Got Halloween Plans?

Special edition of PVC: An all-characters roster, free candy, and a prize to the audience member with the best costume!


Lubka will be there to drop mad science and tell you why Challoween is for chumps.

Home Decorating Tip.

Grief.

I still haven't made a slideshow. I have to remember her; it is my only comfort.

Frankie, age 3. 1992. East 19th St., Manhattan.

Me and Frankie, 1996. East 10th St.

Let Alla Pugacheva Change Your Life.

Iceberg (1984) (banned by Soviet tv):



What's It Gonna Be? (2007):



In terms of longevity and popularity, she is Russia's version of a cross between Madonna and Barbra Streisand. But otherwise there is really no comparison, as you can see. Ivan says she is at least the second most powerful person in Russia.

This Is Just Too Cute.

Until I hijack Hilary's computer to make a slideshow:

Frankie, March 1997 (Age 7), East 10th St., Manhattan.

Hilary! I need to use your iPhoto. (Do you read this, Hilary?)

Life Of Frankie Part I

You are about to see and hear a LOT of stuff about my dear, from-this-earth-departed life companion, Frankie, who made her final exit one week ago today.

I've thought about that euphemism for dying that I just used above. I actively choose it. I concur with the traditional feeling that "die" is just not right to describe what just happened to someone you loved so deeply, because you know they can't die, if you thought they could die you would have to die too. And "pass away" is just so mamby-pamby.

Frankie was nothing if not a diva. She did not expire or extinguish, she exited, with grace and regal bearing. A legend can never die; you just can't see her anymore except on film. Frankie's up there with Grace Kelly, Marlene Dietrich, Bette Davis. A diva of substance.

She looked great in her black with rhinestones ID collar but unfortunately it's not photographing too well.

I Like The Hot Rods Myself.

Frankie Dodge Fall 1989 - Sept. 27, 2007

Rest in heavenly peace, my sweet angel baby.

East Village September 2007.

Right about now is my 15th anniversary with New York City. Cheers.


Tompkins Square Hummer.

11th Street Bummer.

Bombardment Of The Senses Part III

My Aubrey Butte post comes up sixth in a search. And now it seems I can link to the WSJ even though I don't have a subscription. I hear Murdoch's going to make it free soon anyway.

Bombardment Of The Senses Part II

I would like to have Joan over for Coronas and taco salad. What would she make of my neighborhood, my building? Would it be enough for her that it is a not-cheap and somewhat coveted locale? Do the words "a great deal...for Manhattan" mean anything to Joan? Could her sense-bombardment cease long enough for her to utter her objections?

The super's assistant, Jacob, who lives in the basement boiler-suite, does the lobby decor at my place. Next to the elevator is "Paisley Ass Crack":




There is no shortage of art, cheesy or otherwise, that makes use of the female form. However, what sets Paisley Ass Crack apart is the ass crack, and the fact that it is paisley. Namely, the ass crack is indisputably the focus and the star of the composition as a whole, and it seems to be an exceptionally lengthy, capacious crack. It could be a spare purse. And, it is paisley. So: why so capacious, why so front and center, and why so paisley are the prominent questions for me there.

To me, Paisley Ass Crack represents the point of compromise between Jacob's design tendencies and what my neighbors and I can bear to glimpse several times a day. Because after several months no one has taken down Paisley Ass Crack. Everything else is gone, including the four foot square Siemens poster featuring a telecommuting family under that cheesy double-vision coating. Now the family eats breakfast. Move your head, now Dad is busy making money and Mom sees kid off to school.

And last December, I came home drunk late one night and tore down the hard-shelled relief-map of Santa's head that had been affixed to the outer door with duct tape. Jacob caught me and protested, claiming to have paid money for it. Right. It had come from the trash just like Paisley Ass Crack, but unlike the crack, it was going to go back there.

Maybe Jacob and Joan could share their interior design experiences.

Hi, City Sqwirl!

It's spelled sqwirl.

