Little Green Men

In 1996 I worked on a show promoting Will Smith's new movie, "Independence Day." My role on the special was very small. I was to create short alien-themed "bumpers" to take us in and out of commercial break.

I was young. I was hungry. I was ambitious. I went overboard.

It just so happened that the annual UFO convention was going to be in LA that weekend. Perfect timing.

It looked like you would expect a normal convention to look: booths, guest speakers, merchandise for sale except for one thing. THEY WERE ALL FUCKING FREAKS!!! These were not Star Wars sci-fi fans - not science fiction fans, these were people that believe that aliens live among us. Not chicklet/orange selling aliens, like ALIEN aliens.

I told them I was producing a show about UFO's and alien abductees. What I didn't tell them was that it was called "MTV's Independence Day Video Countdown to Destruction BBQ." If they thought I was an aspiring Carl Sagan, so be it.

They flooded me with gifts: videos on space travel, documentaries on Area 51, and tons of t-shirts. "I believe," "They are out there," and "Hybrid" (hybrid in the half alien/half human sense - not a fucking Prius.) The t-shirts were key because I hadn't done laundry all summer. I'll wear "My parents went to Alpha-Centuri and all I got was an alien brother and this lousy t-shirt" if it puts off laundry one more day. A single man with no clean clothes has no shame.

Word started to spread around the convention floor that a trustworthy documentarian was on site. Slowly people started to point out the unwilling "celebrities" in attendence. They would discreetly point to a 40 year old nebishy guy with a "Viet Nam thousand yard stare" glaze on his face and whisper, "That's Phil. He was taken back in '84," or "See the woman over there - no don't look! See her over there, the one with the burns. You don't want to know how she got those burns man, you DO NOT want to know..."

That would be my alien themed bumpers. Interviews with abductees. By the end of the day I had 4 interviews set up for the following week.

My four subjects all knew each other. I guess people who have been taken aboard the mothership travel in the same circles....crop circles (hey oh!). While the crew set up I did my best to eavesdrop on their hushed conversation...

"Did you hear about Whitley?" They were referring to Whitley Strieber, alien abductee and author of "Communion," which was made into a movie starring Christopher Walken. He is the Grand PoohBah of all abductees. They pray to him like a God.

"No, what about him?" the others asked.
"Well, last night he was talking on the phone about - you know what- and this morning when he went out to his car..."
"Yeah, what?"
"There was a cassette sitting on his dashboard. It was his entire phone conversation from the night before."
"Shit man, the government man, the goverment."
"You know it."

These guys were right in the middle of their own true life X-Files.

One by one they took a seat. I sat off camera, directly to the right of the lense so their eye line would be right and started asking questions.

Have you ever been on a really bad date? You are at dinner and your horrible date is locked on your eyes talking about something painfully annoying and all you can think about is suicide. Such as...

"So then say to myself, 'self,' - just kidding, I do that, I'm a kidder. I thought to myself, 'I haven't eaten spinach in days so how on Earth did THAT get in there?' Well it sure as heck wasn't the spinach that dislodged that crown because I bite down, hear this God awful crunch and suddenly I am staring at my tooth. In my hand. My tooth. And say to myself, 'self,' - I didn't really say that, I am just kidding, I say to myself, 'Hey Mr. Tooth, you are supposed to be in my mouth little fella!' So now I have to find a dentist that is open in the middle of the night, which is hard as hellfire to find and even if I did find one how in the world was I going to explain this clown costume?"

It was kinda like. Except the person that was locking eyes with me was not boring, THEY WERE FUCKING CRAZY. I am staring eye ball to eye ball with a person thinking, "Do they have any idea how fucking crazy they are?"

Here is an excerpt from an interview...

ME: Tell me about the first time you were abducted.
HIM: I was 8. My brother was 4. We were playing in a park behind our house. I heard a noise and saw a spaceship on the hill that overlooked the park. It looked just like a house.
ME: A house?
HIM: Yes, a house. It looked like a house, but I KNEW it was a spaceship. There was an alien standing at the top of the hill. He looked just like a man, but I KNEW it was an alien. He was wearing a long coat.
ME: A long coat. Like, would you say...a raincoat?
HIM: Yes, you could say it was raincoat like.

