KLS Again!

Why I rule: because I'm sometimes, not always, ahead of the curve. Just kidding, but man, sometimes it's as if this stuff happens right after I blog about it.

When celebs act all precious and feud, I call it KLS: Kathie Lee Syndrome.

Clay Aiken and Kelly Ripa have now joined the ranks of those celebs who suffer from KLS. You can't make this stuff up: (my stuff in red, ok?)

NEW YORK — Kelly Ripa's definitely not a Claymate. (Hardy har har)

The talk show host went off on Aiken Monday morning on Live with Regis and Kelly. Ripa saying "I don't think he was respectful in any way." She said Aiken was hostile toward her when they shared co-hosting duties on Friday's show.

What hath Sir LightLoafe done? Ok, did he act disrespectful? I only saw a short clip, but maybe he was being a bit too familiar. There is an unspoken thing in radio where, if you are co-hosting with someone, you try to pick up your fellow host's fumbles and run with it. You always try to make each other look good. There also is an issue of partnership-one that has been established with Regis.

But disrespectful of not, just like her famous and disease founding predecessor, Kathie Lee, Ripa now sees herself as a TV diva. This is a shame because I really thought Ripa didn't take all this TV host stuff seriously. (If you want to really see how far afield Gifford has gone, please go here. Jesus. Narcissism on a nuclear level!) Ripa read this: sic transit gloria mundi (and so passes the glory of the world). Get over thyself.

She especially took issue with Aiken putting his hands over her mouth during an interview. She said you don't do that, even if it's for a laugh.
Ripa told Clay his actions were a "no, no," adding "I don't know where that hand's been, honey."

Let's address two things here. There was a program that researched the Reg/Ripa show and found that Ripa has done this same thing to Regis twice. That is, put her hand over his mouth. The whole "where that hand 's been" was a jab at Aiken's little secret and a slip-up on her part. Luckily, it was vague enough to get her out of PC hot water. Good going, morning Diva, Kathie Lee was cheering during that one!

Regis said he's shocked the pair didn't hit it off, saying, "In my wildest dreams would I ever think that one day you would have a feud with Aiken.

-Reg was shocked two Divas wouldn't get along? How naive is this dude? Get them both a saucer of milk NOW!

On The View" Tuesday, Rosie O'Donnell said Ripa's remark about Aiken's hand was homophobic. Aiken has been dogged by speculation about his sexuality but he's never answered.

-Thanks Rosie for A. making a jackrabbit out of your precious self again for our amusement and B. for letting the cat out of the bag. If there was any doubt before, there ain't none now.

In a call to "The View" Tuesday, Ripa blasted O'Donnell's comment as "outrageous." She said Aiken's actions were disrespectful and unprofessional -- and that he was spreading germs, since he'd just shaken hands with a lot of audience members.

You can't make this stuff up.

?

I won't add to the shame, but I still can't believe what I saw from that video. You'd figure that an old pro like Richards could handle some hecklers and not go racially ballistic. Ugly x 110.

The Laugh Factory's following press conference was one of the most mishandled press conferences I've ever seen. Total disaster from start to finish. Fiasco is not strong enough.

Then the "apology" on Letterman elicited laughter from some audience members. Seinfeld came to his friend's defense and told them not to laugh, that this was serious.

Yes, another serious disaster for the comedian.

The Seinfeld Curse?

Trouble in Paradise?

Well, it's not exactly paradise.

When the Eclectic Guy gets out every blue moon, on the rare occasion when the evening might include cocktails, he likes to go the Vandalia in Charleston. Ok, I recognize the pretensions of the joint and it ain't cheap and the music gets a bit monotonous, but hell, where can an old guy go? The Red Carpet Lounge?

From the Gazette:

Downtown nightspot closes abruptly Vandalia closes for
management change, majority owner says
Joe MorrisStaff writer
The Vandalia Lounge closed abruptly on Thursday for what its owner calls a management reorganization.

New thought: after scratching our heads over this one last night, one burning question remained. Why would a money making business close its doors on a Thursday night right before the holiday season? What business sense does that make. I don't mean to stir up trouble, but something is wrong in Vandalia land and we don't believe that this is the whole story. This certainly is none of our business and the real reason may never be revealed, but curiosity remains.

Majority owner Virgil Sadorra said the downtown bar at 212 Hale St. would be out of business for at least two weeks, but possibly longer, while a new management team learns the ropes.
Sadorra said he regretted having to close with the holidays coming up and the hardship that the closure would cause Vandalia’s employees.

“I feel bad for our servers and our regulars,” he said. “But I didn’t want to put a Band-aid on our problems.”

Sadorra would not comment on the problems that led to the closure except to say it was a mutual decision reached with Vandalia manager Pierre Charbonniez, a minority owner of the bar who is also Sadorra’s brother-in-law.
Charbonniez could not be reached for comment on Thursday.

