take a number. But mine isn't too advanced and can be remedied with some artful bonding at the hands of my new yapper doctor, who seems like a great guy. I think I lucked out. But the immediate issue, which I was asked to rush back today to take care of, is my back right molar which has completely split vertically down the middle. I looked at it in the mirror and it was alarming - and a symptom of the overall enamel problem.

So I went in today for the first step in the crown procedure, which is to file down the tooth into a shadow of its formal self, and then take a mold for a porcelain replacement which will be constructed over the next couple of weeks. It did not go smoothly, and as I write I can feel the whackload of novocaine I was jagged with starting to wear off. I have a temporary cap over the little nub, but I predict problems before I get to wear the actual crown. Like King Richard.

The nerve that the doctor was trying to hit with the novocaine runs a different route in my face than is usual, apparently. The first shot gave me a little tingle, and the doctor started to file away. Whenever he'd hit the top of the tooth, where the crack is, this tremendous bolt of pain would rocket through my jaw. He gave me another and tried again. Same thing. Another. ZING. Another - the final count was 5 units. The amazed dental assistant showed me the empty glass vials incredulously while the doctor was seeing to someone else. She called me tough, and I replied "Lady, i don't want to be tough today." I began to pray feverishly for the drug tolerance of River Phoenix.

For the last shot, the doctor angled the needle away from where you're normally supposed to strike, and went very, very deep. I felt the left half of my face shut down immediately, and he was able to finish the job at hand. He told me not to go back to work, as apparently he felt he'd used enough of the drug to drop Kong, and I took the T home. So my point is, nearly 32 years of having cooperative choppers has come to an end, and I'm now about to embark on all the cringe-worthy stuff most people have already experienced by my age. Maybe now I'll be able to better appreciate Marathon Man.

Monday's Quotelet: The Rivers of Pork.

A tragedy to most, the Maiale family welcomed Katrina as an opportunity to narrowly escape from Emeril.

Friday's Quizzlet: Concatenating Kevin Costner.

Appetizer: Who is someone you would consider to be a calm person?
I have thought about this for a few minutes now, and no one is really coming to mind. How about a bomb squad technician? A skydiving instructor? A police officer? Anyone who risks their life daily for a paycheck. I only risk my sanity.

Soup: What was your last "gut feeling" about? Were you right?
There's a really simple anser to this question, but there are elements of my personal life that I don't like to talk about on the site. So I'll avoid the best answer and reply as follows. There was never any question in my mind that Michael Stipe was as gay as an Easter parade.

Salad: List 3 words that you really don't like how they sound.
I hate the word concatenate. It's tough to say, and I have to say it frequently at work. I've also never been crazy about chaff. And there is a town next to Guelph, where I went to University, named Puslinch (pronnounced Pee-you-zlinch) that always made my skin crawl.

Main Course: What kind of shampoo and conditioner do you use?
Whatever's around, really. I honestly don't spend much money on 'product'. I have also been known to wash my hair with whatever bar of soap I'm using. It's my daily little prison fantasy ritual. Indulge me, and also please send 2 cartons of cigarettes.

Dessert: If you had a guardian angel, what would you name it?
Kevin Costner, of course. There's never been a better Bodyguard.

My Name Is Craig. Daniel Craig.

Way to busy to do a proper quizzlet today. Meetings, dentist, interns and the like. But as always I'll get to it over the weekend. In the meantime, please discuss the hot topic of the day - and no, it has nothing to do with a bombing, Nicole Richie or a natural disaster. Although these are often synonymous. I'm here all week - try the martinis.

Since my #1 choice didn't want the role, I am now quite happy with the selection of Daniel Craig as the next ("grittier and darker") 007. If you've seen Layer Cake, you know this guy can pull of some serious action. His rugged fugliness is also a departure from the poofiness of Brosnan, Moore and Dalton - and a bit of a throwback to the tougher, more mean-spirited and thuggish Bond that Sean Connery brought to the screen.

This publicity photo, the first of Craig as Bond, really says it all. "The actor said he was not looking to redefine the role, but added: "It's a question of taking it somewhere maybe where it's never gone before." Oh, James.

These Pipes... Are CLEAN!