(At this point I am screaming so loud inside I swear he can read "Holy Shit" printed across my eyeballs.)

HIM: The alien came down the hill and spoke to me and brother. He was very nice. He asked us if we wanted to come back to his spaceship. We said sure. We were kids, we didn't know aliens were bad.
ME: Of course.
HIM: The inside of the spaceship looked just like a house. He took my brother to a room that was filled with toys. He took me to another room.
ME: What happened then?
HIM: He took out his magic wand.

(sound of me choking)

ME: His (cough) magic wand?
HIM: Yes. He laid me down on the examining table and took off my clothes. Then he took out his magic wand and...and...and...
ME: And?
HIM: He...probed me.

Now, you don't have to be fucking Freud to figure out what the fuck happened. Holy crap.

I needed :15 from each abductee. I interviewed each for 2 hours. It was like crack. I couldn't stop. It was too good.

All the abductees complained about a mini spot light directly above the camera. They said it was in their eyes and made it difficult to see. When we broke for lunch I asked the cameraman if he could move it. He said no. I asked why. He said, "That light is there so they can't see us fucking dying of laughter back here. Our tongues are bleeding we are biting down so hard man." The light stayed.

The only thing scarier than one of these obsessive special interest groups is one one of these special interest groups out to KILL YOU. You see, they put two and two together and deduced that I was not Carl Sagan Jr. when the "MTV Independence Day Video Countdown to Destruction BBQ" aired. That might have been when they realized that my interviews were not being treated with the proper respect. Or it might have been when Geraldo Rivera introduced each clip by saying, "We'll be right back. In the meantime check out these kooks!"

Our production office was flooded with calls. All my interviews were calling for my head, board members from some Intergalactic UFO committee were threatening to sue me, weird militant conspiracy crackpots were telling me to be careful when I started my car. The office receptionist got so tired of fielding these calls she...GAVE THEM MY FUCKING HOTEL PHONE NUMBER.


Now I had Mulder and Scully leaving me voice mails at my hotel saying my kind will "be dealt with," and, "you have angered the hybrids. They will come for you. Oh, they will come."

It's been ten years but I still look over my shoulder. You never when some ET is going to snatch me and show me his magic wand.

Feedback...

Everyday I see the hit counter on this site go up 50 or 60 clicks - but I have no idea who any of you are. Next time you swing by, drop me a line, let me know who you are, and what you like or don't like.

Thanks.

Different Dimensions

The concept of multiple dimensions is an easy one to grasp but difficult to prove. Several different planes of existence occupying the same space.

Most people consider this concept pure science fiction...very "Twilight Zone." Nope. In fact, I visited one of those alternate universes today.

One of my shows is on location this week shooting sketches. Our AD and production manager found a great place dowtown. A studio complete with multiple sets. We could everything in one location. Perfect.

I did not go on the scout.

I pulled up to the location, a non-descript brick building in a real shitty part of downtown under the 10 freeway amongst all the warehouses and storage facilities. Yes, they had several sets all in one neat location. Why? Because it was a sex club, a swingers club to be exact, that specialized in role playing.

Different dimensions, alternate universes. We live in a reality built around our lives. If you are a sports fan your universe includes Madison Square Garden, ESPN, Sports Illustrated, a driving range etc. You travel through your life going from place to place that relates to you. A sports fan has probably never noticed they pass that ceramic craft store everyday. It's not in their relm of interest.

Whatever your interests are, there is a complete subculture out there that you are probably tapped into. Cat lovers, Civil War buffs, golf fanatics, alcoholics...and sexual deviants.

Every so often someone from one dimension gets transported into another. Maybe an equestrian dates a fisherman and finds themselves wading in a river up to their ass for the first time. Maybe a mild mannered TV Producer shoots some sketch comedy in a swingers club...

People must arrive in pairs. No single guests allowed. $35 each gets you through the door. It is not a club like a dance club. It is actually a maze of dark hallways lined with black lights and erotic art. Each wall contains many closed doors and not every hallway leads somewhere.

