My friend Tim Gordon (of Royal Quiet Deluxe) was released from jail out in San Francisco last Friday. He had been locked up in there since late September on a false testimony for crimes that he definitely did not commit.

That’s the justice system for you. They tried to break him, tried to get him to plead guilty to crimes he didn’t commit, and he stood strong. Now he’s out and I couldn’t be happier about it.

We have been writing back and forth like teenaged lovers at two different boarding schools since sometime around Halloween. As happy as I am that Tim is out, I am going to miss writing so often. I looked forward to opening his letters at my office. I’d shut my door and read them over and over throughout the day, keeping them in my pocket until I got home at night.

He’d send me little stuff from time to time, stuff that showed he was thinking about me — stuff that showed he was keeping his soul alive, too. He said it was okay to share some of these here, and I will be over the next few months.

I was supposed to be the one keeping Tim’s spirits up, but the picture and letter below really made me smile. My friend Xeni coined the term “unicorn chaser,” and I doubt she’s seen one as bittersweet as this one.

Before reading, you should know this: Tim actually did used to hammer a pen up his nose and make drawings for all takers on the streets of San Francisco. Trust me, it’ll make sense later.

(See the letter explaining this after the jump.)
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I have learned that there is a SUPERVOLCANO (which is a real thing not made up by an 8-year-old kid, apparently,) underneath Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming. This supervolcano has erupted in the past, and was possibly partially responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs. According to one guy (who keeps saying “million” when he means “thousand”, which you’d think would be problematic for a physicist,) it WILL erupt again, and everybody who lives in the huge area depicted here will be pretty well f*cked.

Coincidentally, on the same day that I learned that 11 U.S. states and 3 Canadian provinces are just incontrovertibly screwed six ways to Sunday, I came across this amazing and hilarious Jack Kirby drawing from 1972 of what our future might look like after “A GREAT CATACLYSM!”:

Image taken from Kamandi #1, Via the always excellent Comic Book Cartography.

Also, Discovery Channel has a pretty cool interactive explanation of the supervolcano.
BOOM. For real.

Cyndi’s taking a bit of a break from blogging here to do something a lot more intense, personal, gratifying and fantastic.

You may know her from the NYC burlesque scene as the fabulous Cherry Pitz — she does a spectacular routine with Vincent Price’s disembodied voice. (Link goes to video that may be considered unsafe for work, but inarguably awesome.)

Now she’s working on a one-woman show show that traces her journey from a little suburban Jewish girl obsessed with Wonder Woman to a fabulous burlesque Queen in NYC.

The show’s called Wonder Woman: A How-To Guide for Little Jewish Girls.

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I’ve been writing and editing and re-writing my story for this Monday’s Moth GrandSLAM, just scribbling it over and over on a legal pad to make sure I’ve got it. The theme is “Into the Wild,” which poses a challenge. I’ve pretty much told and re-told what I like to think is a pretty solid story on that theme. I’ve told that thing right into the red dirt, to be honest. I’m sure my friends, family, and the odd person I am totally trying to impress is sick to their guts of it. I think I’ve worn a track in my brain from repeating it so damn much.

I got one of the best passive-aggressive guilt trips about this that I’ve ever had from anyone that wasn’t my own mother recently. She’s a great friend I met through the Moth, and when I suggested I wanted to visit that old incarnation of that story for the theme, she said “Yeah, I mean, you could do that. But if you won with it, I think you’d feel pretty cheap.”

She’s right. So I’m working on it, but brother, you never know you’ve got something until it’s over and done with. The challenge here is to find other material in that experience, stuff that didn’t make the first cut and massaging it into something brand-new.
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The Moth’s podcast this week features a story told by the Reverend Al Sharpton. It’s funny, sad and moving, and one of the better stories that I’ve heard on the Moth podcast in some time. He’s an amazing speaker — I mean, he wouldn’t be who he is if he wasn’t — and the whole thing is a real joy to listen to. You can hear it yourself here:

Al Sharpton on the Moth Podcast: Conviction

I actually have a story about my own experience with Reverend Sharpton, which I’ve blogged about here before. But I thought it might be worth a repeat mention.

Essentially, I used to play the typewriter in a ridiculous performance art band featuring two keyboard-playing chickens. For real. That really happened. You can hear two of our songs here:

Royal Quiet Deluxe, April 1998
Exotic Newcastle Disease, by Royal Quiet Deluxe

I was at a dinner with Al Sharpton and a number of heavy hitters in Virginia’s African-American community, and someone made the terrible mistake of asking me what I did. I got way too into it and ran off at the mouth forever. And I could see Al Sharpton rolling his eyes and thinking what all black people think from time to time:

“White folks are crazy.”

Anyway, here’s the story. Hope you enjoy it:

Is there a worse word in American English than the dreaded “c-word?” I really need to describe pretty much the worst human being I’ve ever heard of, and “cunt” seems downright generous under the circumstances. I like the Jamaican “bumba claat,” but it’s not really my language and I need to see clearly when I swing this hammer.