Some workmates and I went down to Brookline last night to Chris Elliott's book reading event at the Coolidge Corner Theatre. I have been a fan of Chris' since I was a sprog and saw him do an interpretation of William Shatner's interpretation of Rocket Man on David Letterman. Chris was hilarious, reading from his new book Shroud of the Thwacker for 15 minutes and then taking questions from the audience for another 45.

Upon listening to all the questions that were rapid-fired to him, I realized how many movies Chris has been in that I had completely forgotten about. He's the cameraman in Groundhog Day, a deep sea miner in The Abyss, Oogie in There's Something About Mary - and he even played a forensic psychologist in Michael Mann's far superior Red Dragon precursor, Manhunter. He was asked about all of these, Letterman, obscure specials he's done for pay TV and of course - Get A Life. "We had no idea there were so many people watching that show. And unfortunately, neither did Fox".

After the Q&A, The Coolidge screened Cabin Boy - an equally reviled and unsung movie which Elliott hasn't disowned, but admits he can't watch because its box office failure was a huge blow and seriously derailed his career back in the early 90s. The packed house went absolutely nuts for it, and he was visibly moved. He signed copies of his book in the back as the audience laughed their heads off, and I felt very happy for him - as he obviously had no idea what his work has meant to so many people. It was quite a thing to be there and watch that kind of realization. This is the first book proper book he's ever written, and he'd never done a flesh-pressing tour like this in his life.

I waited a long time to get up to talk to him, and I am kicking myself for forgetting my camera at home as he was graciously posing with anyone who wanted a snap. I bought a copy of his book, shook his hand and had a little chat. After he signed the book, I asked him "Are you sick of seeing these yet?" at which point I slyly slipped him the insert from my Cabin Boy DVD in the hopes he'd sign it. "Not at all!" he replied. "In fact, after tonight I am going to call Adam Resnick and see if he wants to do a re-release with a proper commentary and some special features." He looked up after signing it and smiled. "You had no idea there was a market like this did you?" I asked - "I had no idea" he replied. He shook my hand again and I returned to my seat somewhere near the "Fishstick Kitty" scene.

Chris Elliott is a genius, and a genuinely friendly person to boot. I wish him the best and encourage all of you to seek out more of his amazing work.

Wednesday Wadio: The Go! Team's 'Huddle Formation'

"Throwing together electro, 70’s cop show theme music, Bollywood soundtracks, cheerleading chants, old hip hop and noise guitar bands with a wide-eyed sense of possibility where everything crashes into everything else with a breathless, delighted, abandon. The Go! Team seem to be suffering from a collective brain-wrong that is gloriously, euphorically right." - Amazon.com

If you took the buzz and drone of early Sonic Youth, mixed it with the frantic drumming and splashy cymbals of the worst indie rock band you'd ever heard and then paid a group of double-dutching young girls 2 boxes of Mike and Ike's to sing backup vocals - You'd be closing in on the sound of England's The Go! Team.

I've had this album for over a year now, and it's finally been released in the USA. The reason it took so long is because of the mountain of samples they had to clear - I have noticed a few minor variations from the UK release but it still packs a wicked punch and is like nothing I've ever heard.

"Every tune surges, every chorus makes you feel like an Olympic contender. It’s been ten years since the excesses of Big Beat, but The Go! Team have harvested all of the fun elements of that culture (happy samples, clunky rhythms, hands perpetually in the air) and made it digestible again." - BBC Northern Ireland

The Go! crew is made up of an even split of men and women from a wide variety of nationalities, and the whole conglomerate is headed up by a teeny female MC named Ninja. They're playing at the Paradise on November 1st, and I encourage you to check them out by hitting ZAP on Radio Pye in the left hand column. What a unique, wonderful, fun band these guys are.

Princess Magnolia Rodriguez Is Now Holding Court.

I was just sent a photo of Dee's new kitten - the ridiculously regal Princess Magnolia Rodriguez! Welcome to our dysfunctional, booze-soaked, silly little family, Mags.



I never get sick of the kitten photographs. Bear with me, as I'm super busy today. I will get to Wadio after returning from seeing Chris Elliott host a screening of Cabin Boy at the Coolidge tonight. Hey - the kitten is filler, but it's cute ass filler.

North End Noise Complaints Continued.

