Sunday, December 31, 2006
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Pizza Quest: Roundup #1
[Here are reviews for a few pizza places I've been to recently. All of them will be added to the Pizza Quest pages. Click here for the entire list.
PINCH - Park Ave. b/w 28th and 29th
*1/2
I ran in one night and grabbed a slice...or, uh, quadrangle or whatever the appropriate pizza unit would be to describe six inches of pizza thing (PINCH stands for "Pizza by the Inch," so you order a number of inches off of a big slab of pizza). Dude. This is not good pizza. The crust was insubstantial (not thin - weirdly airy and fall apart-y), there was too much damn cheese, and the sauce was weirdly sweet. I finished it and thought, "That's the best Ellio's pizza I've ever eaten." If I were in a more charitable mood, I might try to spin that as a compliment. Feh.
Sullivan Street Bakery (Hell's Kitchen location) - 47th St. b/w 10th and 11th
**** (but it doesn't matter)
The bread at Sullivan Street Bakery is one of my favorite foodstuffs in the world. And so is the pizza. The pizza -- thin, crispy, and square, served room temperature with no mozzarella -- is made out of deliciousness. They offer only a few varieties, but all of them are excellent. The potato and rosemary is my favorite (the thin sliced potato gets crispy around the edges and tender in the center), followed by the marinara (tomato sauce, and, err, that's about it). The problem is that while amazing, these slices don't scratch my pizza itch. Meaning, if I think to myself, "I could go for a slice," a slice of Sullivan St. pizza won't satisfy me half as well as the crappiest slice from Mr. Super Crappy, himself, Famous Ray. It depresses me to say that, but I still love you, Sullivan Street Bakery. Please don't be mad at me.
Mariella's - 8th Ave. b/w 56th & 57th
*
Oprah's friend Gayle was sent on a quest for the best pizza in America. She went to three places - first, the one she went to in college, second, what is oftentimes called the best pizza in the US (Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix, AZ) , and third, Mariella's Pizzeria in New York (at the suggestion of her driver). This was a quest in the same way that purchasing boneless chicken cutlets is hunting. I'd had Mariella's a couple times and had literally no memory of it, so I decided to give it another chance. This is far from great pizza. In fact, it might not even be good pizza. The sauce was way too sweet and had too much oregano in it. The crust was tough and chewy. The cheese blanketed the pizza completely. Actually, blanket is too gentle a description. The cheese suffocated the pizza like a plastic bag. I also got a white slice (mozzarella and riccotta) and it was even worse. Bland riccotta and that layer of mozzarella without even bad sauce to break things up. There are several better pizzerias within a five block radius (John's on 58th, Sacco's on 8th, even the two Angelo's -- one on Broadway and one on 57th), let alone the entire city. While people having irrational love for a pizza place is nothing unusual (*cough*salandcarmines*cough*), this is particularly disappointing because Oprah's word carries, I hear, some weight. And so, Oprah viewers will come to New York. And those tourists will go to Mariella's. And they will think that's what good, NY pizza tastes like. Don't believe the Oprah-generated hype.
Totonno's - 2nd Ave. b/w 80th and 81st St.
**1/2
Tara and I had nearly the same experience at the uptown Totonno's as at the 23rd St. location. We ordered a half-plain/half-sausage-and-garlic and it was good, but not great. It's like a blurry photocopy of the original in Coney Island. The same kinds of tastes - - coal oven, good cooked sauce, fresh mozz, same taste to the crust. Yep, it's the same kind of pizza (Genus: Totonnus), but not charred enough, and just not plain ol' amazing enough (Species: Underwelmicum). As a bonus, they do have signs up making fun of the pizzeria next door that sells pizza by weight. I can't remember them exactly, but it's sort of like, "Why the hell would you buy pizza by weight?" Okay, I'm exaggerating. Slightly.
Pepe's - Bridgeport, Ct.
***
Yes, yes. I know the original Pepe's is in New Haven, and, yes, I know I haven't been there...but I was in Bridgeport. What do you want? Cunningham took me and Tara to Pepe's, where the pies are irregularly shaped, sliced into narrow wedges, covered in strange toppings, and ginormous. Oh, and they're pretty good, too. It was in the same pizza family as Modern Apizza and Sally's (unsurprisingly), but was a bit better than either. Again, the crust wasn't charred on the bottom the way I like it (though it was a coal oven, what gives, Connecticut?), the cheese was slightly overcooked to my tastebuds, and it was a bit chewier than I prefer, but it was quite good. We got a small white clam pie (excellent) and a large (meaning: huge) pie split between plain and bacon (good). Bacon? Yeah, bacon, pancetta's unruly, nitrite-filled cousin. The bacon was a bit much, I have to admit, but the pie was pretty tasty. Bridgeport, like New Haven, also has a line to get in. We waited a good half-hour early on a Saturday evening. While waiting we looked in on those who were already eating, comfortable and warm, and felt deep stabs of envy. So, if you want good pizza and an opportunity to break the tenth commandment, head to Pepe's in Bridgeport!
PINCH - Park Ave. b/w 28th and 29th
*1/2
I ran in one night and grabbed a slice...or, uh, quadrangle or whatever the appropriate pizza unit would be to describe six inches of pizza thing (PINCH stands for "Pizza by the Inch," so you order a number of inches off of a big slab of pizza). Dude. This is not good pizza. The crust was insubstantial (not thin - weirdly airy and fall apart-y), there was too much damn cheese, and the sauce was weirdly sweet. I finished it and thought, "That's the best Ellio's pizza I've ever eaten." If I were in a more charitable mood, I might try to spin that as a compliment. Feh.
