Ahh, people. Brain is slowly reigniting after the past weekend. The end of Behold! found The DCeiver atop a Lamont Street roof, relaxing and conversing as the beautiful city spread out in all directions around us. The brain took a few days off since then.
What's important is this: UNBUCKLED. Tomorrow. We've got great live music, we've got great giveaways. It's going to be fantastic. Please come. It's the the first of what should be many more DCist concert specials.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Ahh, people. Brain is slowly reigniting after the past weekend. The end of Behold! found The DCeiver atop a Lamont Street roof, relaxing and conversing as the beautiful city spread out in all directions around us. The brain took a few days off since then.
Friday, June 24, 2005
- It's been a while since we've done a little Page Sixy Item for the Blind, hasn't it? Well, then, here goes. Let this be a warning to you Harvardites, taking a summer off from the Kennedy School of Government. Next year, you'll be joined by at least one new and incoming student who is extremely unpleasant to be around. Mike Abdo wrote a book about this person, who currently works for a Democratic Senator from the mid-Atlantic who's best known for committing an act that would have gotten his ass thrown out of the The University without so much as a fare thee well. If you find yourself biding some time, you can figure out who. Anyhoo--be aware, your future classmate is a TOTAL--ehmm, let's just say s/he's a "try grammar" short of a Nelly album. Extremely unpleasant. Oh, and this person referred to your program as the "Kennedy School of Politics." So, look out, dumbass incoming to boot.
- So at the office, there's a box where we've been collecting foodstuffs for So Others Might Eat. But, when you walk by the box, the signage thereon says: "Please leave donations for / SO OTHERS MIGHT EAT IN THIS BOX." Looking at it, it makes it sound as if the organization is called "So Others Might Eat In This Box." Which doesn't sound like it would be an effective charity, giving people who are hungry food only so long as they eat that food in that box. And it's not that big a box. But the more I think about it, So Others Might Eat In This Box is actually a far superior idea than So Others Might Eat, because it combines the charity of SOME with evil and hilariousness.
- The controversy over the Tivoli Giant Parcel Pick Up lane: If you feel like you've missed the boat on the whole smoking ban thing, but you really want to get worked up in a lather over something that's exquisitely asinine, maybe it's for you! (DCist)
- But maybe this is the last throes, Wonkette. One long, last, decades-long, slow motion throe. We should, perhaps, relax on a throe pillow, you and I? And sip some throe gin fizz? (Wonkette)
- TONIGHT: If you aren't seeing Behold!, head to Eyebar for Live Blog '05. Hosted by Kathryn On and the Rock Creek Rambler, it's a unique experience at which your favorite DC Bloggers will use their diaphragms to pass air over their vocal chords, thus creating (in theory) sonic vibrations that can be strategically shaped into communicative sounds using the mouth, lips, tongue, teeth, nose and palate. Can they pull this off? We're guessing yes, but it's going to get awfully awkward once listeners start trying to staple comment streams to everybody's uvulae. 6-9pm.
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/24/2005
So, people: final weekend of Behold! It's going to sad to shut the show down. Performing in such a sprawling comedy is hella funtimes, nice work if you can get it. But, as sad as it is to stop a show and have your castmates become former castmates, there are hidden advantages to every ending. In my case, the singular advantage I have will be one I enjoy minutes after the final bow--shaving this godforsaken mustache off.
I'm not complaining. The mustache was a solid sartorial choice for the character. Yvette, our costume designer--who I think of as a super-cool indie rock version of Barbara Bel Geddes in Vertigo--was right to have me wear it. Still, it is a thing to be despised everywhere outside of the show itself. The Wife of DCeiver calls it "the Burgundy". I call it the must-not-stache. Put yourself in my shoes. It's Saturday night, you're at Tonic--drink in hand, good conversation all around, an abundance of the merriment. You're feeling content, cool, a little tired--but that sort of serene tiredness that feels good to wear, the badge of hard work and effort. You take a moment to repair to the loo, slake the receptacle's thirst for your brine, swivel and tap the soap dispenser and hit the hot water. The warmth tenderly stings your hands, and you are feeling completely in this moment, your moment, cool and contented. And then you look up, into the mirror--and there's that thing sitting there and all at once, those whispering illusions of satisfaction are stanched out. Heard no more. And all you feel is a deep and abiding awkwardness. Look at that thing! You are so not cool.
So, the coming shaving, it's a good thing. But I would be remiss if I didn't point out the one thing outside of Behold! that the 'stache was good for. Credit Michelle Formerly of Full Minute of Mercury for encouraging me to make this discovery: the mustache is wonderfully essential if you want to do the John Bolton impersonation.
For those of you who do not know, John Bolton is the maniac sadist that Commander Cuckoo Bananas has nominated to be our UN emissary. Thus far, his Senate confirmation has not come about, mainly because he's well known for being a huge, huge, huge, huge, huge, huge, huge, huge asshole. It seems likely that he will be confirmed through a recess appointment, which is fittingly ironic because as a child, a "John Bolton recess appointment" meant that Bolton was scheduled to beat somebody's ass at recess and leave them for dead on the softball infield. Actually, that's probably what it still means.
Seeing as how Bolton is likely to become a fixture in the public arena for some time, it seems like there will remain a need for able-bodied John Bolton impersonators. Plus, as far as the zeitgeist of 2005 is concerned, it's the scariest Halloween costume going, rivaled only perhaps by the post-Scientology Katie Holmes or Gwen Stefani's zombie army of Harajuku Girls. The DCeiver is here to help all would-be Bolton mimics, with a handy How-To guide, Sunday Source steez!
1. That stache
The Bolton stache is a lumpen, ugly thing that sits hatefully on the upper lip. If you make a yawning oval with your mouth, the Bolton should be at least as long as the curve of the upper lip, and the tips should extend just past the point of the oval where the upper and lower lips meet. There's no need to care for, direct, comb or shape the stache. Let is burrow and bustle downward as it sees fit--misshapen lumps are a plus. The hairs should be long enough to blanket the upper lip, curving slightly back toward the face at the ends of the whiskers.