“We need to step back and focus on the direction for the new year and develop a stronger management team,” Sadorra said.

Vandalia opened in September 2004 and quickly became a popular nightspot. Weekend nights tended to be standing room only, and Gov. Joe Manchin and first lady Gayle Manchin could occasionally be found there.

It pitched itself toward an upscale crowd, selling specialty martinis and enforcing a no-T-shirt dress code for men.

Sadorra owns Cilantros, a Tex-Mex restaurant downtown, and is working on opening two other restaurants in Charleston as well as another upscale bar.

Last month, he announced on his Web site that Vandalia would be adding a kitchen in order to start selling tapas dishes, or Spanish-themed appetizers, around the first of the new year.
On the Web: http://www.delish/
menuzine.com
To contact staff writer Joe Morris, use e-mail or call 348-5179.

Christopher Guest making another film

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/11/12/magazine/12guest.html?ex=1164085200&en=8a9f1b384423e121&ei=5070&emc=eta1

I had heard that Christopher Guest was up to something. A friend of mine sent me this link to the NY Times.

"Er....do I call you Nigel or Corky...or???"

Perhaps another reason dislike James Taylor? A small nugget from the above:

"It is that whimsy, tempered only by the insistence of human nature to exert itself, that characterizes Guest’s films, which are a departure from his baser beginnings in comedy. In a skit in “National Lampoon’s Lemmings,” he appeared as James Taylor and sang: “Farewell New York City/With your streets that flash like strobes/Farewell Carolina/Where I left my frontal lobes.”
He winced at the mention. “James Taylor came to the show with Carly Simon, and she was laughing and he wasn’t,” he said."

It goes on to say that Guest was a fan of Taylor. For me, if you can't laugh at yourself, then you become a joke.

Joseph Arthur interview just completed

Well, it's Monday, November 6th. I am still buzzing from talking to Joseph Arthur. If you don't know this guy yet, check out his website.

After some bumps which are unavoidable (the guy was AT a gig, in a small room in the basement,when I talked to him), we finally got to chat at length. The results? I could say surprising, even sublime, but I'll leave that to you.

Arthur is a creative guy. Creativity seems to flow from him. His answers were direct and a few threw me off my path. I have learned that that is a good thing. The interviewer has to abandon the plan for improvisations. Follow the flow. Just like music. You'll hear some surprising stories, even one about West Virginia.

So, stay tuned for updates.

KLS Has Struck Again

Kathie Lee tearfully begs:
"KLS, it's becoming more of a problem everyday. And folks, with your help, we can conquer this disease in our lifetimes. Then again, it's named after me, so doesn't that make it ok?"
No, Kathie Lee, it doesn't.

Kathie Lee Syndrome is when celebrities take themselves way too seriously and then begin to become self-appointed authorities on politics and other hot topics. KLS has struck the likes of Rosie O'Donnell (Remember the gun control hose job with Tom Selleck? Painful, but I couldn't look away.), George Clooney and a multitude of Hollywooders all making a point of subjecting everyone to their golden and profound opinion on the "issues." Why, because you are a talk show host/movie star/rock icon and you have an enthusiastic audience/fanbase, do you assume you now to try to influence public opinion by bullying everyone within media-shot with your overzealous opinion? Aren't entertainers supposed to entertain us?

Case in point: The Divine Miss B.

KLS has caused headlines again. And again. And then again.

Everyone not living under a rock knows Barbara Steisand's opinion of the Bush administration. Hell, I am beginning to see what all the Dems and Liberals are hollering about now, but Babs just can't leave it alone.
Why must she inject her rabid political opinions into her concert? Isn't this a concert not a political rally? And because she is a star, how does this make her an authority on political issues?

Eclectic Guy, I smell hypocrisy. Doesn't your beloved Peter Gabriel make political statements all the time??? Yes, you've got me, place the handcuffs on me now, guv. You've got me banged to rights.

Peter Gabriel has made political statements from the stage. Indeed he has, but they have always been about a specific abuse (the murder of Steven Biko, Apartheid, wars and famine in African nations) and showed no political party bias-at least none that this American can see.

When Amnesty International was doing concerts condemning the evils of Aparthied and other human rights abuses, where was Miss "Like Butter" then? What about Live Aid? What about aid to Africa concerts? What, no Queen o' Manhattan then? Call me cynical, but I think that most people who enter into the grand politics public mouth frothing that vehemently really don't care about the people that are affected by them, but it's more like rooting for your favorite sports team. They're not wearing your team's jersey, so let the ranting begin.

