Blurbex

As unbelievable as it may sound, Paul McCartney has been traveling America’s most iconic stretch of road in a Ford Bronco with girlfriend Nancy Shevell. Over the course of his trip, the cute Beatle has been spotted strolling an Illinois museum, asking for a map from a Missouri convenience store, shopping for antiques and snapping pictures in New Mexico, just like a tourist. Except this tourist wrote “Hey Jude” and “Yesterday.”

Sometimes I lie in bed and think about words (sometimes I think of other stuff as well). Happened just the other day. I was rummaging through my memories to come up with some of our favorite slang phrases during my adolescence in the early-to-mid-’70s.

I grew up in suburban New York, and having subsequently met folks in my age group from all around the States, it’s clear that we did not all share the same vernacular. 

When I first came to Florida after finishing college in upstate New York, I didn’t fit in too well with the social cliques in St. Pete. Some of it was a language barrier. I couldn’t stand to hear someone say “y’all,” let alone say it myself. “Y’all” was pretty common down here at the time; I don’t hear it as much anymore.

One word I brought down from up north was “pisser,” or, more accurately, “pissa.”

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Gotvmail.com has paid ex-coked-out actor Gary Busey to star in 40 (yes, that’s four-zero) ads hawking their business phone services. The ads, which I ran across on Gawker, feature Mr. Joshua speaking directly into the camera, pitching his can’t-miss business ideas. Gawkers highlights include Agt. Pappas’ brilliant idea for hair dye marketed to black bears, allowing the threatened species to look more like polar bears and sneak onto the endangered list. I prefer his stirring rendition of Gotvmail’s theme song:

You have to hand it to Gotvmail; these are sure to get a ton of play across the Web in the next few days. And for all that publicity, I’m sure they only had to shell out an 8-ball or two.

She’s Helen Wheels: Helen Mirren caught in a red bikini on a beach in Italy. Yeah, Wade Tatangelo would hit that!

Well, they’re sure acting like Canadians: Paul McCartney to give free concert; apparently “free” isn’t good enough for Quebec sovereigntists.

Time heals all wounds? Former Beatles drummer Pete Best to release first solo album, chronicling his dismissal from the band over 40 years ago.

Just know this, Benny: Pierce Brosnan was never in ABBA.

They’ve got an Axl to grind: Chinese Democracy track to be featured in Rock Band 2

While the start of Bucs training camp is still 11 days away, it’s never too early to begin strategerizing for Fantasy Football season. This year, a few good sports from CL’s editorial department are itching to take on you, the reader, in our first annual Fantasy Football Challenge. Do you have what it takes to do statistical gridiron battle with us this fall? I doubt it. (Let’s face it: you’re weak and you don’t know your football from your pinball.) But if you are one of the brave souls ready to face the virtual ass-whoopin’ of a lifetime, let me know. Send an e-mail with the subject line “Fantasy Football” to joe.bardi@creativeloafing.com, and I’ll forward you all the details.

There are no prizes, of course. That would be gambling, and we all know gambling is very wrong. (Except when done on sacred Native-American land, cruise ships, foreign countries, or in Nevada, New Jersey, Connecticut, Mississippi, etc.) However, we will be featuring breathless coverage of the league on the CL Blogs and at tampa.creativeloafing.com. This is your chance at fantasy gridiron greatness. Don’t screw it up rookie!

(Photo Credit: Nightthree)

Last week I laid some groundwork for this year’s World Series of Poker Main Event, how Harrah’s planned to halt play once they got down to the final table of nine people until November in order to jack up mainstream media interest and let ESPN’s not-so-live TV coverage catch up. Let the media frenzy begin.

The WSOP Main Event started July 3, with 6,844 people ponying up the $10,000 to participate, resulting in a prize pool of $64,333,600. Anyone who managed to beat out more than ten percent of the field managed to take home some dough, starting at $21,230 at 666th place. At 3:30 a.m. this morning, Michigan pro Dean Hamrick was in the uncomfortable position of being knocked out at 10th place, resulting in a booby prize of almost $600k.

The final nine received a payout of $900k — the minimum they will be winning once play resumes — and a 117 day vacation that they’ll likely spend negotiating endorsement deals, studying opponents and training, training, training. $900k is a lot, but 1st place will take home over $9 million, along with an easy, almost-guaranteed lifetime income as a sponsored pro. There are a few amateurs, a few pros, a mix of ages, and five different countries represented among the surviving few. All men, though, as the final female player was eliminated in 17th place.