2. So ungodly white
The Bolton stache is bone-white, as devoid of color as the man is of human feeling. Affecting this color can be tricky. It can be done with an abundance of powder, perhaps, or with that vaudeville mainstay, white shoe polish. But if you want to get the color out easily and not snort so much powder that you look like Bright Lights, Big City was written about you, I suggest you coat the stache with clown-white foundation makeup. It's easier to remove, and it's ironically fitting, seeing how Bolton is a) a clown and b) like a clown, completely terrifying.
3. Completing the face
A pair of unstylish wire-rimmed glasses are essential. As far as the hair goes, you will need to shape your hair into what I like to call the "Republican Scalp Pelt." Parting your hair above the corner of your left eye, bring the hair on the sides of your head straight down. The hair on top, should be fashioned into something unnatural looking, bubbling upwards at the peak of your scalp and brushed forward. You should pretend that there have been no advancements of any kind in hair-styling in the history of humanity. The end result should not so much resemble hair as it does a thing that died on your head. Died of shame.
4. Getting Bolton in your body.
From a movement standpoint, Bolton moves and walks like Godzilla or a Ray Harryhausen stop-motion cinematic creation of yore--a plodding, inelegant menace. For reference, consult Clash of the Titans or an old Sinbad movie (not the asexual comedian of the Kid N Play era). Bolton, as you know, has no knee joints, so forward momentum must be achieved by ungainly hip swivels. And, as you know, Bolton's arms are essentially thalidomide flippers with evil claws attached to them, so you'll have to forego using your elbows, and flap and cantilever your arms about at the shoulder joint. That means that when it comes time to throw that stapler or that old-fashioned glass or that recently resected and still beating human heart at the secretary who's come in to remind you of your afternoon appointment, it's not so much an overhand or underhand throw as it is a swiveling and deadly accurate forward flail.
5. Dialogue and subtext
When speaking, Bolton basically sounds as if he was Frankenstein or the stupid mummy from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. That's easy enough to master, but good acting requires not just good dialogue and proper vocal style, but also an instinctual awareness of subtext--the underlying meaning and intention behind the words you are saying. It's especially important when imitating Bolton, because internalizing all his inner rage in the right way is what's going to make your imitation believeable. Let's take a line of Boltonesque conversation that you'll want to incorporate into your imitation and examine the subtext of it, so you completely understand where this fucking psychopath is coming from.
Bolton says: "RAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHWWWWWWRRRR. What the fucking fuck are you! God damn it! I will fucking sink my teeth into your neck and suck your fucking blood until I have chewed up and eaten your fucking soul! RAAAAAAAAAWRRR! Then I am going to digest your soul with all of my stomach acid. Then I am going to shit your soul out onto the floor! Then I'm going to take another shit, on your soul, that is shit. And your soul-shit shall mix with my shit. Then I'm going to take your soul and my shit and fly to Botswana, and I'm going to find me a dirt-poor Botswanan and I am going to throw this shit and your soul-that-it-shit at him! I'm going to knead it into his hair and against his skin. And I am going to yell at him, saying, 'RRRRROOOOWWWWRRR! I ate a guy's soul and then shit it out and covered it in shit and now I'm rubbing it on you because I'm John Bolton! Tremble, bitch! Tremble at the stache!"
Bolton means: "RAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHWWWWWWRRRR. What the fucking fuck are you! God damn it! I will fucking sink my teeth into your neck and suck your fucking blood until I have chewed up and eaten your fucking soul! RAAAAAAAAAWRRR! Then I am going to digest your soul with all of my stomach acid. Then I am going to shit your soul out onto the floor! Then I'm going to take another shit, on your soul, that is shit. And your soul-shit shall mix with my shit. Then I'm going to take your soul and my shit and fly to Botswana, and I'm going to find me a dirt-poor Botswanan and I am going to throw this shit and your soul-that-it-shit at him! I'm going to knead it into his hair and against his skin. And I am going to yell at him, saying, 'RRRRROOOOWWWWRRR! I ate a guy's soul and then shit it out and covered it in shit and now I'm rubbing it on you because I'm John Bolton! Tremble, bitch! Tremble at the stache!"
Not as simple as it sounds, is it?
Well, hopefully this primer will get you started down your own path of John Bolton impersonation. Of course, further research will only enhance it, and, as always, have fun with it! Fully committing to the impersonation will make it fun for you, and painful for nearly everyone else. And, because I promised you Sunday Source style, I'll leave you with one of their trademarked factual errors: Enjoy the 4th of July this coming Monday!
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/24/2005
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
When the DCeiver went checking after ticket sales for a reader, the news from Ticketmaster was the the show would go onsale Saturday, with a 930 Club PreSale beginning tomorrow. However, after checking the 930 Club Fora, it looks like the Stripes have left the dorks in the lurch along with the rest of us. The presale is happening right now. Go here. Scroll down. Buy tickets.
Openers look like Shins and Brendan Benson.
Tomorrow, tickets go onsale for the following 9:30 shows:
- Esthero, July 24
- Thievery Corporation, July 29
- Embrace, August 2
- David Gray, August 6
- Lucinda Williams, August 7
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/22/2005
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Folks, there's just four performances left of the show the City Paper calls a "tightknit, perfectly synchronized carnival of a show" and that the cast of Behold! is saying: "In retrospect, we should have included a drinking game." We have shows Thursday night, Friday night, Saturday evening at 5pm and then one Saturday night during which we promise to leave everything we have out on the floor if you promise to carry us to Tonic afterwards. That's the sort of people we are--we care about your enjoyment.
