Tuesday, February 28, 2006

The Next Big Thing

Solas Nua: so hot right now, The organization, which is "dedicated to bringing contemporary Irish arts" to the District of Columbia, have especially excelled in their dramatic offerings, garnering some high praise in a very short amount of time. Where do they go from here? Marina Carr, also so hot right now (in Ireland anyway) and her play The Mai. And can it possibly get better? Oh yes. Because Wife of DCeiver will be making her Washington DC directorial debut, alongside artistic director Linda Murray.

The Mai
By Marina Carr
Starring Ken Arnold, Elizabeth Bruce, Declan Cashman, Rusty Clauss, Clare Johnson, Karen Novack, Stephanie Roswell, and Kerry Waters

2nd - 26th March, 2006.

Thursday through Saturday at 8pm. Sunday at 7pm.

Purchase tickets online or call 1-800-494-TIXS
Reserve without pre-purchasing, call Solas Nua at (202)595-1915

Josephine Butler Parks Center,
2437 15th St., NW, Washington, DC, 20009

The Pompatus of Lost: 2.14--Tortured and Teased


Ack. Sorry people. Looks like I spoke too soon when I said I found my notes on this episode, and my copy of the show's long been recorded over. What I thought were the notes for this episode turned out to be notes from the episode about how Ana Lucia was a cop. Drat. Anyway, haters of this feature get a break this week. Though I will say this--I thought this episode was a huge disappointment. I wanted that effing clock to run down. The fact that they got it reset was a huge copout. But then, I guess the Dharma Mystery Machine doesn't have a Celeron processor. Still, I can't wait for the show to get past the Hatch and on to the next thing.

Monday, February 27, 2006

Stars, "from Montreal."

So, I went to see Stars at the Black Cat Friday night. I only saw it because whoever was in charge of the Black Cat that night took pity on me and another photographer who ended up stranded after someone who was supposed to submit a press list didn't, uhm...submit a press list. (Funnily, as she and I waited in Food For Thought for a final verdict of our fate that evening, we both admitted to leaving for the venue that night with the sinking suspicion that all was not well.) Amanda, who had confirmed my press pass as recently as Wednesday, was justifiably miffed. Ahh. Shit happens, you know? And sometimes, it's really easy to forget the shit that happens when, say, promoters know that daddy would like to have, well...let's say, a fresh pair of Strokes tickets maybe?

Anyway. Saw Stars. Enjoyed the company yet again of the enjoyable Sommer Mathis. We stupidly chose to stand and watch next to the biggest douchebag in the venue, but it largely didn't matter. I don't like to inject myself and my feelings into the reviews I do for DCist (read my Stars review, here)--preferring to try to relate whether the show was good or not based upon what actually happened versus how I feel about what happened. But, because I like bold pronouncements as much as the next guy, I'll simply say this:

Stars are simply the best band in the world right now. It's been a long time since I've seen an band play and just get struck again and again with these "Eureka!" moments. Stars are a complete package on record--great songwriting, elegant playing, they do something much different from what's hot in the marketplace and they do it so well that you wonder why the market isn't flooded with bands doing what they do. Live, they are even better. They're practically perfect. So many bands half-ass their way around their instruments. These guys can actually fucking play them. So many singers yowling--these guys can actually fucking sing. Two of them! Not just work the mic with "rockstar personality", but actually perform as accomplished vocalists do.

Stars are much better than your band. Sorry.

It's really raised the bar on the whole year. I'll literally pee my own pants if I see a show this year better than the one I saw Friday night. Will it be you, New Pornographers? The gauntlet has been thrown down.

SIDE NOTE: I recently revisited my review of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, where I encountered a comment I never noticed before.

"Again, though, you make a broad statement about them based on seeing them once. If you go to a Cardinals game and Albert Pujuls goes 0 for 4 does that mean he doesn't know how to hit? No it means on that particular night he didn't perform up to your standards."

In the first place, I made a specific statement based upon my experience seeing more live rock shows that I could possibly count. The idea that I have to see a band seven or eight times before I have the right to comment is a rusty and tired canard. I flat out reject that out of hand. If that were the case, then CYHSY can bloody well pay me for the privilege of my attendance the first seven times. I have their record. I know full well what they can do. End of story.

But more to the point, as a lifelong Cardinals fan, that's a bad analogy. Albert Pujols performance is subject to the efforts of another party actively trying to thwart his efforts. I promise you, if the reason for CYHSY's poor performance at the Black Cat was because, say...the Shout Out Louds bum-rushed the stage and started kicking at their shins and unplugging the instruments, I would have made note of it.

Anyway, CYHSY sold out the 930 Club, so everybody wins, right? It's all subject to argument: and let's face it--for music fans, the arguing is half the fun. I know that, so bring some smack if the spirit moves you.

