Some Random Musings From the Bowels of the Black Cat:

That Beatles mashup album kinda makes me long for the days when Klaatu were thought to be the Beatles…

Nothing funnier than a waitresses’ recommendation for Pasta Fagioli at an Olive Garden (when you’re here, you’re on tour) in Tupelo, Miss.: `WELL, THE PASTA FAGEEOLI IS GOOD… IT’S LIKE EYE-TALIAN CHILI!.’ That being said, there’s no better tour-meal bargain than the O.G.’s bottomless soup & salad & breadsticks for $5.95. My chain-hating father is rolling in his grave as I write this…

Is it just me, or is The Office’s Jenna Fischer this century’s answer to WKRP in Cincinnatti’s Jan Smithers (bookish-yet-foxy WKRP staffer Bailey Quaters)?

Being THISCLOSE to my former home of Philly has me dreaming of cannoli & Marra’s pizza…

Kevin Guthrie is the future of American stand-up…

-pb  

fun so far, ‘cept peyton randolph harrison pinketron the third getting sprayed w/lighting shrapnel on opening night in pittsburgh. from my vantage point, i’m convinced there was a second light involved, situated just beyond the mixing desk. no other injuries to report. below is the set list from pittsburgh. played the same one on sunday in dayton, with joe & james adding `please mr. please’ by reuqest in the encore. nice people both cities. no trainwrecks. off to food, then woxy, then covington, then, hopefully, faster wireless.

high as a kite

weakest shade of blue

overcome by happiness

automaton

water band

conscience clean

bjorn borg

lightheaded

microscopic view

butcher’s tale (zombies cover)

zero refills

there goes the sun

bs johnson

pch 1

baby in 2

cruelty to animals

flaming wreck

somerville

**************

working girls

7:30

 

Hint: I didn’t spend it sipping champagne in the Ashmont Records boardroom (Joyce’s kitchen), while yes-men, ill-intentionned floozies and other assorted hangers-on whipsered plaudits in my ear. It was more like this:

5:17: Wake-up, overcome with the rush of Live a Little’s North American release and the Phillies making their first post-season appearance since 1993 falling on the same day. Oh wait, the latter ain’t happening. Fall back to sleep.

6:04: Wake-up, make coffee. Pre-medicate (I got a balky ticker) in anticipation of my first dental visit since 2001 – the last time I had a job and a dental plan.

9:17: Get my choppers x-rayed, scraped, buffed, waxed and detailed. Hirsute dentist tells me I have the gums of a taut pre-teen Swedish boy, then asks me if I’d like to `take a pull off the gas.’

10:47: Return `Devil and Daniel Johnston’ (always thought his story was a lot more interesting than his music and this documentary confirms my belief) to the Princeton Blockbuster with the new Lindsey Buckingham disc `Under the Skin’ (also out today) playing on the CD player.

11:01: Pick up lemons, asparagus, multigrain bread and Pelligrino at the Princeton Whole Foods. Cost: $479.45. Guess they had a sale today.

12:25: Eat lunch.

1:50: Water freshly laid grass seed in back yard and ponder yet again how bloody awful `Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip’ is, which only makes me pine for the good old Hollywood Babylon days of the Larry Sanders Show. All while listening to my `loaner’ Sirius Stilleto, which truth be told, probably only picks up a good signal if you’re standing in the middle of Kansas.

3:00: Fall alseep watching the end of the Twins/A’s game.

4:00: Awoken by phone call from Red Eye distribution’s Stephen King. The Artie Fufkin of Sacramento. He’s just returning my call from June.

6:07: spin some half-truths about how I spent my record release day

In case anyone was wondering, that was the sound of me spitting yogurt all over my computer upon reading Joe’s mention of `barrel-chested, bull-necked’ (so says IMDB) actor Dolph Sweet this morning. Or, as my dad used to call him, Charles Durning Lite. 

Nevertheless, a good primer for our typical van conversations:

Joe: Gavone, who was that old guy in…

Me: Strother Martin?

Joe: Right, right…

Jose: Was Ralph Macchio in `Eight is Enough?’

Petyon: (Dismissively) No, man, you’re thinking of Glenn Scarpelli.

Lord James: Honk-shoooooooo…..