At a recent event, some unhappy ("angry" was a term used in the press release) concert goer threw a cup of liquid at NY's premiere prima donna after a skit that made fun of our beloved President.
From Yahoo news-
"Streisand's publicist, Dick Guttman, said a paper cup filled with some sort of liquid was thrown on stage but apparently did not hit Streisand during her second performance in this Fort Lauderdale suburb."

"It's at least the third time the skit, which includes a George W. Bush impersonator, has angered Streisand's audience. A heckler targeted her at the Philadelphia opening of her 20-city comeback tour (Come back from where? Her spacious, multi-million dollar Manhattan home? The Queen of New York? It was a self-imposed musical exile, yes? Babs has immense performance anxiety and choses to perform or not.) , Guttman said, and Streisand made headlines with her response to a jeerer at Madison Square Garden last month." (Who dares to jeer the Queen? Off with his head! This is Babs, baby. Who are you to question her authority? And during her show? The person should have been forced to watch The Mirror Has Two Faces as punishment.)

"Erlichman said Streisand, 64, believed the skit was in good fun and noted impersonator Steve Bridges, who wrote it, is a Republican."
(Proving what? The Pubs have a sense of humor? Could have fooled me. It's a ridiculous statement that clutches for straw. Babs needs no defense because she has a right to make an ass of herself in public if she wants, just as every celebrity does. More entertainment for us. Everyone wins the way I see it.)

"This skit has been so massively covered by media, it's impossible that it still could come as a surprise to any of the Bush admirers who bought tickets," Erlichman said."
(Anyone who bought a ticket should not be allowed to vote the way I see it. If you have such appalling taste in music and performers, then your choice of candidates is probably just as bad.)

Despite the controversy, Erlichman said the skit would remain a part of the tour. (Translation: Because the Queen of Streisland wills it so.)

Streisand, an outspoken liberal (Really? I hadn't noticed.), is touring the country after a 12-year absence from the stage (As previously stated, she's petrified about live performance. I have a deep appreciation of this, but she once tore up $40,000 dollars worth of carpeting at a venue because the sound wasn't right to her. That could have helped a lot of people, but the Queen was not happy, so money to burn is money to waste. She is a horrible woman used to getting her way.)

"...offering fans a repertoire of her four decades of hits." OH boy! Can't wait for that!

Your Fifteen Minutes Are Over

I've had it. I know I can't make these people or programs disappear from the media swirl, but this is more of a hope than a plea.

Your fifteen minutes of fame are over. Please start moving towards the exits.

1. Nancy Grace Please get this bully off the airwaves as soon as possible. This woman cannot see any other perspective other than her own and if anyone objects to her narrowmindedness, she interupts them until they finally shut down. She is always on the side of the prosecution no matter the evidence. Some have even suggested she caused the suicide of Melinda Duckett:
NBC News Sept. 15, 2006 — "Former prosecutor turned talk show host Nancy Grace is unapologetic about her aggressive approach to a mother who committed suicide after an interview about the woman's missing son. "

While I believe that Grace is not responsible, she was as hateful and vindictive as I have ever seen her during that interview. Hateful and vindictive seems to her normal way of speaking to anyone anymore. There was a time, before she began her spiral, that she at least could muster some sympathy from this viewer.
She is taking it all so personally, as if these outrageous wrongs were being done to her. She wears the tragic murder of her fiancé almost as a badge of honor, giving her sovereign authority to condemn the accused and impunity when her accusations go unrewarded by a jury. She seems intent on righting that wrong by publicly "convicting" any and all accused.
Ken Fox of TV Guide agrees. Stephen King agrees.
Whatever is going on beneath that starched blonde German helmet of a hairstyle, I hope she will stop taking herself so seriously as the Grand Inquisitor of the Universe. Please, lady, you're a talking head worried more about ratings that human beings.

2. Bill O'Reilly When you really believe that everything you think or say is right and everyone else is a buffoon, then the exits are calling.
Big Bill doesn't give a smudge about the issues, the players or the people, he cares only about his opinion. What's the point? Is this a news show? Hardly. Call it the Bill and Baloney show.

Yes, Bill, you are a big blowhard, and you are so right about everything, so how about a nice long fishing trip? Big bloated Bill doesn't listen to his guests, they are merely filler between his next pearls of wisdom. He lets guests have the final word, but even the slick professional polish cannot hide his smug superiority. Checkout time is now.
Another mediahead takes themselves way too seriously and becomes a joke.

3. Grafitti Seriously, I remember when Michael Lipton started this rag back in the day. Yes, the mag had its detractors and its fans (just like its editor, yes?), but at least the magazine had some character, funny stories, and you could find out what bands were playing over the weekend. Now, you can still find out what bands are playing, but little else is worth looking at. And what's with all the trashy photos?
This is worthless. Come back, Lipton-all is forgiven. We'll even take back your snide editorial remarks. Please?

