Thursday, September 28, 2006


Now, a note from beyond the misty veil... I speak to you from a land called Vacation, where the trees drip with free cans of Coke and strawberry popsicles. I'm off for a couple weeks, so you may see a few fewer postings here, despite the tumultuous and impressive doings in Dodger-land.

You may see me at Disneyland quite a bit.

rock on,

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Sept 18, 2006


This is Nomar Garciaparra hitting a walk-off home run in the bottom of the 10th tonight against the Padres. You can't tell in this shot but his quad is busted.

This game, which included four back-to-back homeruns in the bottom of the ninth, will go down as the craziest Dodger game in history.

The Yankees better watch out because we are coming to get them. At the World Series.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

I wanted to extend some kind of spiritual support to Ms. Whitney Houston as she proceeds with her new life, post-Bobby Brown. Brave choice, there. I hope she deeply understands that she was always and will always be an American queen, of the sort mortals like Bobby Brown can only ponder in awe. Well, that's my feeling. Never been a big fan, but I can recognize all-American greatness when I see it.

Now, I just discovered a review of the awful movie Shopgirl, and am compelled to reprint it here, despite the tardiness. Who knows? I may spare some innocent video-store/Netflix customer the tedious queasiness I experienced on witnessing Steve Martin (my favorite comedian of all time) pull a most unflattering and unfortunate Woody Allen impression.


Steve_martin2Gag me with a glove. The only reason I saw the "romantic" "comedy" Shopgirl, based on Steve Martin's novella of the same name, was because my friend and I got lost on the way to Pasadena and it was too late to see The Squid and the Whale. Now, I can appreciate a good chick flick as much as anyone, particularly one set in Los Angeles, but the entire premise of this one - that the oddball depressive Saks Fifth Avenue glove salesgirl Mirabelle (Claire Danes) is going to fall for the rich, suave computer something-or-other Ray Porter (Steve Martin), who in turn is going to crush her with his cold cold heart - seriously made my skin crawl. We are asked to find Ray the pinnacle of urbanity because he wears shiny black shoes, drinks wine on his private plane, and lives in a modern house in the Hollywood Hills that he bought already furnished. On their second date, he asks the schoolmarm-styled Silver Lake resident Mirabelle if she has a good relationship with her father (wink wink), and then says he has run out of "date questions." Already?! But she is smitten because he takes her to THE IVY and uh...did I already mention the house?
Their love making scenes reduced me to a fourth-grade maturity level. "Eeew!" I screeched, peeking through my fingers. How could they? How could A.O. Scott of the New York Times describe this film as "near perfect"? Jason Schwartzman's almost-lovable slob Jeremy was the best thing about the movie, and thankfully Mirabelle does end up with him in the end after Ray informs her, via handwritten note, that he cheated, causing her to sob bitterly, beseeching, "why don't you love me?". Meanwhile we're expected to believe that Jeremy's two-month tour as the amp tech for a shitty rock band, much of which he spent listening to self-help tapes, has turned him into some kind of sensitive guy who can afford Helmut Lang suits. Oh, and Mirabelle, who makes two charcoal drawings a year (she's "quirky," remember?) has a show at an elite Beverly Hills gallery. Ray shows up with a new, appropriately aged girlfriend and Jeremy is turned out in another $3000 suit. Such is the poetry of life.
I read reviews of this movie that said to "bring tissues"; why? To wipe the oily film off my eyeballs? I cringed for poor lovely Claire Danes. I mean, who doesn't love Steve Martin? He's a wild and crazy guy, but he is not Marlon Brando. The very reason Lost in Translation (which this received many comparisons to) was so poignant and romantic was because Scarlett Johannsen and Bill Murray didn't go there. And we didn't want them to. Clearly, this is Steve Martin's mid-life crisis movie, but it just seems to me that the Emperor has no clothes. Now could he please put them back on? -- Steffie Nelson, LA Weekly Style Council

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Hi! Hi! Hi!

I am relieved to learn of Whitney Houston's divorce from Bobby Brown. I hope that it is a positive change for her.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


Someone named "booboo" informs us that you can listen to vintage episodes of Pop Vultures at the KUOW website. Go to and do a search for Pop Vultures. God bless KUOW. They are, truly the shit.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006


Ron Isley Sentenced To 3 Years In Prison For Tax Evasion

Ronald Isley, front man of the Isley Brothers, has been sentenced to three years and one month in prison for tax evasion, and ordered to pay $3.1 million in back taxes to the IRS. ...

The only thing Ron Isley should be convicted of is criminal funkytude, reckless musical chameleonism, and wielding an unlicensed pot belly.

Or as LA Weekly web maestro Mark Mauer put it:
Thank goodness that criminal Ron Isley is off the streets, while fine upstanding citizens like Frank Quattrone can avoid jail time for his conviction of funneling millions to his pals and covering up the evidence and tampering with the jury.

“According to reports, Mr. Quattrone will receive $100 million to $120 million in overdue compensation, so long as he abides by an agreement and does not break the law for a year.”

Hang tough, Mr. I.

chicken pot pie,

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Intriguing questions, to be sure.

A writer/reader poses an intriguing question in the comments area, which I will copy here:

How do I start without sounding like a total deuschbag... umm I'm a wannabe music journalist who has interned at OCWeekly - uh, wait I blew it. So moving on, sometimes I get bumbarded with so many new acts (Majority sucky) that I can't stand to even look at another band boy. You have been doing music writing for so long how do you keep inspired and motivated about it? I've only been attempting to write about it and I get frustrated. How do you manage to write about bands without getting disheartened by the constant assholes you have to deal with? Kudos to you for being such a strong person.

Not to be a douche bag, but I would recommend any wannabe writer to utilize the website if a real dictionary isn't available.

Anyway, I am unclear on the question: Are you frustrated with BAD MUSIC or BAD PEOPLE? These are two distinct problems. They don't always correlate.

In terms of ASSHOLES who are also MUSICIANS, I see no particular pattern here. True, most musicians have a dark side a mile wide. And true, rock & rollers are not famous for dependability in the areas of love and family. And true, many musicians are frauds with terrible taste in music, who are afraid of the deep void at their core, and habitually avoid it, which is partly why their music sucks. (That, and their lack of talent.)

But assholes? Nah--no more than anyone else. At least not for your purposes as a journalist. You shouldn't have to struggle with that stuff in a personal way. All you have to do is interview them. And — which may be traumatizing in its own way — listen to their goddamn record.

No musician should be an asshole to you. And if he is, that is only more stuff for you to write about. The only people who were ever assholes to me in an interview were the singer for Nickelback and Pamela Anderson. It should be noted, they are both Canadian, and neither of them are musicians.

As far as how to cope with the glut of bad music out there, I find that listening to the Beatles and T. Rex is always fortifying to the soul.

How to Hear Pop Vultures Online

So far, you can't.