Locally, our own former CL columnist (and current traitor) Jaden Hair got a little windfall from the WSOP. Her husband Scott (that’s him looking stern in the pic) — a good online poker player — managed to ride a short stack into the money for a cool $27k, finishing 466th when his pocket aces got two-outed by pocket queens. Bad beat, Scott. And Jaden, out of respect for you, I refrained from making a joke about “riding the short stack”.

Art Garfunkel has a ravenous appetite for literature and apparently he also has way too much time on his hands as he’s been keeping track of every single book he’s read for the past 40 years. Ego demands that he share this with the rest of us, so he’s set up a library listing of all these books, including a special section featuring all 135 of his favorites, and all are sorted by date.

That’s the doomsday message in a current Time magazine article entitled, ominously, “Is Florida the Sunset State?” (sunshine, sunset, ha) and subheaded with a litany of the state’s troubles: “Water Crisis, Mortgage Fraud, Political Dysfunction, Algae Polluted Beaches, Declining Crops, Failing Public Schools, Foreclosures.”

We’re the state that has it all!

Author Michael Grunwald allows that the winters are nice, and has a conversation with Gov. Crist that brightens his outlook a bit, comparing the guv to “human Prozac.” But the overall tone is grim, ending with the  point that Florida may know how to grow, but has yet to learn how to grow up.

We have ourselves some weather action, folks! Tropical Storm Bertha has formed in the Atlantic, approximately 4 gagillion miles away from Florida — but moving west. If the forecast track is to be believed, Massachusetts could be wiped off the map as early as July 20th.

For the moment, those of us manning the CL 4000 Weather Center advise you to stay out of the Home Depot, as we have not yet issued our “Buy plywood or die!” advisory notice. However, you should stay tuned to this blog for extremely late-breaking weather news and last rites.

And run for you lives!

(Sorry, the excitement of hurricane season is already getting the better of us.)

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?

The New York Times waxes nostalgic about the Beatles in light of their rumored entry into the world of Guitar Hero.

Are Slate and The Daily Show sharing writers? Both get similarly snarky on Obama’s first campaign commercial of the general election. Check out the Slate’s vid here and The Daily Show’s here.

The U.S. Supreme Court slashes the punitive damages relating to the Exxon-Valdez oil spill.

I’m moving this weekend, so yesterday afternoon I took some time to call and schedule my cable and power services to be transferred to my new address.

I started by calling Bright House Networks first, only because it was at the top of the list of customer service phone numbers I compiled a few days ago. The process of scheduling a technician to come out early next week to plug me into the World Wide Web and my digital cable only took about 10 minutes. Sweet. Moving on.

Next up, I called Progress Energy Florida. That call started out fine but ended really weird.

After going through the menu options to ensure that my call was transferred to the proper department, I placed the order with Kyle (a real person as far as could tell). Kyle took only a few minutes to set up the order and then he transferred me to Allconnect, a trusted Progress Energy partner, to confirm and complete my order.

Instead of speaking to an actual person, as I was foolishly expecting, I was assisted by a computer cleverly disguised as a real man who went over my order with me and took down my email address to send my confirmation number and some “valuable” coupons.

I was struck by how life-like he (it??) seemed. It was like talking to a real person who wasn’t reading from a script. It’s a very sophisticated system.

When I gave him (it) my email address I didn’t spell it out as instructed, but first spoke it out of habit. Nonetheless, he (it) got it right the first time. He (it) actually spelled it correctly when he (it) read it back to me, which was impressive because I have an underscore in my email address and when I give it to an actual person I usually have to explain what an underscore is and how to make one using a keyboard. This fellow (thing) was on top of it, which is more impressive from a voice-recognition aspect than a keyboard-using aspect since he (it) is a computer and likely has a keyboard as a part of his (its) body (plus, I heard typing as I was talking to him/it).

Then things got awkward.

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When I heard the news this morning that comedian George Carlin had died yesterday at the age of 71 (not bad for a guy with long-term heart problems and a love of cocaine), I was immediately overcome by the urge to stage my own all-day Carlin Comedy Festival. Alas, Carlin’s death has not yet been made a national holiday, so I am instead at my desk attempting to complete this week’s edition of Creative Loafing for your consumption on Wednesday. That’s an odd conundrum for me, since though I wish I wasn’t at work right now, I wouldn’t be sitting here had I not encountered one of Carlin’s HBO specials in the early 80s (when I was far too young and impressionable to be watching late-night cable TV).

The standard boiling-down of Carlin’s career is as follows: Straight-laced nightclub comic transitions to counterculture icon after seeing Lenny Bruce perform, writes “Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television” and ends up the impetus for a Supreme Court case that resulted from its airing, performed varied acting duties (Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure, The Prince of Tides and Mr. Conductor on TV’s Shining Time Station among them), but remained a dedicated stand-up comic to the end. As of last weekend, Carlin was still performing.