Sullivan Street Bakery (Hell's Kitchen location) - 47th St. b/w 10th and 11th
**** (but it doesn't matter)
The bread at Sullivan Street Bakery is one of my favorite foodstuffs in the world. And so is the pizza. The pizza -- thin, crispy, and square, served room temperature with no mozzarella -- is made out of deliciousness. They offer only a few varieties, but all of them are excellent. The potato and rosemary is my favorite (the thin sliced potato gets crispy around the edges and tender in the center), followed by the marinara (tomato sauce, and, err, that's about it). The problem is that while amazing, these slices don't scratch my pizza itch. Meaning, if I think to myself, "I could go for a slice," a slice of Sullivan St. pizza won't satisfy me half as well as the crappiest slice from Mr. Super Crappy, himself, Famous Ray. It depresses me to say that, but I still love you, Sullivan Street Bakery. Please don't be mad at me.
Mariella's - 8th Ave. b/w 56th & 57th
*
Oprah's friend Gayle was sent on a quest for the best pizza in America. She went to three places - first, the one she went to in college, second, what is oftentimes called the best pizza in the US (Pizzeria Bianco in Phoenix, AZ) , and third, Mariella's Pizzeria in New York (at the suggestion of her driver). This was a quest in the same way that purchasing boneless chicken cutlets is hunting. I'd had Mariella's a couple times and had literally no memory of it, so I decided to give it another chance. This is far from great pizza. In fact, it might not even be good pizza. The sauce was way too sweet and had too much oregano in it. The crust was tough and chewy. The cheese blanketed the pizza completely. Actually, blanket is too gentle a description. The cheese suffocated the pizza like a plastic bag. I also got a white slice (mozzarella and riccotta) and it was even worse. Bland riccotta and that layer of mozzarella without even bad sauce to break things up. There are several better pizzerias within a five block radius (John's on 58th, Sacco's on 8th, even the two Angelo's -- one on Broadway and one on 57th), let alone the entire city. While people having irrational love for a pizza place is nothing unusual (*cough*salandcarmines*cough*), this is particularly disappointing because Oprah's word carries, I hear, some weight. And so, Oprah viewers will come to New York. And those tourists will go to Mariella's. And they will think that's what good, NY pizza tastes like. Don't believe the Oprah-generated hype.
Totonno's - 2nd Ave. b/w 80th and 81st St.
**1/2
Tara and I had nearly the same experience at the uptown Totonno's as at the 23rd St. location. We ordered a half-plain/half-sausage-and-garlic and it was good, but not great. It's like a blurry photocopy of the original in Coney Island. The same kinds of tastes - - coal oven, good cooked sauce, fresh mozz, same taste to the crust. Yep, it's the same kind of pizza (Genus: Totonnus), but not charred enough, and just not plain ol' amazing enough (Species: Underwelmicum). As a bonus, they do have signs up making fun of the pizzeria next door that sells pizza by weight. I can't remember them exactly, but it's sort of like, "Why the hell would you buy pizza by weight?" Okay, I'm exaggerating. Slightly.
Pepe's - Bridgeport, Ct.
***
Yes, yes. I know the original Pepe's is in New Haven, and, yes, I know I haven't been there...but I was in Bridgeport. What do you want? Cunningham took me and Tara to Pepe's, where the pies are irregularly shaped, sliced into narrow wedges, covered in strange toppings, and ginormous. Oh, and they're pretty good, too. It was in the same pizza family as Modern Apizza and Sally's (unsurprisingly), but was a bit better than either. Again, the crust wasn't charred on the bottom the way I like it (though it was a coal oven, what gives, Connecticut?), the cheese was slightly overcooked to my tastebuds, and it was a bit chewier than I prefer, but it was quite good. We got a small white clam pie (excellent) and a large (meaning: huge) pie split between plain and bacon (good). Bacon? Yeah, bacon, pancetta's unruly, nitrite-filled cousin. The bacon was a bit much, I have to admit, but the pie was pretty tasty. Bridgeport, like New Haven, also has a line to get in. We waited a good half-hour early on a Saturday evening. While waiting we looked in on those who were already eating, comfortable and warm, and felt deep stabs of envy. So, if you want good pizza and an opportunity to break the tenth commandment, head to Pepe's in Bridgeport!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Randominnyc Explainer
Slate's Explainer apparently can't answer all the questions it receives, especially those of somewhat dubious validity. Anyway, instead of mocking Slate, I've decided to pitch in, to shaaaaaare the looooooad.
Q: Why do train whistles at night always sound lonely and mournful? Not so in the daytime.
A: Because train whistles are made from unbaptized babies and unbaptized babies always sound sad at night because that is when they feel their separation from the Almighty most acutely.
Q: Lasers are now powerful and small (at least I think they are), so why don't our troops carry laser guns?
A:Because lasers can't go through overturned tables. Watch GI Joe, people.
Q: What would happen to the stock market if a meteor impacted the earth? What would happen to the global markets and the U.S. market? Say a meteor hits inside U.S. borders and takes out two states.
A: The price of Meteor Insurance, INC would likely go down somewhat.
Q: How clean is bar soap in a public bathroom? Is it "self-cleaning," since it's soap? It seems like a health hazard to me.
