Blurbex

One of the reasons some people are loath to forgo their cars for the morning commute is the certain powerlessness that comes with it.  What if you take the carpool to work and suddenly become ill, or little Johnny breaks a leg at school, or the boss wants you to work overtime for those TPS reports?

That’s where the Emergency Ride Home program comes in.

If you walk, ride a bike or carpool to work at least two days a week, and an emergency comes up, you may be able to get a free cab ride home. Of course, there are some restrictions — it only covers about $100 in cab fare and you have to be registered with Bay Area Commuter Services. Nice deal, eh? And, apparently, you can use it up to eight times a year.

Click here to register.

(h/t to Creative Tampa Bay for the info)

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It was a good intentioned idea. Really.

On Saturday, the Pasco County Sheriff’s Office let area residents turn in their rusty, broken and unwanted guns for a brand-new $25 giftcard to Publix or Wal-Mart.

True, it was a little badly-timed considering the recent U.S. Supreme Court decision that unequivocally gives us, the common folk, the right to bear arms. (Bear arms, not bare arms, mind you.) But something else struck me: If the deputies were trying to rid the streets of guns, why did they hand out Wal-Mart giftcards? Doesn’t Wal-Mart sell guns and amunition?

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Fifty-three-year-old Benjamin Ford finds himself stranded for hours in O’Hare Airport on his way to his estranged daughter’s lesbian wedding in California. Out of sheer desperation, he picks up a pen and starts writing a letter to the airline, demanding his money back.

This letter is the clever conceit that shapes Dear American Airlines, Jonathan Miles’ debut novel. The “letter” turns out to be a tightly composed, 180-page story, a mixture of complaint and confessional, at turn hilarious and heartbreaking. This is not your classic summer read (whatever that is), but I unequivocally recommend it for fans of contemporary adult fiction who like their novels about equal parts humorous and poignant (and for those not interested at the moment in epics).

The book’s structure allows Miles to rant directly to the airline, describe the horrors of an overnight airport stay and — most crucial — write a rambling bio of Bennie Ford in long digressions that lay out a tale of regret, despair and possible redemption. As it turns out, Bennie was a bad drunk, bad husband and bad father. But somehow Bennie’s not a bad guy.

Miles prose is dense but not flowery; he balances out his longer riffs with tossed-out lines that lend a conversational air. Here’s a passage I especially like:

The worst part of sobriety is the silence. The lonesome, pressurized silence. Like the way sound falls away when you’re choking. Even when I drank alone, the vodka provided me with a kind of soundtrack — a rhythm, channeled voices, a brain crowded with noise and streaming color, the rackety blurred color of decrepitude. At the meetings everyone talks about how much more vivid life is without the booze, but I think, though I never say, that vivid is the wrong word. Life is rather more clear.

Dear American Airlines is loaded with insights like these, all the while evoking a narrator that you end up liking in spite of yourself.

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The St. Pete-based theater troupe formerly known as Quirky White Chick Productions has announced it is changing its name to Economic Stimulus Productions, because, they announced in a press release today, “Producers Julie Rowe and T. Scott Wooten decided against buying plasma-screen-HD-television-sets and instead pooled their tax rebate checks together to produce live theatre.” The result, they are proud to announce, is “performance art fully funded by the United States Government.”

It’s W’s worst nightmare! But EcStim isn’t talking about performance art à la Karen Finley, she who rubbed foodstuffs all over herself and caused an NEA ruckus some years back. What EcStim is doing is cabaret, but cabaret with a subversive twist: it’s a revue of songs by the master of the sardonic song lyric, Tom Lehrer. From “Poisoning Pigeons in the Park” to “The Vatican Rag” to “The Masochism Tango,” Lehrer’s songs still pack a satirical wallop even though they date back to the 1960s. Come to think of it, George might like old Tom even less than Karen and her comestibles.

EcStim’s An Evening Wasted with the Songs of Tom Lehrer will be performed July 23-26 at 11 p.m. at American Stage in downtown St. Petersburg. It’s a pay-what-you-can arrangement, so it’s up to you how much of your rebate check you want to spend on live theater.

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Last day for Salvia, folks. The ban on the psychoactive substance takes effect tomorrow; if you’re found in possession of the mild hallucinogen, you could face up to five years in prison and a $5,000 fine.

I know at least one retailer is staying open until midnight to sell his stash of the soon-to-be-illegal weed. Perhaps you can convince some store owners to give you an eleventh-hour deal.

By the way, if you don’t know what Salvia is, or what it’s like to smoke it, check out my story on the subject here.

(Photo Credit: Randy Heine)

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Fireworks? Barbecue? Boston Pops? A celebration of independence? Bah!

As far as I’m concerned, the Fourth of July begins and ends on Coney Island, at the Nathan’s Famous World Hot Dog Eating Contest. For 93 years, people have been lining up to see this freakish intersection of speed and gluttony, fascinated and appalled by the enormous capacity of today’s competitive eaters. Last year, professional gurgitator Joey Chestnut performed a feat reminiscent of the Miracle On Ice, defeating six-time world champ and seemingly unstoppable force Takeru Kobayashi. Not only did Chestnut soundly beat the diminutive Japanese competitor, he set a new world record by eating 66 dogs and buns in just 12 minutes, 11 more than the previous top score.

Don’t think you can just show up and join the fun; these days you have to win a qualifying contest to enter the Nathan’s Championship. Go to the International Federation of Competitive Eating to check out other upcoming events, and get tips on how the pros do their grotesque thing.