4. Oprah Yes, Oprah worked hard to get to be the Queen of All Media, but the fact that so many people take her so seriously is downright frightening to me. Oprah reads a book and her minions scurry to read it. Oprah is a TV personality, not an English Lit professor. Yet her power can make or break a career in a matter of minutes.
Cross her and you'll be sorry: Jonathan Frazen ran his mouth too much. In the end, he was punished: "Whatever it was, Winfrey took the hint. On Monday, she announced, "Jonathan Franzen will not be on the Oprah Winfrey show because he is seemingly uncomfortable and conflicted about being chosen as a book club selection. It is never my intention to make anyone uncomfortable or cause anyone conflict. We have decided to skip the dinner and we're moving on to the next book."
Then there was the James Frey incident.
Baby, you might be the Queen, but even your slick publicists did not protect you from the hosing you got to your credibility. The Big O gave Frey a spanking and he had to dance a big mea culpa to avoid the public execution she had planned for him in Times Square.

"Oprah: James Frey is here and I have to say it is difficult for me to talk to you because I feel really duped." Yes, honey, you were because you believed in your own power.
Oprah got what all media types eventually get when they start to believe their own press. It should be called the Kathy Lee Syndrome.

Exit quietly now and enter the world of anonymous philanthropy. Take those tax write-offs where you can, baby.

5. Saturday Night Live This show has long past its due date. SNL used to be an event and once was a potent, influential show inspiring a whole generation (mine) to be as smartmouthed as the cutting-edge comedy that was brought to us every weekend. It was funny, original, progressive and full of relevant social satire.
Now, this show as is would not even make it past the pilot. The exits are marked in red. Go thee quietly. You did a good thing for many years. Leave your legacy untainted.

6. John Mayer He doesn't seem like a bad guy, the music isn't awful and he has not committed some egomanical media stupidities like the above mediaheads, so why do I include this young lad among the vultures? In truth, I hate to pick on him, but this has been bothering me.
My question is simple: why did he get a recording contract? It is not a question of age speaking here when I say that I can not discern one word that comes out of his mouth when he sings. It is mush to my ears. The singing is marginal at best. More like speak-sing to my jaded ears.

Then I hear about how well the guy plays the guitar. Huh? It is dull and predictable. I remember teaching in high school in the early 80's and hearing a kid so talented on the guitar that it made me evaluate why I was even studying music. That guy later struggled to even get noticed in Nashville and ended up disillusioned, joining the Navy and quitting the guitar for many years. Is that fair? And neither is life, so....

There are thousands of far more talented and deserving artists, why does this kid get attention? He got a guest spot on CSI. We watched it and we both turned to each other and said, "What? What was that?"

Long ago I stopped getting upset about why the truly talented and the innovative are routinely ignored by record companies and the general public. Let's face it: most of the record buying public are totally in the dark and have neither an ear nor a love of music and hence the sales of such artists skyrocket, while the deserving must toil. My generation is as guilty as the next in this regard. Somebody bought all those disco records, just as the mystifying sales of all things Britney or Hillary or...add the current flavor of the week.

John, it's been a good ride. Now, step aside and keep moving towards that little red sign above that doorway over there, ok?

7. Geraldo This is too easy. Mr. Swoop In For the Glory has been ready for last curtain call for decades, but I doubt we'll see that soon.
Here Geraldo is thankful he still has friends in high places that allow him to go over to Iraq and give away the positions of our troops to our enemies. Or perhaps to visit the Sago Mine and add his mighty offer of condolences. What was he doing there anyway?

How about that quick face splash for the Katrina victims? Tearfully loading children onto helicopters, Geraldo got the big photo op he wanted and like all the others, followed the spotlight to the next hot story.

Exit now and maybe a hundred years from now no one will remember the Capone vault slicky slide down into shameful journalism. And just maybe, history will remember the piece you did about the treatment of the mentally ill you did so many years ago before you fell victim to your own vanity.

8. Hillary-Paris-Nicole-Lohan-Tara Ad Nauseum

"And all of this fills my aching head
I hate this space, the luxury hotel bed.
Oh dear, oh me-oh-my
Got to concentrate just to keep from trying
Oh dear, oh me-oh-my
Got to concentrate just to keep from trying"
-Lyrics by David Sylvian

From moment these people were born, these vultures had one destiny: to be famous at any cost. Despite the vapid music, idiotic films and public displays of outrageous behavior, these little silver spoon, bratty Velociraptors will keep on doing whatever their publicists say to keep them in the limelight.

Why don't they ever just shine brightly, ignite and then disappear from our TV sets or theaters? Why doesn't shame ever figure into the equation? Where is good taste?
Ah, hell...who am I trying to kid? That never figures into it.

Listen, please, through that door marked Exit, there's a fabulous sale on Prada, ok? Seriously. Load up while you can. Take care.

