Kevin_C's Blog

As I type this, I am on the bus to the stadium where we're going to check in and then check out Super Bowl XLII. But last night I was at the party put on by Playboy magazine.



Not much to say about this one that I haven't already said about the party scene here already. Some of the celebrities in attendance were folks I recognized. Kevin Sorbo from "Hercules: The Legendary Journeys", Johnny Drama and Eric from "Entourage", and Alyssa Milano, who, along with Winnie Cooper from "The Wonder Years", was my adolescent crush. Winnie Cooper was probably too busy doing fractions or whatever to go to the Playboy party, but Alyssa seemed to be having a good time. Also, lots and lots of bunnies.



The photographers went the most crazy for Hugh Hefner and the stars of some reality t.v. show called "The Girls Next Door" - I've never seen this show, so I don't know if Hugh and the girls solve crimes or have singing competitions or something, but they seemed nice.

You can see pictures by clicking this link but remember to tell everyone that you went there for the articles.

Kevin

Since on Thursday night I found out what it was like to be a photographer for a red carpet event, I figured it might be a good idea on Friday to see what happened on the other side of the velvet rope.



There was a Wyclef Jean party at the same venue as the previous night’s Paris Hilton/50 Cent soiree and I was able to parlay my status as Blogger To The Stars to get inside.  Even with my hook-up, it was still difficult getting past the throngs of people to gain entry.  Once I cleared that hurdle, the only way I could figure out how to get into the actual event was by walking across the red carpet itself – if you’ve ever wondered what these things look like from the other side, see the photo above.



.  And just to be clear, no one took my photo.



Once inside I was amazed by how big the venue was and how over-priced the drinks were ($8 for a beer?  What is this, Fenway?)  It was also very crowded, and once again I got shoved everywhere I went.  Luckily, tomorrow is the Super Bowl, where I’m sure over-crowding won’t be an issue.

Like Dante’s Inferno, there were different sections depending on what kind of person you were.  Your garden variety party-goers were in the back, fenced in away from the front section of the stage.  Your high-rollers were in various VIP pavilions set up on the sides.  There was another VIP section right in front of the stage, and (since this was a red carpet event) there was presumably a section where the real VIP’s were located.  I was able to get into the VIP sections and I saw no celebs, which leads me to one of three conclusions.  Either the celebs did what I heard Terrell Owens had done the night previously, and walked the red carpet, gotten his picture snapped, and then immediately hopped into the Terrell OwensMobile and jetted away.  Or, and I think this is more likely, there is a whole other room where the celebrities party.  Which means that if you pay big bucks for the chance to party with a celebrity then what that actually means is that you’re so sequestered from them that they’re probably not even breathing the same smoke-filled air as you.  Or, maybe the celebrities in the VIP section were not the sorts of celebrities I would recognize.

I have no clue where those who bear false witness were located.

In the VIP Pavillion, there were free drinks and sushi (sushi? In the desert?) and I managed to stake out a pretty good section of real estate with a good view of the stage.  I didn’t have any of the free drinks, since I wanted to remember the entire evening for blogging purposes.



Here is a self-portrait, taken once Wyclef Jean took the stage.  I know, I know.  It’s not physically possible for a human being to be having as much fun as I appear to be having in this photo.



Wyclef’s set mainly seemed to consist of him running around the stage, and screaming “PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIIIIIIIIIIR!!!!” while a d.j. played records in the background.  The show began with the House of Pain song “Jump Around”, while Wyclef shouted over it, and the crowd threw their hands in the air, and then occasionally Wyclef would switch things up and ask the crowd to do something called “Bouncing.”  This was all way more entertaining than I am making it sound in this blog – he was a really dynamic performer.



The weirdest moment of the show for me was when Wyclef stopped the show to jump off-stage and accost a forty or fifty-year-old guy for sitting down during the set.  This reminded me of the time in high school my friend Tim dragged me to a ska concert (he liked ska, and I did not) and the singer of the ska band yelled curse words at me between songs for standing in the back and sulking (see self-portrait above for reference.)

My problem with what Wyclef did was this: If you pay money (I know I didn’t pay to get into Wyclef, but hear me out) to see a musical performance, why is it incumbent upon you to dance or get excited?  If I’m not feeling it, is that my fault?  Can’t I have my own opinion?  I bet they all “Bounce” in communist countries, but this is America, baby!



Other highlights: Wyclef calling about thirty ladies on stage to dance with him, but setting a weight limit.  An extended conga drum solo.  A truly awful rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner” on guitar, Jimi Hendrix-style.

After the performance, the party was still going on, but I thought it was time to leave.  I didn’t take the red carpet to exit, I found a way out in the back.