You enter, take off your clothes, and wander the halls and pick a room. Each room is a completely different, minutely detailed setting fit for role playing and, well...fucking.

An old west saloon, a full high school locker room complete with showers, a kindergarten classroom (really creepy), an operating room, a gynecologist's office with exam table and sturrups, a mock radio station, a quaint living room, a dining room, several bedrooms - some in red silk, some look like a New England B&B, there are private cubbies with stripper poles and the highlight - "blow job beds" - beds four feet tall so all the man has to do is sit on the edge of the bed. You can picture the rest.

There was a gift shop (which disturbingly enough did not sell condoms) and a wardrobe room where you can sign out costumes. The entire place felt...sticky. You just know people have had sex on every single surface.

It's not like I didn't know places like this existed, I just had never actually been in one. Or knew where one was for that matter.

Did you?

Maybe in another life...

I wish I had enough balls to try stand-up comedy. I am in such awe of those who do it well.



And of course everyone remembers this...

Standards & Practices

Any creative person trying to make a living as a creative person will eventually have to deal with suits - non-creative people. From DaVinci to Coppola, artists have had to "play the game" to get their work paid for and seen.

For a television producer currently working on two comedy shows, my "suits" are the networks' Standards & Practices departments. The folks who make the call whether something is "appropriate" for air or not. In more basic terms, not get them sued or fined.

I could write forever about television, radio and movie standards in this post Janet Jackson/FCC world but I won't.

The thought behind this post is so you can see some of the great conversations I have on a daily basis. Conversations spoken with straight faces, purely business. It perfectly illustrates the age old conflict of creative people being scrutinized by non-creative people. I have to sit back and laugh or I would kill myself. But it does reminds me how lucky I am that these are my work conversations as opposed to whether I filled out my TPS reports correctly.

These are excerpts from e-mails and conversations I have had regarding the content of my shows. One of my shows is a hip hop comedy show so you will see forms of the "N" word frequently. No dispect intended. Just the facts...

- "The sketch you wrote is called 'Gaywalking.' Did you mean 'Jaywalking' or is this refering to how gay people walk? We feel uncomfortable using this stereotype as a premise. Can you tweak this one a bit?"

- Please drop "nigga" when the guy says "Nigga you guilty."

- We make fun of midgets 5 times in this episode. Can we offend someone else?

- We can "hear" the Judge be excited, but we can't show a boner, but we can hear it hit the bench.

- Please drop "bitch" when the Judge says "This bitch is gonna give me splinters."

- In the restaurant sketch menu selections, you have "Salad Tossing". However since salad tossing is an act, we think the menu selection should actually be "tossed salad".

- Please don't use a real cat if possible. Using a stuffed animal would be ideal. We need to make it obvious that no cats were in danger during this bit.

- Since the name of the school is "American Stripper College" we feel that "Ho's" should come out of the line "Certified and Knowledgeable Ho's and Strippers Guide you Every Step of the Way".

- Not all Chinese people eat dog. Please revise.

- Mississippi boot lip is a derogatory term. Can you switch it out with something else?

- Can you let me know what Jesse "Soul in the Hole" Jackson is referencing? The other guys names all made sense to me, but I'm not getting this one. Hopefully it isn't talking about someone's 'hole'.

- Please drop "niggas" when Jesse Jackson says "Keep hope alive...niggas..."

- Please drop "bitches" when MLK says "I have a dream team... of bitches."

- Please drop "nigga" when Malcolm X says "Hey, White Man, look at that nigga over there with that white woman."

- Completely bleep the word "hand" (as part of "hand job").

- I want to make sure that "muff diver" was NOT in the show. Thanks.

- We just reviewed the segment and would like the following items removed:

Finger in the butt reference
Anal reference
Hitting reference
Hitting with a closed fist punch reference
Tongue in ass reference
Sit on face reference

The rest of the jokes will probably work although a few items (doggie style and 69) will be bleeped in a version of the show that will air in early day parts.

- We can not infer the Pope masterbates.

- We can not say Mother Theresa was anally raped.

