You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2009.

Murray Pic

June 25 2009 was a downer. A major downer. I was at home, getting ready to leave the warm comfort of Brooklyn for the mean streets of Manhattan, when I checked my Facebook and saw Lefty Lucy had updated her status. It said “Ed McMahon, Farah Fawcett…Michael Jackson?” I thought she was kidding. I commented “<gasp!> You just jinxed him!” Then I saw that the news feed was adding posts rapidly. People from all over the world were saying the same thing: Michael Jackson, RIP.

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Year One Kiss

MDP tall halucination

On the boardwalk Mermaid Parade 2009

Last Saturday was the Mermaid Parade at Coney Island. Every news outlet in New York covered the parade, so I won’t rehash it here. Though I will throw some of my personal pix in the mix for your viewing pleasure.

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This video is a sample of what J. D. got at the Vegas show. Enjoy!


I should get a better camera. Or at least not be so shy when taking pictures.

John Hodgman was performing a comedy show last night at Union Hall in Park Slope. I didn’t know that, so the giddy joy I felt as I told my companion PC was standing in front of us at the door was genuine. I thought perhaps that he was just there to soak up the hipster vibe like the rest of us. It turned out he was amplifying the hipster vibe, by a factor of ten at least.

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by J.D. Oxblood

I’ve trolled the sources and, as usual, the best coverage comes from the AP.

It’s a sad day in the world today, as we mourn the passing of one of our favorites, one who made our days a little more pleasant, whether it be from reruns of “Kung Fu,” the forty-second viewing of “Kill Bill,” or even just those fab derivative Yellow Pages commercials.  That voice, the voice alone that made the first “Kill Bill” so… enticing, knowing that was Dave-C fondling that sword and never seeing his face.  And for children of the 70s, who goaded our friends on the playground with “grasshopper” and “until you can take this Jolly Rancher from my hand” or “until you can walk on the sand box without leaving a footprint”—this man is a part of our Jungian psyche, both an archetype to inhabit and a Campbellian hero to emulate.  It’s a sad day.

And then there’s the question of the cause of death.

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This is what I get for living near art students.

Rock of Love

Rock of Love

Sunday night is Kitty Nights at Bar on A. I showed up because I heard Calamity Chang was debuting her tribute to Brett Michaels, and I had just finished a three day DVR marathon of Rock of Love. That and our star reporter has been feverishly packing his suitcase for Vegas where he will be covering the Miss Exotic World show, so he wasn’t able to make it. He is going to be giving up-to-the-nanosecond updates from the big event on Twitter, so if you aren’t following him already, do yourself a favor and put him on your list. You won’t regret it.

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Stars and bars forever!

Stars and bars forever!

Who is laughing now?

Just five years ago some Americans were painting their Hummers in the stars and stripes, confident that the “liberation” of Iraq would bring global peace and low, low gas prices. The Hummer symbolized American strength, wealth, and frontier attitude. Now all those cowboys who thought they were starring in an Old West flick have been told “Go East young man!” as the Hummer brand is sold to a Chinese company.

It’s too easy to say that their jingoistic hubris is the root cause of this national humiliation. Instead I’ll point out that passing the baton of overweening douche-baggery to the Chinese might be exactly what saves our republic.