A: What Five Year Plan are you currently living under that there are still bars of soap in your public bathrooms?
Q: Why do humans die so young? In biblical times, people lived for several hundred years; now living to 100 is considered a long life. What happened?
A: Why do leprechauns no longer hand out gold? Why didn't that genie grant my wishes? Why doesn't Sparkles the Unicorn come visit anymore? The answer: Fake shit doesn't happen.
Q: Just suppose, one day someone wants to sell you an old gold bar. You don't know if it belongs to any treasure, and you can't find out if there is any reward for it, if it was a lost treasure. How would you go about melting it and selling it? The same would go for a gemstone about the size of a dinner plate. How would you go about selling it? If you're living in a country that is corrupt and you cannot trust the government, or anyone else, what can you do?
A: HELLO. I AM THE PRINCE OF NIGERIA. PLEES SEND ME YOUR GOLD BAR FOR TO GET MY TREASURE OUT OF THE COUNTRY.
Q: What is the richest religion? Scientology has a lot of Hollywood stars and I think they actually make their members give money, but Catholicism is a very old religion with its own country. Also, Islam has a lot of members but I don't know about their money situation.
A: Scientology is that friend with the nice apartment who misses his credit card payments. Catholicism is your aunt with the house in Westchester who gives out pennies on Halloween. Islam is that guy who works weekends as a cab driver even though he doesn't have a taxi license.
Q: Are UFOs confirmed to be from other Alien Planets?
A: Yes. That "U stands for Unidentified" thing is a fucking smokescreen.
Q: Why do train whistles at night always sound lonely and mournful? Not so in the daytime.
A: Because train whistles are made from unbaptized babies and unbaptized babies always sound sad at night because that is when they feel their separation from the Almighty most acutely.
Q: Lasers are now powerful and small (at least I think they are), so why don't our troops carry laser guns?
A:Because lasers can't go through overturned tables. Watch GI Joe, people.
Q: What would happen to the stock market if a meteor impacted the earth? What would happen to the global markets and the U.S. market? Say a meteor hits inside U.S. borders and takes out two states.
A: The price of Meteor Insurance, INC would likely go down somewhat.
Q: How clean is bar soap in a public bathroom? Is it "self-cleaning," since it's soap? It seems like a health hazard to me.
A: What Five Year Plan are you currently living under that there are still bars of soap in your public bathrooms?
Q: Why do humans die so young? In biblical times, people lived for several hundred years; now living to 100 is considered a long life. What happened?
A: Why do leprechauns no longer hand out gold? Why didn't that genie grant my wishes? Why doesn't Sparkles the Unicorn come visit anymore? The answer: Fake shit doesn't happen.
Q: Just suppose, one day someone wants to sell you an old gold bar. You don't know if it belongs to any treasure, and you can't find out if there is any reward for it, if it was a lost treasure. How would you go about melting it and selling it? The same would go for a gemstone about the size of a dinner plate. How would you go about selling it? If you're living in a country that is corrupt and you cannot trust the government, or anyone else, what can you do?
A: HELLO. I AM THE PRINCE OF NIGERIA. PLEES SEND ME YOUR GOLD BAR FOR TO GET MY TREASURE OUT OF THE COUNTRY.
Q: What is the richest religion? Scientology has a lot of Hollywood stars and I think they actually make their members give money, but Catholicism is a very old religion with its own country. Also, Islam has a lot of members but I don't know about their money situation.
A: Scientology is that friend with the nice apartment who misses his credit card payments. Catholicism is your aunt with the house in Westchester who gives out pennies on Halloween. Islam is that guy who works weekends as a cab driver even though he doesn't have a taxi license.
Q: Are UFOs confirmed to be from other Alien Planets?
A: Yes. That "U stands for Unidentified" thing is a fucking smokescreen.
Thursday, December 07, 2006
A Random Idiot on the Internet Tells you his Favorite Music of 2006. Now Pay Attention.
Hoo-ray!
- Tom Waits - "Orphans" As good as everyone says. If not better. Weird. Eclectic. Pitchfork called it a "shadow best-of." That's pretty true.
- The Thermals - "The Body, the Blood, the Machine" Angry, tuneful, witty. What else does one need?
- Justin Timberlake - "FutureSex/Lovesounds" This album is made up of only good things. Like sex. And Michael Jackson when he was cool. And Prince. I listen to it all the goddamned time.
- Neko Case - "Fox Confessor Brings the Flood" I can't stop listening to this album. Her voice is so good. The songs make weird, unexpected turns.
- The Gothic Archies - "The Tragic Treasury" Took me a few listenes to really enjoy it. And not every song is great...but what's great is great in all the ways I want it to be. Witty. Dark. Rhyme-y. Stephin Merritt is made of smart.
- Sufjan Stevens - "The Avalanche" "Oh, it's just leftovers?" True. But so is that Turkey sandwich on the day after Thanksgiving. And they are both FUCKING AWESOME.
- Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan - "Ballad of the Broken Seas" I feel like I shouldn't like Mark Lanegan. Pretentious, meet portentous. Now make a baby: it's Mark Lanegan. "What a cute baby!" -k
- Thom Yorke - "Eraser" Thom sounds lonely. In a good, pretty way. Maybe he misses Radiohead. Nah, he's just sad.
- Arctic Monkeys - "Whatever People Say I am" So, so good. Did this come out last year? Whatever. They deserve all the love they've gotten.