9. David Caruso The Eclectic Guy household is filled with television viewing. The Eclectic Wife keeps abreast of what new shows are coming and when old favorites are showing and handles all the recording of such things. I am too dangerous of a techno-idiot to handle these duties and she wouldn't let me handle these matters for all the coffee in Brazil.

We both started watching CSI Miami. Somewhere along the way, I lost interest in this series. The stories are predictable and the cast are all expressionless to me, especially David Caruso. Each week, Mr. Keebler Elf takes his sunglasses off, holds them as butch as he can, then puts them back on and this is called acting? Or acting technique number two: with arms akimbo, he looks at the ground, looks back up and then mutters something like, "Then he'll be on my playground. (macho squint pause) And recess is over."

Some actors can make believe the Tough Guy. Caruso looks like he'd be more comfortable discussing fabrics on the Christopher Lowell show.

You've had a good run, NYPD Blue, but now it's time to say adieu.

10. Duncing With the Stars Look, I know this is an easy fight to win. No one is saying that this show is not fluff, but even host Tom Bergeron looks like he is having trouble keeping a straight face getting through this one. I have immense respect for the art of dance and the pros on this show are a pleasure to watch, but Jerry Springer? Who's next, Connie Chung?

I suggest that they beef up the amateur dance list with a few special guests, like Richard Ramirez. The Night Stalker could give us his best serial killer samba, in handcuffs and leg irons of course. Don't forget we will need a full SWAT team in matching ruffled shirts.
Or how about runaway bride Jennifer Wilbanks? Can't you just see the mounting pressure making her more and more squirrely each week until she does the inevitable Houdini? And the costume??? Well....something simple, just to "veil" the face.

Beef up the interest or sign off now, because "Duncing", you are justifying every snide remark about TV being a wasteland.

11. Jennifer Love Hewitt Jen-Jen, you've done forgettable movies, a TV show so derivative and unoriginal I'm surprised that any writer would put their real name in the credits, and you have even been so vain as to release some hideously vapid pop music. Sales have been dismal for all music releases. That should have been a clue to stop, but no, you continue. What is it with actors and singing? And vice versa?

Her acting range is this: Anger-knit eyebrows. Scared: open mouth and scream. Otherwise, all other emotions are covered with a blank look (probably thinking about her next hair color) or a smile. You tried and you got further than most girls who dream of stardom. Do the decent thing now, luv, and exit stage right.

Yes, the ghosts are whispering and if you lean really close to them they are saying, so softly......pleeeasssseee gooooooooooo.......


For now, this is my list of expendables. I'm sure more are coming.

The Five Films That Scared Me

Read Film Geek's latest entry and create your own list of the frightful five.

1. Night of the Living Dead

No surprise to any of my friends that this one kicks this list off. Romero rules.

Growing up in Pennsylvania, I had the glorious opportunity to watch Chiller Theater every Saturday night. When Chiller debuted this zombie classic, I was plain old "sceerd" out of my mind and spent most of the night making sure the door and the windows were locked. I'd even look outside to make sure that none of the undead were coming across the lawn to our house. This film also seems to represent a theme in my taste: people who are isolated who do not quite realize the danger that they are in until it's almost too late.

2. Alien

Saw this beauty in SF when it first was released and can remember coming out of the theater like I was just riding a rollercoaster. The horror of the spider-crab-like face hugger was just so revolting and horrifying. Then one by one, the creature takes the crew until poor Ripley is all alone. Riveting pacing at the end. The theme of people isolated and in danger-bingo!

3. The Thing

Isolation, anyone? An Arctic team is in mortal danger before realizing it after an alien lifeform invades their camp. The alien can morph into anything and...anyone. Paranoia divides the team and the tension builds. The special effects are the old school latex gore, but work monsterously. CGI would have ruined this master film. This film sent several shock waves up my spine.

4. The Fog

One of two films that the Eclectic Guy household traditionally watches every Halloween. Low tech effects by today's standards, but this tale of ghostly revenge never ceases to send those little blasts of adrenaline. There's something in the fog alright and they're not selling insurance neither. Love every frame. Isn't this an isolated town as well? Aren't they in trouble before they realize it? Is there something in this that I should look into my own background?

5. Dawn of the Dead

A few college buddies of mine and I drove down to Wheeling to catch a new horror flick. Although tame by today's standards, in 1978, it was a whole new level of horror movie. I was so disturbed by this film that I damaged my car just backing out of a parking space. On the way back, we were all silent, still stunned by what we had seen.

There's that isolation theme again. What does it all mean doctor?

Well, gentle readers, there's my five. What about yours?

Honorable mentions: Rosemary's Baby, Halloween, An American Werewolf in London, Dawn of the Dead 2004, Chamber of Horrors, Last Man on Earth, The Tingler.

