Monthly Archives: October 2010

The Funny

The Greatest Comedy Show I Ever Saw

BigPink.JPGI went to a fantastic wedding in the Catskills a few weekends ago. It was autumny and beautiful and full of wonderful music, as befitting a union between two musicians. The bride and groom each played with their respective bands during the reception, which was great. (The best man joked that it was the first wedding reception that should have had a merch table.)

On our way up to the mountains, we got off the NY State Thruway at a certain exit. This exit immediately seemed familiar, in a very profound way, as if it played an important role in my life. Within seconds, it dawned on me: This was the same exit for the town of Woodstock. (My first clue was the big green road sign that said <– WOODSTOCK 12.)

Despite growing up not too far from this famous hamlet, I have been to Woodstock twice in my life. The first time was to see the Bad Brains play a tiny, tiny club as they embarked on a reunion tour; it turned out to be much better than when I saw them play Irving Plaza a few days later. The second time I went to Woodstock, I saw the best comedy show I ever saw.
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Politics Schmolitics

Tim Profitt: Someone Should Put a Stop to Me!

timprofitt.jpgI apologize for stepping on a MoveOn.og volunteer’s head at the recent Senate debate in Kentucky. I stepped over the line, repeatedly, and also thought that line was printed on a woman’s face. I would like to add, though, that as a Rand Paul supporter, I am a firm believer in the free market, and sometimes the free market wants things we might not like–for instance, caving in your skull with a boot.

Most importantly, I think the police should have done a better job of controlling the crowd. I really whipped the crowd into a blood-thirsty frenzy with my love of Rand Paul and hatred of our so-called president. The people outside the debate were ready to do anything, and I mean anything. You should have seen the look in my eyes–it was almost demonic! Somebody really should have stopped a maniac like me!

It’s the police department’s job to contain dangerous, unhinged people like myself, and I think they really dropped the ball on this one. I could have killed someone! I’m calling for an investigation into their negligence, and their inability to recognize the fact that I clearly should be placed behind bars, if not some sort of institution.

I also think the Rand Paul campaign has to take some of the blame here. Clearly I’m not the sort of person a political campaign should have as a representative. How could they not tell I’m a danger to myself and others, simply by looking into my dead-eyed stare and twitching beetle brow? I almost appear as if I haven’t fully evolved, really. Paul really should have thought more carefully before associating with lowlifes such as myself. If anything, he should have alerted local authorities to my presence, so that I could be caged and studied.

And don’t think this MoveOn.org person is blameless, either. Obviously, I am a sick, dangerous person, and getting anywhere near me is like jumping into a lion’s den of Crazy. My disturbed, rage-addled brain can’t distinguish between genuine threats and ordinary visual stimuli. Anything that enters my field of vision is a potential target for my unfocused, ape-like fury. Frankly, I think she should apologize for placing not just herself in harms way, but anyone else in her vicinity, who might have become collateral damage from my bull-in-a-china-shop impulses.

The fact that I am allowed to roam the streets freely just sickens me. That’s why we need to elect responsible lawmakers like Rand Paul, who will keep our towns safe for guys like me from guys like me.

Baseball

“The Giants Win the Pennant!” Brought to You By Smooth Chesterfield Tobacco!

In honor of the San Francisco Giants earning a trip to the World Series, here’s a pic of an item I spotted at the WFMU Record Fair last weekend:

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It’s a limted edition 78 of Russ Hodge’s famous call of Bobby Thompson’s “Shot Heard Around the World”, which propelled the then-New York Giants to a World Series appearance, and also capped a monumental, nigh-Mets-ian collapse by the Brooklyn Dodgers.

The record was a special gift for members of the Chesterfield 3-in-1 Club. Google held few answers about the nature of this club; I assume it was some sort of loyalty/points-type offer (like Camel Cash decades later). I do know that Chesterfield had an enormous ad at the Giants’ home stadium, the Polo Grounds, on the face of the entrances to the clubhouses (which was curiously located in the stadium’s cavernous centerfield). Chesterfield also sponsored their radio broadcasts. Notice that the announcer is referred to as “Chesterfield’s Russ Hodges,” with no mention of the Giants next to his name whatsoever. Also notice he has a Chesterfield firmly clamped in his left hand.

Just six short years after Thompson went deep, the Giants packed up and moved to the left coast, which still seems completely insane to me. People remain angry about the Dodgers moving away and taking their insigina, uniforms, and history with them, but the Giants had an even longer (and more successful) legacy, and yet when they left Harlem, they completely vanished from New York’s baseball consciousness.

None of this will prevent me from rooting for them in the upcoming World Series. What might do so is a disturbing number of Met killers on their roster, like Cody Ross and Pat Burrell. And while I appreciate Brian Wilson’s work against the Phillies, his laughably fake black beard is the worst facial hair in the playoffs since Scott Spiezio’s red chin-snatch. Not to mention that the Giants are Chris “Mad Dog” Russo’s favorite team, and the thought of him being happy sickens me.

The Rangers seem a slightly more likable team on the surface. It would be great if Vlad Guerrero–a player whose insane dominance has already been forgotten–could get a World Series ring. Then again, I consider myself an NL guy, and the Rangers have another Met killer on their bench (albeit one who barely plays, Jorge Cantu). And if Jeff Francoeur smiled his way to a championship, the New York sportswriters corps might spontaneously orgasm with glee.

Truth be told, more than anything else, I’m rooting for a long, enjoyable, well-played series, which we have not had (arguably) since 2002. And I am grateful that this year, I don’t have to choose between the evil of two lessers.