Remember this kid? Not sure what brought him to mind today, but all of a sudden, I had to see this video....and wow, what is up with his parents? Why don't they wear clothes, and why do they have simulated cheetah sex in front of the kid? But before we throw them completely under the bus, his folks are also down with Bebe Jordi macking on a sista, which in my world scores big.
But how we have changed as a culture. In today's era of the viral video, Jordi would have been that vid you send to your friends out of ironic disposition or b/c you really think the kid is, in the words of Ed McMahon, "Four and a Quarter Stars." Either or, it would have begun and ended within a week, ala, "They Rapin' Ereybody Out Here" guy. But in 1993, this was a huge hit on the European song charts (which speaks VOLUMES...). Today, he's our "Charlie Bit My Finger", but back then, we can only assume it was "All Aboard the Cocaine Express" for this talented lil' fella.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Can We Talk About...Wendy's Awesome 80's Training Vids
This is just one of many, but apparently Wendy's was much cooler when Dave Thomas was still doing coke. Here is a vid from their training collection. It answers the age old question - What does John Oates' solo work sound like?
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
The Kids from Jersey Shore Save Afghanistan
A short piece I recently wrote is up on rootspeak.org. The title speaks for itself. Check it out here.
New Review: Wife to James Whelan
Originally posted on NyTheatre.com.
As they have always set out to do, the Mint Theatre has again dusted off a play that should never have been forgotten. Teresa Deevy's Wife to James Whelan is overflowing with charm and humanity, but soars on the wings of perfect direction and a fine ensemble of actors.
In Wife to James Whelan, Deevy focuses her pen on the life that binds a group of residents in a small Irish town. At the top, James Whelan, a young worker, is called to a promising job in Dublin, a move he's certain will lead to a bright, rich future. Staying behind is Nan Bowers, a tough but fiery girl desired by Whelan, though not enough to follow Nan's repeated requests to stay. As Act Two rises, seven years have passed, and among the group from Kilbeggan, much has changed. James has opened a promising bus company, while Nan, now a widow, has fallen into poverty, forcing her to beg James for work. Her desire to survive has surpassed her desire for James, and it is this change in their relationship that forces James to confront the question of who he is versus who he wants to be. Beyond Nan, James is also keeping company with the now wealthy and privileged daughter of his former boss, as well as Kate, a devoted confidant who has always longed to be more than an ear for James to bend.
From the play's title, it seems that this search for the "right" woman is what Deevy hoped to focus on. The play, however, is much more than this. In addition to its crisp, almost modern dialogue, I found the work to be very effective when viewed through James's experience, as he finds that the gold ring which he set out to grab isn't enough to bring him contentment. Between that journey and the evolution of the bond shared by Deevy's characters, Wife to James Whelan is a wonderful story to watch unfold.
In his direction of Wife, Mint artistic director Jonathan Bank strikes the perfect tone, allowing Deevy's scenes of humor and tension to exist as equals. In this way, the play mirrors life, as Deevy clearly intended it to do. Bank's staging is equally impressive. The actors' movements are purposeful and efficient, yet natural and instinctive. Like David Cromer's work with Our Town, Bank's efforts again remind me that this is what good direction looks like. But if Bank gets high marks for one thing above all else with this production, it is for his brilliant casting.
Assembled for the purpose of presenting Deevy's long forgotten work is one of the finest ensembles I have seen on a New York stage. The exchanges between these performers are those of a resident theatre company with a long history of working together. This ease is how Wife should be, as Deevy created the work for the famed company of actors at Ireland's Abbey Theatre. In each role, the ensemble does all Deevy could have intended and more. As the title character, Shawn Fagan moves well between James's competing selves—one that wants the happiness he had as a poor worker, the other longing to be the industry titan he believes he should become. As his best friend Kate, Rosie Benton is especially brilliant. Combining charm with a quiet grit, all wrapped in a deep but realistic longing for James, Benton has us hanging on her every word. The scene between Fagan and Benton in Act Two is a true delight to watch. In helping to round out the play, Aidan Redmond and Jon Fletcher do fine work as James's employees, both of whom would like financial success, though never at the expense of others. As no one in this cast deserves to be left out, high mentions also go to Jeremy S. Holm, Janie Brookshire, Thomas Matthew Kelley, and Liv Rooth.
If you haven't heard of Teresa Deevy, you're not alone. In this regard, the Mint Theatre has done a great service to us all in bringing forth Wife to James Whelan. That they have also used Deevy's intimate work to create a thoroughly enjoyable night of theatre is a bonus, though no small one at that. Here's to hoping it isn't another half century before we once again are invited into the beautiful world of Teresa Deevy.
Wife to James Whelan runs through Oct. 3 @ the Mint Theatre on 43rd St.