- Mountain Goats - "Get Lonely" Yes, it's sad. And it's not quite as good as The Sunset Tree. But it's still really good.
- The Scissor Sisters - "Ta-Da" Maybe I shouldn't like this. And maybe I shouldn't eat all the leftover Halloween candy. But I do.
- Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins - "Rabbit Fur Coat" Pretty voice + Good songwriting = Very Good. Bonus: Twins!
Close!
- Yo La Tengo - "I am Not Afraid of You and I will Kick your Ass" I loved the title. Then I just kinda liked the album. Now I quite like the album. Not sure how this is going to wind up.
- Decemberists - "The Crane Wife" Haven't listened to it enough. But when I do, I enjoy it.
- Solomon Burke - "Nashville" Sometimes I like you. But then sometimes you're boring. Be less boring.
- The Black Keys - "Magic Potion" I like the songs, really like them, but can't remember any of them. Know why? 'Cos they sound like all the other Black Keys songs. It's time to make like the White Stripes, Other Rock/Blues Duo, and start experimenting.
- Drive By Truckers - "A Blessing and a Curse" Some really good songs ("Aftermath USA," Gravity's Gone"), but too many that don't do enough for me.
- Tenacious D - Soundtrack It makes me laugh more than it should. And some of the songs are so spot on that it's amazing. And Dio sings on the first track. But it's still not an album.
- The Raconteurs - "Broken Boy Soldiers" Did I like this as much as I thought I did?
- Howe Gelb - "Sno Angel Like You" Haven't listened to it enough, but enjoy it when I do.
- Outkast - "Idlewild" Ridiculously uneven. Pretty damn weird, too. And yet, enough of it sounds enough like Outkast to make me happy.
- Gnarls Barkley - "St. Elsewhere" I loved you. But we drifted apart. It's not you. It's me.
- Bruce Springsteen - "We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions" I tried. It's nice and all. It runs on...Folk Power!
- Yeah Yeah Yeahs - "Show Your Bones" I liked the first one a lot. This one, kinda "meh."
- Sparklehorse - "Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain" Haven't listened enough. Not as good as "It's a Wonderful Life," but good. I think. Maybe.
- The Hold Steady - "Boys and Girls in America" I like you, but I'm not in like with you. But I'll give you another try.
- Bob Dylan - "Modern Time" You set the bar too high on "Love and Theft" (and "Blood on the Tracks" and "Highway 61 Revisited" and...). This album is good...but definitely not great. Actually, not even sure on good. I haven't listened to it in over a month, except for "Nettie Moore."
C'mon!
- CSS - "Cansei Se Ser Sexy" I do not understand the appeal of this band
- The Strokes - "First Impressions of Earth" Do better. I still enjoy the other two albums against my better judgment. Make me like this one, too. And not just "Juicebox."
- Scott Walker - "The Drift" This album makes me want to cry. In fear. Why do people like this? Terrifying. Like crying-while-eating scary.
- Flaming Lips - "War Against the Mystics" I happily listened to this for a while. And then it started annoying me. And then it just seemed loud and bad. Is this how the rest of the world feels about the entirety of the Flaming Lips' output?
- Nellie McKay - "Pretty Little Head" I gave Nellie McKay the benefit of the doubt last time. And then this happened. When it's not boring, it's annoying. Go make a real album, hippie! (Note: Nellie McKay isn't a hippie.)
- Destroyer - "Destroyer's Rubies" Why are you so loved?
- Pearl Jam - "Pearl Jam" Sounding like you did ten years ago does not a "return to form" make.
- Jerry Lee Lewis - "Last Man Standing" Should be like Johnny Cash's American Recordings. Instead, it's like Santana's duets albums. Poop.
- Elvis Costello & Allain Toussant - "The River in Reverse" Good intentions don't make good albums.
- Neil Young - "Living with War" See: "The River in Reverse"
- Christina Aguilera - "Back to Basics" You, madam, are no Justin Timberlake.
- Beck - "The Information" I cannot hum, remember, or quote a lyric from a song on this album. It makes me sad to say that. Now I have to go listen to "Midnite Vultures" and cry while dancing.
TV on the Radio - "Return to Cookie Mountain" Everyone loves you. I listened to you again last night. You leave me cold.
Emmylou Harris and Mark Knopfler - "All the Roadrunning" Pretty. But sleepytime pretty. Someone's mother loves this.
David Gilmour - "On an Island" You are not Roger Waters. And now, you sound like his dad. Or my dad. Or...if Jimmy Buffet had played guitar on "The Wall," he'd make an album like this. Basically: there aren't enough bad metaphors to describe how lame this album is.
Wild Card!
- Various - "Rogue's Gallery: Pirate Ballads, Sea Songs, and Chanteys" Do you need an album of pirate songs? No. But should you download Baby Gramps "throat singing" on "Cape Cod Girls"? Probably not, either. Why is John C. Reilly Singing on this? And, not badly?
- Various - "Plague Songs" Songs about-kinda the plagues in Exodus. Cody Chessnutt's "Boils" is a keeper (refrain: "BOILS!"). As is Rufus Wainwright's Katonah [if only for shouting out the Taconic Pkwy]. Westchester in the HOUSE! Whoops.