- We need her dad to sign a release saying he will not sue over her saying he walked out on their family.

- As a rule, we like to avoid talking about Nazis.

...and the #1 one conversation from a network S&P department...

"She refers to sleeping with 'Ramone the night editor.' A few questions. 1) Do you have a night editor named Ramone? 2) Is there any one on the staff named Ramone? 3) Did she in fact sleep with him? 4? If not is she willing to sleep with him before this airs so the statement is a fact?"

You gotta love my job.

 

Parallels

I think about Ted Demme often, which might seem odd because we didn't really know each other. My wife and I worked with his sister Jen for years but he left MTV right before my tenure began.

But that is not the reason I think of him as often as I do.

I followed Ted's career closely because he seemed to make the transition that I dreamed of making. He went from producing VJ shows for MTV to directing feature films. He was the legendary frat brother you hear the seniors talk about. "Remember the time Ted did this..." or "Man, this one time Ted..." And he never forgot his roots. Each time Ted released a new movie he held a private screening for the MTV Production department. "Beautiful Girls" is easily one of my favorite films of all time.

But that is not the reason I think of him as often I do.

On January 13, 2002, at the age of 38, Ted Demme died of a heart attack during a charity basketball game.

His family held services in New York and L.A. Krissy and I attended in New York, where we were living at the time. It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. The term "service" should be used very loosely. Of course we assumed it was a service in the traditional sense of the word. Our first clue should have been the location - Chelsea Piers. We were told it was being held there because of the huge turnout expected.

I wore my best suit, Krissy a conservative black dress and we went to pay our respects. Man were we overdressed.

In true Ted fashion it was a motherfucking party to end all parties. Open bar, waitresses making the rounds with fancy little food, a DJ. Although I only met Ted a few times it was all starting to make sense.

About an hour in, people started to get up and speak. First was Dennis Leary, one of Ted's best friends. Watch "Rescue Me" - his speech was pretty much an episode of "Rescue Me." It was funny, angry, full of expletives, touching and scary. He told stories of the legendary pranks Ted pulled on him. We were all in tears from laughter and sadness.

Other spoke - then MTV President Judy McGrath, actress Gina Gershon, his wife Amanda and of course Jen.

But that is not the reason I think of him as often as I do.

At one point the director Paul Thomas Anderson (Boogie Nights) spoke. He explained how Ted video taped everything - almost obsessively. Paul combed through the hours of home movies and put something together. Roll tape...

The piece was incredibly well done - duh, Paul wrote and directed "Boogie Nights." It was also very unsettling. It was too personal, very voyeuristic. It was obviously not shot with the intention of being projected on a 15 foot screen at a club at Chelsea Piers.

Ted left behind two children. At the time, if memory serves, a three year old daughter and a one month old son. A lot of the footage was shot by Ted's wife and focused on him playing with the kids. In one "scene" Ted and his daughter were in their California living room, palm trees outside, dancing like Tasmanian Devils to some song on the stereo. They were completely lost in the moment.

The "service" ended and we all got a party favor - a fucking t-shirt with Ted's face on it (genius!) on our way out. I announced right then and there that when I pass THIS is what I want. A party and a God damned T-Shirt. Awesome.

Flash forward four years. I no longer work at MTV. My family has relocated to California - a state I swore I would never live in. We have two amazing children, Ella is three, Sadie is about a month. My wife is shooting home movies of us. Gwen Stefani's "Holla Back Girl" is blasting from our living room stereo, palm trees outside. Ella and I are full on going to town. We are busting out our finest moves and cracking each other up.

Does this scene sound familiar?

I am not spiritual. I am not "granola-like" in any way but I swear to God I had a fucking outer body experience. I was in the middle of the exact scene that touched me the most from Ted's tribute video.

Since then, I think of Ted often.

It reminds me that we can go at any time. That I might go at any time. What will my children's last memory of me be? Will it be a 35 year old dad dancing in the living room? Will it be walking one of them down the aisle? When? Who the fuck knows.

If I am scared of one thing - it is death. Freaks the shit out of me. The thought of not "being" is just unthinkable to me. I don't believe in God or an after life so I just picture myself rotting in that box and it fucking freaks me out.