Kevin

P.S. – I don’t want to make it seem like I just go to musical performances and just stand around and sulk.  That’s totally not true – I like nothing more than to see a show and get well and truly rocked.  This past year I completely lost it at the Pipettes, The Arcade Fire, Bruce Springsteen, Neko Case, Laura Cantrell, M.I.A., Kool Keith, and still more that are not immediately popping into my head.  Sometimes you just don’t feel it.

On Thursday night one of the parties held in Scottsdale was put on by 944 Magazine - one of those glossy lifestyle dealies aimed the 18-40 set (they do not publish in Boston currently, but based on their rate of expansion, I wouldn't be surprised if they showed up soon) with lots and lots of ads for things like Hummers and watches and other stuff that I don't buy. The most recent issue features a scantily clad Paris Hilton on the cover, which is why Ms. Hilton was playing host to their anniversary bash on Thursday night. Part of why I’m out here is to cover the party scene and, after getting credentialed, I thought it might be interesting to see what goes on at a red carpet event, something I (and, I’m guessing, most of you) have never experienced.



Press check-in was at 6:00, which basically involved staking out a decent spot on the red carpet and standing around. I arrived on time, because I’m punctual like that, and got a decent swath of real estate near the front. The big headline performer at this event was rapper 50 Cent – along with some d.j.’s.

I cannot begin to describe how unbelievably boring it is waiting around on a red carpet for famous people to show up. A lot of our coverage out here has involved arriving at an event (press conference, Media Day) and waiting for it to start, but it was two hours before anyone of note arrived on scene. This is not the life for me.



The other Professional Celebrity Photographers, it seemed, were in agreement on that assessment. I don’t know if there’s a secret handshake or what, but it was pretty obvious I didn’t belong there. I also asked a lot of dumb questions, because I was curious how things work. I mean, heck, one of the photographers was sporting a pencil-thin mustache. Like I could ever pull that off.

I was credentialed, but a couple of other non-credentialed people were able to sneak into the photographer area. One older gentlemen with an Eastern European accent was giddy at being in an area he Was Not Allowed and he kept slapping people on the behind in excitement. I told him I would make him a deal: if he did not in any way touch my bum I would not alert security to his presence.

Once celebrities did start arriving, things got a bit more interesting. More photographers showed up – and there was a lot of jostling and arguing about where to be. I don’t know if this is how it works, but my feeling is that if someone arrives on time to an event to stake out a spot to do one’s job, than that person should be able to keep their spot. During one particularly heated exchange between two photographers (one of them was standing behind and kept shoving the guy who arrived early out of the way to get his shots in a way that I would describe as “on the rude side”) I asked if fights ever broke out on the carpet.

“YES!!” they both replied in unison. Then they both explained to me why the other one was the worst person ever.



A crowd gathered behind us as People of Note began to arrive, and one of them shouted “Paparazzi Rock!”, causing the entire group to spin around angrily and explain that they are not paparazzi – paparazzi chase people around. This seems to be a big point of contention with red carpet photographers.

The crowd had cell phone cameras in tow, and were constantly asking us when Paris was arriving. I’m going to come clean here and say that while I would be legitimately star-struck if I were to meet anyone involved in any with the television show “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, Public Radio’s Ira Glass, or Kermit the Frog – I did not care about any of the people showing up at this red carpet event. People involved in “extreme” sports, rich reality-t.v. heiresses, Terrell Owens (who, it should be noted, did not cry on the red carpet), and rappers who have been shot more times than I have managed to eat a meal on this trip.



Think about it: I don’t know how much Paris Hilton charges to appear at these events (she denies reports that in Vegas it’s $500,000), but the 944 Super Village obviously paid her something to host this event, and myself and my media brethren all showed up to dutifully snap photos, and then I write about it in my blog, and 944 magazine gets publicity, thereby justifying Hilton’s fee, which she can then charge at another event. Repeat. Cue “The Circle of Life” song from “The Lion King” and then go look at the pictures I took. I know that the photos aren't professional-celebrity-photographer caliber, but once my pencil-thin mustache grows in I'm hoping that won't matter as much.

Kevin

Right now I'm situated at our FOX25 mobile broadcasting unit outside the University of Phoenix Stadium, where Superbowl XLII is set to take place.

It's weird here right now - like Phoenix, it's a ghost-town except for the media. Imagine one of those post-apocalyptic films like "I Am Legend", only the only survivors in the brave new zombie-infested world are members of the media, and you get a sense of what it's been like out here today. Frigtening, I know.

The stadium looks impressive from the outside (I snapped some pictures, which I will upload a bit later tonight) and I tried to get inside to take some photos but the security would not let media inside the stadium proper. I was assured that tomorrow, for Media Day, all would be revealed.