Though true, this rundown largely misses the point for me. Before all else, George Carlin was a linguist and a truth-teller, combining these skills to surgically carve up sacred cows and everyday life alike. The love of language runs through Carlin’s work — from stories of riding the NY subways as a kid listening to the multi-culti accents to his deconstruction of the evolution of the term “shell shock” into “post traumatic stress disorder” — and it was this love that most attracted me to his work. To my ear, Carlin’s routines are more musical performance than stand-up comedy routine.

So, in lieu of my Carlin Comedyfest, here (in no particular order) are 5 of my favorite Carlin moments from YouTube:

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To plug Eddie Izzard’s upcoming appearance at the Tampa Theatre, Monday’s Metro section of the St. Pete Times recommended a YouTube clip of Izzard doing a “killer impression” of Christopher Walken. I was a bit skeptical, since as anyone who’s watched Saturday Night Live knows, Walken impersonations can be all over the map. Well, after watching said clip, I have to say, despite being an Izzard fan, his impersonation is definitely not killer. To be fair, Izzard doesn’t claim it is either.

It’s a rainy Monday and I have a shit-ton of work to do this week. My former employer McClatchy just announced widespread layoffs, leading to the dismal of an editor I highly respected and worked with directly and indirectly — and drank with off the clock on his dime, and attended a couple shows with that we both enjoyed — for several years at the Bradenton Herald. A talk with another former editor confirmed that the smell of death permeates every news room in the nation.

Others have it worse, I know, but that’s not much comfort. Is it? Anyway, whenever I feel myself slipping over to the dark side, which has been the case today, I put on something like the compilation I recently made called “Mellow My Mind.” It’s mostly ’70s stuff. A great decade for laid-back songs that celebrate being on the losing end. Here are 10 tracks from it. Not exactly uplifting (except for Rev. Green’s glorious gospel number), but soothing, like brown whiskey.

Top 10: Mellow songs

1. “Jesus Is Waiting,” Al Green

2. “These Days,” Gregg Allman

3. “Roll Um Easy,” Little Feat

4. “A Man Needs a Maid/Heart of Gold” (Live at Massey Hall), Neil Young

5. “Handbags & Gladrags,” Rod Stewart

6. “Hickory Wind,” The Byrds

7. “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain,” Willie Nelson

8. “I Forgot to Be Your Lover,” William Bell

9. “Love Is a Losing Game,” Amy Winehouse

10. “Long Way Home,” Tom Waits

Cross-posted from Tampa Calling.

To the uninformed, Florida history might seem like an oxymoron. But it almost goes without saying that the state, and the Tampa Bay region, has a rich history.

In  many cases, the only things remaining from that era are the buildings. And during Tampa Bay’s waves of condo development, those historical structures have fallen fast.

In the next Creative Loafing, my cover story deals with the nine most endangered buildings in St. Petersburg. Some of the structures on the list might surprise you.

In the meantime, St. Petersburg Preservation Inc. is holding its annual Preservation Awards ceromony tonight that honors property owners who see the benefits in preserving the city’s historic structures.

SPPI is holding the event at The Studio@620, 620 First Ave. S. Reservations aren’t necessary and the history buffs plan to have a cash bar. (Woo!)

I’ll post the winners later tonight or early tomorrow morning.

After spending almost a year in jail, Joe Francis finally had his day in court. The Girls Gone Wild founder pled no contest to charges of child abuse and prostitution in Panama City. It was there that a civil lawsuit was initiated by seven women who claimed they were underage when Francis’ company videotaped them during spring break in ’03. It’s also the place where he was arrested for a contempt of court violation. He actually served the majority of his jail time in Reno, Nevada, where he’s in trouble for tax fraud. That trial is set for August.

Until then, Francis is free to move about the country. But don’t get your hopes up for a new batch of hot young boobies just yet – Francis is on six months’ “non-reporting” probation.

When William Schramm arrived at his antique/gallery store this morning, he was greeted by graffiti he never thought would appear in St. Petersburg’s idyllic and largely gay Grand Central District.

During the night, someone had spray-painted “no fag porn” on the gallery’s main window. The display in the window showcases the male nude paintings of Rico Estante, one of the artists whose art will appear at Schramm’s opening of a permanent erotic art collection on Friday, Sept. 28.

“That word cuts to the bone,” says Schramm, who is gay. “Nobody else got painted on the street. This is one building. That’s why it’s more concerning to me because it’s like a hit.”

Schramm opened Gallery 2061 seven months ago with the intention of bringing erotic art shows, like those found in many major U.S. cities, to St. Petersburg. His first show in August turned out to be a big hit, attracting over 700 people on the first night.