The 24gasm: 3:00-4:00pm

  1. People: So sorry for the lateness of recaps. Now later than ever. The following took place between last Monday and today. 24. Lost notebook with 24 and Lost notes. Couldn't find it. Finally found it. Live rock show. Live rock show. Great party celebrating the end of Castle Fun Fun, where this very blog was born. Recovery. Too much in the way. So today, 24, tomorrow Lost.
  2. We welcome Julian Sands, not only to the storied panoply of 24 villains, but also to the grand traditions of international, non-British bad guys who inexplicably speak the Queen's tongue as if he graduated from Cambridge. He's like the James Bond of Chechnya.
  3. The unimaginable badness of President Logan continues throughout this episode. He dispenses a well-earned tongue-lashing, but he can't help sounding like a Grade-A pussy doing so. And yet, I'm still on the fence as to whether I still wouldn't swap him out for Bush if I had the chance.
  4. "Jack Bauer can be discplined later!" Yeah, my ass he can!
  5. Suddenly the terrorists are scrambling to "Get Nathanson!" Who the hell is Nathanson? Oh! That's Nathanson? Oh! That's the dude that Helen Hayes Award Winning stage actor Geraint Wyn Davies is playing! Did we know his name was Nathanson? Okay. We're cool with it.
  6. I love the way the people who write 24 use moment-for-moment counterpoint to stoke the ebb and flow of the drama. Moments before Jack kicks his ass--and with us, the audience, fully aware that the beatdown-between-friends is about to happen, Curtis takes a moment to sincerely offer Jack his hopes that he and Audrey have a clean chance at making their relationship work. So sweet! Here's Jack's efficient killer buddy, making a heartfelt love connection! And moments later, Jack has him in a sleeper hold. Brilliant.
  7. And, hey, Curtis! Don't fight it! Just lose yourself in the velvety, erotic embrace of Bauer!
  8. Agent Samwise has taken one dip in the shallow pool of his personal life and has quickly disintegrated into a paranoid dork, and everyone is breaking their necks to be the latest and best person to stab him in the back. And I bet you can't wait for the pending drama over his stolen keycard to play itself out. That'll be an intense five minutes or so, sure to impact matters around, say, midnight.
  9. Getting rid of Audrey's phone records was perhaps the least elegant deletion of data in the history of 24.
  10. Wait! President Logan's summit with the Russian president is going to have closing remarks? I thought the treaty was signed and over! What's been going on since the signing? Modern dance exhibitions? An Up With People show? Did Bono finally finish reading the names of the 9-11 victims left off during the Super Bowl three years ago? And what are they going to say during their closing remarks? "Gosh, three hours after signing the document, we still feel really good about it!"
  11. President Logan whisperwhines, "I'm not going to talk to a terrorist!" So grammar school: "I'm not talking to him! He's all corroded and shit!" Remember when we were so young, so awkward, and yet had the word "corroded" in our vocabulary? Good times.
  12. By the way, our 24 viewings at the DCeiver household, which always commence with the celebratory yawping at the announcement at the coming scenes of graphic violence, are pretty much at this point unofficially sponsored by Elevation Burger. Good people can debate who has the best burger in the metropolitan area, but our official take is: Five Guys can suck it.
  13. "Doesn't Audrey have a history with Bauer?" Yes, Agent Samwise, and if you had been reading Audrey's LiveJournal all this time, you'd know that it was very sexually awkward and marked by her questioning whether Jack would ever love her as much as he loved electrocuting the genitals of enemies foreign and domestic.
  14. Samwise is freaking out! "I want to know everyone's hidden agendas!" Jesus. If we had to explain the hidden agendas of everyone who just worked at CTU, we'd have to call this show 43.
  15. So Chloe is now "working up a protocol" for Jack in secret. That means we should be mere moments away from someone noticing and remarking: "Chloe, why are you using so much of our system resources!" After all these years, CTU still hasn't upgraded their system resources. I mean, get a BladeCenter or something, people.
  16. So, I've been watching these commercials for Ultraviolet and I'm having a hard time trying to determine whether the movie is a bald rip-off of Aeon Flux or V For Vendetta. If you have definitive thoughts on the matter, send them our way. In the meantime, I think we can safely conclude that the movie will a) suck bilge and b) have an awesomely dope trip-hop soundtrack.
  17. Did anyone catch the saucy way Audrey licked her lip when she looked at Chloe? Hot.
  18. Agent Samwise is having a total meltdown now. I flashback to the very first season of 24, when Jack tranquilized his boss because he thought he couldn't trust him, and it saddens me that this tactic hasn't become SOP at CTU by now. CTU hasn't learned anything from Jack's exploits. They still question him. They still send too few agents to offsite missions. They've never successfully snared a bad guy in one of their dragnets. They always arrest Jack at the very moment they should be letting him riff. They still allow too many moles into CTU. And they don't just anesthetize the division director when he gets cranky. By contrast, I have taken all these important lessons to heart. You won't see me getting ambushed when I'm out digging through files at McClennan-Forster.
  19. Fox News tells us that a common household ingredient may be making us all deathly ill. Naturally they'll wait another half-hour to tell us. Personally, I think that if someone gets sick or hurt from something the late news teases on the air, the news shouldn't get a liability shield. Would it have killed them to just say: "Holy shit people! Stop eating parsnips if you value your life! We'll tell you why at eleven. In the meantime, seriously, lay off the parsnips!"
  20. God. We were worried about Martha Logan being crazy. President Logan's decision to essentially look the other way and hope that the visiting Russian president and his wife manage to avoid getting murdered is INSANE, founded upon the stupidest rationalizations ever. I love how he says it was a "difficult" decision, a term that usually gets used when one actually makes the correct decision between two tough choices. As it stands, he's actually made an easy decision and an unconscionable one.
  21. And look: the Russian president and his wife are being unusually lovey-dovey. They are like Comrade and Ms. Congeniality.
  22. So, I know that on the surface, it looks like Kim Bauer didn't make her IMDB-promised appearance in this episode. But when Julian Sands drew that "X" on the map and said "That's where we'll make the attack," I couldn't help thinking: "Right where that X intersects--that is exactly where Kim is at this moment."
  23. Martha Logan boldly gets into the doomed car--but she takes Secret Service Agent Aaron with her! Aaron can't be killed, can he? He's supposed to be immune from death! When the 24verse is reduced to rubble, Aaron's supposed to be among the survivors, right? He's supposed to, like, be The Postman and shit, riding from town to town delivering mail and justice and stories of the great Jack Bauer and how sexily and deathily he defended our freedoms, right?
  24. Also, Julian Sands is watching the motorcade leave. Didn't he just see Martha Logan and immortal Aaron get in the car?

Friday, February 24, 2006

Punctuations of Doubt in Iraq


The fact that the AP only includes two well-placed question marks of WTF-itude indicates that they are still relatively optimistic.