Aubrey Butte: Rule-Loving Clothesline Haters.

I have not an online subscription nor the inclination to scan. Here is a summary:

Susie has epiphany one day: Why not let the baking Arizona sun dry my clothes instead of that energy-eating box in the basement? Gosh, I'm a genius!

Watch out for Joan though. She lives in Susie's exclusive Aubrey Butte subdivision. "At first I thought, oh no, her dryer's broken!" Later the grim reality became clear. Such activity "cannot possibly make people think this is a nice neighborhood." Furthermore, clotheslines "bombard the senses." (Joan is an interior designer.)

(What would happen to Joan's senses or people's impressions of her neighborhood if her road were suddenly paved in pressed rat? Don't be silly, only my block is paved in pressed rat.)

So now they are fighting over it. And Susie might have to move. Oh, she signed the no-clothesline agreement and all when she moved in, but she didn't foresee it becoming an issue. Until that really hot day when she saw the Downy commercial.

Front page gossip, Wall St. Journal.

Triplets.

Gruyère.
Piave.
Chavignol.

Happy Birthday & CD Release, Ivan Lenin!

I wish I could keep up with Russian slang. It's so koolna, you have no idea. Neither do I, really. But my Russian is not only rusty, it dates to dorky Soviet-era textbooks. Sigh.

So I'll just say to my komrad Ivan Lenin: С днём рождения, дуд!

TONIGHT:

The Manson Family Singers...Country That Kills!

We'll be playing a 30 minute set at Ivan Lenin's CD Release (& Birthday) Party!

Thursday, September 13, 9 pm
Lava Gina
116 Ave C (betw. 7th & 8th Sts)
No cover

Also performing:
Zheka Koshmar & Koo Koo Formation
DJ Shorman
Ivan Lenin & His Communist Redneck Hip Hop Orchestra

And Removing The Box Is Not On The Table?

Senior Citizen Field Trip.

Hairball Dwarfs Nail Polish Bottle.

More like a hairloaf.
















Produced by Ichabod.

It's Now Really Hard For Me To Resist Running My Hand Under The Partition In The Restroom.

Thanks, Larry Craig. I may be getting arrested soon.

Incarcerated Can Dance.

Prisoners dance to Electric Dreams.

And "Thriller":

Guess Malan's Logo.

Everyone's talking (i.e. media trying to create a buzz) about ne'er-do-well Project Runway Season 1 winner Jay McCarroll's lack of doing anything with his newly bestowed life in fashion.

In spite of, or perhaps because of, the lack of such pressure for Season 3's Malan "it looks like tree bark" Breton, Malan has opened a little shop right across the street from me, to no fanfare.





He is a small-business-owner-neighbor, is all. I introduced myself. He had the same smile he did on the show, like he was trying to get the last of a chewable antacid down whilst he was so lucky to be talking to me in a Madonna accent.






Perhaps a grand-opening is on the way. He's had the painters-'n-decorators in lately. I know how you feel, Malan! This is his new painted security gate:

















What is it? And how does it represent Malan? Who wants to crash the grand opening with me?

Abusive Relationship Ends.

It's over. I'm writing my auto-reply now.

Cloud Or Steam?

Blind Bluesmen.

Blind Sonny Terry
Blind Willie McTell
Blind Willie Johnson
Blind Boy Fuller
Blind Boys of Alabama
Blind Clyde Church
Blind Roosevelt Graves


















Blind Lemon Jefferson


















Blind Blake

Evite Hates Spanish Speakers.

Death Toll Mounts.

In ascending order of freshness:


















And (they'll be dead very soon):

See You On Last.fm?

I have the best taste in music. I am reminded of that constantly.

And I am discovering all sorts of music I had never heard of before, by listening to last.fm. This is one of the good uses of the Internet. Register (it's easy) and be my friend ("zhevachka") and we can see what each other is listening to and share recommendations. Your listening is guided by your tastes. The snapshot of your tastes gets more refined the more you listen, and you can also refine it more by meshing your profile with your itunes content.