“Last time there were no problems,” Schramm says. “Everybody thought there was going to be a controversy. The story was there was no controversy.”

Schramm says police officers arrived this morning and the incident is being investigated as a hate crime.

Local artist Loren Marks, who will be showing some of her paintings at Friday’s show, says the graffiti completely misses the theme of the show.

“It is an erotic art show,” she says, adding that both female and male nude paintings will be on display. “It’s not a gay porn show.”

Many of the pieces that will be on display Friday are being delivered today, and Schramm worries this incident will reflect negatively on artists’ perceptions of the city.

“It’s sort of an insult [to the erotic art community] because everyone was like ‘Hey, St. Pete is looking up,’” he says. “You feel like you’re doing something cool and then that’s happened.”

Schramm still plans to hold the gallery opening, but with caution. An off-duty police officer will be present.

“This is the kind of thing I never thought would happen and it scares me to death,” Schramm says. “Across the country, when shit like this happens it escalates. If this is really how the situation is, I’ll shut the entire gallery down.”

No, no — not actual detonating cats, but the population surge of feral felines during the spring and summer months. The Humane Society of Pinellas County sent out this release to me today:

The Humane Society of Pinellas currently has over 100 cats awaiting adoption to new homes. An article from Live Science, written by Andrea Thompson, blames global warming for increases in nationwide cat populations. Cats usually breed during the spring and summer – with global warming they have become year round breeders, says Kathy Warnick, President of Pets Across America, a national adoption organization. Today more than ever, animal shelters across the United States are reporting skyrocketing influxes of cats and kittens being brought into their agencies. Many believe global warming is extending cat breeding seasons and causing the cat population to swell.

Barb Cultice, developmental assistant at the Humane Society, then calls on people to adopt cats from the nonprofit.

This joins other pressing worldwide effects of global warming including a drop in the number of Bulgarian prostitutes and our dwindling maple syrup supplies.

Creative Loafing Events Editor Leilani Polk is vacationing in Mexico. But that didn’t stop our Harry Potter-loving staffer from sending us her account of acquiring perhaps the most highly-anticipated book since the advent of the printing press.

BY LEILANI POLK
In my mind, it was easy: I’d arrive Barnes and Noble on Tyrone Boulevard in St. Petersburg at 12:15 a.m. the Saturday morning of its July 21 release and avoid the midnight masses (which I optimistically thought would be slight enough that almost everyone would be gone by the time I got there). I’d cruise right to the counter, snag my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows, and return home. Five minutes tops.

Of course, I vastly underestimated the Harry Potter fan base. Yes, I’ve followed the story with great interest, even crying at the death of Professor Dumbledore – one of the book’s main heroes and Harry’s mentor/father figure. But I’m no fanatic. The only reason I was picking up my reserved copy at midnight was because I was taking an early flight to Mexico the following day. I could have waited to get the book but I wanted something long and compelling to read on my leisurely week-long vacation, which would include much lounging by the pool (or on the beach). But lounging, as great as it is, gets boring pretty quick. Since I wasn’t positive I could pick up a copy at the airport, I made the decision to drop by one of the midnight release parties.

I drove up to Barnes and Noble at the exact time I planned. Much to my chagrin, the parking lot was packed. A large crowd of Potter lovers – at least several hundred – spilled from the entrance. I trudged to the end of the very long line, passing by knots of tweens and teens, some chatting animatedly, others strangely quiet and serious.

It was controlled pandemonium. Some people were camped-out on fold-up chairs. Those waiting in line seemed resigned to a fate of standing around while the ones leaving the store – some with single copies, a few with bags or cases – were breathlessly exclaiming in their cell phones or to their companions, or holding their book tightly to their chest and heading to their car in a fast walk. Some people were already reading the first pages of the book while heading to their cars in a slow walk, all of them sharing the same self-satisfied expression that people wear when they’ve acquired the one thing they want most in the world. A carload of kids drove by, all shrieking, “We got it! We got it!” It was some surreal shit.

I waited in line outside for about 25 minutes before making it inside, where the mass of people had been scaled down to an orderly line that snaked all around the store and eventually ended at the registers. Which meant I did a lot of random reading to keep myself entertained: The Book of Illusions. 101 Ways to Cook Tofu. How to Understand a Woman through Her Cat.

A display of stuffed animals (characters from children’s books) caught my attention and I played with a tiny Chihuahua and Curious George on the final leg of the wait. By the time I reached the registers, it was 1 a.m. and I was ready to hightail it outta there. I handed the visibly weary but somehow still pleasant clerk my card, grabbed my book, and made my way wearily back to my car.

A huge display of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows greeted me at the airport book store the next day. I grumpily ignored it.