Look for Condi and Commander Cuckoo Bananas to order up another round of empty electoral fingerpainting, tout-suite. It's straight out of Francis Fukuyama's seminal neo-conservative white paper, "Just Keep the Brownish People Busy and They'll Stop Yelling, Maybe."

UPDATE: Someone a little too literal minded has taken the time to point out that the errors in the above article are "unintentional consequences." "The question marks are probably em dashes that got butchered by the content system." Um, yeah. Duh. I've, uhm...used "content systems" myself, obvs. Nevertheless, it's a strangely fitting reinforcement of the original post: the unintended consquences of our Iraq misadventure are growing more consequential by the day. Pop some corn and enjoy the coming Civil War, folks!

The throw down

Many thanks to everyone who came out to see the Unbuckled show last night at DC9 last night, and many many warm waves of gratitude to The Hard Tomorrows and Olivia Mancini and the Housemates for the great music. Both bands rocked with serious abandon. Everyone who ever said I'd love The Hard Tomorrows was totally prescient---Natalya, I'm looking at you. They rock with skill and purpose and have a terrific variety of songs...and they've got a passel of dedicated fans who already know all this! Join them!--they play the Black Cat on March 27 with Greenland and it's a firm recommendation that you go. They've got a record coming out in May as well. And what can I say about Olivia and her Housemates? Sideprojects are the new black, yo. She took the stage and commenced to ripping the hell out of her Rickenbacker, playing material that doesn't fit her regular band's style but really was simply too good to leave unsung. And, like I said with the Georgie James--it wasn't an offhand project that yielded dribbling wonkiness. Tight, hummable tunes that really caught the crowd by surprise. Plus, Olivia's just a badass frontwoman in her own right. If you aren't going to see Stars tonight, Olivia's main gig, The Washington Social Club, plays Iota tonight.

It was much fun meeting fans of the band, DCists old and new--and especially great to finally meet Jeff Jetton and Laura Burhenn after so many email conversations! And best wishes go out to Kriston Capps, travelling to Istanbul today. Like I said last night, go and have the sex!

[photo by leafblower]

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Indie Rock Junk to Amuse and Delight

1. The Human Giant presents "Indie Clerk Assholes"--set at Leafblowers favorite record shop! (via Stereogum)

2. I Remixed My Own Ass, By Jim O'Rourke ("The shocking story of what happens when one man with a straight razor and way too much audio tape realizes he's accidentally spliced those John Fahey masters with Bananarama's "Cruel Summer"... and the CMJ explosion that ensues.")--and other indietastic books that shouldn't have come out, ever.

The Cure for those Friday Afternoon Fortinblahs.

Wonkette reminds us that tomorrow afternoon, you can kick it with Danes! Come to the Embassy of Denmark at noon tomorrow (3200 Whitehaven Street, NW) for a solid hour of full-tilt, no holds barred pleasantness. We're told that "Danish flags are good." Geez, Denmark, there's no need to hide the enthusiasm: Danish flags are GREAT!

And the best part? The shindig is gonna be hosted by Polonius himself! Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would ROCK!

DCent Days And Nights

Before I get started on the vagaries of local music, I want to say this: Every so often, you hear a band that is so worthless and awful that you just want to see them quit the planet as soon as possible and trouble no more the ears and minds of decent, hardworking people. But it rarely goes down that way. Bad bands have a way of lingering like a barnyard stench. But I'm happy today because this fantasy--the immediate vaporization of an awful purveyor of horrific music--has finally happened, or, at least, it was close enough.

I am, of course, talking about Test Icicles and their album of excrement For Screening Purposes Only--which I sampled in toto some weeks ago and it quite literally made me fear my iPod. They had one song that wasn't entirely worthless--the one that can basically go out for Halloween as a Bloc Party C-side with "Triangle" or some such shit in the title--and the rest was like being renditioned to a Syrian jail. Well, the band has officially broken up today and will soon trouble the world no more with their hideous, hideous noise. It's a clear sign that we aint takin' no shit in the '06. These guys need to find entire new careers and never ever speak to each other again. And to anyone out there who pimped this waste: get yr damn head examined. And, so: TETS.

* * *

Now, as you should know by now, tomorrow DCist is throwing down at DC9 with The Hard Tomorrows and Olivia Mancini and the Sideprojects Housemates. Six dollars, things get underway around 9. Our own DJ Leafblower will be DJing during the downtime.

Speaking of Mr. Leafblower, if you follow his adventures habitually, you're probably aware that he's pretty enthusiastic about The Nethers. In fact, it's quite possible that Leaf is, at this point, way more enthusiastic about The Nethers than The Nethers are themselves. They are off getting heard all over the country right now, I may not be able to compete with Leaf as far as level of love, but I definitely thing they're on to something--their dark and dirty folky VUishness can be quite transfixing. I think that if you enjoy the Exit Clov, you should have little trouble making the lateral slide over to liking these guys as well. They return to DC9 on April 1. In the meantime, Leaf's gonna get to see them so many times that the Super Furry Animals are gonna get crazy jealous and wonder if they're, like, not going steady anymore.

Who I am that enthusiastic about is Georgie James. Featuring Laura Burhenn and John Davis of the late and lamented Q And Not U, the backstory on these guys is that they fancied a bit of the working together, so they delved deep into their record collections, forging connections and drawing up inspiration. Now, I've found that quite often, when you get these sort of worlds in collision sorts of collaborations, what happens is that you end up with an induglent sort of noodlegasm as two musicians, having been given another head to go inside besides their own, run totally amok. Then you go to their show, having prepared to, as Here's a Hint says, engage your arms for maximum folding. You listen, and yeah, it's...good, you guess, but it takes like a ten minute explanation to sort out what you like about them and during that time, suns collide, cars are stolen, and hundreds of families sink into poverty.