As they have always set out to do, the Mint Theatre has again dusted off a play that should never have been forgotten. Teresa Deevy's Wife to James Whelan is overflowing with charm and humanity, but soars on the wings of perfect direction and a fine ensemble of actors.
In Wife to James Whelan, Deevy focuses her pen on the life that binds a group of residents in a small Irish town. At the top, James Whelan, a young worker, is called to a promising job in Dublin, a move he's certain will lead to a bright, rich future. Staying behind is Nan Bowers, a tough but fiery girl desired by Whelan, though not enough to follow Nan's repeated requests to stay. As Act Two rises, seven years have passed, and among the group from Kilbeggan, much has changed. James has opened a promising bus company, while Nan, now a widow, has fallen into poverty, forcing her to beg James for work. Her desire to survive has surpassed her desire for James, and it is this change in their relationship that forces James to confront the question of who he is versus who he wants to be. Beyond Nan, James is also keeping company with the now wealthy and privileged daughter of his former boss, as well as Kate, a devoted confidant who has always longed to be more than an ear for James to bend.
From the play's title, it seems that this search for the "right" woman is what Deevy hoped to focus on. The play, however, is much more than this. In addition to its crisp, almost modern dialogue, I found the work to be very effective when viewed through James's experience, as he finds that the gold ring which he set out to grab isn't enough to bring him contentment. Between that journey and the evolution of the bond shared by Deevy's characters, Wife to James Whelan is a wonderful story to watch unfold.
In his direction of Wife, Mint artistic director Jonathan Bank strikes the perfect tone, allowing Deevy's scenes of humor and tension to exist as equals. In this way, the play mirrors life, as Deevy clearly intended it to do. Bank's staging is equally impressive. The actors' movements are purposeful and efficient, yet natural and instinctive. Like David Cromer's work with Our Town, Bank's efforts again remind me that this is what good direction looks like. But if Bank gets high marks for one thing above all else with this production, it is for his brilliant casting.
Assembled for the purpose of presenting Deevy's long forgotten work is one of the finest ensembles I have seen on a New York stage. The exchanges between these performers are those of a resident theatre company with a long history of working together. This ease is how Wife should be, as Deevy created the work for the famed company of actors at Ireland's Abbey Theatre. In each role, the ensemble does all Deevy could have intended and more. As the title character, Shawn Fagan moves well between James's competing selves—one that wants the happiness he had as a poor worker, the other longing to be the industry titan he believes he should become. As his best friend Kate, Rosie Benton is especially brilliant. Combining charm with a quiet grit, all wrapped in a deep but realistic longing for James, Benton has us hanging on her every word. The scene between Fagan and Benton in Act Two is a true delight to watch. In helping to round out the play, Aidan Redmond and Jon Fletcher do fine work as James's employees, both of whom would like financial success, though never at the expense of others. As no one in this cast deserves to be left out, high mentions also go to Jeremy S. Holm, Janie Brookshire, Thomas Matthew Kelley, and Liv Rooth.
If you haven't heard of Teresa Deevy, you're not alone. In this regard, the Mint Theatre has done a great service to us all in bringing forth Wife to James Whelan. That they have also used Deevy's intimate work to create a thoroughly enjoyable night of theatre is a bonus, though no small one at that. Here's to hoping it isn't another half century before we once again are invited into the beautiful world of Teresa Deevy.
Wife to James Whelan runs through Oct. 3 @ the Mint Theatre on 43rd St.
John McCain - Winner!
 |
| JOHN MCCAIN, YOU SO CRAZY! |
 |
| JOHN MCCAIN OUT OF OFFICE |
They said he was down, they said time to start the clock, but no - John McCain won his primary race, setting himself up for another term as the Senator from AZ. Thank goodness! I can't imagine the Senate without Ol' Maverick, kicking around the Capitol, challenging the younger Senators to games of Manchurian Checkers and cane fights. This is best for both sides of the aisle. I hate to imagine him if he lost, finding himself with nothing to do all day. Spending his mornings working out the bran/prune smoothie, or maybe chasing that wolf eyed wife of his around the house with his juiced up Lil' Maverick. And I can't bear the thought of having to see Old Man McCain, talking foreign policy with pigeons from a park bench, or scaring children at the entrance to Wal Mart. "My friends, I need to check your receipt."
So good on you, John McCain. You might be a split tongued politician, but at least with you in office, we know exactly where you are while we are away at work and unable to watch your every move. And with the cost of in home health care, it seems like a win-win all around.
Monday, August 23, 2010
The Twitter is Here, The Twitter is Here - I'm Somebody!
But follow me anyway @blogtastesfunny.
LET'S TWEET TOGETHER
Saturday, August 21, 2010
New Review: P.O.
New review from this year's Fringe Festival. Life in the post office...ain't no trip to Cleveland.
