(we'll be right back)



"Adrian? Barney? We've made our decision. But before we tell you, I just want to tell you again how truly difficult it was for us to make our choice, and to thank you for your patience throughout this long, arduous audition. [ pause ] We're gonna go with Adrian.

Barney, we all agreed that your dancing was great.. your presentation was very sexy. I guess, in the end, we just thought Adrian's body was much, much better than yours. You see, it's just that, at Chippendales, our dancers have traditionally had that lean, muscular, healthy physique - like Adrian's - whereas yours is.. well, fat and flabby. [ Barney starts to vamp ] No, Barney. No, no, no. Barney, we've made our decision."

Also of note in facial recognition wonderland, Simon Le Bon. Oh, Simon... you're from Germany. (nevermind)

I am Knorben Knussen for Swedish Television One. Goodnight.

The benefit featured over 40 of Baltimore's best restaurants offering samples of their dishes (Oceannaire's tuna ceviche was alone woth the price... and since that price was free, that's not saying much, but you know what I mean). Plus there was a variety of adult beverages, or could you tell already?. The Jager y Corazon girls, oh happy. Blah blah blah blah. Point : fun. Also ran into ex-coworker and dykey superstar extraordinaire Debbie and her (new and fantastically fantastic) partner. I'm still too buzzed to remember her name. I'm a jerk. But lordy goodness we had fun.

I was going to talk about something else, but I can't remember what. I should to go sleep.

Hey! Look! My cats are really cute. Here, Otis (not knowing I was looking on) is seen helping Shirley clean her hard-to-reach places. Is that cute or what?




New music on your right. Enjoy. I'm going to sleeeeeeeeeeeep-

So, Dad remarried, and while there was some (understandably) intial concern about the very idea and its consequences, they're obviously happy and have a great chemistry together. Dad and Ann are now in Italy for three weeks living it up to the fullest, and I'm jealous. In the fuzz leading up to this new chapter, at a very stressful crossroads, he looked me in the eye and said, "I feel like the only person I haven't let down in this whole process has been your mom, who told me to go on and find happiness." Point taken, and despite the profound changes that means for all of us, I'm really proud of him for doing so.

Look at them!

8/10/06 - 3:40am EDT (unprecedented liquids...)
So for the last 45 minutes or so, Europe and the US have been on edge with a "foiled terrorist plot." Details are sketchy... CNN has switched to a solely European feed to keep up with developments rather than giving the domestic bureau the task of processing and rewriting...

Richard Quest is saying in his typically excitable fashion how large this incident truly is, and claims the UK threat level is at its highest ever... subtitled as, "imminent critical incidents."

... and the intrepid US Dept. of Homeland Security webpage says : "Code Yellow - last updated Aug 5."

(toodle melodiously at first)
Together we will enjoy today also sometimes tomorrow for now! Go go blue space monster! Be seeing harmonious country USA number one cheeseburger awesome! Jolly friend!



Saturday, a Suzuki Burgman came into the shop on trade. A Suzuki Burgman is one of the best examples of a new, rapidly growing vehicle type somewhere between scooter and motorcycle. It is scooter-like in its step-through design, but has the ergos and design cues of a full size touring bike. And its apparently half-Jewish despite appearing painfully Japanese in its design.

I thought it might be fun to try out. First impressions were that it was surprisingly powerful, very maneuverable, very comfortable... honestly the only thing I missed was being able to shift (It does have an automanual feature, but shifting with your left thumb just doesn't become natural even after an hour, plus the CVT gets better mileage.) I rode it down to Alexandria to take Sara out. We found some backroads by Quantico and had a ball. That went so well, we took it out to Shenandoah the next day. The bike never felt stressed, whether its doing 90mph on the interstate, or hustling through the twisties. Best of all... over 60mpg.

Go go, thrifty fun mover! Everyone smile when trees blossom with your passing! Will nothing ever stop?



These new "maxi-scooters" (which desperately need a new industry buzzword fast) are fantastic vehicles... almost perfect. I've ridden the Burgman, the Piaggio X9, and the Honda Silverwing. All have comfortable ergos, well-thought-out features, very easy to ride on the interstate or in the twisties, and phenomenal fuel efficiency, especially when considering their strong performance and fun-to-ride factor. But their looks, despite most having surprisingly sharp modern touring bike lines, are out of proportion in the American consumers' eyes. Small tires = moped. And the painfully overused jokes about mopeds being 'fat chicks' (no one minds riding them, they just never want to be caught by their friends doing so) prevail.

