What Courtney Wore Today

A brand new blog starring you-know-who. She's such an icon, you kinda have to give it a try, no?
http://whatcourtneyworetoday.com/

I Feel A Horror Movie Coming

Real Dolls, watch them get made!

Honey Pie from California is a place. on Vimeo.

Anthony Bourdain's Tribute To Harvey Pekar

The Original (Goodbye Splendor)

A few days ago, the city of Cleveland lost a truly great and important man. And I'm not talking about LeBron James. A hundred years from now, few--other than a few sports nerds--will remember him as much more than statistics on a long ago basketball court.

They will, however, remember Harvey Pekar, whose life and works will surely remain an enduring reference point of late 20th and early 21st century cultural history. Like those other giants of their eras, Twain, Whitman, Dos Passos, Kerouac, Kesey, the times he lived in cannot adequately be remembered without him.



It is true enough to say that he was the "poet laureate of Cleveland" or to describe his American Splendor as "Homeric", but those descriptives are still inadequate. He was the perfect man for his times, straddling...everything: the underground comic revolution of the 60's, the creation and transformation of the graphic novel, independent film, television, music (the classic jazz he championed relentlessly throughout his life).

He was famed as a "curmudgeon", a "crank" and a "misanthrope" yet found beauty and heroism where few others even bothered to look. In a post-ironic and post-Seinfeldian universe he was the last romantic--his work sincere, heartfelt, alternately dead serious and wryly affectionate. The last man standing to wonder out loud, "what happened here?"

His continuing compulsion to wonder what's wrong with everybody else was both source of entertainment and the only position of conscience a man could take.

After all, Cleveland, the city he lived in and loved, had, he reminded us, lost half it's population since the 1950s. A place whose great buildings and bridges and factories had once exemplified 20th century optimism needed its Harvey Pekar.

"What went wrong here?" is an unpopular question with the type of city fathers and civic boosters for whom convention centers and pedestrian malls are the answers to all society's ills but Harvey captured and chronicled every day what was--and will always be--beautiful about Cleveland: the still majestic gorgeousness of what once was--the uniquely quirky charm of what remains, the delightfully offbeat attitude of those who struggle to go on in a city they love and would never dream of leaving.
What a two minute overview might depict as a dying, post-industrial town, Harvey celebrated as a living, breathing, richly textured society.

A place so incongruously and uniquely...seductive that I often fantasize about making my home there. Though I've made television all over the world, often in faraway and "exotic" places, it's the Cleveland episode that is my favorite--and one about which I am most proud.

That show was unique among over a hundred others in that everything--absolutely everything--went perfectly and exactly as planned. Unlike every other episode, pretty much everything had been "written" (or at least planned out) in advance: the look, the American Splendor graphics, destinations, subjects and content. In the middle of a blizzard in the dead of winter, we got exactly what we were looking for. We wanted American Splendor and that's what we got.

This is due entirely to Harvey (and the incredible Joyce). Harvey may have had a reputation as cantankerous, TV-averse and difficult but from the very first minute he and his family were a delight. They opened up their lives to us in every way they could. They were exactly as they appeared in the great graphic novels and in the film--only warmer and even nicer.

The look, the tone, the sound, the whole feel of the episode that followed was Harvey's. There was a moment at Sokolowski's I'll always remember as quintessential Pekar--that perfectly encapsulated the way we all felt absorbed in to PekarWorld. We'd just finished shooting a scene with Harvey, Toby Radloff and Michael Ruhlman--and Danielle, Harvey's daughter, who'd been hanging out off- camera, temporarily went missing--out of Harvey's watchful gaze. I remember looking at him, swiveling his head frantically, the very picture of parental concern and exasperation and actually SEEING comic book curlicues, exclamation points, question marks and smoke emanating from his head. He had made the world around him his world. We were--all of us-- just passing through.

A few great artists come to "own" their territory.
As Joseph Mitchell once owned New York and Zola owned Paris, Harvey Pekar owned not just Cleveland but all those places in the American Heartland where people wake up every day, go to work, do the best they can--and in spite of the vast and overwhelming forces that conspire to disappoint them--go on, try as best as possible to do right by the people around them, to attain that most difficult of ideals: to be "good" people.

"Our man" as Harvey often referred to himself in his work, was a good man. An important man. A "great American" is an expression that has been cheapened with over-use, but if these words ever meant anything, they surely describe Harvey Pekar.

He was great. He was American.

For him to have come from anywhere else would be unthinkable. He will be remembered. He will be missed.

Thank you, Mr. Bourdain. Now, where can I get that bobblehead?

from Anthony's blog via ONTD

The Mirror

Wow. This past week has had some depressing moments. At least I don't live in a town like one depicted below. At least I don't live where the sun doesn't shine for three months of the year. Oh wait, I do! Yay Rust Belt!

R.I.P. Harvey Pekar

First Lebron leaves, good riddance, and now I find out that Cleveland Height's favorite son died this morning at the age of 70. Someone over at Gawker joked that he was just trying to show 'king' james the proper way to leave your homtown- in a box.

