Tales of True Adventure for Rugged Men Not Unlike Yourself
Learned this past weekend on a trip visiting my 81-year-old aunt that my grandmother’s cousin was a songwriter in California. And that I’m named for him, by way of my dad. (Fucked up spelling and all.) Here’s one of his tunes that Bing Crosby recorded.
And here’s another that could be fun to work up as a rocker.
Red Hook.
Another band we have to see when Fat Elvis takes us to Australia.
I really enjoyed this. Available for $0 on Amazon Prime. A great antidote to overhyped action hero fare, and probably the sort of thing someone who appreciates abandoned malls would like.
There’s probably nothing worse than poets working in parking lots.
Yes, it’s a YouTube commercial for Taylor guitars, but still …
One of the measures of a great song is relatability. This one’s got it in spades.
This show never lets me down.
This looks fantastic. The lead is Cooper Hoffman, son of Philip Seymour.
Sorry.
This guy is a performance poet from the 70’s. I’ve never heard of him.
Somehow I missed this trailer at the time.
VERY British personal ads from the London Review of Books. All are witty, many are pants-wettingly funny. Here’s a taste …
Bald, short, fat and ugly male, 53, seeks short-sighted woman with tremendous sexual appetite. Box no. 9612.
I’ll see you at the LRB singles night. I’ll be the one breathing heavily and stroking my thighs in the ‘art’ books. Asthmatic, varicosed F (93) seeks M to 30 with enough puff in him to push me uphill to the post office. This is not a euphemism. Box no. 4632.
I once found the perfect match in this column, but then it turned out to be an ad I’d written two years earlier that they’d forgotten to publish. Still, you have to admire my consistency. Man, 43. Consistent. Admiring. Admirable. Box no. 4321.
In a certain light I look like Robert Mitchum. In a certain light, you look like Kim Novak. More usually, I look like Shrek. More usually, you still look like Kim Novak. Yes, you’re very unlucky. Now pass me the Doritos and get over it. Box no. 3917.
My favorite Ben & Jerry’s is Acid-Boiled Bones of Divorce Lawyer. They don’t make it, but, damn, I can taste its sweet, sweet ice-creamy softness already. Bed-sit-living doctor (M, 54). Box no. 6321.
Shy, ugly man, fond of extended periods of self-pity, middle-aged, flatulent and overweight, seeks the impossible. Box no. 8623.