Yesterday's Globe had a detailed article relaying the meeting I attended last week about late night noise in the North End. If you're a local or have been to one of my prehistoric roofdeck parties and remember some of the drama - it's worth a read. If you're wondering why I have lingere ads up on the gallery page I just linked to, it's because that stupid page gets over a thousand hits a day as a result of the thong photo at the bottom. I probably owe bum-royalties.

Remember - the next big bender is almost upon us. The Big Haunt 2 takes place out in Concord on October 29th. If you're not on the Evite, email me and I'll see that you're added quicker than Nicholson can axe his way through a hotel door.

Don Lennon Live!

"As the Jerry Seinfeld of songwriters, Lennon makes singing about nothing sound downright philosophical. If he didn't sing in such a deadpan way, you probably wouldn't get the joke; if he didn't play such catchy melodies, you wouldn't want to get it."

Don Lennon will be live on MIT's radio station tonight at 9pm. WMBR streams live on the web and Don will be playing songs from his new album, Routine, plus undoubtedly a few older favorites. And don't forget - he also plays live this Friday night at The Milky Way in Jamaica Plain. Starts at 9pm and will run you 7 bucks. You can get there in 10 minutes from the Stony Brook stop on the Orange Line. A little train ride, a little walkie, a little Lennon. See you there.

God Bless The Frat Pack.

I accidentally found this site today whilst searching for interesting podcasts. Dedicated to the newly-christened Frat Pack (Owen and Luke Wilson, Vince Vaughn, Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell and most recently Steve Carell) it's a great source of news and info on these Midas-esque buddies who have successfully brought the R-Rated comedy back from the dead.



I made my own little 15 minute Photoshop for the boys as a tribute. The group has its kernels, and group has its chaffe - but collectively they've given me a lot of joy over the last few years. The site's creator traces the origins of the new pack back 10 years to The Cable Guy, and here's to many more. Ring-a-ding-ding. Then you fuck the plant.

Monday's Quotelet: Little Monkey Nipples.

As if getting the lion's share of the looks wasn't enough - Johnny's twin brother wanted both of the pacifiers, too.

Who Has My Trailer Park Boys DVDs?

It doesn't pay to be free and easy with your DVD lending as I am coming to learn. Actually I already knew that, so I guess I'm just a mark. Since just about everyone who may have been at my apartment at one time or another also reads this blog, who in the heck has my Seasons 1,2 & 3 Trailer Park Boys DVDs? The individual I thought had them swears he doesn't, so either he is a lying liarson, or someone else is currently playing the 'borrow something and forget to give it back' game. I'm a simple man, but I do need those back in order to be truly happy. So please give (back) generously.

Friday's Quizzlet: Under House-Sitting Arrest.

Appetizer: Name 3 qualities that are important to you in friendship.
Non-conditional assurance is my favorite quality by far. I love being able to call someone up and ask them - "Realistically, how much of an ass did I make out of myself last night?" And then getting a reply somewhere along the lines of "I don't think anyone even noticed your latex mask or the circus midget, so relax." I have a few friends who will deny everything, and then I have a few friends who'll make sure it's all on film.

Soup: If you could dream about anything tonight, what would the subject be?
I'd settle for a good night's sleep, period. I haven't dreamed (or remembered dreams) in 10 years. When I was younger, I had a recurring dream that I was Spiderman. When I'd wake up, after swinging around the city and battling Rhino, I'd be so disappointed. Especially since I'd have usually shot "webbing" all over my sheets.

Salad: Do you usually personally thank people who do favors for you?
Absolutely. Because I'm a user, and I want them to continue to do things for me for a long time. I find that pink rose stationary with a lipstick mark and a wax seal tends to work the best.



Main Course: If you were out of town, who would you ask to housesit?
I have a couple of roomates, one who is never home and one who kicks the door off its frame when he forgets his keys. So I'd need to outsource. What about a sitting service manned by people under house arrest? Local law enforcement could oversee it. They have to house sit responsibly, because they'll have ankle bracelets alerting the cops to shoot to kill if they leave the premesis. Don't forget to water the plants.

Dessert: How do you react to practical jokes when they're played on you?
I think I'm having one played on me right now. I waited all morning for some company to come fix my washer & dryer. I called them around 2 to ask where they were, and it turns out the technician had called in sick for the day - yet never actually called anybody. I told the woman he didn't really call in sick then. Hopefully, he's now 'called in unemployed'.

Charming Neighborhood Or Demographic Trainwreck?

