AMEN

ESKIMO & WOOK PRESENT PROUDLY...

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ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS, 1998 EDITION

If I were still a smoker of the tobacco, that fact married with my love of clowns would've made the procurement of such a device a quest worthy of Dr. Jones.

Tip of the furrowed brow to the fine folks at Boing Boing.

SUBURBAN HYMNS, VOL. 1

I’ve seen him before – twice to be exact – and with each spotting, the veneer of being a SEPTA-designated “bidder of farewells” to those trains leaving the Ardmore station has obviously grown less. Today was the clincher, as what had been a purely generic exercise in people watching was carried out with the added benefit of audio.

I moved closer to his perch, midway down the platform, where I eagerly sat. The clothes, always different, but the wide-brimmed hat (was it straw?) was the same. Clutching a medium-sized soft drink from McDonalds in his right, he rose to a higher vantage point, and as the westbound train began pulling out, he lifted his left, and rang the most delicate of bells, continually, until the train was well around the curve towards Haverford.

And then he spoke.

“The Code of Hammurabi / by the light of the moon and sun…”

It’s here where I stopped straining to hear the specifics of what he had to say to reflect that his tone was eerily similar to that of Riley Martin as played by Ossie Davis, his eyeline never straying from the length of track where another train just might approach.

“The Code of Hammurabi / by the light of the moon and sun…”

I wonder – could he be reciting the actual Code of Hammurabi? I knew it was a set of ancient laws, but was it composed in perfect rhythm, as a glorious rhyme…

“Six-gun shooter / Sammy Davis Jr…”

Obviously not.

Image cribbed from DMuth

A HEARTBREAKING WORK OF STAGGERING GENIUS

The Archive from Sean Dunne on Vimeo.

Like the records themselves, we're gonna miss guys like this when they're gone.

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Back in the nineties, around the time when New Jack swing was beginning to implode, members of the The Fringe could often be found sitting in circles harmonizing a smooth concoction that rode on a stony chorus that exclaimed "Boba / Take off your armor and come in". I can't remember if we actually had any additional lyrics than that one, golden ode to a one-night stand, but for the record, this video is a good approximation of its sexiness.

NOW PLAYING - SUBSPACE BIOGRAPHIES #2

A continuing series that vividly details where home movies go to die. Today, the introduction of gravy, a celebration of meat.

BEFORE THERE WAS WOOK...

I never truly appreciated how inherently cool the 1974 Chevy Vega that I inherited from a dead aunt was until looking at this picture. How did I not get laid in high school is beyond me. Perhaps the girls of Ridley knew of the ride's bad reputation. Some of those chicks knew cars. Or at least their dads did. I just drove them into the ground.

Actually, that's a lie. I sold it to the fry cooker at McDonald's. $500...a mercy killing.

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