But for the first time my fear is not selfish. It's not what am "I" going to do. It is what are THEY going to do.

And that freaks me out even more.

Skills Wanted

I have one skill. That's it. I know how to make TV. As long as I want to work in TV, or more likely, TV wants to work with me, I am golden. Outside of that I am screwed.

And I don't mean "skill" in the Napolean Dynamite sense of the word like, "Ninja skills," "Bow skills" etc. Gone are the days of learning a trade. More importantly, gone are the days of taking pride in learning a trade. So much has been made of higher education and each generation being smarter and more accomplished than the next, I think we have lost sight of something vital. The ability to DO something - anything.

Our entire generation has become upper management.

Sure, I made fun of the kids in metal shop and auto repair class while I was in Advanced Sculpture making some horrendous HR Geiger rip off that I thought was deep. And where are we both today? I can make a fucking snake out of play dough and those kids can fix a Buick. They can weld...something. Ok, I don't have anything I need welded, but if I did I couldn't fucking do it. I snored my way through typing class. You know where those other kids are today? Exactly right - somewhere fucking typing their asses off.

Man started out needing skills to survive. He needed to hunt, to make fire, to provide shelter...to know when to let his she-mate have a girls night out so she doesn't stand over his sleeping body with a club whispering, "I am my own person."

For some reason man has taken great pride in no longer knowing how to do any of those things. Like it is a sign of status that you CAN'T do those things. It's not that you "can't" change your oil, it's that you have "someone" to do that. You don't have to hunt for food, "someone does that for you." Ironically, each generation removed from Org the Caveman has evolved and evolved and evolved to the point where we need fucking lasagna noodles that don't need to be boiled in water first. We need voice activated dialing because punching seven digits into our digital cell phone is too fucking demanding.

Well, if the shit ever hits the fan and we have to fend for ourselves you are going to have an entire generation freezing their asses off in a nuclear wasteland all trying to order take-out at the same time. We're fucked. Like that Chinese place is going to have enough spring rolls for ALL of us? Not gonna happen.

I think everyone needs to know one skill. Whether it be phsycial like carpentry, masonry, plumbing or more mental such as accounting or engineering. That way when we all get blasted back to the stone age we each have something to offer the collective. "I can track game and kill it for food. And what can you do? Recognize trends in an ever fluctuating economic system? Fuck you. I'll go with the guy next to you. He knows how to build a stone wall to keep out the hords of invaders from carrying off our women."

Take a couple of seconds to chew on that and then lets get off our asses and learn to do something.

New Wild n' Out Cast Member...

...Sadie Jane Freeman.

The Day I Saved Thom Yorke's Life (or How Radiohead Owes Their Entire Career To Me)

I have so many freaky, bizarre, fucked up stories from my 13+ years in this business I should write a book. Maybe I will. I probably will. Who knows. Until then I post some of the moments that jump to mind. Like this one...

My first job was as a production assistant at MTV's very first beach house in Quogue, NY (the Hamptons). For those that don't know, the MTV Beach House is a summer long programming event where most of MTV's shows move to some seaside local for June thru August. It has become a great excuse to see more skin on TV but actually it all started because in the summer of 1993 our NYC studio was being redesigned and we had to get the fuck out.

A few months earlier, all of us PA's became slightly obsessed with a new, little known UK band called Radiohead. Their first single, "Creep" was getting some airplay on radio and slightly more on MTV. At best they were being written off as another soon-to-be-forgotten one hit wonder band. If you could even call "Creep" a hit at that point.

Well, we loved it and when MTV's music department asked the Beach House producers if we would be interested in having them perform at the Beach House we begged them to say yes.

That first summer the Beach House was not the multi-million dollar project it would become years later. We were literally making it up as we went along. Where the hell were they going to perform? We didn't have a stage, we didn't have lights, we didn't use multiple cameras - all we shot there were VJ's looking into one camera saying, "Up next, Mariah Carey."

