Plato's cave

Kevin and I met Brian and Lauren at some theater uptown for a preview of some community acting troupe's production of some play called, "Pandora's Box."Drums are involved in some way and Kevin found them irresistably enlivening.Also, there was smoke.And headshots!
We (Lauren) decided to improvise our own.




A silhouette shot of Pandora's box.Afterwards, we enjoyed some refreshments at Andersonville's Hopleaf.

Jukebox

Kevin stayed here for a few days this week.

Last week, Kevin invited a couple of local teenagers into his apartment. They ended up taking about $800 cash from Kevin and Mike when Kevin wasn’t looking. Two days later, Kevin saw the young man who stole the cash and asked him to return at least part of the hundreds of dollars taken so that Kevin wouldn’t have to call the police. The young man agreed to meet Kevin later that night to return the money. At 2am, after Kevin had put down about 1/5 of vodka, the young man, true to his word, showed up with the promise of returning to Kevin a portion of Kevin and Mike’s cash. The young man said that his friend had the money and was on his way to deliver it, and the young man invited Kevin outside to wait with the young man and several other teenage boys from the neighborhood. As it turned out, the promise of returning the money was a rouse. One of the boys pulled a knife and held it against Kevin’s throat while the others entered Kevin and Mike’s apartment. When the boy with the knife wasn’t looking, Kevin sprung up and ran to the nearest convenience store to seek help, leaving the other boys in his apartment with Mike. Fortunately, Mike was unharmed, but the youngsters did make off with Mike’s 42” flat screen TV, Mike’s laptop computer, Mike’s Playstation 3, Mike’s 20 Playstation 3 games, and Kevin’s cellphone.

The teenage boys that robbed Kevin and Mike live about a block away from Kevin and Mike. They’re neighbors. There’s no way Kevin and Mike can keep on residing in their apartment in Humboldt Park without running into these boys, who probably want to kill Kevin. Additionally, Mike is understandably quite upset with Kevin for his foolishness.

So now Kevin’s out on his ass. He said he was going to take a bus up to Minnesota to stay with his grandma until things blew over, but after a few days here, Kevin went to stay with Matt C-man in Lincoln Square (not Park). I don’t know what Kevin’s plan is. Not just for the time being, but for the long run. Kev’s a little bit insane. I know we all are, but Kevin’s insanity has a detrimental effect of Kevin’s day-to-day existence. I hope this experience knocks some sense into him, but it probably won’t.

Driven by an unknown force

Last Saturday, while everyone else was at Lollapalooza, Randyand I went to see the Nekromantix at Reggie's in Chinatown.The opening band was The MutilatorsI thought the dude just dressed as a female nurse as sort of a gag for the show, but pretty much all the songs are written from a slutty female perspective. He even sang a song about dating Nick 13.




Then came The NekromantixThe Nekromantix have a new drummer: Lux. A really good drummer, and distractingly attractive.I didn't get close enough to get a validating photo, but there's a treasure trove of sexy photos of Lux, posted by Lux, on Lux's website, so you can see for yourself. Be sure to note that she plays the drums in high heels.

There were two adorable skinheads at the show that really brought me back. I haven't seen a skin at a show since I was 15. What made these two particularly cute were their matching Ben Sherman polo shirts. While they were standing in front of me I said to Randy, "hey, did you see that movie This Is England ?" Before Randy got a chance to answer, one of the dudes turned around and accusingly asked me if I was making fun of him. What an insecure pussy.Afterwards, Randy and I went next door to the lounge part of the venue to watch some other stand up bass based band.
Then we went to Miller's PubNot that it's in-and-of-itself a bad thing, but the place is extensively touristy, which means the drinks are distressingly steep. I don't know why anyone would go there.


The El Train ride back home was oppressive.

Bauman-o-meter

Dr. Finley Brown's Baumanometer.

Looking back on it, I wonder if it was a coincidence that Dr. BROWN insisted on dropping a digit on me. Did he do it because he thought it was part of his regular physician duties (eventhough rectal exams are generally considered unnecessary for men under 40), or is it that he feels like he's got a last name to uphold?

Poor Desperate People

REVIEW: Channel 7's Steve Dolinsky's signed headshot at Ethiopian Diamond

In case you can’t read it, Channel 7’s Steve Dolinsky wrote on his headshot:

“Ethiopian Diamond, can’t wait to get my hands on your injera and doro watt…literally! Many thanks, Steve”

There are two fundamental faults with this signed headshot: (1) The quip based on the literal use of the phrase “hands on” and (2) The timing of the execution of the headshot signing.

Quips based on the actual manifestation of a literal phrase are only humorous when the literal phrase describes something that never actually happens, but under particularly unusual circumstances, the literal phrase is actually manifested and the otherwise strictly literal phrase applies to the actual circumstances. For example, it would be funny for astronaut Michael Collins to say during the Apollo 11 mission, “Boy, I’m really over the moon for this space mission…literally!” This is because “over the moon” is a literary phrase typically used to describe elation, not to describe the actual act of being over the moon, however, in the context of the first manned mission to the moon, it’s actual meaning is the same as its literary meaning.