- Various - "Harry Smith Project Live" Uneven and probably unnecessary. But watch as David Johansen's version of "James Alley Blues" trumps Wilco's. Also: Nick Cave approaches his scariest with "John the Revelator." Not as scary as Scott Walker's "Drift," but scary. Oh, and Lou Reed's "See that my Grave is Kept Clean" is great.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Someone call the OED
"I hope it was a lot," Tom said with a thin and charmless smile. "I hope it was at least a thousand [zombie-type things that were killed], and I hope they slow-cooked them. I find myself thinking of some restaurant chain or other that used to advertise 'broasted' chicken.'[...]"
-from p. 276 of this edition of "Cell" by Stephen King.
At first I thought I'd spotted the first reference ever to the word broasted in a work of fiction, and was happy. Turns out, broasted has appeared in numerous books according to a Google books search. While most are books on food and/or travel, there are several in fictional works. The two that stand out are Stewart O'Nan's Speed Queen, and Still Life with Crows by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. Now, Child and Preston are probably, next to Koontz and Crichton, the closest thing to King's competition in the blockbuster horror-ish thriller category, and O'Nan's book's plot apparently centers around a manuscript being sent to a writer called "The King of Horror" (that's what Amazon says, anyway). Also, I'm pretty sure King blurbed O'Nan's A Prayer for the Dying. Where am I going with this. Nowhere. Except we can now safely say: horror writers love the word broasted.
Finally, for those interested in knowing what broasting is, no, it is not baking + roasting or broiling + roasting (or, as Mr. King suggests, slow-cooking). It's the brand name of a pressure-frying process. One makes broasted chicken in a broaster brand pressure fryer using broaster brand seasonings (an aside: it seems that KFC, at least originally, pressure fried its chicken). I sampled broasted chicken in Indiana at Rachel's Hi-Way Cafe in Alexandria. We saw about 156 restaurants boasting of broasting, and I finally whined enough that we pulled over and ordered some. Before we pulled over, Tara said, "It's just gonna be fried chicken." She was right, but left out the fact that it would take twenty-five minutes for a single order and be styrofoam-meltingly, mouth burningly hot when we finally tasted it in the car. Slate took on broasted chicken here. And, if you'd like to find out firsthand that, yes, it's just fried chicken, you can click here and search for a location near you. But don't.
-from p. 276 of this edition of "Cell" by Stephen King.
At first I thought I'd spotted the first reference ever to the word broasted in a work of fiction, and was happy. Turns out, broasted has appeared in numerous books according to a Google books search. While most are books on food and/or travel, there are several in fictional works. The two that stand out are Stewart O'Nan's Speed Queen, and Still Life with Crows by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. Now, Child and Preston are probably, next to Koontz and Crichton, the closest thing to King's competition in the blockbuster horror-ish thriller category, and O'Nan's book's plot apparently centers around a manuscript being sent to a writer called "The King of Horror" (that's what Amazon says, anyway). Also, I'm pretty sure King blurbed O'Nan's A Prayer for the Dying. Where am I going with this. Nowhere. Except we can now safely say: horror writers love the word broasted.
Finally, for those interested in knowing what broasting is, no, it is not baking + roasting or broiling + roasting (or, as Mr. King suggests, slow-cooking). It's the brand name of a pressure-frying process. One makes broasted chicken in a broaster brand pressure fryer using broaster brand seasonings (an aside: it seems that KFC, at least originally, pressure fried its chicken). I sampled broasted chicken in Indiana at Rachel's Hi-Way Cafe in Alexandria. We saw about 156 restaurants boasting of broasting, and I finally whined enough that we pulled over and ordered some. Before we pulled over, Tara said, "It's just gonna be fried chicken." She was right, but left out the fact that it would take twenty-five minutes for a single order and be styrofoam-meltingly, mouth burningly hot when we finally tasted it in the car. Slate took on broasted chicken here. And, if you'd like to find out firsthand that, yes, it's just fried chicken, you can click here and search for a location near you. But don't.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Possible Titles for Negative Reviews of the Bob Dylan/Twyla Tharp Musical
Here at randominnyc, we strive to be helpful. That's why we've created a list for theater critics who want to pan the new Bob Dylan/Twyla Tharp musical "The Times They Are A-Changing," but aren't familiar enough with Bob's oeuvre to really get a good dig in.
-It's Alright, Bob (It's Only Broadway)
-Shelter from the Stage
-Things Have Changed. Not for the Better.
-You Threw it All Away
-It’s Not All Over Now, Baby Blue…It’s Just Intermission
-There Must Be Some Kind of Way Out of Here
-Oh, Mercy!
-I Don’t Believe You (Twyla Tharp)
-Chimes of Crapdom
-The All-White Jury Agrees: This Show is Terrible!
[with zick and ravitz]
-It's Alright, Bob (It's Only Broadway)
-Shelter from the Stage
-Things Have Changed. Not for the Better.
-You Threw it All Away
-It’s Not All Over Now, Baby Blue…It’s Just Intermission
-There Must Be Some Kind of Way Out of Here
-Oh, Mercy!
-I Don’t Believe You (Twyla Tharp)
-Chimes of Crapdom
-The All-White Jury Agrees: This Show is Terrible!
[with zick and ravitz]
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Six Word Story
In the spirit of this Wired Magazine feature I give you my own six word story (with apologies to Ray Bradbury):
Once, books were printed. Now? Burned.
Once, books were printed. Now? Burned.
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Heading to Hollywood: #6
The CONTRACTOR, oh, where should I begin?
Blueblocker shades? The beard used as a chin?
The seven inches of expos-ed chest?