It’s a shame I can’t ask the author of the little document below. If he doesn’t have any leads now, I bet he will in a couple years. A good friend of mine teaches GED school. He found this on a desk in his classroom last month:

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This cardboard-and-Sharpie sign is nailed up in our friends Alex & Emily’s bathroom:

According to Emily:

“Alex and I were walking one evening in northwest DC and discovered a bunch of these signs (same misspellings and all) posted outside an embassy, I believe it was the Lebanese embassy. Since they had so many, we figured we could snatch one without them noticing.”

The sign is brilliant enough on its own, but I LOVE the thought of a cranky Lebanese diplomat stepping in dog shit once, and then scouring the embassy for scrap cardboard and scrawling out TONS of these things to put out all over the lawn. And possibly spending the rest of his day watching with one eye through parted curtains for trespassing dogs to yell at.
(Jeff can relate.)

Cherry Pitz and Joe the Shark are proud to present:

Hotsy Totsy Burlesque is back with…

HARRY POTTER & THE BOOBIES OF FIRE!

at The Delancey Lounge

Tuesday, Dec 21st – 9:30 PM – $8

168 Delancey Street, NYC (between Clinton and Attorney.) Map here. Just 2 blocks from the Delancey/Essex subway stop (F/J/M/Z) in Manhattan.

That’s right, Hotsy Totsy Burlesque is celebrating the holiday season with everyone’s favorite group of magical teens!

Will He Who Shall Not Be Named ruin Hannukah and Christmas for us?

Featuring Coney Island’s own ADAM ‘THE FIRST REAL MAN”

CHERRY PITZ
ATTA GIRL
AUDREY BLOOM
BB HEART
BRAD LAWRENCE
HARD CORY
JENNY C’EST QUOI
PETER AGUERO
LILITH EVERGREEN
and more!

Check out the swell photos from our production of DR WHO BURLESQUE. And check out a great review of our DR WHO show @Vitamin C4.

Last night in a “discount store” in Prospect Heights, I came across an amazing little item. See, not only have factories in China been producing unauthorized knockoffs of popular toys (which is nothing new)… it seems like they’re hitting the “shuffle” button with whatever figures they have left in stock, and coming up with new super-teams too! Case in point: the SENSE OF RIGHT ALLIANCE!

Apparently, a robot-armed Batman, Spider-Man, Superman, the yellow Power Ranger, The Thing, and a redheaded Reed Richards and have teamed up…

…to FENCE AGAINST THE EARTH!

And on top of this already delicious ridiculousness, when I took a closer look at their approximation of Superman:

…I immediately made this association:

God, I love this stuff.
PREVIOUSLY IN FOREIGN PLAYTIME ODDITIES: Coming to America Wrapped in Plastic and Cardboard

AND PREVIOUSLY IN AWESOME TOYS : The Longing for Lost Toys

Well today was a day. It was right up there, man — about as dumb as a day can get without generating anything worth repeating publicly. Actually, come to think of it, pretty much everything dumb that happened today is highly confidential. Now that I really focus on it, a participant in every single conversation I had today said “this is highly confidential.” For the last few, I was that person.

Let me tell you something: it ain’t fun.

Now I am sitting here at my desk with the top button of my jeans unbuttoned, practicing the lost art of the perfect smoke ring while writing this in one window and downloading Led Zeppelin tunes in another.

Things are looking up. And really, they could be a lot worse. A really good old friend of mine is in jail right now, and he just sent me a pretty bleak letter. I had to have a confidential conversation about its contents.

I could have written that letter.

But do you ever have those days where you’re just like “my GOD, what has happened to the spirit of ROCK?” Where you just look back at the stuff that you liked from your twenties and forget all the scraping for respect from the world in between the good moments and say to yourself, ‘hey man, I used to ROCK. I used to feel the Spirit of Rock and now it has shambled away forever.”

On the worst days you are standing behind a tall fence in the back of your own mind and listening to the Spirit of Rock play beach volleyball on the other side.

I might be having one of those days. They’re listening to Led Zeppelin on the other side of the fence, and apparently someone’s just shown up with a fresh pitcher of margaritas but I will never be invited to taste those drinks again.

So here’s my antidote to feeling like that – I just keep this picture on my iPhone and look at it whenever I need it:

I saw this while I was out walking around about a month ago, parked right on Marcy Ave. Just look at it. It looks like things in there smell bad but feel great, like the thing is crouching on its back wheels to leap on the highway to hell. I took it on my iPhone and then fiddled with it in a few apps and on Photoshop to make it look like an old movie. This photo may not be exactly what it looks like to look at that van, but it’s a pretty good representation of what it feels like.

The Spirit of Rock is alive and well and parked on Marcy Avenue. He may not be a roommate, but I’m still in his neighborhood. And overall, I think I like that dude a lot better now that we’re not living together anymore.