It was good to finally catch up with Butch, who is an old hand at covering Patriots Superbowls and has lots of Superbowl-covering advice. According to him my plan to dress up like one of the Patriots and infiltrate their practice would, apparently, not be met with much success. I was hoping that this ruse would continue through the big game, and they'd let me in for one play near the end of the game and then carry me off the field on their shoulders and the crowd would chant "Rudy! Rudy! Rudy!" and everyone would cry and I would blog about it and people would say "That was the best, most heartwarming blog ever" and I would win a Pulitzer Prize, a Peabody Award, and a special medal of commendation from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for Outstanding Achievement in Blogging.

I can only imagine what other brilliant plans of mine Butch is going to shoot down.

Two observations about the scene here:

1. Every so often I hear a choir of children's voices singing Tom Petty songs. I tried to find out where this was coming from, but no matter where I walk it always seems to be exactly around the very next corner. I hope this is not just in my head.

2. There is the smell of delicious barbecue food in the air, and we cannot find where this is coming from either. I hope this is not just in my head.

Things are really hectic right now (not that I expect the situation to change much over the course of the week) but I wanted to pop in and write a quick note that myself, photographer Matt Tomlin, and Keba Arnold have arrived in the AZ - we even survived our brief layover in New York - behind enemy lines.

There was a ton of media folks heading out to the game - during the layover we chatted briefly with one of the producers of the big political special that's going to air on FOX this Sunday morning.

Matt suggested that the Phoenix airport hadn't done a redecoration since 1985, but they did have these banners plastered everywhere:

And here's a shot of Keba with all of our gear:

Now we head off to get our press credentials and hook up with Butch Stearns, who has been here since yesterday and has already gotten some cool interviews with some football greats, which should be on the site by the end of the day.

Hello, my blogging brothers and sisters - I’m back after taking a short break from typing at y’all. I had a blast jotting down thoughts and pictures about the New Hampshire primary but what, I wondered, could top that in terms of sheer crazy energy?

I now have my answer - Superbowl XLII.

So here’s the deal: Tomorrow I get on an Arizona-bound airplane then spend the rest of the week checking out the hoopla in the build-up to the game.  There are parties and celebrities and pseudo-celebrities and press junkets and more media than you can shake the entire Kraft family at.  I’m going to make a general pest of myself to hard-working folks like Butch Stearns and Mark Ockerbloom to get some behind-the-scenes dirt on the goings-on, I’m going to chat with fans who have also made the trek, and I’m going to take a kajillion  pictures and put them on this here blog page and elsewhere on myfoxboston. There will also be streaming video on the Patriots Headquarters page at various intervals.

Oh, and next Sunday there's a football game as well.

Truth is, I don’t know what to expect when I get there - I just know it won’t be boring.  Watch this space.

Kevin

"Baseball is more than just a game. It has eternal value. Through it, one learns the beautiful and noble spirit of Japan." - Suishu Tobita, Japan's "God of Baseball"

With the World Series win (enjoy the parade, y'all) I've noticed a tenor shift discussions of Daisuke Matsuzaka throughout Japan.  I've got more newspaper headlines below.

In an article in "The Japan Times" (one of the English-Language newspapers in Japan) entitled "Matsuzaka's Popularity Skyrockets Once Again Across Japan", there's a sense that some of Dice-K's Japanese fans were, prior to the World Series win, a little uncomfortable with the money spent by the Sox on Matsuzaka in relation to Dice-K's performance for the team.  Seems there was a sense that  Matsuzaka wasn't holding up his end of the $103 million contract.  Now that the Sox are CHAMPIONS, that feeling has gone away and there is a renewed sense around here that Dice-K can once again be gushed over.

An even bigger deal in the papers than his pitching was his at-bat in game three.  "FIRST POST SEASON HIT FOR JAPANESE PITCHER," read the headline on the Sports Nippon newspaper.

As for me, I'm back in Tokyo, about to take a quick disco nap in the hotel room before heading out on the town. 

Here are the newspapers:

A quick shout-out to Matt Fraction and Barry Kitson's great comic book series "The Order", from which I swiped the quote at the top of the blog.

Stephanos blogged about superstitions, making me think that in 2004 I was in New Orleans (pre-Katrina) watching game seven of the ALCS at a rock club while waiting for the band Rilo Kiley to take the stage.  All around me, folks would mention things along the lines of "I'm a Braves fan, but I hate the Yankees", and when the Sox won my cell phone kept going off.  I mentioned to my friend Jay (who was in downtown Boston) that people down in New Orleans were engaging in Sox-related revelry (my buying a round of drinks for the bar probably didn't hurt) and he said, "This is just like the end of Return of the Jedi, with all the celebrations on the different planets."

Does this mean I have to skip town every time the Sox are in the playoffs?

At the hotel room in Osaka we just caught a cooking show with special guest Matt Damon, and Matt and the Japanese cooking show hosts were making Red Sox-themed foodstuffs.  This is the sort of nonsense I was hoping to see my entire time here. 