The hopeful-hopeless comb-over (the best!)?
So many points there on that tasteless chart
That pointed to a sad and wounded heart:
"That fuckin' bitch," he said with great ado,
"If I see her, I tell you what I do."
He ne'er finished that thought, got too choked up.
"Fuckin' slut. Fuckin', goddamned whore, coked up
Ev'ry day and then, what? She gets it all.
She's laughin' now, yeah, shoppin' at the mall
On my motherfucking Roosevelt dime."
Oh, love's a cliff! The meek, they dare not climb!
"I'll show her, though," he said it more than twice,
"The sun, the sand, the girls. Shit, this sounds nice."
He planned on making cash with swimming pools,
"A great biz: take your time and milk the fools.
'I'm sorry, lady, hit shallow bedrock.
You want it quick, you can just suck my cock.'"
Where was he from? Westchester? Manhattan?
No, sir, from that island they named Staten.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]
Blueblocker shades? The beard used as a chin?
The seven inches of expos-ed chest?
The hopeful-hopeless comb-over (the best!)?
So many points there on that tasteless chart
That pointed to a sad and wounded heart:
"That fuckin' bitch," he said with great ado,
"If I see her, I tell you what I do."
He ne'er finished that thought, got too choked up.
"Fuckin' slut. Fuckin', goddamned whore, coked up
Ev'ry day and then, what? She gets it all.
She's laughin' now, yeah, shoppin' at the mall
On my motherfucking Roosevelt dime."
Oh, love's a cliff! The meek, they dare not climb!
"I'll show her, though," he said it more than twice,
"The sun, the sand, the girls. Shit, this sounds nice."
He planned on making cash with swimming pools,
"A great biz: take your time and milk the fools.
'I'm sorry, lady, hit shallow bedrock.
You want it quick, you can just suck my cock.'"
Where was he from? Westchester? Manhattan?
No, sir, from that island they named Staten.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Heading to Hollywood: #5
There was a guy, was just about my age.
Figured when he arrived he'd be the rage.
He was a RAPPER, called himself G-man,
And claimed Snoop knew his stuff and was a fan.
I know 'cos he was working on a line
Describing how he'd headed out to find
The fame the five buroughs had denied him.
It was terribly mean and deadly grim.
And also premature, if you ask me,
I'll say it but not claim it's quality:
"You bitches think you know me, suck my dick,
I never showed you nothing, you a trick.
Think I should owe you something, get in line,
Your shit is ugly, fucker, mine is fine."
Yeah, that's what I remember as the best,
(And I won't bother to repeat the rest -
Most all his rhymes, they had an awful slant,
And I was never sure just what they meant.)
I know that I'm supposed to think it's art,
But I prefer that music have some heart -
I'd rather Dylan, Pearl Jam or the Dead
Than any lyric that the rapper said.
Vernacular! Give shit a fancy name
And some claim it and Dante are the same.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]
Figured when he arrived he'd be the rage.
He was a RAPPER, called himself G-man,
And claimed Snoop knew his stuff and was a fan.
I know 'cos he was working on a line
Describing how he'd headed out to find
The fame the five buroughs had denied him.
It was terribly mean and deadly grim.
And also premature, if you ask me,
I'll say it but not claim it's quality:
"You bitches think you know me, suck my dick,
I never showed you nothing, you a trick.
Think I should owe you something, get in line,
Your shit is ugly, fucker, mine is fine."
Yeah, that's what I remember as the best,
(And I won't bother to repeat the rest -
Most all his rhymes, they had an awful slant,
And I was never sure just what they meant.)
I know that I'm supposed to think it's art,
But I prefer that music have some heart -
I'd rather Dylan, Pearl Jam or the Dead
Than any lyric that the rapper said.
Vernacular! Give shit a fancy name
And some claim it and Dante are the same.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Southhampton: kitsch
Tara and I stayed in the Hamptons on Labor Day. Southhampton, to be exact. We stayed in the greatest house ever. Look!
Monday, September 25, 2006
Heading to Hollywood: #4
I can hear what you're thinking it's so clear,
"He said it was awful, and yet look here:
Two pretty girls...he thinks he should complain.
This is hell? Only pleasure, no real pain?"
Don't worry friend, the bus it was jam packed
With freaks and oddballs and others who lack
The basic skills possessed by you and me
To sit and drink and talk and simply be.
There was this guy - NEUROTIC to the core.
Always yapping: a monumental bore.
"Excuse me sir," this is just how he spoke,
"Excuse me, but I think the toilet's broke."
You know, first it was too cold, next too hot,
Never happy with that which he just got.
He said that he was rich, but couldn't fly,
A bump or dip would make him scream and cry.
I wished he'd left that nonsense in the air;
He'd hear a noise and like a siren blare.
"Oh, what was that? I think we blew a tire!"
I quickly grew to hate this new town crier.
He wore thick glasses and a mustache wisp,
He spoke in a real high-pitched, whining lisp.
Why would someone like that take such a trip?
What was so important he couldn't skip?
His dad was dying, that's what he said,
Needed to see him before he was dead.
I felt a bit of sadness at his plight,
But mostly I just couldn't stand his sight.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]
"He said it was awful, and yet look here:
Two pretty girls...he thinks he should complain.
This is hell? Only pleasure, no real pain?"
Don't worry friend, the bus it was jam packed
With freaks and oddballs and others who lack
The basic skills possessed by you and me
To sit and drink and talk and simply be.