We decided to build a small wooden platform over one end of the pool. We would shoot it on 4 cameras. Of course these cameras were not synched together in any way. There was no control room, no director cutting them together. Each cameraman ran their camera independently and in the edit room we would hope we had all the shots we needed to sync everything by EYE. Very, very lo-tech.

Radiohead was there to play "Creep" - the only song anyone knew. Being huge fans everyone on the staff had their own favorite from that first album. We went to them beforehand and asked if, after we recorded "Creep" they could play another song, "Anyone Can Play Guitar" just for us. We were huge fans. They said no.

We filled the pool area with local, obnoxious Hamptons kids and the band performed. We did two takes. Then just as we were getting ready to break down - without warning - the band launched into "Anyone Can Play Guitar." We flipped out. We turned the cameras back on and started shooting just...because. Well, the cameramen were shooting. I was a 22 year old PA standing there going, "This is so cool."

As I said, we built a tiny stage over the pool area. It was easily 95 degrees. Radiohead put everything into the song and unknowingly we caught a glimpse of the great band they were to become years later. At the high point of the song, after Thom Yorke nearly had a stroke screaming a high note into the mic - he suddenly dove into the pool. The small crowd went crazy. He was crazy.

Thom was wearing Doc Martin ankle high boots. These boots immediately filled with water. Thom began to struggle, of course no one could really tell. But me and another PA, Tim, both noticed. He was pushing from the bottom of the pool to the top and sinking again. The band continued to play their asses off.

From opposite ends of the pool Tim and I exchange a look. We both knew what was happening. This guy was going to eat it right in front of us and no one would even know until it was too late.

Thom managed to make it to the lip of the stage but couldn't climb up. His boots were filled and he was choking. Tim and I rushed on to the stage just as Thom had grabbed the only thing he could - the live microphone cord. Having a basic understanding of rudimentary science, Tim and I slapped the sparking mic out of his hand and pulled this wet cat of a singer back onto the stage.

Afterwards we never got a thank you from Thom, but a rep from Capitol Records told us, "You just saved that band's career." She was joking, kind of.

About a month ago I became the last person on the planet to become obsessed with YouTube.com. I am constantly amazed at the shit I find on there. Perfect example is the clip of "Kiss Meets the Phantom Of The Park" I linked to in yesterday's post.

Well, I did a random search with the keywords "Beach House" and holy holy holy holy fuck. I found a copy of that Beach House performace of Radiohead doing - not "Creep" - but "Anyone Can Play Guitar." I knew it was edited together but I only saw it once at our wrap party at the end of that summer of 1993. Maybe it aired once more on 120 Minutes at 2am on a Sunday nigh but that was probably it. You can tell we had no idea it was coming by how frenzied the beginning is.

So here it is, with the drowning parts and our history making heroics neatly clipped out, Radiohead, live at the MTV Beach House...the internet is amazing thing.

I Fucking Love Kiss

I don't mean, "I fucking love Kiss" as in their music speaks to me on a molecular level. I don't mean "I fucking love Kiss" as in I remember exactly where I was when I first heard, "Love Gun."

I mean, I fucking love Kiss. You have to.

I remember talking in the school yard with my friends - are they superheroes? Are they living or dead? Is it true they are ninjas hiding out in the United States? (ok, I made the last one up.) Today's "musicians" have no mystery. US Weekly makes a big deal out of making celebs "Just Like Us!" They go to Coffee Bean, they get traffic tickets -fuck that. I DON'T WANT THEM TO BE LIKE ME. I want to read about whether Gene Simmons had a cow's tongue sewed onto the end of his. I want to know if Ace Frehely as really been abducted by aliens.

Will *NSYNC reunite? Who the fuck cares. I swear to God I have an old Kiss magazine that goes into great detail as to how the Hulk and Superman auditioned for Kiss. No shit. Superman won because he could run really fast and play every instrument in "Strutter" at the same time...and the Hulk smashed all the equipment.

Name another rock band that had their own TV special? They fucking turned into their alter-egos by clutching magic medallions. Let's see the Dixie Chicks do that shit. Bet they couldn't defeat the Phantom of the Park either.

Not to mention they put a drop of their own blood into the printing press churning out their Marvel Comic Book. Fucking awesome.