Then, next Thursday, DCist is throwing its first UNBUCKLED party at the Black Cat, and we're inviting everyone. Click on the link and check out the poster that the abundantly wonderful Holly Tegeler designed for us. Hopefully, you'll soon be peeping them everywhere. It's a DC concert of DC music celebrating all you fine Metro area dwellers who continually make the city worth living in. We got Cartel, we got the Bicycle Thieves, we got DJ Leafblower, we've got giveaways, we've got hot air balloon rides (of the mind, anyway), and we've got love for the street. It's like a Downing Street Memo of festive conviviality! So come. There will be nobody having a bad time--though if there are, we'll give you some space to work out your issues.
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/21/2005
Monday, June 20, 2005
They're going to bloggers for quotes.
Upside: At least they're quoting me.
That is, as they say, tigs.
So the other day, the DCeiver bemoaned the fact that both sides of the smoking ban debate are, well, repellent dicks. It's the way it goes when you come to believe your own grift--right now, the clouds of smoke are actually the remnants of what these two groups have thus far failed to blow up their own asses.
In the hopes that perhaps the two sides could manage this debate for the hopefully brief amount of time left for us to have to listen to it, whereupon the DC Council will institute a smoking ban only to have it overturned seventy-two hours later by the Federal Government in what should be an awesome showdown of territorial pissing over what governmental body holds the trump card in the District's long term battle of social engineering, the DCeiver has revised the two sides main point into a statement that is, if not soundbyte ready, at least intellectually honest and drained of the hyperbolic sensationalism that have gripped the debate.
BAN THE BAN
Was: "Smoking is healthier than fascism."
Now: "First they came for the smokers, and sent them outside...and then they came for the burned out lightbulbs, to be replaced by new ones...and then they came for the trash, and disposed of it...and then they came--uhhh...and since I was not a lightbulb...hmmmm...well, I forget how much more of it there is, but I'm pretty sure that at the end, there are totally some death camps. So, ummm, look out for those."
Was: "All workers deserve a safe, healthy, smokefree work environment."
Now: "Or, more accurately, a statistically insignificant portion of America's workforce deserves a statistically unmeasureable uptick in workplace safety. Just so you know, though, waitress, we don't give a fuck if your ankles are killing you. When we ordered that latte, we wanted it RIGHT AWAY, so quit your bitching and limp as fast as you can."
- Has it come to this? Our pals at Big Yawn officially rechristen themselves as Beg Yawn. Exciting opportunities now available for people willing to pay premium to get news riddled with spelling and formatting errors about their band's new release out to literally ten
(s)of people! "Notice I never said profit." Yeah, well, notice we never asked about any. (Big Yawn)
- What gives, blogosphere? Ted Leo is not sold out yet? You do realize that the content of his upcoming concert is fair game on your oral defense of your new media dissertation? You didn't think they could flunk you now, did you? (DCist)
- Traumatized by intern anus! (Craigslist)
- Vincent Orange throws his hat into the ring for the upcoming mayoral election. He compared himself to Adrian Fenty, saying, "While some people have been out chasing cameras, I have been part of the solution." So, at least he knows the reason why he won't beat Fenty. (Post)
- Dude, where's your car? (WTOP)
Saturday, June 18, 2005
I'm sure there's plenty to be enthusiastic this weekend, but preparing for a big gig at the National Press Club and performing another weekend of Behold! has taken my eyes off of the prizes. Saturday is a two performance day, by the way--5pm and 8pm, and The Raven beckons thereafter. So my dance card, she be filled.
But, I would encourage you all to head out to the E Street Cinema this weekend and check out Shake Hands With The Devil. It's the story of a man named Romeo Dallaire, the Canadian general who was put in charge of the UN Peacekeeping Forces in Rwanda who desperately tried to do everything in his power to stop the genocide, only to find himself isolated and helpless as the rest of the world turned away from that despicable atrocity--800,000 dead in 100 days, many slaughtered in cold blood by machete-wielding maniacs.
While there will and should be many people who will spend eternity dancing the Watusi down in Hutu Hell, Dallaire's story should be heard and seen because while everyone loves to see a man triumph over adversity, those examples of good men crushed by adversity are necessary in order to set the future on its proper course, instead of the shameful one we're on now, where a different cast of characters are repeating the Rwandan cowardice in Darfur, and where bastion of democracy America is in bed with savage dictatorial regimes in Pakistan and Uzbekistan--the regimes your children will have to change. If you want a better world, you'd best teach your children to be like General Dallaire--America desperately needs to mass produce men such as he.
And of course, afterwards, when you need to laugh again--Behold, bitches!
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/18/2005
Friday, June 17, 2005
So DCist sent all of us contributors out into the world this week to get some feet-on-the-ground material together on the smoking ban. I'm not going to get into the specifics of the upcoming article, because if we run it, I don't want to bigfoot it.
But, as an ancillary activity to my assignment, I thought it might be useful to familiarize myself with both sides of the issue by exploring their websites and such. Personally, on a line from zero to one-hundred, with zero being "Let Them Smoke" and one hundred being "Ban the Ciggies" and fifty being "Don't know, don't care", you can measure me out at 55*. I think that bar proprietors probably deserve to make their own decisions, but these bans have been done in New York and California and the Republic has survived--and anyway, any ban can always be unbanned, so, whatevs, let's try it.
However, after getting some full on exposure to the various players who post messages and "debate" the issue online, I only hope that once the issue is over, there's something I can do--emit some smell or radiate some ultrahigh sonic frequency, to keep these people out of bars I'm in, because by and large, the people on both sides are utter and complete assholes.
Seriously. They are a gaggle of dicks. There are exceptions, of course--Julian Sanchez and my buddy who Rambles the Rock Creek are stand-up sorts, and this dude Eric at Breathefree is a nice guy. But the rest--gawd, drop a roof on 'em.