If you think life is unbearable the next time you're stuck in line at the post office, take a second and imagine what it's like for the boys and girls in blue on the other side of the counter. The hours are long, the work repetitive, and in this age of the machine (and FedEx), you're seen as insane to not take the increasingly paltry "early retirement option" being shoved at you by management. It's a bleak state of affairs being painted by Scott Klavan in the tightly wound, thoroughly enjoyable drama P.O.
In his 23rd year of employment in the sorting room of a Queens post office, Mike marches into yet another Monday only to find himself stuck having to work beside Paul, a "floater" with a thirst for beautiful women and home-made dance steps. From Mike's first glare at Paul, their oil-and-water relationship is palpable. As P.O. evolves however, it becomes clear that Klavan is after more than the typical "odd couple" scenario. Mike is unhappy with what he sees as the dying of the culture his immigrant father helped to build. In his America, people are promoted because of their work, not skin tone or accent. People, not machines, sort the mail, and they do it with pride, and in the end, are rewarded with fair retirement packages fought for and won by a union that still cares about its members. It is this world Mike wishes to pass down to his kids, at least on those few occasions that the wife he once controlled allows visitation. Further disrupting Mike's teetering surroundings is the outlook of Paul. Unattached but not unaware, Paul sees no reason to fight that which cannot be overcome. The ways of the world have too much momentum, so what's the use? In a small room at the back of the aging post office, these two distinct world views clash in a play that is more about ideas than story.
John Amedro's performance as Mike has been with me for a couple days now. It's hard-shelled and from deep resources, yet accessible. Mike's own failings and personal baggage are constantly warring with what he sees as the demise of a culture, and the anger emitted by this conflict is felt all throughout the Kraine Theatre. Out of a very tough, disgruntled aging man, Amedro gives us something very human. It's worth the trip to East 4th Street to see. As Paul, playwright Klavan is less successful in painting a full picture of his character. While I agree with Paul's philosophy much more than Mike's old school mentality, I never found myself concerned with his outcome. Klavan also has a very slow delivery, which hampered the pace in moments that should have been much more electric. P.O. could also benefit from more thoughtful staging. While director Ian Streicher has squeezed much of the juice from this script and its two characters, the blocking seems an afterthought, with uninspired movement and fight scenes that were awkward and sloppy.
P.O. is a fine play because for once (it seems), the work being done onstage is about something more than lost love, bad family relations, or a twentysomething finding himself. With two characters on the back end of midlife, their concerns are grounded in being alive long enough to see the nation, its culture, and economy change entirely. No job, even a government one, is secure, being white doesn't guarantee as much as it once did, and technology is pushing us forward at a breakneck speed. Klavan, in focusing on this aspect of our modern life has given the New York theatre a really wonderful gift; one which I hope doesn't fade away with the Fringe.
If you think life is unbearable the next time you're stuck in line at the post office, take a second and imagine what it's like for the boys and girls in blue on the other side of the counter. The hours are long, the work repetitive, and in this age of the machine (and FedEx), you're seen as insane to not take the increasingly paltry "early retirement option" being shoved at you by management. It's a bleak state of affairs being painted by Scott Klavan in the tightly wound, thoroughly enjoyable drama P.O.
In his 23rd year of employment in the sorting room of a Queens post office, Mike marches into yet another Monday only to find himself stuck having to work beside Paul, a "floater" with a thirst for beautiful women and home-made dance steps. From Mike's first glare at Paul, their oil-and-water relationship is palpable. As P.O. evolves however, it becomes clear that Klavan is after more than the typical "odd couple" scenario. Mike is unhappy with what he sees as the dying of the culture his immigrant father helped to build. In his America, people are promoted because of their work, not skin tone or accent. People, not machines, sort the mail, and they do it with pride, and in the end, are rewarded with fair retirement packages fought for and won by a union that still cares about its members. It is this world Mike wishes to pass down to his kids, at least on those few occasions that the wife he once controlled allows visitation. Further disrupting Mike's teetering surroundings is the outlook of Paul. Unattached but not unaware, Paul sees no reason to fight that which cannot be overcome. The ways of the world have too much momentum, so what's the use? In a small room at the back of the aging post office, these two distinct world views clash in a play that is more about ideas than story.
John Amedro's performance as Mike has been with me for a couple days now. It's hard-shelled and from deep resources, yet accessible. Mike's own failings and personal baggage are constantly warring with what he sees as the demise of a culture, and the anger emitted by this conflict is felt all throughout the Kraine Theatre. Out of a very tough, disgruntled aging man, Amedro gives us something very human. It's worth the trip to East 4th Street to see. As Paul, playwright Klavan is less successful in painting a full picture of his character. While I agree with Paul's philosophy much more than Mike's old school mentality, I never found myself concerned with his outcome. Klavan also has a very slow delivery, which hampered the pace in moments that should have been much more electric. P.O. could also benefit from more thoughtful staging. While director Ian Streicher has squeezed much of the juice from this script and its two characters, the blocking seems an afterthought, with uninspired movement and fight scenes that were awkward and sloppy.