There are wikis about the artists you listen to. Why are wikis getting so damn popular? Because why take the trouble to import official, fact-checked and copyedited bios of artists when you can get some marginally literate stoner shlub to do it for free?

But anyway, the wiki issue aside, you really should do this. If you like music, anyway.

Another Reason To Get Rid Of Hotmail.

I am tired of seeing this woman's ass, with or without cellulite.

Get It Together, CNN.com!

I was expecting some tragic story (first item under "West") about the Female Trouble-style disfigurement of David Bowie's wife.

Instead I get some bother about a litigious acid-bombed religious leader!

Maybe it'll be fixed before anyone reads this.

I certainly hope so!

Iman ≠ Imam, cnn.com.

Stay Classy, American Apparel.

I guess American Apparel wasn't getting its marketing message across clearly enough with its closeups of underagey, sheer-cotton-covered crotch and thighs in vaguely gymnastic scenarios.

So they rolled out the nippleage slideshow. Sorry, Tom, you are obscured by the light thrown from the nippleage slideshow.














The Star of David pendant is a nice touch.

Hold The Focaccia.

East 11th Street between 1st & A.

Buds Till The End.

East 11th Street between B & C. Two feet apart, same vintage (i.e., pretty fresh).

They Should Give You A Vicodin With It.

I read some News today, and gadd-dang, what an astounding procession of agogifying items there was.

China says it will execute the agency head who took bribes to approve possibly poisoned food. To look tough and hang onto its trade cred with the world. WHAT?! I can't believe how many times I saw or heard this reported without further commentary on that one capital punishment point. Got a better headline: "Chinese Scapegoat Dead For Doing Business As Usual." Capital punishment as global image-polishing? (We really should think about giving the FDA head the electric chair to show 'em: we mean bidnizz too. (Vioxx? Hello?!) We don't really care what China does as long as everything is still wicked cheap, and no kids' stuff has lead paint or toothpaste has antifreeze, or, you know, no bakery snacks have cardboard and lye, and, you get the idea.)

The Travoltas publicly deny their son has autism, because of Scientology.

A lobster was "spared" because it is a "freak."

The second annual Gay Pride parade in Russia erupted in beatings of marchers; police did not intervene. Gay celebs from London, as well as Oscar Wilde's grandson, came to march in solidarity and got beaten in solidarity.

Jim McGreevey is rather an asshole.

No links. Easy to find.

No Vegan Crepes, No John Denver Ringtones!

I got on the computer and now all I really want to say is I need to spend less time on the computer. Maybe I will have a computer-free, say, three days soon. Ugh. Can't I get a month?

I'm tired of all the talking it does to me, the marketing, the computer equivalent of those guys trying to shove a flier in my hand all the time.

Social Experiment, Anyone?

I want to do this so goddamn bad.

21st century homesteading: Free land in Alaska

I guess I'll have to just perform at the canteen, and toss my vids up on YouTube.

Urban Hee Haw.

I will be drumming for the Manson Family Singers and schmacting in the Urban Hee Haw at the Bowery Poetry Club, Monday, March 12 at 8 pm. The Urban Hee Haw is coproduced by the Mansons' Tom & Hilary. We got this (kinda weird) write-up in the Voice.

And here we are are playing Dodge City last weekend (photo by Sarah Fisch):

Horror Du Jour.

I'm really depressed about the baby that got its (I can't watch it again to see if it was a girl or a boy) nose chewed off by a rat.

Maybe I shouldn't read cnn.com when I'm already having a hectic, miserable day at work.

I'm disgusted and grief-stricken that this country has allowed cities to marinate in their government-enabled or -created poverty for so long that things have gotten as bad as they are. In the most gluttonous, rapacious, arrogant, and hypocritical nation in the world.

I think a government that knows how to prevent such severe and dangerous rat infestations but does not do so should be subject to a pretty massive lawsuit, not to mention legislated reform, for neglect of public fucking health.

