- 1988 nadir of 'white culture' 1999 was no great shakes either Action Figure Theater aging Baltimore--backed-up toilet of a town Baltimore--the Concrete Vixen at her Best baseball -- what a dull pastime better living big f*cking tobacco globs Buffum's Fragrance Counter Burt Reynolds -- great actor or GREATEST ACTOR? Burt Reynolds cartoon Carl Perkins Chris Gaffney city motto comedy crayola dump Danny Gatton Dan Sartain Deadbolt -- The Scariest Band In The World! Doc Watson dumb ideas you get from books about music ELVIS IS EVERYWHERE Esskay Pea and the Bloated Pissoirs Eulogy for Lazy Pete Eulogy for ol' Sherman fat bastards fathers and sons film criticism futurama guy with a boner for Trevor Rabin Hee-Hawg Herman Hi-Fi & the Roadburners Hobo Babylon I'm too old for this shit introduction James Bond Jandek Jimmy Swope kids these days Last Day in the old townhouse Leffingwell's Grocery lemme see them pasteboards there son m Minutemen Monkees tribute band music and losers -- I call it 'loozik' old chum Original Oil Kilz the Jizz Stain DESTROYER ottobar people you'd already know about if you were as adventurous a fellow as I am periodontist's wet dream Putz Poodinsk and the Nite-Liters Putz Poodinski ramones t shirt ridiculous people in music documentaries Rockie Bee Roger Moore sexlexia Shunt McGuppin skinny jeans snobbery soundtrack for the paleo-future St. Mary's College of Maryland Old Boys stumps of mystery Superego Teddy Toughnuts the Golden Boy the horror of domestic life the Sadie Monster trains Tuscaloosa--blood clot of a burg Tuscaloosa-- Wet Fart of the South! way back when whur's mah vay-cay-shun?
Monthly Archives: March 2012
In the dying weeks of winter in 1981, I’d gotten a Dynamite magazine with baseball cards inserted in it. They were actual Topps 1980 baseball cards, except that they were still on the same sheet. The perforations separating them were … Continue reading
Polish Power: “I’m 23, I hit for power, I’ve got plenty of room in my shirt, and I’m as Polish as a screen door on a submarine.” “Yeah, we don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” “Extra innings, god … Continue reading
The Doris Duke Tobacco Glob Gallery Spittoon’s over there, fella. Don Sutton’s got some salt-and-pepper in his ‘fro. And something angry flaring up on his lip… Don Stanhouse never worries about flared-up cold sores on Baseball Card Picture Day. ASSSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINEASSELSTINE…Okay, … Continue reading
If you were to ask me, the Seventies didn’t really die until 1984. I make this statement based on my Hanukkah and birthday gifts of recent years, the big Bloom County omnibuses chronicling the years 1980-84. A scan thru the … Continue reading
I don’t mean to pry into your personal life, Jose, but you look… tired. How ’bout you take the rest of the day off and start over fresh tomorry? “Here you go, Lois. One hot dog, and one orange juice … Continue reading
In my previous post, a brief note on the passing of a school chum, I characterized said school chum’s ramshackle Subaru sedan, stuffed to bursting with drive-thru fountain drink cups and empty cigarette packs, as resembling the ‘Alabama Batmobile.’ The … Continue reading