P.O. is a fine play because for once (it seems), the work being done onstage is about something more than lost love, bad family relations, or a twentysomething finding himself. With two characters on the back end of midlife, their concerns are grounded in being alive long enough to see the nation, its culture, and economy change entirely. No job, even a government one, is secure, being white doesn't guarantee as much as it once did, and technology is pushing us forward at a breakneck speed. Klavan, in focusing on this aspect of our modern life has given the New York theatre a really wonderful gift; one which I hope doesn't fade away with the Fringe.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
New Review: Feed the Monster @ 2010 FringeNYC
from NyTheatre.com:
Call me crazy, but when I attend a show produced under the banner of FringeNYC, my expectations for seeing the unique, different, and maybe even odd, are high. Aware that not all 197 productions in this year's festival will be "great theatre," I at least hope to have my notions of live performance challenged in one way or another. Feed the Monster, playing now as part of the 2010 Fringe Festival, does nothing of the sort. It is a safe, vanilla solo show that, in spite of a mostly charming performance by Stephanie Ehrlich, fails to make for an exciting night of theatre.
For Feed the Monster, the audience is transported back to 1985. It is the final night of the fictitious, yet legendary, nightclub, The Village Vestibule. Once a haven for the New York counter culture and the great folk singers of the '60s, the Vestibule is now closing. Ehrlich's character, singer Rita Emerson, was artistically born on the Vestibule stage, which is what brings her back after many years away. Recounting her story from Jewish girl in Brighton Beach to Left Coast rock goddess and back, Emerson takes this last Vestibule audience on a cautionary journey of "sex, jugs, and rock n' roll." The program's words, not mine.
Told through both Ehrlich's singing and text, the story of Emerson's attempt to find personal acceptance never delves very deep, forcing Feed to fall short of being the engrossing character study it wants to be. Most of Rita's personal struggles rest upon her own ugly duckling syndrome, a trait I found difficult to grasp as Ehrlich is neither heavyset nor unattractive. As it was she who wrote Feed the Monster, I found it distracting that Ehrlich created a character for herself she doesn't physically resemble in the least.
Ehrlich can be quite funny at times, and has a gift for silly voices, even if they're mostly in the same Brooklyn accent we've been hearing for decades now. Her singing voice is also strong, but got lost in the poor sound and mostly bland song list.
In spite of a story that traverses across three of our nation's wildest decades, Feed the Monster couldn't feel safer. I came looking for a meal, but the monster only fed me a snack.
Call me crazy, but when I attend a show produced under the banner of FringeNYC, my expectations for seeing the unique, different, and maybe even odd, are high. Aware that not all 197 productions in this year's festival will be "great theatre," I at least hope to have my notions of live performance challenged in one way or another. Feed the Monster, playing now as part of the 2010 Fringe Festival, does nothing of the sort. It is a safe, vanilla solo show that, in spite of a mostly charming performance by Stephanie Ehrlich, fails to make for an exciting night of theatre.
For Feed the Monster, the audience is transported back to 1985. It is the final night of the fictitious, yet legendary, nightclub, The Village Vestibule. Once a haven for the New York counter culture and the great folk singers of the '60s, the Vestibule is now closing. Ehrlich's character, singer Rita Emerson, was artistically born on the Vestibule stage, which is what brings her back after many years away. Recounting her story from Jewish girl in Brighton Beach to Left Coast rock goddess and back, Emerson takes this last Vestibule audience on a cautionary journey of "sex, jugs, and rock n' roll." The program's words, not mine.
Told through both Ehrlich's singing and text, the story of Emerson's attempt to find personal acceptance never delves very deep, forcing Feed to fall short of being the engrossing character study it wants to be. Most of Rita's personal struggles rest upon her own ugly duckling syndrome, a trait I found difficult to grasp as Ehrlich is neither heavyset nor unattractive. As it was she who wrote Feed the Monster, I found it distracting that Ehrlich created a character for herself she doesn't physically resemble in the least.
Ehrlich can be quite funny at times, and has a gift for silly voices, even if they're mostly in the same Brooklyn accent we've been hearing for decades now. Her singing voice is also strong, but got lost in the poor sound and mostly bland song list.
In spite of a story that traverses across three of our nation's wildest decades, Feed the Monster couldn't feel safer. I came looking for a meal, but the monster only fed me a snack.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Ron Ron Takes a Turn in the Clink
Luckily, he has already been released, though good luck getting a job at a t-shirt store or gelato cafe now. Not with that on his sheet. Stay strong, Ron Ron. And if Samantha ain't waiting for you when you get out, I am...I am. (cue Edwin McCain's "I'll Be" as credits roll)
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