Urban American children: lunchmeat for rodents.

Read Rats. The only way to control rodents is to clean things up, keep it that way, and rodent-proof buildings. Rat poison does not work. If anything it gets the small ones out of the way, empowering the larger ones and creating hardier, more aggressive rats.

"Whiskey Dick, Don't Let It Go Down Like This..."

I love the day or so after band practice, when snippets of Manson Family Singers songs rattle around in my head.

This week's killer Dodge City lineup:

A nutty character from Ann Carr
Smarcasm by Jeff Mac
Hilarity & mutton chops from Pat O'Shea
A sexy story by Greg Walloch
And a special longer set of megahits from the Manson Family Singers, with me on the drumkit! Yeah!

Dodge City
Sunday, March 4
9 pm
Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston @ Attorney
Between Aves B & C
F/V to Second Ave
J/M/Z to Delancey

No cover, cheap suds!

St. Petersburg Complaints Choir.

What incredible bitchers and whiners.

There are complaints choirs in other cities, too.

Get In On The Ground Floor Of A Cult Following.

Meet the Manson Family Singers. That's Tom Nevin & Hilary Schwartz to your right, the songwriting genius founders of the comedy-country supergroup.

Soon the photo gallery will include me sweating it like John Bonham/Bill Ward/Vince Nudo, on the 'kit.

BTW can anyone explain "Fairies Wear Boots" to me?

We had a warm-up, false debut some time ago. The secret's out, the real debut is March 4 at Dodge City. Damn it, we are getting tight! Come see us perform this dense roster of hits:

Whiskey Dick
Red State Woman, Blue State Man
Country Jews
Saggy Boobs
I Hope My Baby Comes Out White
Jesus Is My Designated Driver

& many others that are just as funny, but don't have as funny titles (Prison Song, Camp Song, etc.)!

Plus, COWBELL!

Dodge CiTAY!

Sunday Feb 18 @ 9 pm:

Abbi Crutchfield!
Rachel Feinstein!
Rachael Parenta!
Elon James White!

And me. Dodge.

Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston @ Attorney
Between Aves B & C
F/V to Second Ave
J/M/Z to Delancey

Cheap drinks, no cover

Cowbell, And So Much More.

This week, Debbie Shea takes over the Dodge City hostessing, so I can relax a little, do a set, and, finally, play drums for the Mansons (in public). We've been practicing a whole six hours for this, you gotta hear us!

It's the last Dodge City for two weeks, and if that isn't a jarring enough alarum to action, what about being able to say you attended my John Bonham debut? The Parkside has a drumkit, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Debbie Shea hosts:

Jacqueline Novak
John F. O'Donnell
Margaret Dodge
Manson Family Singers

Dodge City
Sunday Feb 4
9 pm
Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston @ Attorney
(between Aves. B & C)
F/V to Second Ave.
J/M/Z to Delancey

No cover

How Well Do You Know Dodge?

Take my quiz.

Urgent! Party Boy Needs You!

My friend Mike is up for a $5,000 prize for this video he and Reynard made for Heavy.com's Jackass2 contest. At the end of the competition (another week or so) the most viewed video wins. So watch and help him win! (And it's really funny!)

Vote for dance liberation!

Subway Party

Sausage Fest At Dodge City!

YUM! MMMMM! Five handsome funny devils. A tasty man-platter for your consumption. (Don't fret, they all agreed to be slightly objectified for promotional purposes.)

Eric Andre, The Mocha Joka from Boca (just go with it)
Ivan Lenin, The Lynx of Kink from Minsk (you should hear it in Russian)
Daniel Michael, Erstwhile Yukster-in-Chief of Tickle Dracula (they're not all going to rhyme)
Mike Burns, Of Lundquist Entertainment & www.blerds.com (I have laundry to do)
Elon James White, Founder of Brooklyn Comedy Co. (MWAH!)