I need your list

Hello gentle readers,

Inspired by Film Geek's blog of the Five Films That Changed Your Life, I have an idea that requires your thoughts: Ten Albums That Changed Your Life.

Write a list of the Ten that changed your life and why-then after you've really thought about it, email them to me and I will post them. I have not finished my list yet, so you can email them or just post them as a comment when I put my post up. Either way, it's thought provoking to we music lovers.

nevergetoutoftheboat@hotmail.com

Clash of the Titans (or why local wrestling is so good)

It was the typical Friday night after work inertia. Once I get settled in and get comfy on the ubiquitous couch, it’s hard to get out on Friday night. Couch and TV time are the Great American Narcotic, the opiate (the curse?) of the working classes. Isn’t this the reward for our laboring in the fields? You know, rest from ye labours and all that? Even when you promise people, this inertia is so strong that it makes you break promises and suffer the social repercussions.

(DFZ gettin' into mean mode.)

Despite my efforts to stay home and to convince my wife of the same (who didn’t want to go either), she was busy getting herself ready to go out. I resigned myself and caught a quick nap on the couch while she got ready. Soon, we were heading west towards WV State University to spend an evening not at the opera, the symphony, the Vandalia or even a party, but to watch the LOCAL WRESTLING. What?

Let me say something right here: while some of you culture vultures cringe at the mere thought of watching grown men pummel each other, consider what it is that I preach every week on my music show-diversity. Last night, this old guy privately ate a bit of crow realizing that I live in such a precious, snobbish culture bubble that my own credo of diversity doesn’t seem to apply but to a rarified and preordained selection of social and musical activities. Go to an art gallery? Sure. Check out a French film? Come on in. Watch wrestling? How gauche! What’s funny is that I saw a few colleagues at this event, but I told one of them that his “secret” was safe with me. He knew immediately what I was making light of.

(Yes, this is a college professor AKA Professor Danger)

It was the “September to Dismember” AWA APEX Wrestle-O-Rama Hell Fire Tag Team Wang Doodle Fest and we knew the headliners. In fact, the Falcon (DFZ) is a friend and we were there at his invitation. Held in the Davis Fine Arts Center (Irony, anyone?), this event can best be described as a surreal spectacle.

We met our friend there and grabbed some seats. The spectacle was well underway when we arrived and we came in at the end of a match where a “controversy” was erupting. Complete with a high blood pressure, over-the-top MC trying to work the crowd up, the “play” was already in full swing.

All men being merely players, the wrestlers taunted and threatened each other until push came to shove. Faux fights broke out and then stopped. All the while, the crowd was mixed in reaction. No feeding frenzy here. The audience was promised that the winners would be determined later and that a public announcement would appear on the website. Ok, let’s move on. This shtick ain’t working.

(Mr. Black enjoying himself.)

At first, it took some time to adjust to this event, but far sooner than I would have ever predicted, I was really enjoying myself. I won’t lie: we laughed sometimes so hard and so long that my ribs hurt. It is both ridiculous and serious. Ridiculous because there is no suspension of disbelief and yet you know that some of this stuff is crazy dangerous and really painful. Then there is the cringe, hoping that the athlete is not seriously injured or knowing that someone is sure going to be sore the next morning.

The house lights dimmed and Act Two began. The cast changed to Beautiful Bobby and his tag team member Loverboy Dennis. I am not lying. Dressed in blue tights with their names displayed upon their hind quarters, these guys looked like seasoned veterans whose seasoning was an 18th century recipe. Old Denny in particular was looking a little bit too long in the tooth as we turned to each other and said, “How old is this dude?” “Hey Den, the home just called and curfew is at ten.” Beautiful Bobby, if he ever was such a creature, long passed that exit many mile markers ago. Their opponents were bleach blond dude and a kid that didn’t look old enough to drive and way too small to be in the ring with Bob and Den. But, on with the show!

Bleach blond fell out of the ring a few times, the young kid got whipped into the ropes which was countered by Loverboy Dennis getting his arm occasionally twisted behind him. Several times Denny exclaimed to the ref (Another young kid. Don’t they ID these kids before they make them officials?), “Hey ref! He was grabbing my hair! He was grabbing my hair!” I appreciate his point of view as the poor man wanted to keep what little remained. Beautiful Bobby stood mainly outside the ring, waiting to be tagged. Curiouser and curiouser methinks. Den and Bobby are declared winners.

Act Three is a bout between two guys who seem intent on seeing who can slap each other’s chest the hardest. These guys are great athletes, but the pacing was a bit slow.

All the while, the crowd was a strangely silent at times. This crowd was not the most enthusiastic and an eerie silence would prevail; broken by the occasional individual outburst. This was not a gathering of crazed male rednecks, but a balanced mix of families. Odd, it was like they were watching TV, talking among themselves, with only collective applause or booing. Civilized? Perhaps. Surreal? For sure, good readers, for sure.