The opponents of the ban are repulsively shrill and given to insane flights of hyperbole. A lot of what is wrong with them can be summed up in their widely known catch phrase, "Smoking is healthier than fascism." Sweet Jeebus! Banning cigarettes from bars is not fascism. It's not remotely fascism. It's not the product of fascism and it's not the slippery slope to fascism. It's just not. It's fucking not. If Mein Kampf had led Germany to ban cigarettes instead of banning, uh, JUDAISM, there would be a Disneyworld in Dresden right fucking now.
On the other side, the ban supporters are even worse in a way, because they don't even try to hide the fact that at the root of their passion is simply that they don't like smokers. They're insulting and crass, glorying in imagining how great it will be when they have their way and smokers are pissed off. They feed themselves today on tomorrow's schadenfreude--and while there's nothing wrong with that if you want to write opinion pieces for your blog, it's the worst frame of mind to be in when formulating public policy. Why do my Democrats lose the gun control debate again and again? Because they don't even try to hide their wrongheaded contempt for gun owners, and in the end they look like assholes--not the party that places value in the notion of "innocent until proven guilty."
In both camps, they evince a malady rampant in the average college sophomore where they've taken a couple of introductory paragraphs of knowledge on a topic and have branded themselves geniuses. The folks at Ban the Ban are, more or less, trying to dine out on a dime's worth of libertarian ideology. The SmokeFree contingent have wrapped themselves in the cloak of workplace safety, but don't seem to know much about arguing in favor of it, other than to say that workplace safety sounds like a neato keen idea.
As it stands, a majority of council members stand in favor of the ban. So what does Ban the Ban do? They've posted two articles in the past week insulting Councilmembers Graham and Fenty. Yeah, I'm betting that'll really work wonders as far as prying them back into your corner, guys! Way to go! Granted, libertarians aren't the greatest at winning pals and influencing peeps--they are, by and large, Platonist hacks who prefer the notion of living in a "system" to living in "the world", and it wouldn't be insulting them to say that they consider crankiness to be their birthright. Nevertheless, as dumb as it is to insult the people you need to reach, they should know better than to try that shit on DC politicos. I could write The Unabridged History of Occasions in Which DC Politicians Were Shamed Into Acting in about five minutes, and it would fit on the back of a postage stamp.
Of the two groups, I'm guessing the SmokeFree contingent cuts a more tactful figure in public. I imagine that when they show up at these townhalls, they leave their nasty asshole personalities at the door and come in looking clean, scrubbing, and not wailing hyperbole. They are better organized and seemingly better funded, and they're winning the debate. I guess what bugs me most about them is that you just know that after they win, there will be a lot of self-congratulation and then you'll never hear from them again. Don't expect this crowd to take their well-oiled machine and successful tactics and put them to use in the service of a more challenging yet relatable activity--like protecting the workers who work in meatpacking plants, who would wail with joy to have anyone take an interest in their workplace safety, or set their sights on solving an actual problem that threatens the Republic, like getting the nation's uninsured some health care.
ASTHMATIC: Please help me. I can't afford my albuterol prescription!
SMOKEFREE: Wow. That sucks. Hey, at least you can go to a bar!
Yeah, after the ban is put in place, you can expect a lot a stale conversations about the time they totally shot all the fish that were in that barrel!
The only good news for those of us who value each other's company, in eateries and bars clouded in blue-grey haze or otherwise, is that this handful of jerkwads will still have a mission to carry out somewhere in the country. Let us hope that when all is said and done and the health hazard from smoking is moved from inside the bars to outside in the neighborhood, that the victors and the losers have enough stomach to carry on with their fight--preferably in the vicinity of Eagle Pass, Texas.
*What? Ban the Ban had Ahmed Chalabi apologist/delerium tremens sufferer Christopher Hitchens speak on their behalf? Ugh. Make me a straight 60. Hey, Hitch! Dorothy Parker is long dead! Get over it! And bathe, for Christ's sakes!
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/17/2005
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Wow. That "good-esque authority" turned out to be right! Mike Grass, you magnificent BASTARD! A woot is in order. Yes, Cutler was served papers by a representative of pervy drama queen Robert Steinbuch. You remember Robert, right? He paid Cutler to push him around in a pram and pucker his taint? Yes...that Robert Steinbuch.
I would have hoped that the papers would get served during the reading, but apparently Steinbuch and his proxies have chosen this moment to stay out of the spotlight. That's too bad. I hope someone out there remembered my updated rules to tonight's drinking game.
According to DCist, she was going to read the details of the lawsuit to the crowd, but someone in the crowd had their thinking cap on and smartly told her not to do something that might get her in trouble. In my perfect world, Cutler swiveled on one hip and said, dryly, "Oh, you mean like choosing to hire your coworker as a prostitute so you can get worked over with a cat-of-nine-tails?" But that's just my perfect world. Not the world we actually live in. Heck, in my perfect world, Cutler pees Grey Goose martinis!
We have it on...well, let's say "good-esque authority" that there may be a surprise for all of you who are attending Jess Cutler's reading tonight in Penn Quarter. Let's just say that the standard rules for the Washingtonienne Reading Drinking Game apply, with the addition of this: if a process server interrupts the reading in any way to furnish legal papers on behalf of Robert Steinbuch, stand up, finish your drink, and proclaim: "Robert Steinbuch is a baby-dressing pervy weirdo who spends hard currency to fuck his coworkers!"
Alternatively, y'all can band together around Cutler, old-school USA Womens Soccer steez and proclaim: "I, too, would like a (tee hee)...filling!" And don't act all prudish. Most of you in attendance will probably be Hill newcomers--you might as well embrace our cash for ass culture right up front.
Remember, staffers and interns, a Cutler appearance is like, YOUR version of Pride Week. So let your flag fly.
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- Confidential to Eric@BigYawn: For the record, we're following in the footsteps of GOTHAMIST.