There's nothing like that going on with Georgie James. These songs are bright and tight, cohesive and contained, and gorgeously sharp. You can spot up those influences--the cask-aged ache of an old soul record here, the drive of vintage Krautrock there, sunny 70's style harmonies peeking out around brittle, angular melodies--but they never feel quaint. Informed without being encumbered. I love musicians who don't coast, and the reward for reinvigorating the creative process is self-evident--I think what they've wrought moves both Burhenn and Davis to somewhere that their previous work doesn't predict. But I do predict these songs are going to sound fantastic live, so mark March 23 on your datebooks so you can catch them at the Black Cat with The Joggers. NYCers can experience Georgie James at Rothko March 25, you lucky Balmerans get to have the fun at the Ottobar eleven days before the DC date.

Laura, by the way, will also be playing a pair of dates at the Strathmore as a part of their Artist in Residence program. On March 1, she'll be playing solo grand piano, featuring her own work as well as songs from her fave songwriters. On March 29, she'll be backed by a full band performing a new work specially commissioned by Strathmore.

After hearing so much about Hello Tokyo, I felt it was incumbent upon me to get a listen for myself. They're nice enough to have their EP, I (heart) teh Internets, available for download and what can I say? You got the melodic sludge suckerpunch of "Same Mistake", a winning and playful side on display on "Kick It", and the cowbell-enhanced clapalong pop of "Bury Yourself." Three songs, three distinctly different ways to rock you. Sold. Moreover, I'm told that lead singer Kat is the former Full Minute of Mercury chanteuse that I did not care for--well, if that's the case, allow me to do a complete 180 here: she's great fronting this band. They'll also be playing DC April 1 at Asylum, so, I guess there will be some hard choices to make that day.

A minor quibble
: On their website, they seem to pull a Big Yawn style error by claiming to be excited about working with "an Emmy Award winning producer." Maybe Felicity Huffman's trying her hand at something new, but we have to imagine they mean "Grammy"--unless of course, they mean their record is being produced by The Shatner, in which case good, better, BEST!

Channels, featuring J. Robbins (late of Burning Airlines) hace recently completed a full-length album that will be released by Dischord "sometime before Summer '06." Elsewhere in Dischordiana, the label plans to release a record from Soccer Team, featuring not the Ryan Nelsen of DC United fame, but the Ryan Nelson of the Routineers. There's no firm release date for the record, which had its beginnings as a "flight of fancy" basement tape style collaboration with Melissa Quinley that was evidently deemed cohesive enough to be released.

Finally, my good friend Mr. Paul Kamran played the latest version of "Bleeding Hearts" for me today. The song, which will be on Paul's upcoming EP, was white hot the day it was debuted and has somehow been rendered even more bestever by a factor of ten. Granted, I am way biased, but I'm confident that there will simply be no arguing with this song, nor the others, which will soon be spirited away to Chelsea to get mixed and mastered. Paul will play solo at Wonderland on March 12, and currently plans to release his EP at Galaxy Hut on April 29, where he will appear with one of his favorite bands, Doylestown PA's Aderbat.

-----LISTEN AND LEARN
The Nethers | MySpace | "Hung Herself in a Birdcage"

Georgie James | MySpace

Laura Burhenn | MySpace | "Helicopters", "Memory"

Hello Tokyo
| "Kick It", "Bury Yourself", "Same Mistake"

Channels | "Chivaree"

Paul Kamran | MySpace (I'm not sure if the songs on MySpace will be on the EP)

Aderbat | MySpace

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

DCeptette: Saving You From So Much Wank Version

  1. George Bush: "Younger Indians are acquiring a taste for pizzas from Domino's -- (laughter) -- Pizza Hut." Yeah. And not too far away, your al-Qaeda lovin' neighbor's acquiring a taste for long range ballistic missiles. But you keep right on jokin' about twisty bread, ya fuckin' monkey. [White House]
  2. Actually, it's reTARDoren. [Unrequited Narcissism]
  3. You remember how in some philosophy or ethics class someone always posed the hypothetical: What if you knew a baby was going to grow up to be the next Hitler? Would it be right to commit an act of murder of it would save thousands of lives? Well, that hypothetical period may be over. [Ultragrrrl]
  4. Look. I've pushed the boundary of tiresomeness with the cute little critter. And I have no qualm with you, or anyone else, moving some merch and raking some coin. But we've talked it over, and we're really getting sick to death of you. Could you maybe, just, shut up for a couple of days? It won't go unappreciated. Hey, let your next press release announce that you've managed to have an actual original idea, maybe! Because Barbara Kruger called, and she wants her entire aesthetic vision back. [Obey Butterstick]
  5. You know, it's only natural to meet Congressman Jim Moran for the first time and find him to be a little scary. But once you really get to know him, you realize--he's actually a great big douchebag. [Pygmalion in a Blanket]

News from the Reaganing of every effing thing in the world.

Reaganaut jihadist and dedicated Harry's Tap Room enthusiast Grover Norquist was gently rebuffed by Virginia Governor Tim Kaine after Norquist pitched the idea of turning February 6 into Ronald Reagan Day. As I've pointed out elsewhere, it was probably doing Reagan a favor--in Virginia, he'd sit diminished under the long, breathtaking shadows of some men named Washington, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe and Wilson. He could maybe hang with Harrison, Tyler and Taylor, but Reagan's straight benchwarmer material for the Old Dominion.

Norquist, of course, whined foul, saying that Kaine's decision was a "completely political move." Yeah, we're sure there were no politics involved when you publicly called out the guy whose eyebrow performed the SOTU Rebuttal Tango, Grove.

Personally speaking, most days, we're totally over Reagan, especially after Washington DC ended up being the host city for Republican Woodstock after the Good Lord finally declared it was bedtime for Bonzo. Nevertheless, you may be surprised to learn that we aren't entirely against the idea of having a national holiday honoring Reagan's memory.

Heck, maybe on that one special day a year, scientists can be allowed to conduct stem cell research!