"And I wish guns were legal, because if they were..." - North End resident recounting her most recent measured exchange with a late-night party animal.

I was asked to attend a community meeting which took place tonight in the North End of Boston. As a six-year resident of my building, and the new manger, it was fascinating to be on the other side of the fence. You see, I am a reformed pain in the neck. The problems I used to create are now my problems. The neighbors I used to dismiss are now my peers. "In the old days we'd handle this sort of shit ourselves. But now if we do anything we get arrested or sued!" I'm definitely not longing for a return to the North End's 'good old days' but things gots to change. I'll elaborate.

Standing room only (300 people), it reminded me of an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting - disorganized, volatile, held in the basement of a church and smelling of coffee. Actually, I've never been to an AA meeting and I mean no disrespect. I'm just talking out of my liver. Still it was fun times, and I sincerely wish I had it all on tape - It was comedy, it was drama and I actually emphathized with everone. They were tired, exasperated and at their wit's end. This has become a real epidemic and I could not believe some of the stories I heard. "Hello, my name is John and I live at 87 Richmond Street. I hate all drunk college kids and non-responsive police." The F-word was used by senior citizens more than once. As were fists to stifle laughter (maybe just mine), but there weren't too many them smiling.

Apparently Menino (there were members of his staff there) has nicknamed the North End "Disneyland" because he's been getting so many party complaints. The complaints extended to condo owners, rental building landlords, foot traffic, street traffic, motorcycles and especially businesses that are open late. None of the authority figures or community leaders who attended were safe. The room complained about the cops, 911 response times, the mayor, Universities, etc. There were photographers there, one of whom looked pretty official (Globe maybe), and I am in all of the pictures, so look for me if there is an accompanying story. I'm the 6"4, UK mutt trying to remain inconspicuous in the background.

The residents in attendance ranged from Salem, Hanover, North Margin, Cooper, Sheafe - streets from all over the neighborhood. Some of the stories they told - fights, threats from young kids, flashlights shone and rocks thrown at the windows of people who complained, drunk women flashing, people claiming they didn't have to shut down their party because they were secret service, bands on roofdecks at 2am, drugs - were hard to believe.

The people who were trying to lead the meeting ended it after about an hour and a half because it became little more than a gripe fest and forum for people to tell yet another "someone's gonna get murdered some night" story. But progress was made, and it ended with more applause for the attending police reps than jeers. Action items from the city include foot patrols between 2-4 a.m. for the next few weeks, and cooperation from surrounding Universities. Also, the police are going to be following up on a long list of recently problematic buildings.

If police have to show up twice to the same address, all tenants will be arrested. They are really not joking around and I advise my North End readers to take this seriously. One of the officers said that they would be using the same sorts of tactics they've used to effectively shut down prostitution in other parts of the city. It was intense in that crowded little room.

Snuggling With The Spiders.

I sat down to write something brilliant and inspired last night to post today - and Blogger was down for maintenance. So you're getting table scraps on this lovely Thursday, I'm afraid. Work has been beyond hectic lately, but I am determined to "keep 'er goin" on PITF or die trying. Here are a few questions I've been mulling over this week. Feel free to answer me, or otherwise extrapolate:

- In client services, is it normal to have to react to so many things that you never get a chance to be proactive and head problems off at the pass before they ever become problems?
- Why do self-professed 'dog people' always hate cats, and yet 'cat people' just prefer cats to dogs? And is everyone's gay-dar currently going off like a three alarm fire having just observed me asking that question?
- Do movie studios not realize that placing unskippable trailers at the beginning of DVDs defeats the purpose of having bought the DVD in the first place? Does actually leaving one's apartment on a Saturday also defeat that purpose?
- Do the homeless have no strategy whatsoever? If I am asked for money, and am assured in the same breath that it is for food only - and I then offer to buy them some food instead - and then they get angry - does it then make sense to give me the same line of crap the next day, or even when I am on my way back home that very same afternoon? The homeless gameplan as I understand it is... actually I'll save that for it's own article.

Wednesday Wadio: Tom Vek's C-C (You Put The Fire In Me).