Dodge City
Sunday Jan 28
9 pm
Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston @ Attorney St.
Between Aves. B & C
F/V to Second Ave.
J/M/Z to Delancey
No cover

Enjoy.

Some Russians playing blackjack.

Worst Weather Combo Ever.

Blustery. Winds gusting at times to more than 40 miles per hour.

Cold. 25 degrees, "feels like 11."

Icy. Whatever rain or snow fell last night is now shellacked to the pavement.

And it's bright and sunny. Sounds good, but 1) it makes the ice slick, and 2) it is blinding.

So you can take part in X-treme sports just by going outside. Just get on the sidewalk and bend your knees a little, and you'll start skating along. You might want to bring some ski poles. Because I'm sure like me you happen to have a stash of ski poles taking up space. I guess it's Special X-treme Sports, because you're blind, too.

Fortunately, all this nonsense should calm down tomorrow night in time for Dodge City, to a balmy windless 23 degrees. I.e., "feels like 23." Now that's the kind of weather you can sink your teeth into, that fires you up and makes you want to live!*

If you have any interest in life, please come join me and these high-quality guests tomorrow night:

Angry Bob
Rebecca Ciletti
Abbi Crutchfield
Emily Epstein
Elon James White

Dodge City
Sunday, Jan. 21, 9 pm
Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston St. @ Attorney
Between Aves. B & C
F/V to Second Ave.
J/M/Z to Delancey
No cover

*Entering a mixed metaphor contest.

Pimpin' Wi' Tha Riboflava.

Riboflava was supposed to be my sidekick, a decade or so back when I wanted to be Vitamin D. Sigh, yet another dream of youth that tumbled aside to the gutter on the road to maturity. That and being an X-treme sports champion. It looks like fun to roll around in a bowl all day to rock music. There are three trillion Vitamin Ds by now, I'm sure. I guess I just never met my Riboflava, is all.

So, my nowadays dream is that you'll come to Dodge City this Sunday, because this week we've got:

Montreal Just For Laughs alum Jordan Carlos, author of last week's Washington Post article My Schtick? Being Black
Pat O'Shea, host of the long-running Brooklyn comedy show Ed Sullivan On Acid
VH1 podcaster Mindy Raf, whose Leibya Rogers has been making women switch teams across the nation
Connecticut-bred playboy Jeff Mac of Comedy Central's Live at Gotham (sorry Jeff, it's the croquet mallet)

Dodge City
Sunday Jan 14
TONIGHT ONLY: 8 PM SHARP!
Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston @ Attorney St.
Between Aves. B & C
F/V to Second Ave.
J/M/Z to Delancey
No cover

Casting.

You really have to be able to deliver these days to get certain acting jobs.

Are you:

1) A native Russian speaker
2) Female
3) Age 18-25
4) A classical musician who plays:
a) violin;
b) viola; or
c) cello
5) A contact lens wearer
6) Who suffers from:
a) dry eyes AND
b) myopia AND
c) Does NOT have astigmatism
7) Able to get a copy of your prescription immediately
8) Have a friend who also fits all of the above criteria?

Great. I know of a gig you are qualified to try out for. First thing tomorrow.

Come Here.

If you haven't been to a Dodge City show yet, now's the time. Or even if you have been. It being January, I'm on an existential upswing.

Do you know what that means? Do I? Would you like to know who the guests will be?

Speaking of existential...
Sue Ball! A fearless original.
Robin Cloud! She'll charm and disarm.
Ivan Lenin! The greatest entertainer on Earth. [say in Russian accent]
Katina Corrao! Killing with kindness.
Burt Paseos! You can't go worng with Burt! (get it?!)

And me...or at least, someone who shares my DNA...

Forgive the hasty, linkless bios...but if I don't split I'll be late for band practice.

Dodge City
Sunday, Jan. 7, 9 pm
Parkside Lounge
317 E. Houston St. @ Attorney
Between Aves. B & C
F/V to Second Ave. JMZ to Delancey
No cover