Yard of Blonde Newscasters

Jack Shafer offers readers of Slate the most puzzling use of their bandwidth, since their seventeen part series, "Meth: Gosh, We're Really Worried About This Stuff", in a feature called "The Aryan Sisterhood" which just blows the lid off a previously unknown and never-remarked upon phenommenon: people love to put blondes on television. And those blondes? Apparently they enjoy some degree of popular favor!

Better yet, it's a photo essay, and Shafer is no doubt counting on the whole "picture" being worth "a thousand words" to satisfy his word-count.

"Halos of honeydew yellow, strident gold, and silver birch radiate on the morning news shows, the afternoon gab slots, the business news on CNBC, prime time, and the overnight newsreader desks," says Shafer, as that doughy profiterole with the voice of a Rust Belt pipefitter, Rita Cosby, stares back, mouth agape. "Silver birch?" What is that? The color of your new Audi?



"If you do the math, it's clear that many female newscasters lie about their true hair color every time they appear on television." WHAT?! But...but...this is madness, Jack...MADNESS!! It CAN'T BE!

[from the molten depths of Isengard crawls Andrea Mitchell]

"The disturbing suggestion here is that men who watch lots and lots of TV news are cruising for vigorous virtual mates at the same time they're grazing for news." Well, it's certainly disturbing that someone suggested it.

Well, that's certainly a question well worth the full force of our philosophical consideration, isn't it? Though I bet you that the real prickly question is probably, "Why do we find 'Campbell Browns' more credible than 'Campbell Brownsteins?'"

SHAFER: "Someday we'll look back at the chemical blonding of hundreds of newscasters as a torture on the order of foot-binding in China."

Hmmm. Yeah, I'm gonna have to bet you a million billion dollars that we totally won't!


SHAFER: "How big are Fox lips? When Rita Cosby switched from Fox to MSNBC, a construction crane was called in to move hers, which resemble a pair of oily, red eels mating angrily."

Okay, you see right there? Now THAT'S good! Go back, and do a nine page photo essay on Fox lips, Jack. It's so obvious that's where your story was all along.

DCeptette: Some people think they're always right version.

  1. Wishes have been answered. The Strokes are coming to DC. Though next time I'm on the phone with Leafblower, I'm gonna wish for a million billion dollars. Then I can hire them to follow me around for a year serving as my personal life soundtrack. Which is totally what I'd do with the money. That and the live-in sushi chef. And the fresh pair of underwear each day. But that's it. Be sure to watch DCist for when I let skip the password for all the back row and obstructed view seats. That'll be awesome. Right now, they go onsale March 3 for the April 26 show.
  2. Here's a pretty fascinating legal story, dizzy with intrigue and scintillating brazenness. Read it now before it gets headline-ripped by Law and Order. [Washington Post]
  3. So many boobs in the city worth shipping to South America, why thet have to pick on Phryne? [The Reliable Source]
  4. For one day every year, a group of people get together and manage to make Washington, DC look like that shitty crud-dump town from the movie Waiting For Guffman. They are the Washington Area Music Association, these are their Wammies, look upon their works and despair. [Here's a Hint]
  5. Hey, if you are a nice girl and you're looking for a nice guy to cuddle with, answer this ad. The guy is so gosh-darned earnest that it's only a matter of time before his colleagues on Capitol Hill straight hand him his ass. When that day comes, it'd be nice if he had something going for him. [Craigslist]

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

A subsidiary of Piece Of Shit, LLC

They didn't end up using the ad-copy that I wrote for them:






[click to enlarge]

Scooter, if it means anything, at least I'm being heartfelt. You truly are a piece of shit. And that's a whole lot more honest than all the people who surround you right now, pretending to be your friends.

Hoo the hell is Boston College?


Wow. PK managed to convince me that we were better than Boston College, but 14 points better?

I guess someone else is going to have to finish last in the ACC this year after all. That it's going to be Wake is a huge surprise. Of course, after the pathetic, sorry-ass way Wake washed out of the NCAA tournament, maybe it's not.

"Mr. Iota, tear down this wall!"

"Sorry, dude. Much as we might like to, it's load-bearing."

"Curses!"


"Hey, to make it up to you, how about we book John Vanderslice?"

"Really? You'd do that?"


"Of course we would."


John Vanderslice at Iota. April 29.