Having produced two of MTV's biggest "alternative" music shows - "Alternative Nation" and "120 Minutes" not to mention "Total Request Live," I have encountered dozens, probably hundreds of "artists" that take themselves way too seriously.

- Eddie Vedder & Pearl Jam who insisted on keeping their integrity and not make any music videos....and live off the boatloads of cash the videos from their first album made them.

- Rage Against The Machine. Do I have to say it? "Take the Power Back?" You can have it, why are you screaming?

- Radiohead. Amazing band...assholes. AND I saved Thom Yorke's life, literally, but that will be another post.

- Weezer. Refused to speak during their first ever television interview. I don't mean they were shy. I mean THEY DIDN'T SPEAK. Then they got pissed when I aired the whole fucking thing.

- Kurt Cobain. Amazing songwriter who...well you know. Troubled guy, but lighten up. He shot himself because he was so concerned with "selling out."

Ah, "selling out." The #1 concern amongst musicians. They spend their childhood singing into a hairbrush to "In A Gadda Da Vida" and then bitch when they become famous. The whole time they are making music videos and accepting awards they are picturing their original 50 fans sitting in some dank basement club bitching about how, "They sold out man. They used to be cool." Then they thick if they somehow treat everyone like assholes they are holding on to who they really are. Green Day, are you listening? Go cash your checks.

You know what is missing from music today? A complete lack of integrity. Yeah, you heard me.

KISS has absolutely no integrity whatsoever. They are all about making money and they have never once tried to hide it. For example:

- They didn't write a lot of their songs. A hit is a hit, who cares if they wrote it themselves.
- When one of them couldn't make it to the studio a session musician was hired. A "band?" No. A bunch of guys. One is missing? Rent a new guy for the day. How the hell do you think they recordeded an entire album while Ace was in jail? It's not him on the record. It's him on the album cover, not him on the record.
- When music changed. So did they. Check out their disco hit, "I Was Made For Loving You." Disco Kiss. Classic.
- One of them fucked Donna Summer and Cher.
- They kicked two members out at the drop of a hat.
- They replaced them with a "fox" and some guy with an Egyptian "Onk" on his head. What?
- They each released a solo album on the same day, didn't write half of the songs on them and the Dave Letterman band played all the instruments. Check the liner notes: Will Lee, Sid McGinnis, Anton Fig...
- When glam was out they took of the make-up and started wearing colorful scarves.
- When the colorful scarves went out (were they ever in?) they dressed like Slayer or Pantera. Bands that actually have credibility.
- When the money was there they kicked out two new members, brought back Peter and Ace and hit the road doing the exact same tour as "KISS Alive II."
- When Peter and Ace acted up again they were kicked out...and Kiss continued to tour with two new guys IN ACE AND PETER'S MAKE-UP. They rented guys again.

Not to mention their biggest accomplishment of all...MERCHANDISE.

They have unapologetically slapped their name on everything and anything under the sun. Sure, early on it was T-Shirts and posters, keychains, stickers. Then came 12-inch action figures. A rock band releasing action figures? I used to have them beat the shit out of my Six Million Dollar Man doll - I mean action figure.

Then it got good - ceramic tiles, X-Mas ornaments, lunchboxes, Halloween costumes, condoms, night lights, NASCAR models(?), incense burners, air fresheners, baseballs, bowling balls, lip balm, Kissopoly the board game, pinball games, video games, sheets, blankets, pajamas, rugs, ashtrays, cameras, a fucking dip bowl set -

pool cues, lamps, lollipops, jigsaw puzzles and to mention the motherfucker of all motherfuckers...the KISS coffin.

I mean, c'mon. And they just announced to today they are releasing His/Her Kiss scents - made with real feremones. Yay!

How can you not love these guys? We need another band like Kiss.

And just 'cause you were good...and read all the way to the end...

Why So Threatened?

Anyone who knows me knows I am a die hard athiest. I think no less of people who do believe in a higher power and no less of people who adhere to an organized religion. (ok, a little less...)