- Jessica Cutler will be reading from The Washingtonienne at Olssons at Penn Quarter tonight. Expect the experience to be, at times, whelming. Across the riv, in Arlington, Eric Carle reads The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Just in case we haven't reminded you about him recently, in a weird confluence of the two events, Robert Steinbuch will spend the evening reading the naughty parts of his Washingtonienne lawsuit to his very horny caterpillar, hoping that it will turn into a butterfly. It won't of course, because Robert Steinbuch loves to pay women to fuck him. He's got mommy issues. He's a pervy little horndog. He probably cries when he hears "The Scientist" too, Eric! (DCist)
- I've long wanted to be purveyor of gonzo ninja movies. Just pack some vans full of people, head to Kings Dominion, have forty or so people change into ninja costumes in the restroom and, at a given signal, just start running all over the place, fighting with each other, camerapersons trailing behind. That would be the best fucking day at Kings Dominion ever! Well, this is a start. (Craigslist)
- Guess what, DC? Smoking ban is coming. And it can't get here soon enough. Know why? Because the people arguing this issue, on both sides, are total assholes. It's like Bergen-Belsen for straw men on these message boards. Enough! Shut up! Stop hurting America! (Post)
- National Zoo attraction Mei Xiang may be pregnant. You're welcome. (DCist)
Monday, June 13, 2005
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Twas like the pulling of teeth, but a James F. proxy finally ended the period of obfuscation around where, perhaps, the vaunted den of despicable bigots may actually be.
The alleged place is John's Place. Lord knows there could be hundreds of places with that name, and who's to say Jim was in Band Camp at all, but the likely location of his confrontation was 11104 Lee Highway in Band Camp. I'd say to you, readers, to avoid this place, as it is quite possibly a haven for National Alliance types plotting to take over Herndon, Virginia. But what's the point? Why would you go there, anyway? Even accidentally? I can't say for sure why James was even out there, it is, after all, a long way to drive for someone with nothing to talk about.
So there you have it. Maybe it's a bad place. If it is, thanks ol' YI8DC. If it isn't, blame him. Just so you has a suitable kissy for your ouchy, James, drop by Wesley Clark's HQ on Sunday, around five, I'll have left you some SweetTarts or something by the door. And don't forget: see Behold! early and often.
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/11/2005
Friday, June 10, 2005
Jeffrey Jetton just tipped me to an upcoming event that's sounds fantastic and innovative--the perfect thing for parents who find themselves going to fewer live shows, for kids who want to have a fun day outside and for bands that want to seed the next generation with devoted fans. Rock and Romp is a DIY concert series of live shows held in a Silver Spring backyard. They've had a real variety of acts out by the sandbox in the past few years, including some DCeiver faves like the Carlsonics, and upcoming events include acts like tomorrow's show: Carol Bui, Gist, and Laura Berhenn. It's at 3pm tomorrow. Bring the kids and a $4 donation for unlimited beer and water. You gotta applaud people who put stuff like this together. Best of wishes this summer! Barring amber alerts, we may steal a child and come see The Gena Rowlands band in August!
To get directions to tomorrow's show, email Debbie at debbie (at) rocknromp dot com.
Behold, people. Behold. So very best. But a word of warning. If you've never attended a Rorschach Theatre offering, heed this carefully. The Sanctuary Theatre is sadly, subject and beholden (hee) to climatological whims. That means: hot outside, hot inside. It's hotter for us than it is for you, you won't be drenched in sweat, for example, but still--dress comfortably. Bring some cold water in with you. Splash it on us. Dress in freon undergarments. It will enhance your enjoyment.
Down Holly has temporarily been joined by Paul from the Paul Kamran Escapade and Michelle formerly of Full Minute of Mercury. They'll be performing at the acoustical wonderland that is the Rhodeside Bar and Grill tonight, and I will be missing them because of Behold. It's not everyday that you see a band that has a whole fuckin' chain of succession! Of course, who takes over on guitar if another Down Hollyer goes down? John Kerry. So pray for their continued health. Tonight, let's say nine. In other news, Karmella's Game--hearted here and elsewhere--are throwing some sort of costume party at the Warehouse Next Door. Old 97s also grace the town this weekend at 930, and we've heard good things about Red Racer, Saturday night at the Velvet Lounge.
Saturday, take in a day of travelling the open road in the theatre by checking out Headman's Holiday at Theater Alliance before coming to Behold! It's been said that it makes for a fun double feature. Also, if you haven't seen Big Death and Little Death at Woolly, this weekend is your last chance.
If you're out in Band Camp, perhaps looking for pretend racists at imaginary bars, you can drop by "Celebrate Band Camp" at the Band Camp Government Center. Rick Springfield is playing, so the shit, officially, be bananas. Of course, this means future retainer Shayna will probably be in attendance.
TNT and the World Food Programme are sponsoring the Walk The World event, with marches all over the globe. DC's Walk will be meeting up at the FDR memorial 9:45AM on Sunday.
And if you're attending the hotly anticipated M.I.A./LCD Soundsystem show Sunday, be sure to head over to Dragonfly afterwards, where Diplo will be in the house for the official/unofficial afterfete.
- First things first: thank you City Paper! That's like, a DREAM review. All frames activated, all key demos targeted! (CityPaper)
- Spent the day yesterday with the new Coldplay record. What a funny band: I pretty much accept, even encourage, all the criticism that's levied in the Coldplay Backlash of 2005. And yet, I totally heart them. Though not as much as Hugh T. Owen. Never as much as he. I love what you guys have done with "Clocks", even though birds don't really fly that fast. I'm also enjoying the "Square One" and the "Talk." "Fix You" practically begged me to despise it when it kicked in, but it eventually won me over. And I really love the bonus track, which I think is titled "Hey, Bono, I Found That Thing You Were Looking For, You Left It In Joshua Tree National Park." Yeah, I can probably name 25 records out this year that are better, but X&Y is, without a doubt, the best Coldplay record of the year.
