Yearly Archives: 2005

Dr Who (BBC TV Review)

I haven’t watched Dr Who since the abysmal reworking of the 80s and early 90s. They made it quirky, less serious, the effects still rubbish but so as to make it kitch and camp. There are a lot of people in this country who remember the good old days of Tom Baker, John Pertwee, and that guy who went on to be in All Creatures Great and Small. Anything since has been sacrilege.

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Review: Returner (2002)

I was thinking of not reviewing Returner, but I feel that the word should get out on this one.

Synopsis: Skipping the lengthy rehashing of the plot on this one. Suffice it to say that the premise of the movie is what you would get if you combined the Terminator movies with E.T., then added a cup and a half of yakuza/Triads, topping the whole thing off with a sprinkling of CGI and cheap bullet-time effects (and is that a slight hint of The Professional I taste?).

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Lord Pervertimore

This poem was inspired by Hordak’s MD flavored poem.

Welcome to Pervertimore,
knock on my door naughty minx
and I'll beckon ye' in
to spank your fanny,
feed you Calvert's special crab cakes
and the papaya nectar
of our love lingering on the thorny worm wood -
Ca-ca-ca!  I cry at your caboose,
nooked and sploondid,
from my depraved raven roost
where I sleep nevermore
one eyed in leery lust.

Saucey are the Crab Cakes

Words, stuff, other stuff.

when in maryland--
--a world of lawns
and the requisite mowers
fields of soy
and sky--

--don't forget to look for me
i'll be the one tending to his lawn
eating crabcakes
reading the paper under a tree
and...

Man fuck that. I won't be doing any of that shit.

Grue’s Lusty Lady Index

Let’s face it, whether you’re looking to assemble an elite gang of sexy diamond thieves or just want to start a go-go bar, you’re gonna need personnel: namely, chicks with rap sheets.

Thanks to the wonders of the one-stop, jerk-off shop we call the Internet, your HR problems are now a thing of the past!!

The proceeding hoosegow hotties come to us by way of internet personal ads. Maybe she made a few mistakes in the past, maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, maybe if you ever meet in person she’ll kill you in your sleep and steal your stuff, but one thing is certain – these lusty ladies need some lovin’!!

I’ve already taken the liberty of forwarding Thom’s address info to these juicy jailbirds, but I just wanted to make everyone aware so there will be no surprises when we meet the next Mrs. Webb.

Let’s get retarded….

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Long Live Mitch Albom!

Since this is now an acceptable form of “creative” journalism (Click Here) I am writing this concert review:

On Sunday, May 22, 2005 – Loki, Bear, DJ Webb and Storm went to see The Doves in concert at the Theatre of Living Arts (TLA) in Philly. All of us were worried that the show might be canceled due to the ongoing throat infection of the lead singer, Jimi Goodwin. When the Doves took the stage we quickly heard Jimi’s vocals and realized we were in for one hell of a show. The Doves opened the show with an extended version of “Black and White Town” they then transitioned into “The Pounding”. After “The Pounding” the concert was one wild rollercoaster ride with some of the Doves more mellow tunes and some of their more electrified tunes being played. The Doves demonstrated a strong stage presence as band members often interacted with the audience by hollaring and throwing items into the crowd. The band’s wardrobe was typical English-casual attire with everyone wearing Jeans and some type of untucked t-shirt or button down shirt. After two encores the Doves ended their set list with the Dove’s classic, the “Last Broadcast”. The TLA was packed but the crowd was manageable and not as rough as many we have experience in the past. After three hours we walked away saying that we had gotten our monies worth and that we enjoyed the entire show.

I’ll post a couple pictures in the next few days too.

I’ll Be There with Bells On

I told my love
I'd be there with bells on,
I rang my love I did,
I asked my love to please just hold on,
swinging limbs under oaken trees,
she'd know when I was comin'
by the brassen' echo
through the night and out the holler
to her ears dear to me
and my love said she'd wait, 
for she loved me deeply,
though I was never too sure
just what her parents 
thought of me.

I'll Be There with Bells On

The Fucking Champs, Philadelphia 2005

A full set of mp3s (pretty damn good quality for a bootleg, I have to admit) of this show can now be found here. It didn’t seem like they played for 52 minutes. Time must have flew since I was enjoying it that much.

A crappy recording of the Washington DC show the day before can also be found here.

The consensus on the internet about The Fucking Champs is that no one can really make up their mind about The Fucking Champs . Just about every net reviewer seems to wonder if they’re a joke, as if all their guitar virtuousity could only be accompanied with tongues planted firmly against cheeks. And, everyone has some wacked out visualization of them, how they’re a mix of (insert really good riff guitarist here), (insert something metal-ish here) and (wildcard here: some dead composer, a video game or maybe a nothern European country). To me, The Fucking Champs fall somewhere between Thin Lizzy, Deadly Towers, the Baroque period and my own guitar awkwardness.

But one thing is certain: they’re not cool.

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