Throughout the years I have had some very interesting conversations/debates/arguements with those that are truly offended by my lack of faith. A high school girlfriend's mom ask me to leave the dinner table (I bowed my head respectively, but did not physically SAY grace. Even if I wanted to fake it I don't know the words.) I have gone head to head with my born again "aunt-in-law," and I have faced off against protestors.

That's right protestors. I was an usher at the lonley ol' Grand Avenue Twin in Baldwin, NY when Scorcese's "The Last Temptation of Christ" was released. I had stuff thrown at me (eerily reminiscent of being stoned) while I sat innocently on a wooden stool wearing an ill fitting red sports jacket and bow tie. "I am not here to debate whether Jesus was horny, I am just here to rip your ticket..."

As I have written before, my daughter attends a Catholic Pre-school. So maybe there is a God because that is one of the great cosmic screwings of all time, but I digress. Last night my wife handed me a brochure the school was distributing. It was called, "The Truth Behind the Da Vinci Code." Apparently this novel about a secret so mighty it will cause the downfall of the Catholic Church is so full of crap, so factually incorrect, so worthless of their time that it just might...cause the downfall of the Catholic Church.

I have read the Da Vinci Code. I saw the movie. I enjoyed it for what it is. A fun, suspenseful way to kill a few hours. But what kills me is how people so sure there is a higher power, so sure there is an almighty, all knowing being, are so afraid of A BOOK. I guess a book binds their faith, so this one could tear it down.

I am not going to get into a whole debate defending or ridiculing the accuracy of the novel - quite frankly I do not have the research to support it, nor do I want to take a second out of my day to gather it. But I can apply logic, my own "twisted, personal, I don't care if you agree logic"...

This brochure addressed each fallacy the movie supports and found quotes from the scripture to contradict and defend Dan Brown's (or whom ever he stole the concept from, if you support THAT theory) story. Mary couldn't have been this because in Fred 3:14 it says this, Jesus couldn't have been that because in Bob 8:11 it say this. I personally find that any of these arguements completely miss the point.

The Bible is a book. It is an oral/aural history that was eventually written down. I don't have to explain the game of "telephone" to you. I somehow screw up answering machine messages when writing them down 5 seconds later - imagine keeping the spiritual history of the world to the letter after thousands of years. I garuntee you somebody wrote down the wrong fucking number once or twice

Secondly, it is fact that history is filled with societies conquering other societies. The Greeks, The Romans, The Turks, The Nazis, The Americans (I know I will get shit for putting those two groups back to back but all I am saying is that the slaying of Native Americans wasn't really "letting freedom ring...") When one society absorbs another their cultures merge. In the ol' days leaders/emperors etc. would smartly adapt some of the conquered society's traditions to keep the battered down people from completely revolting. So one culture's religious law borrows from another's etc. The accuracy of this oral history is getting a little muddled, don't you think?

My point being, don't use the scriptures to defend what Dan Brown hypothesises. What he is saying, and many historians say as well, is that the scriptures cannot be trusted. Every generation that recieved these stories tweaked it to their own specifications or interpreted the words as their culture/king saw fit.

If you want to believe in God or a higher Power please do so. If adhering to the commandments, if a belief in going to a fiery hell if you are bad motivates you to be a better person - go for it. But don't tell me on such and such day two thousand years ago this person said that, or this guy did this. There is absolutely no proof that these writings were not molded as time passed.

I know, I know, there is no proof THEY WERE doctured, but this my blog so screw you. Which seems more probable?

If your belief in God, Buddha, Mohammed etc. is so true, is so absolute, I hardly believe a book or a cartoon or a movie is going to dethrone an almighty being. I think your infrastructure is safe.

P.S. I will leave you this to chew on. It is agreed that Greeks and Romans invented Gods to explain the unexplainable - what is that fiery ball that moves across the sky? Where does lightning come from or...why did it rain for 40 days and 40 nights...what causes low tide...how did that bush catch on fire...

Beatles Fans?

Here is a cool little video for Beatles fans. It is not hillarious but what grabbed me was the spot on impressions of John, Paul and Ringo. I have always been a sucker for a good impression and these are great...