St. Pete’s own Dairy Inn will also hold their, much more relaxed competition on July 4th, starting at 11:30 a.m. Stop by the restaurant to pick up an entry form, along with a great burger and a shake.

You can also read my piece on competitive eating to get a little more background, as well as a glimpse into my own mercifully brief foray into the stomach-stretching arts.

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1. Albuquerque’s screamo/crunkified dance music purveyors Brokencyde (pictured) and punkified pop music makers Karate High School of San Francisco bring their “We Make It Rain” tour to Crowbar tonight. Thoreau and The Fight at the Show provide support.

2. Indie Fest continues at Beach Theatre.

3. “A Concert for Nelson Mandela” – which was held in London’s Hyde Park in honor of Mandela’s 90th birthday and to raise funds for his HIV/AIDS charity – is aired on VH1 tonight at 9 p.m. The program includes performances by Amy Winehouse, Leona Lewis, Annie Lennox, Simple Minds and many others as well as presentations by a variety of African artists.

4. The Tampa Bay Rays return to Tropicana Field for a three-night stand of home games against the Boston Red Sox. The action begins at 7 p.m.

5. Last day to see the textile works featured in Lilly Marsh: A Shimmering Surface at Craftsmen House Gallery.

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MSNBC and MySpace team up to turn citizen journalism into yet another popularity contest.

Only in baseball: The Angels no-hit the Dodgers — and lose.

It’s Earth vs. the Atom Smasher in the ultimate doomsday showdown.

Gene genie: Woman ensures her baby will be born free of hereditary breast cancer.

The $2.1- million lunch: That’s how much a Chinese investment fund manager has paid to eat with billionaire Warren Buffet.

Send in the clones: George Lucas goes back to the well once again for more Star Wars.

Maybe it isn’t the conservatives Obama should be fearing, but the liberal pundits.

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This morning the cardboard sign attached to the St. Petersburg Times  newspaper box I use at the corner of South Howard Ave. and Swan read: “50 cents every day …. Effective Monday, June 30.”

In Tampa, a Times used to cost 25 cents Monday through Saturday and 50 cents only on Sunday.

A 100 percent price jump? Really? Shouldn’t we have had a stopover at 35 cents?

Of course, you can still get tbt* for free, which is a great read, if you have an IQ of, say, 54.

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Careful where you put the wasabi: The St. Pete Times reveals The Dirty Martini’s naked sushi night.

In keeping with the nautical theme, Beach Theatre is screening Jaws twice today as part of its 1970s weekend.

So that’s why John Kerry lost in 2004: A New York Times op-ed explains why we’re so gullible.

Because you love profanity-laced video-game reviews: It’s the latest Zero Punctuation!

Are you Baracktose Intolerant?

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Because of Jesus Christ Superstar’s colossal reputation, I wasn’t surprised by the excited buzz before the rock opera’s start at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center last night. While the regular theater-goers busied themselves at the bars scattered in the lobby, families and couples found their seats and flipped through their playbills, excitedly discussing “the guy from the movie,” Ted Neeley, who stars as Jesus in the production and who played the same role in the 1973 film.

Corey Glover as Judas; photo by Joan Marcus.

When Neeley made his grand entrance during the third number, the crowd roared, but that’s about as exciting as things got until the famous “Gethsemane” scene.  I wanted to see Neeley play a real superstar, a more Michael Jackson-esque performer who wowed his followers into worship with rock ‘n’ roll. What I got was a Jesus who was majestic and pained, but not a convincingly rockin’ messiah or even a believable messiah at all. In Neeley’s defense, his failure was probably the result of a lack of strong direction. It seemed like he was just there to sing. That, at least, he did very well.

Unfortunately, Judas was also a dud. Played by Corey Glover — lead singer of Grammy-winning band Living Colour — Judas lacked strength or charisma. Glover was limp, shoulders hunched and head hung, for the entire time he held the stage, making his character annoying, not tragic. A bolder Judas would have been more interesting.  Again, this was probably the result of ineffective direction, not a reflection of Glover’s lack of talent, and his final number, “Superstar,” actually allowed him to shine. Matthew G. Myers and Aaron Fuksa as Simon and Herod provided the most memorable performances. Myers shocked me out of my boredom-induced haze during his solo in the first act. But it wasn’t until Fuksa, playing an afroed Herod, appeared on the stage with a handful of soul singers  that I was entertained again.

Despite the production’s generally lackluster feel, the technical aspects were flawless. The choruses were clear and beautifully harmonized, and the choreography stole the spotlight from Jesus and Judas every time.

Overall, Jesus Christ Superstar didn’t live up to its glowing reputation. For the most part, I was bored out of my mind and couldn’t wait for it to be over, but that may have just been me. The 9-year-old behind me really dug it, what with his knowledge of every word and participation in every sing-along throughout the show. If you’re already a JCS nut, then I’d say go for it. The show runs through Sunday, June 29.

Note: A correction has been made in above entry to the name of one of the actors. In earlier version, Matthew G. Meyers had been misidentified as Michael G. Meyers.

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The St. Pete Pride weekend kicked off last night with A Taste of Pride, a reception at Nova 535, where I got a chance to talk with Janice Langbehn, the grand marshal of Saturday’s parade. Langbehn seems a bit abashed by the lofty title, but her story needs to be told, and the Pride organizers made a brilliant political decision in helping to draw renewed attention to that story this week.

In Miami last year, Langbehn was about to embark on a cruise with her partner of 18 years, Lisa Marie Pond, and three of their four adopted children, when Pond suffered a brain aneurysm and was taken to Jackson Memorial Hospital. According to a lawsuit filed Wednesday against the hospital, the staff “refu