I'm going to miss the sightings. Seeing him huddled over a book in the library, having him pull into the Zagara's parking lot next to me in his ancient sub-compact, and trying to eavesdrop when he was sitting with a group next to me at Phoenix Coffee House in Coventry. Even a friend that worked for the Yankees for years, and met unbelievably famous people, was excited to get a glimpse of the guy. Harvey took being an everyday curmudgeon and turned it into an art form.

My advice is to rent American Splendor or watch the Emmy worthy episode of No Reservations with Anthony Bourdain. It's one of the best half hours of television and the comic book aspect they inserted into it doesn't come off as the least bit hokey. You can watch some of it here-

I didn't know that Cleveland Had A Bridge and Tunnel Crowd

We went out Saturday night and walked down West 6th street where a whole bunch of these types of chicks were stumbling into clubs with phony red carpets. Red Carpets! In front of some douchey club full of Armenian immigrants and chicks from Parma.

I would like to dole out some unsolicited advice to the girls from the bachelorette parties that we had the unfortunate pleasure of watching teeter on their cork heels and try to wiggle their sausage casing down to an acceptable level below their pubic bone: If you haven't exercised since those mandatory years in middle school, don't wear tube dresses! Leave that to the real whores that work at The Crazy Horse down the street.

Thank you.

The Strange Things That People Do

I give you Stonehenge- Tremont style.

And if you are ever in the neighborhood, get yourself some Lily chocolates and a blood orange Mimosa to go with them. Well worth the trip.

Smoking Baby

Literally.

EMBED-Ardi Rizal - The real SMOKING BABY !! - Watch more free videos

What can I say? I read that this Malaysian 2 year old has a pack a day habit and his parents keep feeding it because daddy is a fucking moron, I mean little Marlboro man pitches a major fit if they don't. Is there no CPS in that country? What's next- internet porn? Some coffee to lubricate his infant throat? This is so beyond abuse that I want to scream, and you may want to scream at me after I say this but I truly believe that idiots should be sterilised so this shit doesn't happen in the first place.

Lindsay Explains It All Away

Too bad that I can't believe a word of it. This is so clearly a case of a young woman in the throes of a very deep addiction. Almost nothing that comes out of her mouth is based in any sort of reality (except the part about how gawd awful her father is) and her earnest attempt to appear to be answering all the hard questions might be easier to swallow if she didn't have the eyes and bags under them of a 40 year old late shift waitress at Denny's.

Chances are pretty good that she'll end up in jail and then the hospital as she starts to go through withdrawal. The court will probably mandate that she attend some kind of rehab and Dr. Drew will be salivating at the prospect. Everything about this girl's situation is simply awful. Do you think that she brought it on herself by acting like an entitled bitch, or are her abominable famewhore parents to blame? Why do we care? Rubbernecking the trainwreck, I guess.

Watch Baby Hummingbirds LIVE

I've been so down lately but this immediately perked me up. Even my hangover is no match for this impossibly twee and fetchingly pretty scene. It's the new Shiba Inu cam.

Free TV : Ustream

Hairbox Thrillers

This is totally something that I could see myself doing in Duane Reade with Billium in the early 90s.

From WOW Report.

The Grim Reaper Has Been Up To No Good Again

First it was Dio, a true original and inspiration to metal heads like me everywhere. Then it was Mr. McSlore's amazing grandfather. You could fill a book on what he did in the first half of his life alone, kinda like his grandson. Then my cousin got hit by a car and died in the emergency room. Wait, 'hit' isn't the right word. Pulverised, that sounds more accurate. Her car tumbled into a ravine as he skidded to a stop another 50 yards down the road.

So, that's three, right? Enough, but sadly, there's four. The real person that inspired Geena Davis's character in A League of Their Own died last week as well. I love that movie. I was surprised when I realised that we don't own it. We have 'It's Alive' on DVD, but not that? I love my horror too but that is just insane.

Anyhoo, Dottie was old, she'd lived a long life, and she is another one that inspires to this day. So does the movie. If I had a nickel for every time someone says, "There's no crying in ______," I'd have a lot of nickels, maybe even enough for some popcorn and a soda at a game.

Hug and kiss your loved ones. It's what Marla Hooch would have wanted.

Little Girl Super Fan

This is how I feel about Eddie Izzard. I have weird taste, I know.

Baby's First Explosive Candy

I don't have kids but if I did, this is the kind of stuff I would do with them. Too adorable.

Boomer and Dudley, A Love Story

It happened so fast.

Before I knew it we were stealing sniffs in darkened hallways and licking milkbone crumbs off of each other's faces.

Don't be mad. It's not like we planned this or anything.

Dudley's just so...

damn..

cuddly.

I don't mind all the PDA. I don't even mind yin/yang butt snorkling they do almost hourly when they think I'm not looking. It's the age difference that will be hard to overcome in their future. She just turned 7 yesterday and he's 70. Isn't that illegal or something?