Monday, February 20, 2006

The 24gasm: 2:00-3:00pm

  1. Agent Samwise returns from getting mugged to find everything in a total shambles. He looks pissed. He's used to having better support. "In my last job, the people around me didn't stop working just because I was getting attacked by a giant spider! They tended to business, raising armies of the dead, defending citadels, working overtime to try to instill some good sense into Treebeard--that's almost as hard as talking to John Kerry, you know!"
  2. I'd so love to hear Joel Surnow's take on the whole FISA thing. He clearly has contempt for the whole unitary executive idea. If anything, his CTUers have a healthy lack of respect for bureaucratic authority, while at the same time, they seem to worship at the altar of the rule of law. And, while they are great at torturing people, they don't seem to particularly enjoy it, like Alberto Gonzalez, who is dead inside.
  3. Another thing I like about CTU is that they don't talk to each other as if they were utter fucking morons. Over at CSI, that's a different story. Every conversation goes like this: "Hey. What are you doing?" I'm analysing fingerprints for like the 954,678th time, asshole? How many more times are you going to ask? If the characters on CSI didn't have so much fucking exposition to get through, each episode would be only 12 minutes long.
  4. Jesus! Are the terrorists still hanging out at that garage? I thought everyone had just gone on a lunch break!
  5. I still don't get this Evelyn character. In this episode, she finally manages to perform a task competently--fetching a glass of water--and suddenly she thinks it buys her the right to start asserting her opinions. Whereas Washingtonians know that most political staffers assert their stupid opinions long before they have demonstrated a shred of usefulness. The truth is, most people on Capitol Hill go their entire life without ever earning the sperm their daddy gave them.
  6. Evelyn insists that she cannot believe that Walt could possibly have been evil, which is bizarre considering he only ever interacted with her through a thinly veiled sheen of maliciousness.
  7. "Showtime!" And thus, we have a shout out to the future home of Arrested Development.
  8. Audrey insists that measures be taken to save Jack's life after he's forced to come with the terrorists. This is why Audrey cannot ever really be with Jack. She just doesn't understand him. He'll always want to have his life in danger. God, it's like she doesn't even know him.
  9. Olympics diversion 1. What is up with these awful snowboard uniforms for the American team? In a milieu that celebrates the muscular form of hot athletes, it bothers me. Here I am crushing on Lindsay Jacobellis--or at least I was until it was revealed that she's as dumb as a box of golf tees--and she's dressed up like a garbageman! Sorry: anyone who thinks this sport is going to take over the Olympics is huffing something toxic. Though, maybe one needs to huff something toxic to be a snowboarder. I don't know.
  10. The bad guys decide to release the nerve gas as the Sunrise Hills Mall. I know, I know, not the Sunrise Hills Mall! It's got, like, a Topkapi and shit.
  11. As the terror goons get out of the van, it occurs to me, "Gosh, I hope they remember where they parked." Always look up at the signs and remember the storefronts in the area, people.
  12. I love the shot of the single balloon escaping the child's hand and fluttering upward. Holy French cinema! It was a TOTAL SHOUT OUT to my deepening sense of existential loss, Joel Surnow, tu es un bastard magnifique!
  13. Here's what I don't understand: wouldn't you be fazed if you were at work and a bunch of people looking like club rejects and sporting Russian accents showed up to fix the air conditioning?
  14. Shorter Audrey Raines: "Bleaaah! Think of the children!!" God I hate her.
  15. President Logan gripes to CTU: "You are putting me in a terrible position!" Meanwhile, in the real world, Henry Whittington apologizes to the nation for getting shot by Dick Cheney.
  16. More furtive psychological dodging from President Logan: "The terrorists are forcing our hand." Aggressive-passive to the end. This guy has got more whine than all of Napa Valley.
  17. I yell at the TV: "Move in with masks! Move in with masks!" Agent Curtis forgets that the bad guys have nerve gas.
  18. Olympics diversion 2. Want to know what more than makes up for the dumpily dressed American women's snowboard team? The Austrian women's curling team. This will be the last time you ever diss curling.
  19. The nerve gas thankfully, gets released in the food court, where it will likely go unnoticed.
  20. If you are keeping score at home, everytime Jack saves a child, that's as many points as every time he kills ten people.
  21. Unless one of those ten people is Ellen Pompeo of Grey's Anatomy. Her voice-over narration makes me want to claw my face off.
  22. Walt Cummings: his life, his wife, Martha Logan equivocating, okay. I hope this storythread is over.
  23. The terrorist dude kills himself (back at Garage of the Epic Lunchbreaks, naturally), and Jack starts freaking out because he's left with nothing and no leads. Jesus, Jack: chill. You find yourself in this position four times every series. Just cool out and watch for Chloe to pull some deus ex machina off of her screen.
  24. Well, the next episode features the return of Kim. Let's all hope for a good hairstyle. I caught an old episode on A&E last night (the one with Kevin Dillon shacked up in the wilderness), and I can only hope that whoever was in charge of prepping Cuthbert's nipples is back on the job. There's no award for people who do that stuff on set (despite working so closely with golden globes, ironically), but it's the little things we admire.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Let me kick a little something for the Wahoos.

In 2002, I submitted to the Declaration an article that described the events that occurred at Gildersleeve Portal on October 4, 1992. At the time, however, the submission was declined, owing in part to the fact that the editor at the time was not anywhere near as cool as Amy Argetsinger.

Nevertheless, my Ken Burnsian recollection of the events of that fabled day have found an even better home, where it shall long live and be remembered: The Brown College Wiki.

So, take a trip back to the time prior to the Browning of Monroe Hill, before the coming of the Groh--to an age where the UVA bookstore didn't even have its own Clinique counter!--and enjoy the exciting tale of The Gildersleeve Uprising.

And, if you're wondering if the whole thing happened because of something I did...well...

$35, Worth Every Penny

One: "Last time I was down South I walked into this restaurant and this white waitress came up to me and said, 'We don't serve colored people here.' I said, 'That's all right. I don't eat colored people. Bring me a whole fried chicken.' Then these three white boys came up to me and said, 'Boy, we're givin' you fair warnin'. Anything you do to that chicken, we're gonna do to you.' So I put down my knife and fork, I picked up that chicken and I kissed it. Then I said, 'Line up, Boys!'"

Two
: "Life insurance is another example. Probably not another group of people on the face of this earth spend more money on life insurance than we do in the United States. Did you ever stop and think that you have to be slightly stupid to buy life insurance? But just analyze this. You're betting the insurance company people that you're going to die. And they're betting you that you are going to live. And you're hoping they win. And they charge you." --Dick Gregory

At the 9:30 club tonight. With Chris Paul and Paul Mooney. 10pm tickets are still available. Go get some.


The Next Big Thing


Speaks for itself. Please come and enjoy!

Houston beset by crime, obesity


Return of the Pink Panther

Robin Givhan...she hurtses us. Today, Givhan continues to give Karen Feld a run for the money in the Vapidity Luge by expounding in excruciating detail on the message of Dick Cheney's pink tie. It's always a treat to hear some fool fritter away their lifespan contemplating the hidden messages of political fashion. They never seem to notice that the overarching message sent by Capitol Hill clothing choices is: "SOS! We have been assimilated by the gelatinous khaki bore-hordes! Please tell my wife I love her!"