There was this guy - NEUROTIC to the core.
Always yapping: a monumental bore.
"Excuse me sir," this is just how he spoke,
"Excuse me, but I think the toilet's broke."
You know, first it was too cold, next too hot,
Never happy with that which he just got.
He said that he was rich, but couldn't fly,
A bump or dip would make him scream and cry.
I wished he'd left that nonsense in the air;
He'd hear a noise and like a siren blare.
"Oh, what was that? I think we blew a tire!"
I quickly grew to hate this new town crier.
He wore thick glasses and a mustache wisp,
He spoke in a real high-pitched, whining lisp.
Why would someone like that take such a trip?
What was so important he couldn't skip?
His dad was dying, that's what he said,
Needed to see him before he was dead.
I felt a bit of sadness at his plight,
But mostly I just couldn't stand his sight.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]
Saturday, September 23, 2006
Heading to Hollywood: #3
The goddess who was sitting up ahead.
The legs up to her ass, the bleached-blonde head.
There are girls you should bring home to mother,
Her, you would bring home for something other.
(In fact, it really might not be so bad
To keep her out of reach from dear old dad.)
If deified, what would her domain be?
The sun, the moon, the fields, the tranquil sea?
She'd tell you to stuff your past'ral notions,
N'also flush your soporific oceans.
I think she'd be the queen of pounding beats,
Of fishnet stockings worn with schoolgirl pleats.
Ah, she'd be the keeper of metal poles,
Stilettos pointing out from women's soles.
She was a STRIPPER, a gorgeous one who
Had figured she should try out something new.
She was going to give mod'ling a shot,
To see for once if she had "it" or not.
I don't know if she did, but she had me,
And if she'd pitched it, I'd have drunk the sea.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]
The legs up to her ass, the bleached-blonde head.
There are girls you should bring home to mother,
Her, you would bring home for something other.
(In fact, it really might not be so bad
To keep her out of reach from dear old dad.)
If deified, what would her domain be?
The sun, the moon, the fields, the tranquil sea?
She'd tell you to stuff your past'ral notions,
N'also flush your soporific oceans.
I think she'd be the queen of pounding beats,
Of fishnet stockings worn with schoolgirl pleats.
Ah, she'd be the keeper of metal poles,
Stilettos pointing out from women's soles.
She was a STRIPPER, a gorgeous one who
Had figured she should try out something new.
She was going to give mod'ling a shot,
To see for once if she had "it" or not.
I don't know if she did, but she had me,
And if she'd pitched it, I'd have drunk the sea.
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.]
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Heading to Hollywood: #2
And so we'll start with her, Ms. Riot Grrl,
The UNDERGRAD so certain of the world.
Priv'lege, she could spot from miles away
From Bennington or Sarah Lawrence, say.
She was headed West for some good reason:
To shame the latest crook for some new treason.
Don't stand so close to her, you could get sued;
All pins and politics and attitude.
"Sleater Kinney, who's that?" I mutely thought,
"Someone who'd been imprisoned, maybe bought?"
And yet, despite her efforts she was cute,
Pink hair, ripped jeans, Sontag: a sexy brute.
Too bad she hated me right off the bat
When I kinda stared a touch too long at...
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here]
The UNDERGRAD so certain of the world.
Priv'lege, she could spot from miles away
From Bennington or Sarah Lawrence, say.
She was headed West for some good reason:
To shame the latest crook for some new treason.
Don't stand so close to her, you could get sued;
All pins and politics and attitude.
"Sleater Kinney, who's that?" I mutely thought,
"Someone who'd been imprisoned, maybe bought?"
And yet, despite her efforts she was cute,
Pink hair, ripped jeans, Sontag: a sexy brute.
Too bad she hated me right off the bat
When I kinda stared a touch too long at...
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here]
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Heading to Hollywood: Intro
It's 1995. Kurt Cobain is dead, yet grunge is still king. The flannel industry might as well be printing money as checkered shirts. The dot-com boom is ramping up, and jokes about hanging chads are half-a-decade away. And I, lil' k, am a high school student. And in Mr. Greco's English Lit class we read the prologue and a story or two from The Canterbury Tales. Our assignment: write our own prologue to a modern day Canterbury Tales. Being a nerd, I do it and get a kick out of it. Two years later I go to college and sell my prologue and flannel shirts for drug money and a copy of Bob Marley's "Legend."
That's not true, but I did lose the prologue and have always wanted to rewrite it (or redo it anyway, because I don't remember much of it). So, here's what I'm gonna do: At least once a week (hopefully), I'm going to post a bit of what I'll call (for now) "Heading to Hollywood." I will do my damnedest to write it in heroic couplets (more or less) and swear (scouts honor) to try to make it dirty and stupid.
Oh: and as this is being written as I go, it will also be rewritten on the fly. So, minor changes will likely sneak in here and there.
All additions will be linked to on this page.
Prologue:
No. 1 - Opening
No. 2 - The Undergrad
No. 3 - The Stripper
No. 4 - The Neurotic
No. 5 - The Rapper
No. 6 - The Contractor
That's not true, but I did lose the prologue and have always wanted to rewrite it (or redo it anyway, because I don't remember much of it). So, here's what I'm gonna do: At least once a week (hopefully), I'm going to post a bit of what I'll call (for now) "Heading to Hollywood." I will do my damnedest to write it in heroic couplets (more or less) and swear (scouts honor) to try to make it dirty and stupid.