It was a great weekend of riding. I forgot what that was like - its been a while. Big smiles abounded, corners were carved, Harleys and cagers roosted, and over 400 miles covered when all was said and done. The adage of never riding when working in the motorcycle industry is painfully true. Time to try to change that as best as I can. I can't believe how little I've ridden in the last two years.

I should have worn this while riding.

A few weeks ago Sara and I had a nice getaway to the Eastern Shore. Oxford, Royal Oak, St. Michaels. All places Mom and I used to go on antique trips... now overrun with development of summer homes for old-money retirees, but still retaining its charm none the less. The serenity of the shore was repeatedly ruined by the deafening "POTATO POTATO POTATO" of wanna-be badasses (themselves usually old-money retirees) on $30k Harleys trying to prove something to people who could care less. I love all motorcycles, don't get me wrong... but I hate the people who think a bike has to shout out something (literally) about their identity in order to be accepted. The "loud pipes save lives" camp are on the top of that list. I've wanted to make the shirt for a long time, now I did. Its a little expensive, but proceeds are going to Zac's recovery fund.

Dad's out of 1518 altogether and everything that wasn't kept has sold. Drove by Bowie the other day and thought about stopping by only to remember that I have no connection to Bowie whatsoever now. But as uncomfortable as that process was, it became progressively easier as the house started to get stripped of all of its sentimental clutter. Soon it just looked like every other Bowie house (well, inside at least), and the process of cleaning it out had very little pull on the heartstrings. Plus I have some nice new furniture for my place, just enough to carry on the feeling of a real "home".

Farewell, noble quarterhorse. Its been 6 years and over 100k miles. I just signed the Nissan off to a very enthusiastic brother and sister from Westminster who have a stable of B13 chassis Nissans (and significant SR20DE engine experience) and are anxious to have another in the fold. I need something a little bit bigger, and came across a very well cared for '98 Subaru Impreza wagon with low miles. Pending further foot-dragging from my bank on a home equity credit line, I should have it in a week or so.

I'm gonna miss that car. Funny how no cars were like it for 15 years, now it looks almost indistinguishable from the Mercedes C230 or the Scion tC. 140hp, 30mpg, incredible handling, versatile hatch, large removable roof... the perfect car.

Why am I selling it again?

The Subaru does appeal more to the crunchy NPR totebag side of me. No, no, no... what I mean to say is rugged AWD, raised ground clearance, and a torquey boxer engine appeal to the outdoorsy side of me. I'm not trying to drive almost the exact same car my girlfriend does. (Nor every lesbian within 200 square miles for that matter).

Someone kept launching real fireworks last night in the fields across the street from my house. First at 1am... then 2:45am after I'd gone to bed. Then about 4am, after I had finally fallen back asleep from the first time. I'm not talking about a little whistle sound then a flash and a pop. I mean you heard the launch "thump!"... wait 5 seconds, then see a blaze of color and hear a house-shaking "BOOM!". Would have been neat, oh, at 10pm. I was reaching for the closest weapon at 4am.

But no matter. I'm on vacation. Cape May tomorrow, maybe Sunday if we can stumble across some vacancy... King's Dominion Monday... and family picnic / old college friend party time on Tuesday. Why am I still typing?

One last cheesy homage to the Nissan...

6/20/06 - 8:25pm EDT (don't make me no nevermind)
Double issue of new music over on your right. One will make you want to hug... the other will make you want to stare out a window. Dig. Everyone should be required to travel via Greyhound every few years. Just to stay humble.

Had a great festival show deep down in Wytheville, VA this past wekeend. We packed up the trailer, jumped in the van, and figured it would be a fun weekend, good money, and lots of free time (I just wanted to catch up on sleep during the drive). After the first hundred miles, we started to notice the back windows and the trailer were getting oily. Mmm, oily. Blew a seal in the transmission, and just barely coasted into the hotel parking spot 7 hours later, even after repeated refills of the AT fluid reservoir. At least we got there.

The festival itself was amazing. The kind of thing you'll just never see ever again in the Northeast. Small neighborhood park transformed with a big stage and millions of christmas lights up in the trees, a small brook cutting through the middle of the park. Families set up on blankets, fair food, jugglers and musicians, many different types of bands. Once we dumped our gear, they led us to a beautiful old 1850s home for a southern dinner. "Sorry it ain't much." an elegant old lady said as she handed me a plate. In front of me was fried chicken, mashed potatoes, vegetables, roast beef, potato salad, pasta salad, lunch meats, bread, sweet tea, brownies, cookies, and ice cream. It'll do.