Our favorite part of Givhan's article, however, is this:

Cheney's pink four-in-hand registered in the manner of pigtails on a gangsta rapper. In the parlance of hip-hop, the look is full of macho swagger and the not-so-subtle suggestion that even with the hairdo of a pre-adolescent girl, the rapper is still the toughest thing standing in the room. The incongruous sartorial flourish is a display of irony and confidence.
So...BREAKING: Robin Givhan has purchased a Coolio album.

Frankly, we think the Vice President showed remarkable restraint. Everyone knows that when he really wants to exude toughness, he wears one of his ties that have been dyed by the still warm body fluids of Casey Sheehan.

Something else Here's A Hint should know about ThatGuy

Apparently, they are also a bunch of fucking plagiarists.

ThatGuy's website: "Here's to you, striped shirt guy!" (scroll down)

Compare to...The Phat Phree: "Look at my striped shirt!"

I imagine they thought they could...uhm, "cover" it.

Actually, Here's a Hint, we shouldn't slag ThatGuy. I hear that at Bart and Lisa's prom, they were totally ready to step in if the Larry Davis iPod Experience ran out of batteries.

DCeptette: Fair Bloggers at a Game of Kinja Cards Version

  1. Godzilla meets Orson Welles. Hilarious. [The Rorschach Theatre Blog]
  2. You know, everyone bitches about the parking in Adams Morgan. Only Lonnie Bruner has the balls to DO something about it. [Talkin' Shit About a Pretty Sunset]
  3. "Well, Aquaman, I can't say we have a lot of use for you here in the Middle East." "But, I thought I could help with our brigade of weaponized dolphins!" "Don't be a douchebag, Aquaman. Dolphins are mammals." [Wonkette]
  4. David John Bloem: sure, you might not take him seriously as a member of the Green Party, but take it from me--at least the man is not a replicant. [DCist]
  5. Here's a Hint brings us this Craigslist posting from a guy named Mike, who plays in some who-dat cover band called "ThatGuy". He begins his post in an attempt to passionately stick up for the work that our heroic cover bands do. He ends up, however, demonstrating that he is a certifiable king dickwad with the kind of terrifying personality disorder that goes hand-in-hand with state officials warning the neighbors. Hey, Mike, for all I care, slag on the "originals" to your jaded heart's content, but I'm warning you: you are going to look pretty fucking stupid when you have to learn how to play "Come Down To DC." [Craigslist, via Here's a Hint]

Thursday, February 16, 2006

CSI: Corpus Christi

Mr. K Street Blues offered DCeiver readers a comment today:

"Oh, I love the right-wing chattering class's "normal people" meme. It's so delicious. "Normal people look at this and see a froth over an accident ..." Whatever. How the fuck does some NRO fuck know what a "normal" person thinks?"
Well, KSB, you're gonna love this.

One of our favorite blogs reminded us of this reaction from the Free Republic after John Kerry went hunting during the Presidential campaign:
[John Kerry] may show up toting a $5000 Perazzi shotgun. But, that is not the shotgun that ordinary people use. Kerry considers himself too good, to use arms that the little people would use. He believes the little people to be of little use, other than conning them into voting for him.
You owe it to yourself to take a short trip to the aforementioned blog--1115--because I think you'll enjoy their forensic investigation.

1115: Hop fences, jump over benches, when you see them comin' get the fuck out the entrance.

My thoughts on Tricia Oszlewski

At the risk of shocking, angering, or even offending some of my colleagues in the theatre world, some of whom have respectfully desired my opinion, I'll say this: Honestly--I think what happened to Tricia is absolutely unfair. She got jobbed. The Post should reinstate her.

Yeah, I've fought battles with critics before. But only in a specific sense. If you are serving the Washington Post, then keep your jaunts to the 212 to yourself. No one in DC gives a rat's ass about whatever international tourist pandering nonsense is playing between 7th and 8th, and no theatrical practicioner in NYC cares about the opinions of the Washington Post.

I can't remember if Tricia was nice to me in reviews or not nice to me, whether she aided or abetted the interests of the theatrical company I work for or if she didn't. Probably a generous mix of all of the above. I've learned to be pretty sanguine about critics. My attitude is that if you can't handle a bad review, well, there are plenty of things you can do in your spare time that won't subject your ego to bruising--so unless your primary care physician has prescribed a life in the theatre for you, go fucking do something else. Conversely, if you get a good review as an actor, you should credit your director and your scene partners, because they had as much if not more to do with your success than you did. I mean, let's not get started sucking our own dicks just because we mastered the inscrutable arts of walking and talking. I am happy when the show I'm in gets a good review, sad when it doesn't, and if you've ever been in the position of being told you're the only good thing about a show, well...you probably didn't contribute enough to the project to make it work. There are no solo artists in theatre, people.

So, good humor toward the slings and arrows, a dose of humbleness to praise. You'll find that if you ever get a gaggle of actors talking about their bad reviews, maybe after a few rounds, they'll talk about them with the swagger of a guy with battle scars. Hey, if you know this blog, you know I have the space to set it off as I see fit. If you want it, you can come get my arrogant best for free right here. But if you fork over some hard currency to be entertained by me, then I think you deserve some humility from me, and I'll give you what you're owed. That's just how I roll.

With that in mind, let's get back to Tricia, a woman more sinned against than sinning. From what I can tell, Tricia has been suspended by the Washington Post from reviewing theatre for the singular stupid reason that she made this quip on her blog:

... drama nerds can find my snooty takes on local theatah on washingtonpost.com. Help make MovieBabe a success so I don't have to see any more pretentious plays!

A sentiment she immediately couched by saying:

Disclaimer: Movie Babe is not insinuating that all productions in the Greater Washington, D.C. area take themselves too seriously. Just some of them. And by some, I mean many that I'm sent to.

Now, I tried, really hard, to take myself to a place where I could let myself get, you know, all hot and bothered by this, but, you know what? It felt like a real stupid exercise. Far be it from me to deny someone who'd rather trade discussion of Death of a Salesman for a lifetime of critiquing the sequel to Big Momma's House their dream, thought I.