Oh: and as this is being written as I go, it will also be rewritten on the fly. So, minor changes will likely sneak in here and there.
All additions will be linked to on this page.
Prologue:
No. 1 - Opening
No. 2 - The Undergrad
No. 3 - The Stripper
No. 5 - The Rapper
No. 6 - The Contractor
Heading to Hollywood: #1
The Port Authority, you know it, right?
D'ya know the types you see there 'round midnight?
I'll let you know the truth since we just met,
There's two: the desp'rate and the des-per-ate.
Yeah, I hear bitterness there in my voice:
It was years ago, and without a choice
It comes back to me. The sour Greyhound smell.
The still sourer people - God, was it hell.
"Hell is other people." That how it's put?
That is pretty close to true, I guess, but
Truer still: Hell's a bus that only could
Leave from New York and go to Hollywood.
Ah, bartender, another, si vous plais.
Oh wait. What was I just about to say?
It left at midnight, that awful, reeking bus,
And bleary-eyed we stumbled on. All of us,
I think, believed that we would find new life.
(New job, new love, new start...a new ex-wife.)
We'd cast our foolish plans and petty schemes
There on that sunny coast made up of dreams,
(Yes, yes, I know it's a bit of a cliche
And yet for certain dreams, the only way.)
What dream was mine, you wonder? We'll get there.
First ev'ry tale should have a maiden fair.
Mine has two: there's a harlot and a shrew.
I like to hear the bad news first, don't you?
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.
D'ya know the types you see there 'round midnight?
I'll let you know the truth since we just met,
There's two: the desp'rate and the des-per-ate.
Yeah, I hear bitterness there in my voice:
It was years ago, and without a choice
It comes back to me. The sour Greyhound smell.
The still sourer people - God, was it hell.
"Hell is other people." That how it's put?
That is pretty close to true, I guess, but
Truer still: Hell's a bus that only could
Leave from New York and go to Hollywood.
Ah, bartender, another, si vous plais.
Oh wait. What was I just about to say?
It left at midnight, that awful, reeking bus,
And bleary-eyed we stumbled on. All of us,
I think, believed that we would find new life.
(New job, new love, new start...a new ex-wife.)
We'd cast our foolish plans and petty schemes
There on that sunny coast made up of dreams,
(Yes, yes, I know it's a bit of a cliche
And yet for certain dreams, the only way.)
What dream was mine, you wonder? We'll get there.
First ev'ry tale should have a maiden fair.
Mine has two: there's a harlot and a shrew.
I like to hear the bad news first, don't you?
[To head to the Intro and Contents for "Heading to Hollywood" click here.
Monday, September 18, 2006
Other Things Justin Timberlake Considered Bringing Back before he Settled on Sexy:
- Crystal Pepsi
- The "u" in "flavour" [US only]
- LBJ's Great Society
- Helen of Troy
- The Latin Mass
- The "u" in "flavour" [US only]
- LBJ's Great Society
- Helen of Troy
- The Latin Mass
Friday, September 15, 2006
Friday, September 01, 2006
Other TV Show Political Groups
The media is going crazy for "South Park" Republicans. Here are some other groups that the media hasn't mentioned.
- "Deadwood" Greens
- "Captain Planet" Right-to-Lifers
- "Blossom" Whigs
- The First Eight or Nine Seasons of "The Simpsons" Libertarians
- "20/20 Downtown" Socialists
- "Cop Rock" Democrats
- "Deadwood" Greens
- "Captain Planet" Right-to-Lifers
- "Blossom" Whigs
- The First Eight or Nine Seasons of "The Simpsons" Libertarians
- "20/20 Downtown" Socialists
- "Cop Rock" Democrats
Monday, August 21, 2006
[review what i wrote]
Click here to read my review of The Thermals' "The Body, The Blood, The Machine."
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Teenagers who listen to
Everyone is talking about this study, and how it suggests that teenagers who listen to sexy music are more likely to have sex. But no one is discussing the other results:
- Teenagers who listen to The Arcade Fire are more likely to own ironic clothing.
- Teenagers who listen to U2 are more likely to care about stuff...and things.
- Teenagers who listen to Frank Sinatra are more likely to make it past the first round of American Idol, even thought they don't really deserve it.
- Teenagers who listen to "The Big Chill" soundtrack are more likely to actually be my parents.
- Teenagers who listen to unsexy music are more likely to have unsex.
- Teenagers who listen to Elvis Costello are more likely to complain about his recent, genre-hopping work.
- Teenagers who listen to The Grateful Dead are more likely to be living in a past that they never experienced.
- Teenagers who listen to John Mayer are more likely to write bad poetry about fucking unicorns or some other lame shit.
- Teenagers who listen to The Arcade Fire are more likely to own ironic clothing.
- Teenagers who listen to U2 are more likely to care about stuff...and things.
- Teenagers who listen to Frank Sinatra are more likely to make it past the first round of American Idol, even thought they don't really deserve it.
- Teenagers who listen to "The Big Chill" soundtrack are more likely to actually be my parents.
- Teenagers who listen to unsexy music are more likely to have unsex.
- Teenagers who listen to Elvis Costello are more likely to complain about his recent, genre-hopping work.
- Teenagers who listen to The Grateful Dead are more likely to be living in a past that they never experienced.
- Teenagers who listen to John Mayer are more likely to write bad poetry about fucking unicorns or some other lame shit.
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