Finally onto the Main Event! Death Falcon Zero and his compadre Professor Danger (known as the Grapes of Wrath) to tag team the Scufflin’ Hillbilly and Mr. Black for the title of Hardcore Champeens of the World (I have no clue.). Professor Danger enters looking like he should be behind the accounting books and certainly NOT in the ring. “How much does he weigh? What the heck is he doing up there? Man, I’m taller than he is.” These are our comments. He is a villain, someone to be hated and scorned by the crowd. Some folks are into this. He points a finger to his head, symbolizing his “infinite mind”-brains over brawn I suppose. The obvious: why would a smart guy get in the ring? A question he has no doubt pondered more than once.

Behind him, comes our friend, DFZ, the only wrestler tonight who wears a mask. He told us to boo when he came out as he is also a villain, an evil guy. We cash those chips instantly and can’t resist the best roaring welcoming shouting and cheering that we can muster. It’s exciting to see someone you know up on the stage, the focus of the house’s attention. DFZ works the crowd with some taunts and a flexing of his “guns”. He was born for the stage. The crowd is into this and seems alive for the first time of the evening. This is what they came for: bread and circus, blood and guts, and good versus evil. The “good’ is the tag team of the Scufflin’ Hillbilly (pictured) and Mr. Black.

DFZ and Danger work very hard and do some very dangerous, no doubt painful and insane things for our amusement. Hillbilly and especially Mr. Black are some extra large dudes, making it hard to do some flashy things, but the “evil” duo’s flying kicks, over the head body slams, and flips are flawlessly executed. Is this stuff real? Well, you can’t fake jumping off the ring and smashing a table in two or for that matter, being thrown out of the ring onto a table for the same effect. Ditto with being hit in the head with a metal chair. I heard the clank as everybody else did and we did a collective cringe. This is nuts, plain and simple.

DFZ and Danger have an “unexpected” win, but instead of glory, the MC, in true wrestling spectacle style, begins a long diatribe about how he has put up their antics all year long and although they have won the title and the belt that goes with it, BUT it’s payback time. From backstage, wrestlers run out and gang up upon the hapless winners, leaving the audience in what appears to be a cliffhanger. DFZ and Danger remain motionless in the ring until some people literally carry them off. Ok, could have been a better ending, a more positive finale, but time to exit.

“It’s just my job five days a week.”

After the show, we talked with DFZ’s sister who was there with their mom and dad. Dad’s health has not been so great lately and now is using a wheelchair. We notice Beautiful Bobby pass by us in his street clothes. He declines a kid’s request for an autograph. We find out that he recently suffered a heart attack and that was why he was so inactive in the ring. In fact, both management and colleagues tried to dissuade him from participating in the event.

We walk to the parking lot, where we wait for the Falcon so that we can figure out where we can get some refreshments after the show. Mr. Black goes by with his wife and baby following behind him. He is pulling a small suitcase, no doubt containing his stage clothes, passport and dossier. You’d never know that this guy was a wrestler. He wears a baseball cap and keeps his eyes on the ground as he goes by. Some other players walk by, engaged in conversations with girlfriends or colleagues. It’s the end of the gig. Show’s over, time to go home.

We meet up with DFZ at a local “sports bar” (Oxymoron anyone?), and end up sitting on the kitchen side of the place in order to avoid the karaoke. The karaoke is so loud and the singers are so bad that they sometimes stop our conversations mid-sentence.

“Whisky for my men and beer for ma hah-sez…”

“Oh my God. That’s talent; being able to sing in three keys at once.” In fact, I admire people who have such nerve as to get up and sing so terribly off-key and don’t seem to be bothered by it at all. No Pavarotti myself, I still take performing way too seriously to ever do that. While I admire it, our ears can’t bear it for very long and we kept closing the door between us and the noise. One of the wait staff apparently overhears our complaints and deliberately leaves the door wide open. Apparently our musical criticism is not welcomed. Too bad, I shut the door hard as soon she leaves.

I ask DFZ about some of the stunts. One in particular had the 300 lb Mr. Black jumping off the ring and trying to land on DFZ while he lay upon a table. Mr. Black ended up crushing nothing but the table.
“That wasn’t supposed to happen that way. I wasn’t supposed to move.” said the Falcon with a devilish grin. We all laugh.
“How did he react?”
“He called me a [ ].”
“What about Professor Danger being dropped onto a table, but nearly missed?”
“That was the other guy’s fault.”
“So, you have to trust the other guy quite a bit when doing these crazy stunts?”
“Absolutely.”
“What about when you guys hit one another?”
“There’s a rule: never hit someone harder than you want to be hit.” Sounds like the Golden Rule to me.
During the final moments of the match, DFZ got kicked in the face causing an already visible black eye. This stuff is insane.