We sat on the porch rocking chairs, listening to the current band echoing through the trees, hearing the history of the town, the house, the festival... everything was green and white. Probably the most relaxed I've been in months. So naturally that's when it hit me that we were at a family festival and there was no beer. Luckily it wasn't a dry county and we found some Budweiser at the gas station down the road (it was that or Natural Lite Ice, cut a brother some slack).

Joining us for this show was a phenomenal young singer/harp player we met down in Memphis this past year. Andrea Childress. Remember the name. You will hear it again. She's from central Kentucky and figured she'd head up to catch our show and maybe sit in for a few songs. We wound up just making her another member of the band. Unbelievable harmonica skills... she plays it like its an organ, really. Lots of chord work and percussive chops and slides, just a very original and refined technique. Midway through the set we gave her a few standards to front (some Aretha, Stormy Monday, and a funk/gospel halftime version of Mojo)... and she stole the show. I absolutely love playing with great musicians. Sometimes it gets tough when you play with the same great musicians over and over because you fall into a series of predictable grooves. Not at all Sunday night. It was the most fun I've had playing in years, and somewhere there are pictures and video to prove it (will post some later).

But the inspirational rush was cut off quickly when we determined early the next morning, somewhat hungover, that the van was dead and the only way to get back to DC in time for work was to Greyhound it. I've never Greyhounded before. It was an experience to remember. I'm tempted to over-dramatize it, but in all, it wasn't so bad. For about $70 I made it from deep south VA all the way to DC, in a relatively comfortable bus. But it was the long, confusing stops and bus shuffles in Blacksburg, Roanoke, Lynchburg, Charlottesville, Fredericksburg, Springfield, and Arlington that made it a hassle. And the staff. Airports have large teams of ground crew, agents, and customer service staff to keep the flow calm and productive. Bus stations have one angry person. One very angry person. Then of course there's the mix of people you come in contact with also riding with you. I got to know Pete, a 70 year old who quit hiking the Appalachian Trail halfway because his arthritis was getting to him. And by arthritis I think he meant LSD flashbacks. And then I turned on the iPod.

Its strange to have weekends filled with that kind of experience, then go right back to the routine. But it has demonstrated now more than ever that the current routine is killing me. So something will change soon. When I have the time to figure out what, I guess.

Other highlights in the last few weeks have been seeing Cars with Bob and his family. Phenomenal movie, and I'm not just saying that because my best friend is in the credits. I thought I was going to hate it... the latest ads made it look like Pixar sold out in a big way, combining everything I hate into one movie : The Black Eyed Peas, NASCAR, and fart jokes. Ok, I like some fart jokes. But thankfully, the movie was another Lassetter triumph. Highly, highly recommended.

Also caught Prairie Home Companion with Sara. We were not only the youngest people in the audience, but were probably half the age of the next-youngest. But it was also a great film, especially if you're a little nostalgic... or have eaten at Mickey's Diner in St. Paul (which I still haven't).

Speakin' of eatin'... Sara's presence in DC has ruined my streak of very good health. Any time I utter the phrase, "I'm not hungry" I wind up half an hour later with a rack of ribs or a brownie sundae in front of me. Or both. Usually both. Always both.

Gonna go make a salad-

RIP Billy Preston... hands down, the most soulful keyboard player, and possibly songwriter, on earth. Even though he had a successful solo career, he was best known for being the guy in the background who made an already good album by an already good band much, much better. This is evidenced by the part of his resume every news outlet quoted him by... the fith Beatle (Sgt. Pepper himself, not to mention "Jo-Jo"), though he also played with and wrote for the Rolling Stones, The Band, Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Joe Cocker, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Aretha Franklin, George Harrison, Michael Jackson, Quincy Jones, Sly & the Family Stone, and on and on...

Encouraging Words (1971)

Speaking of phenomenal, soulful musicians going on to the next world, Desmond Dekker is currently playing on my computer. I'll always think its a shame Bob Marley took the world's attention as supreme innovator of reggae... Desmond (also, oddly, a friend of the Beatles) really laid the groundwork.

Bongo Girl (1967)

Its a shame there aren't musicians of this caliber making it into the main stream these days. I don't doubt they're out there... but the industry used to celebrate the geniuses, now it would have told Billy his gap teeth weren't video-friendly, or Desmond that he needed to look and act more like the gangsters he was singing about.



more in the archives...