- Funny you should mention the Downing Street memo, James. Because this whole matter of the racist Band Camp bar that just cannot ever be named sort of reminds me of that time these cats in the guvvamint were all hot and desperare to build this case for attacking somebody, but, finding that the facts didn't quite square with the case they were trying to build, so they started selectively framing evidence and omitting key details and sometimes making shit up out of whole cloth. The comment stream has been enlightening as far as how some people can be easily subverted: a lot of those folks, were I standing with them on the street on a sunny cloudless day, would shout me down for saying it wasn't raining, contending: "Look, it's rained in Washington before, ergo, it's raining right now!" I used to love your blog, dude--many days, I still do--but it's not the same since I've noticed the creeping dissembly. Why don't you tell me the name of the bar, and I will tell people where it is and not to go there, capiche? Anyway, I can sympathize living off Cleveland/Danville on that side of the highway--those apartments back there are fuckin' squalid. (YI8DC)
- Charges have come down against Andre Suggs, aka Semi-Naked Bike Stealing Bitey Man. He would have made an awesomely bad comic book villain. (Post)
- UGH! Fuck! Fuck! Gross! Yeeeeeeaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggghhhhh! (casual Craigslist browsing leads to vomit launch)
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/09/2005
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
- I know that the District is packed to the gills with folks who have received Anthony Williams into their hearts as the do-no-wrong avenging angel of fiscal responsibility. He's the CFO what cleaned up them messes from the Time Before Control Board, who restored DC to, if not statehood, at least placehood. The City Paper lauds him for rolling over and taking it up the ass--hey, I suppose it's no wonder that when it came time to play in the gutter with the privateers from Major League Baseball, and his constituents blanched at the opportunity to potentially get Louima'ed, Williams blew out of town insisting that the city just lay back and try to enjoy it. Well now look at him. DC Auditor Deborah Nichols has made everything illuminated, and it turns out that Williams and his pal Bob Bobb have been making calls out of the Marion Barry playbook for quite some time. The new boss: a crook you can bring home to Mom. (DCist)
- From the DCeiver to-do list:
#64. Somehow goad Big Yawn into actually covering local music over a sustained period of time.(Big Yawn)
- The C&O Canal towpath has been Malkinized! (NBC4)
- I don't always think James F. is the most honest person in the world, but after reading about his travails in a Band Camp* "dive bar", I know one thing for sure: it's going to make an awesome first chapter when he finally writes Burning Down My Master's Blog. (YI8DC)
- Q. How is it that Going Out Guru Joe, in dissing the popular and venerable Warped Tour, missed an opportunity to celebrate the fact that DC-based band Full Minute of Mercury will be playing some dates? A. Because he's both fatuous AND ignorant. (Goos)
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/08/2005
This year, go to the Music Center at Strathmore. Go over in the evening. Grab a seat. Soon, music will begin playing. You'll recognize it...that's right! It's Sigur Fucking Ros! Now, you can remember this concert every year from now on. (thx Brooklyn Vegan)
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/08/2005
Monday, June 06, 2005
- I'm worried about what might happen when the Prince Cafe and Hookah and the Queen's Cafe and Hookah across the street start feuding with each other. Surely there will be many who will stand by the Queen out of fealty, but there will be those attracted to the upstart Prince in his new digs at the old Arbor space. Can Adams Morgan handle the folderols that will ensue? Will Adams Morgan even notice? Will Virginians be blamed? And if so, will that make Yuda cry?
- Hey, wasn't this dude at Tonic two weekends ago? (Craigslist)
- It's so cute when Eric gets all mad at me. He and his friend "Bob Geldorf" totally went to see Monopoli, like, a month ago, and they have got all sorts of misty water-colored memories about it and stuff. I guess evidence of absence does not mean absence of evidence after all. (The inexplicably named Big Yawn)
- Embarrassing. But not as embarrassing as Robert Steinbuch, who pays top dollar to get teabagged. (FishbowlDC)
- MARC riders of the world, unite! Our gulags aren't going to fill themselves, you know! Though the plumbing of those gulags almost do fill themselves...as it turns out, they're totally stuffed with Korans! Someone owes Newsweek a big ol' apology! (DCist)
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/06/2005
(still shot from The Towel That Swallowed Sebastopol, with Karl Miller as The Towel, left, and Mark Sullivan as the innocent newsboy Corky Gillenhand.)
Hola, DC! How's the friendliest city on the Atlantic Coast living? Here's hoping your weekend was great despite the Official Arrival of the Humidity. Saints be praised for the late arrival.
First order of business. This date must be saved: June 30, 2005. Why? Can't tell you why. At least not yet. But soon. Very soon. In the meantime, clear your decks, commence carbo-loading, and cancel that rehearsal dinner right now.
After a day off on Wednesday, we resumed our regular Behold! schedule on Thursday. The Post has offered you their tepid semi-endorsement of our work--I can only respond by encouraging you to come--and don't do it for my sake, do it FOR YOURS! You need enjoyment, do you not? We offer seventeen different flavors thereof, and are adding more by the day!
It was a lovely and friendly time this weekend. Friday, we surprised Mark Sullivan at his own Castle Fun Fun on U Street. The policy of the party required friends to not offer Mark any birthday wishes of any kind in advance of the party. This is not typically a tactic the DCeiver endorses--we've seen it backfire, spectacularly, before. Nevertheless, Sullivan went all day Thursday without a birthday mention and arrived home Friday night convinced that nobody remembered and informed that an angry ex-girlfriend awaited him in his bedroom. (Honestly, I'm surprised this story rang as plausible. All I can say is that his housemates are very skilled in the means of DCeption.) How surprised he was to find us all waiting in said bedroom! And how fucking hot was said bedroom! Really, very hot! We were, really, very sweaty! But Mark was very happy, and perhaps only momentarily disappointed that he'd not be able to spin some nobody-remembered-my-birthday/recent-breakup-anger sex for himself.