Our food order is taking way too long and after watching the kitchen staff, whom I have dubbed Baffled and More Baffled, it is easy to figure out why. More Baffled seemed perplexed enough as he funneled generic ketchup into the Heinz bottles. Finally, the jaded, snarky girl behind the bar (standard for these type places) directs the food to us. I inhale my burger like I haven’t eaten in days. Watching wrestling is hard work, ya know?

DFZ looks up and there walks by the Scufflin’ Hillbilly. Not an hour ago, they looked like they were going to kill each other, but this exchange is friendly and sounds like two pros talking shop. Later, bleach blonde and many of the other athletes are there, dressed in street clothes and acting like regular folk; far, far removed from their overblown stage personae. This is, despite the “sound and fury,"both entertainment and a business.

The night is getting late for we old folks, so we excuse ourselves and leave our friends with the karaoke still at high decibels, heading home after an evening which gave me a glimpse into a world far outside my precious paradigm. While I was glad to go and see old DFZ do his thing, don’t expect me to get season tickets. A T-shirt maybe, but hell, I don’t even go the symphony. Who am I kidding? I am born for the DVD-couch arena.

Precious or not, culture or not, there is bliss.

A Local event

9/11/06 A complete review of this event is coming. It's been hectic lately, so patience please.

This is Death Falcon Zero. Together, with Professor Danger they are collectively called the wrestling team the Grapes of Wrath.


THE MAIN EVENT:
WVSU’s Office of Student Activities and West Virginia’s only American Wrestling Association franchised territory, AWA-APEX, present “September to Dismember” on Friday, Sept. 8 at 7:30 p.m. in the Davis Fine Arts Theater. Admission is free for WVSU students and $7 for non-students.
The main event features WVSU’s own professor-filmmaker, Danny Boyd, as Professor Danger. He and tag team partner, Death Falcon Zero, formed the Grapes of Wrath in April 2005 and have since worked more than 60 matches in three states for five different federations. They will face Mr. Black and the Scufflin’ Hillbilly for the AWA-APEX tag team championship.

Contact: Tiffany Lipscomb, Student Activities, WVSU 304 766-3107
Contact: Robin Boyd at 304 541-1591 or rboyd@wvstateu.edu

Articles in the Gazzand Graffiti

Out of the Ivory Tower

A trip to the local music store only reminds me how little I get out and what a bubble I live in. It also brought home a truth or two.
Recently, a friend I hadn't seen in ages innocently asked:
"Do you still play guitar?"
"Well, back when I cared, I did."
Silence. Puzzlement.
"Oops! Did I say that out loud?"
I tried to make a joke of my oblique comment and told him that it was a long story.

When you play the guitar and truly love it, you are going to go through phases with it, just like anything. For me, a few lines from Sting might quickly clarify my attitude:
"I must love what I destroy
and destroy the thing I love."

I have been reinterested in my beloved guitar as of late. Of course, the guitar is as hard a master as anything, but also forgiving as a saint. Kind of like coming home and being forgiven for all your trespasses and negligence with nary a word of admonition.

Mel Bay (Yes, Mel Bay publisher of the many bad things) has recently published this new arrangement of the Bach Cello Suites. So, I went out to local music store in hopes finding this new publication.

After sifting through a confusing display of sheet music and finding not a solo guitar catagory, finally a salesperson approached.

Dressed in alternative grunge style clothing with the obligatory "tats", piercings, bracelets, rings and other paraphenalia signifying his allegiance to his tribe, he opened with:
"Uh..can I help you?" His enthusiasm for his job was barely containable.
"I am looking for some gee-tar music." Looking for perhaps a brother of the six-string, I use this cute variation.
"Gee-tar music?" I have puzzled Sir Tat-A-Lot. This is going well, methinks.
"Guitar music."
"Well, here's our guitar books."
After a quick look-see, it is clear we are adrift in the sea of beginning guitar books.
"What I'm looking for is this new transcription of Bach for guitar."
"Bach for guitar?" I say nothing, but shake my head "Yes."
He goes to a computer to search for a title, but the internet is down. Flustered, he looks around for help with this most unusual request. A second salesman, who is otherwise engaged with a cocky, balding-with-a-ponytail (why is the cliche always so true?) guitar enthusiast, excuses himself to resolve this dilemma I've unwittingly caused.

"Look man," (finally someone I can relate to) "the music that we have here is what was left over from the closing of the Huntington store. What you're looking for, we'd have to order and that usually takes us a long time to get. So, your best bet would be to try so-and-so."

I thank him for his candor and thank him for not wasting my time searching and ordering something that would have taken weeks to order.

I should have just gone to Amazon in the first place.