Channel 7’s Steve Dolinsky’s use of “get my hands on…literally” is not funny because when people use the phrase “get my hands on,” they almost always are using it to describe what they actually intend to do. They’re saying it to describe actual physical control over an object. Like, “I can’t wait to get my hands on the new Apple iPad,” or “I can’t wait to get my hands on that unattended whicker basket full of kittens.” Nobody ever uses “get my hand on” to describe something that they won’t actually touch, like “I can wait to get my hands on total karmic peace and contentment.”

What I’m saying is that because Channel 7’s Steve Dolinsky is using the literary phrase “get my hands on” in common actual manifestation, the concluding “literally!” is redundant and thoroughly unfunny. It’s the same as me saying “I’m 5’9”…literally!” There’s no joke there because I actually am 5’9” and I’m expressing that with the intent to convey an actual circumstance. So there’s no point in me telling you it’s literal because the phrase itself is being used in the most common manifestation of its accepted use.

Secondly, couldn’t the manager at the Ethiopian Diamond waited until famed Chicago food critic, Channel 7’s Steve Dolinsky finished eating his injera and doro watt before making the solicitation for the signed headshot? I mean, what kind of endorsement is this? It tells me one of two things: (a) Ethiopian Diamond is detrimentally impatient; or (b) Ethiopian Diamond thinks their food kinda sucks and they’re hedging their bets.

Either the Ethiopian Diamond was so ecstatic that famed Chicago food critic, Channel 7’s Steve Dolinsky was in their humble north African dining establishment, and simply could not wait to hit him up for a signed photo and also could not possibly foresee that Steve Dolinsky would eventually order food from said establishment, consume it, and then be able to give a more comprehensive endorsement while waiting for the bill, or Ethiopian Diamond, secretly deep down believes their food to be less than satisfactory (which isn’t true, it’s really good), and their closeted lack of culinary self-confidence caused them to get the personalized Channel 7’s Steve Dolinsky endorsement upfront as a precautionary measure. Either way, neither the imprudence nor cunning attempt to mask their ineptness bodes well for the eatery. THUMBS DOWN.

This must be fake

Friday night, I went to the Brew & View at the Vic for a double feature: Get Him to The Greek and The A-Team.The Vic was built in 1912 and I don’t think a stitch of maintenance work has gone into it since.The venue occasionally hosts concerts, but to keep the Vic venue in the black in between Interpol and Hold Steady shows, the Vic is converted every Friday night into the shittiest movie theater in the Midwest.The image resolution is smothered in petroleum jelly and the sound is what you would get if you recorded the regular soundtrack being played in a dumpster, rendering all dialogue totally uninterpretable. However, as the name “The Brew & View” would imply, there’s a full bar at the venue. Plus, the actual presentation of the movies is so poor, you know that you’re not missing anything when you converse with your friend, or go take a leak. Also, the movie selection at the Brew & View is pretty spot on in that they show movies that you kind of want to see, but not movies that you really want to see, nor movies that you would hate to see. It’s that sweet in between spot that halves expectations, and allows you to fill in the rest with your own pursuit of satisfaction. It’s like when coffee shops fill your coffee cup up only 4/5 of the way so that you have room to add cream and sugar at your discretion. That’s what the Brew & View is. Only instead of coffee, it’s semi-appealing movies that received a theatrical release over 2-months ago, and instead of cream or sugar, it’s Miller Lite.Get Him To The Greek was pretty good. The A-Team wasn’t just a bad movie, it was actually confusing. It was essentially a movie based entirely around five unrelated action sequences. The bad guy (I think) was played by Patrick Wilson.I (and probably you) know P-Wils from Little Children where he plays adulted prom king Brad Adamson, a stay-at-home dad who would be the family bread winner if only he could pass the bar, which he has failed twice.

Having just taken the bar, I’m very curious how people fail the bar. I’m not saying that because I’m so confident that I passed the bar (I put my odds of passing at 42%). I’m saying that because I spent the 3-weeks prior to the exam locked in my room, studying for 12-hours a day. I feel like that’s protocol passing-the-bar behavior, but how different is that behavior from failing-the-bar behavior? I would love to find out from the Brad Adamsons of the world what they did wrong. Did they spend those weeks before the bar getting wasted? Planning their weddings? Fucking Kate Winslet? What I don’t want to hear is that people that failed the bar did in fact do thousands of practice problems and essays and went to their classes and put in 12-hour days, but still failed because they’re just too thick. Because if that’s the case, I’m damned.

Afterwards, Obvi and I went to a karaoke bar a few blocks away. Obvi brought the house down with a spellbinding rendition of Wheetus’s Teenage Dirtbag.Teenage Dirtbag is an ingenious karaoke song because it was super popular 5 to 10 years ago, is vocally demanding yet accompanied with a very approachable chorus, and is kind of lame. All good karaoke songs demand those qualities. Especially the being kind of lame part. Karaoke night is no place to bear your soul through song, nor is it the place for slapstick. You, as the performer, have to be serious, and let the humor come from the act of you singing a sort of lame song in front of strangers. The humor will be exacerbated when people, while singing along with you, reflect back on how foolish they once were for liking this song, while intimately confessing to it’s rediscovered enjoyableness.The bar was in Wrigleyville, and therefore, filled with lots of mouth breathers. But whatever. Say what you will about that crowd, at least they like to party.




I did Girl You’ll Be a Woman Soon by Neil Diamond which was met with a sort of cold response from the crowd. So in order to redeem myself, I took a pratfall off the stage during the song’s interlude. I just want to make the people happy.