Speaking of Mr. Sullivan, wife of DCeiver and I also saw Big Death and Little Death at Woolly this weekend and came away impressed. I don't usually go for plays that blend heavy doses of unreality with fractured narratives--I find such narratives normally serve as crutches for playwrights who lack the talent to sustain a sense of weirdness with a throughline. But Mickey Birnbaum's dark comedy is a strangely buoyant balloon of nihilism punctured often by humor and delight and the acting is jus fantastic throughout. Woolly's new theatre is a really exciting space--a blend of tradition and daring that reminds me of the Guthrie Theatre in Minneapolis. Big Death and Little Death runs through next weekend--the nihilistic tones won't suit everyone, but I encourage you to see it. Next weekend, I'll hopefully get to check out Headsman's Holiday at Theatre Alliance. People are saying that Headsman's and Behold! make a great double feature.
The DCeiver wishes to extend the best of wishes to the lovely and talented Rachel Gar-El and her family.
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/06/2005
Friday, June 03, 2005
It was just one of those memes. Just one of those crazy memes. A trip to the Bay on denial's sweet wings. Just one of those memes.
Why I Hate DC is back from San Francisco, and he brings with him some freshly baked straw men from his bakery on Hate-Assberry. We're not friendly in Washington, DC! And as usual, we're the only place in Christendom where always is heard an unfriendly word from the populace. We're mean to tourists! And he's got the proof on DCist, so long as you ignore the exculpatory testimonies of people who help tourists out. The layout of DC is confusing, he says! Yeah, San Francisco is a shining example of sense-laden layout: alpha order only in the Sunset, numbers only in Richmond and Noe Valley-to-Potrero Hill-to-SOMA (perpendicular to and off-count with each other), tons of unconnected last names to memorize and, really, who can beat the way SOMA's violent diagonals intercede with the rest of the city! It's a dream! Really!
People are friendly in San Francisco. It helps that you stick to hip hoods, though, where everyone is young, rich, and and carrying good dope. End up in a tourist mecca like the Wharf, or downtown on Market Street (which I like to call the Emstarbuckadero), and you run into dicks by the yard, I'm afraid. For that matter, your enjoyment of San Francisco in recent years has been predicated upon your ability to avoid supporters of Green Party douchebag Matt Gonzalez. Those guys are such bracingly refined assholes that it's almost inspirational.
Personally, I find the two cities to be pretty equal in their hospitality, and I'm sure my SF friends aren't lacking for tourist torture stories. DC's overall culture starts in a deep hole because we host the seat of government and the ghouls that cavort in its sepulchric halls. Additionally, DCers are in bad need of some chilling out--every once in a while, everyones' need to feel essential to life as we know it gets overbearing. But unfriendly? I just say no! I go to a Bluestate show: friendly. File some tax-exempt forms: friendly. Walk into Tryst: friendly. Cool out with beers up in Mt. Pleasant: friendly. Gig at Iota: friendly. Shop in Georgetown or Clarendon, eat out downtown, catch a show at Woolly or Studio, stand on line at Fresh Fields or Staples: friendly! Yo, James! Where all the dicks be at?
Maybe we're having disparate experiences. All I know, is that clearly, I am having the correct one. My seminal experience with DC friendliness happened many moons ago. GWU was in the NCAAs for the first time under Jarvis. I was in town on Spring Break. My pal Ron was at his internship, and I was in for a wait of a few hours. I ducked into a restaurant near the Post Office Pavillion and grabbed a seat at the bar. The Colonials were on and I spent the afternoon relaxing with a crew of about six other people--some off work, some playing hooky; probably representing six separate areas of DC--swapping stories and buying rounds. I find DC, on balance, to be more akin to that afternoon than the weird alien landscape WIHDC depicts. I'll grant you: yesterday, I did have to offer some strenuous corrective instruction to a cab driver in Washington Circle--but any place is gonna be bad if you fixate on the pimps and the chuds.
Hey. Just to show I can erect a few straw people of my own, lemme theorize here. I'd lay you dollars to full-priced Krispy Kremes that the people who form the Why I Hate DC Amen Corner are the very same people who are out there running the localized dickhead mini-offensive. It wouldn't surprise me at all to find that James' constituency and the object of his ire are one and the same. That would explain rather handily, why these unfriendly DCers resolutely refuse to appear in the hoods and bars and shows and parties and exhibits and restaurants that I frequent.
Again, this is just a thought. I was able to compose it this morning while walking up K Street in relative relaxation and quiet--because in Washington DC, we don't spend the morning rush hour constantly honking at each other.
- Read the City Paper's Karen Feld article last night. So Big Yawn. Snoresville. Lacking in buzz. I seem to recall covering the same ground many months ago, except I was vastly funnier and much much briefer. This should be a surpise to no one, however. Garrett Graff said: "...we have never seen a mocking as merciless." Hey, Garrett, I was just as surprised as you that DCist ran it. Just lay back, and try to enjoy it. (City Paper)
- Is there anything tackier than commemorative car magnets, a trend that developed from that mecca of cultural rectality, Northern New Jersey, and immigrated here? Yes. Having a Craigslist flamewar about them.