But let's be honest with ourselves, theater-types, just for a moment. Deep down, you know damn well that you've got that totally awkward and pretentious side to you. Okay? Just admit it. You'll feel better. We all know that if you have the chance to really get down and spill your Really Deep Thoughts about the verfremdungseffekt or Denis Diderot or what chapter of the Poetics is your favorite or how SHKSPR PRJCT is the most trenchant and important piece of drama you ever saw, you're gonna let spill. Seriously. Bring a tape recorder the next time you and your colleagues go out to the bar and listen to yourself the next morning.

You know what? It's okay to have that side of yourself. Really, it is. It's honestly not that great a sin. Anyone who's passionate about something has got that side to them. And most great plays get over on a healthy dollop of sin: pretention, arrogance, larceny...I did a play once that literally involved breaking and entering--hell, I've even indulged in some petty theft! It's all forgiven if you give that paying crowd the bang for their buck. When the curtain drops, you put that shit in the background and, above all, spare your patrons the didacticism.

If we in the theatre community have hounded Tricia out of a job for the grievous sin of jocularly calling us out for being pretentious, then we should be absolutely fucking ashamed of ourselves. I mean...think about it: she's fired because something she wrote--something that harmed no one!--on her blog. It's one thing to take to your own blog and offer a counterpoint--that's all well and good, and hey, go ahead and be as vicious as you wanna be. But to take it to the level of her getting fired? For a trivial, offhand comment? That's just ineffably, indisputably, intolerably WRONG.

I would like to ask the Washington Post to please, pretty please, reinstate Tricia at the earliest possible convenience. And I'd like to invite Tricia to continue to feel free to excoriate me in its pages whenever she deems fit. And if you're out there, Trish, the next time you'd like to catch a flick, it's on me.

POSTSCRIPT:
So, next time I respond to an email harangue, I'll see what Trey says first. Tricia remains gainfully employed at the Post. This makes me glad. I still think the circumstances in which she got shouted out as a theatre critic was bush league. Her bloggy aside just doesn't rise to a threaten-a-persons-employment offense. Anyway, TETS.

Who's being fatuous now, Andy McCarthy?

National Review Online blogger Andy McCarthy writes in from some deeply Xanaxed place:

By contrast, the transparently partisan hyperbole (I mean, Aaron Burr? Gimme a break!) and the unrestrained glee in reaction to a mishap is over the top even by Washington standards. Normal people look at this and see in a froth over an accident the same people who couldn't summon up a pulse over President Clinton's INTENTIONAL misconduct. It's the Veep they'll empathize with.

I'm not trying to compare Clinton and Cheney -- although that may not be a bad idea.

I agree that it's a little to facile to compare Cheney's exploits to Aaron Burr. Sure, Burr was the last Vice President to shoot a man, but to suggest that Cheney's exploits were comparable would do Burr a great disservice, considering Alexander Hamilton was not specifically bred to be an easier target for unskilled hunters.

But to compare Cheney's response to Clinton's? Uhm, Andy? Maybe you aren't aware of this... but, in contrast to rifle shot, cum can be washed off one's face with soap and water.

Death Cab Presale Part Two.

If you weren't one of the people who got the seven available tickets in Tuesday's Ferd Cab For Deathinfranz pre-sale, you have another chance.

These pre-sales are always drama for me because of the gaggle of dipshits who resent people other than their friends finding out from DCist that they can buy tickets. I frequently pass this info on to DCist because their elitist arguments give me headaches. DCist can, in turn, do whatever they want. If I were a loyal DCist reader, though, and I found out that they were sitting on info that would plug me in to seeing a fave band of mine, I'd question whether they deserved my readership.

Plus, there's the inescapable double-standard: Metblogs is allowed to tell DC, but DCist isn't. NOTE: I don't think this is Metblogs fault. I say, hurrah Metblogs.

You might, as a DCist commenter intimated today, suggest that spreading this information aids scalpers and mark-up whores. Too bad that as of right now, there's not a single ticket for the DARCH show available on eBay or Craigslist. That's right, my substantiated proof trumps your wild-ass claims, I'm afraid. I can assure you also, the predatory ticket mavens, are easily smart enough to have subscribed to the same service that brought me the email alert about tomorrow's presale.

Anyway, presale through Ticketmaster tomorrow, starting at 10. What's the password? What song did they close their first of two 930 club shows (with Stars supporting) last year with? There. That ought to weed out the "untrue" fans.

Don't like that? Suck it.

UPDATE:

So, today, DC Metroblogs sensibly notified their readers about today's Death Cab presale, and, as predicted, everybody who couldn't get tickets, except for me, it seems, blames DCist.

I hate to give the DC hateosphere more fodder, but I have to wonder, is there any other city in America with such ticket-grubbing divas?

If so, lock up your indie-rockin' daughters, y'all!

That tired-ass argument, that the flow of information should only go to people deemed by the hipster star chamber as having blood that flows with the hemoglobin of the truly deserving, is such a broke-ass principle. As if having nothing better to do than check Death Cab's website all day makes you some kind of superhero. Whatevs. That attitude comes from the same place as that elitist trash that says you can't be a real fan of a band unless you were there from the beginning. Yeah, well, the first REM album I ever bought was Life's Rich Pageant. You think you should get to see them play just because you bought Murmur before me? I got something automatic for you people to suck on.

Here's a dose of truth: If the whiners could accord themselves absolute power, they wouldn't just yell at DCist for dropping pre-sale dimes. They would come into your home and say: "What? You only have a cassette copy of We Have The Facts And We're Voting Yes? You're hereby banned from their upcoming show!"

First, they come for your Death Cab tickets, in other words.

The Complete DCeiver on Wonkette

October 27, 2005


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December 28, 2oo5

December 29, 2005

December 30, 2005

January 3, 2006

January 4, 2006

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March 15, 2006
April 27, 2007


April 28, 2007