"Tom Vek must have been beaten by lead guitar lines as a kid-- he avoids them like a sore subject." - Pitchfork

A friend turned me on to a 24 year old Brit apparently poised to become one of the next darlings of the indie rock scene. She does this on a regular basis, and I'm rarely that impressed. When I heard the first 30 seconds of "You Put The Fire In Me" however, I knew that Tom Vek was a little slice of something special. Not surprisingly, no one seemed to notice my violent air-drumming as I walked through Government Center with it blaring on my iPod only this morning. His debut abum, We Have Sound has been warmly received on both sides of the pond. And on my iPod.

"Most of Tom Vek’s influences are at least fifteen years old and easily triangulated. But he’s unencumbered by nostalgia. We Have Sound is so difficult to isolate from Vek’s ass-backwards charisma, I wonder if the man might be a visionary." - Dusted Magazine

In addition to his youth it's also worth pointing out that Vek plays all of his own insturments - of which there are many. This tune includes what sounds like an old-fashioned church organ, a more traditional piano tinkle layered in quietly as background texture and then hammering drums that sound as though they're being played by Sloth. See what you think by hitting ZAP on Radio Pye in the left hand column.

Present Participles Excepted.

Anybody catch the new reality show Breaking Bonaduce? What about Being Bobby Brown? Perhaps your DVD collection includes one of the 'Saving' titles - Silverman, Shiloh, Sister Aimee, Grace, Jessica Lynch or Private Ryan. Maybe you've plopped down recently in front of Being John Malkovich, Chasing Amy, Serving Sara, Killing Zoe, Eating Raoul or Stealing Sinatra?

I have a strong feeling that Avoiding Alison, Buggering Billy, Tea-bagging Tony, Slapping Simone, Fisting Fiona, Bludgeoning Barbara, Evading Evan and Shrimping Stewart are right around the corner.

I think it can all be traced back to Searching For Bobby Fisher. Have I forgotten some? Do any pre-date Bobby? And more importantly, when will we run out of these and start in on the past participles instead? I am especially looking forward to Found Forrester and Drowned Mona.

Pine For Pistachio, Porky, And Piglet.

When every act that a culture makes communicates weakness and loss of self-belief, eventually you'll be taken at your word. - Mark Steyn.

I'd be interested to know what my friends/readership thinks of this article. In England, several children's cartoon characters and a type of ice cream packaging is being banned and discontinued because a handful - and by handful I mean about 2 - Muslims were offended for varying reasons. For a practical example of why this sort of thing bothers me look at it this way - future generations of children now get to grow up without Charlotte's Web.

My take is thus: everything is offensive to someone. No matter how flexible and tolerant one may want to be, it has to be a two-way street. I'm offended at the offense taken by others - and that fact will offend someone else all over again. If that last sentence seemed a little ridiculous to you, it's because it was. And that's my whole point.

I hope Julia Roberts opted for a paycheck and not back-end points. This is one movie that is now doomed to fail internationally. Pick your battles, people. This is getting truly awful.

Feeling A Bit Nipsey.

Good old Nipsey cashed in his chips Sunday afternoon. And since he's brought me a lot of joy recentely via the Dean Martin Roast DVDs, I wanted to say a few words. His last public appearance was at the Aviator premiere a year ago, and I think you'll agree he was looking pretty darn good for 80! But when ya gotta go, you gotta go. Funny bastard or no. I

In addition to being a prominent part of Dino's crew in the 70's, playing the Tin Man in The Wiz, starring on Car 54 Where are You? and hosting The Match Game after the legendary Charles Nelson Reilly departed, Nipsey was famous for his 'poems' - for lack of a better word.

Of this job, I don't think so highly, But hey -- it beats hangin' out with Charles Nelson Reilly.

Monday's Quotelet: Puddy Tat On The Pitch

Sagging UK football ratings led to the addition of the puppy penalty, the gerbil goalposts and most recently the kitten corner kick.

Learn To Speak Chinese.

Apparently, the Chinese word for automobile is Qui-che. And here I thought that was some kind of gross pie. I awoke this morning to a fridge full of chicken balls, crab rangoon and fried rice. My house guests, in town for a bachelor party which I also attended, spared no expense upon their return to the apartment last night. I think I snuck home around 10pm or so. The operative word being think. It was a rough one.

My fortune cookie read "To work hard is to be able to play hard without guilt". And yet I can't help feeling guilty that while I meant to behave this weekend, I've actually ended up sitting here wondering how I got home from Dick's Last Resort.