- What? That's traditionally the bass player's job! (Craigslist)
- Mara Salvatrucha members go cuckoo bananas with machetes again. Or at least they are "suspected in the attack". I suppose it could have been the work of deranged fans of The Mosquito Coast. (Post)
- And of course, DC gets fully shafted on the stadium deal. Mayor Williams is only willing to back to least attractive private financing plan, because he wants the political cover while at the same time wanting to kill any possibility that taxpayers won't carry the entire burden (wait and see: He'll find a way to saddle residents with the cost-overruns, yet.) Linda Cropp isn't willing to call him out or do much fighting for her own proposal because she needs the political cover even worse and really didn't give a shit about the taxpayers in the first place. Years from now, when the luster of the new stadium has faded and the Nationals have faded into small-market, moribund obscurity whose games, like the Senators games of yore, are attended primarily by fans of the visitors and b-level political/corporate cronies, I'm sure we'll look back on this and laugh. (WTOP)
Wow. The last time I heard of a Billy Corgan public appearance, he was urging his Chicago Cubs to certain playoff disaster by performing "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" during the seventh inning stretch. At the time, I read that he said that Cubs fans never quit. Yeah. Tell that to the surviving members of Zwan.
Somehow, he's managed to sell out his 930 Club show. Good luck with that, DC.
I failed to apprise you of tickets being on sale for The Academy Is... and Tegan and Sara, but there they are. Shows July 17 and 18 respectively. Also, if you're one of those housebound Cartoon Network loving fans, tickets are on sale for the August 22 Puffy AmiYumi show.
This weekend is awesomah powah with regards to your live rock options. Though, I have to encourage you: Behold! much?
Spoon/Clientele is, like Mr. Corgan, all sold out and sewed up. But if you want to get your 930 on, catch the Futureheads one night later. The first opener, Pitty Sing, is Ultragrrrl endorsed.
To my mind, the hot show is WSC/Army of Me/Exit Clov tonight at Black Cat. I don't think I need to belabor my undying Exit Clov fandom. All three of these groups easily make my First Team All-DC and, yeah, they'd start for any team in the league. Let's hope the Black Catty Sound Guy brings his A-game (or at least not his T-game) tonight, though, because the last time Exit Clov played there, the mix was so bass-boomy-zoomy that it made me suspect that the Black Cat was Deep Throat.
IOTA, it should be noted, has an amazing weekend planned as well. Tonight is the awesome, awesome, AWESOME Miss Maria McKee. Tomorrow is another fave of mine, Juniper Lane, fronted by the six-million dollar woman Vivion Smith. Truly two of the best singin' throats you'll see.
And, Behold Behold Behold. At the Sanctuary Theatre tonight and tomorrow at 8pm. Click on that NEXT BIG THING link for the deets.
Now, have fun people.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
- About a year and a half ago, Big Yawn launched itself at the Staccato Lounge with the promise of boosting the local music scene. Since then, they've mainly occupied themselves with being a pre-K version of Pitchfork for people who can't spell the word "pitchfork" and creating alternative backstories for Brendan Benson. The DCeiver, of course, has long wondered how a site that's named for a state of comtemptuous ennui would be a boost to the local music scene, but after learning the names of a few local bands and discovering the existence of DC9, they're gonna give it a try at last. Tonight, at DC9, see 302 Acid, Jakuta and Carl and the Fatales, who are hoping you'll keep the yawning to a minimum. (Big Yawn)
- The DCeiver hearts the Staten Island ferry and the rest of the Circle Line fleet, who, when not crashing into things are shuttling commuters hither and yon. There's a quiet civility to commuting by ferry--in NYC one can enjoy a beer on the deck, collect one's thoughts and ease into the evening as the sights of the city roll by. Now, there are murmurings of ferry service coming to Washington, DC. Let it be so! (Post)
- See what I missed during the Week of Endless Previews! (DCSOB)
- The Smithsonian is "distancing" itself from a film on "creationism" that will play at the Museum of Natural History. But why? A comedy series is just what the staid museum needs to stay relevant in our irony-besotted pop-cultural landscape. Even now, the Diner Media Empire is readying a pitch for the "Shit We Just Made Up Off The Tops of Our Heads While Soused" series. (Post)
- Stare DCisis. The next cool DCist column. (DCist)
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/02/2005
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Pardon us for taking a hiatus of sorts. It's not good for us on many levels. The Diner, poor dear, is now back to being more on hiatus than otherwise. Though we're working through our issues there. DCeiver remains ever resolute, but we've had a busy effing week, kids. The week of the Endless Previews culminating last night from the opening of Behold! to the close of Wonderland. I woke up today feeling like I might crash the car for lack of sleep.
Lucky, today is an evening off from Behold! We pick up again on Thursday, and then run run run all June (details here). I think I have made the following decision: if you can't enjoy Behold! then there is something deeply stinking rotten wrong with you. It's all about pure enjoyment and laughing until you cream yourself. Sooner or later, some pretentious tosspot critic's gonna write about how the people who enjoyed themselves last night didn't really enjoy themselves, but you should not allow yourself to believe them. Those pretentious types have ruined the concept of Pure Enjoyment and replaced it with plodding cynicism and bittercakes, and asked you to slake your thirst on an arid goblet full of irony. Do not fall for it. See Behold!, and, as Hugh might say: Laugh your tits off.
Now...what the fuck happened last May?
- Before you go nuclear, get ready. Wife of DCeiver attended a Disaster Barbecue this past weekend--homemade Chicken Tikka Masala and a double feature of The Day After and the Day After Tomorrow. The end won't come like that. It'll look a lot more foolish.
- DC Bachelor makes a bid to have his face posted next to the dictionary definition of "paltry."
- The series finale of Crossfire looms in the distance, like your pedophile uncle who's hobbies include huffing Lysol and hurting America.
- Remember: Robert Steinbuch is an awkward deviant who pays for it.
- Pygmalion In A Blanket? Officially on the syllabus!
- It's perhaps called an Opthalrectomy--removing the connection between your eyes and your asshole to improve your shitty fucking outlook. James, see if your HMO covers it.
- Like I said: The Next Big Thing.
- Jonathan Yardley doesn't quite know what to make of The Washingtonienne.
- Dissing Lauriol Plaza is the new Dissing Lauriol Plaza!
See you in June! Behold!, bitches!
Posted by The Deceiver at 6/01/2005