For Game Four of the World Series my wife and I were on the island of Naoshima, which is like a weird hybrid of a fishing village, modern art museum, and set from a 60's James Bond flick (seriously, in order to get to our hotel room we had to enter a tiny monorail which could charitibly be described as "rickety", and apparently one of the James Bond novels is set there) and while we looked at the large art installations that are erected throughout the island I was tuning in the game on my rental cell phone, which has a t.v. application.  I was wondering why the Sox in the series wasn't a bigger deal here, but think on this: I'm on the other side of the world, and they're broadcasting the game live on over-the-air television that I can pick up ON MY DING-DANG CELLULAR PHONE.

Pretty cool.  I'm going to try and find some more newspaper headlines tomorrow (it's still the day of the game here) to post after we head back to Tokyo.

So here's where we stand, after a week's worth of investigation as to how, exactly, the Japanese feel about our beloved Boston Red Sox.  The following info comes from asking around, getting my local friends to translate, and generally being a pest.  I'm hardly conducting a Rasmussen report here or anything, so if you've got contradictory info to my admittedly non-scientific survey-taking skills then feel free to expound.  This is what I've found by talking to bartenders, salarymen, folks who work at baseball-themed stores, etc.

• Overall, it's a good thing that Daisuke Matsuzaka went to the Red Sox.  There is little to no bitterness towards American baseball for taking most of Japan's star players.  The thinking goes that since baseball began in America, it's a great honor for Japanese players to distinguish themselves on American baseball diamonds.  If Americans were poaching sumo wrestlers then that would be cause for concern.
• There is an interest in the World Series regarding how the Japanese players do, and a natural curiosity as to what team will win, but it seems to be more important to the average Japanese fan that their guy play well in lieu of the whole team.  For example, if the Sox lost the series but Dice-K pitched a no-hitter during it then that would be preferable to the Sox winning the series and Dice-K getting pulled in the second inning of Game Three. 
• The headline after Game Two, for instance, was all about Okajima, with a secondary comment about Schilling.

I've got some ideas as to how to get the Japanese more psyched about the whole Red Sox team, and how to sell more Sox merch here in the Land of the Rising Sun.  I've also got some (gasp!) non-Sox related photos and stuff to post in this space in the coming days.  Right now I'm off to the island of Naoshima, then Osaka, then back to Tokyo.  Kyoto was a blast, and the "Radio Clash" bar did play good music.

Enjoy Game Three!

Media interest in Japan has picked up now that the World Series has started (which makes sense semantically, since it's the WORLD series) and there are Japanese players on both the Red Sox and the Rockies.  I was able to watch both games one and two from my hotel room (I was unable to do this during the ALCS), although a boxing scandal looks like it may throw the baseball story off of the front of the sports section.

And yet.

When the Sox signed Dice-K for a reported forty-five kajillion dollars one of the reasons given for the inflated payday was all the MERCHANDISE they would sell over here in Japan.  I have seen precious little evidence of this.

One dude in a Sox jacket at the fish market.  One kid in a Sox jacket in Hakone.  That's it, and I've been here over a week.  Hell, I've seen more damn METS t-shirts here than Sox shirts.  That ain't right.  Don't these people know that we even have pink hats now?!?!?

I'm in Kyoto right now; a city of great history, founded in the eigth century by Godzilla and Hello Kitty.* It's also the birthplace of Hideki Okajima and there doesn't seem to be all that much of a frenzy regarding their hometown homeboy being in the WORLD SERIES.  Not a Sox hat, pink or otherwise, in sight!

The most excited someone got in my presence recently was in one of the tiny rock bars back in Tokyo; one of the cool things I've found here are these incredibly miniscule bars that seat between 5-8 people total that all have some sort of theme; punk rock, modern art, photography, old soul music, etc.  The one we were in was 60's rock-themed, and the bartender let the patrons pick the music - we had requested Nina Simone. After putting the record on, he overheard my friend Matt and I conversing, in English, about the rock group XTC.  The dude FLIPPED OUT, saying "ANDY PARTRIDGE" in a thick Japanese accent over and over again and insisting on playing his old XTC records, looking to us after every song and nodding enthusiastically. 

Tonight we're heading out to a punk-rock themed bar called "Radio Clash", where interest in foreign sporting events might not be particularly high, but the music promises to be good.  Next entry I'll get into what the folks I've been talking to actually think about the Sox, the Dice-K, and the Series.

Kevin

* I might be making that up.

I've been off the grid for the past couple of days - the wife and I were at a traditional Ryokan inn without wi-fi for a little bit of what Dean Martin refers to as "The Relax-ay-voo" - but I have not abandoned my quest to find out how excited about the Red Sox the nation of Japan is.  Think of my Ryokan trip along the lines of when Frodo and his hobbit pals stopped off at Lothlorien in "The Fellowship of the Ring" (yes, I am that nerdy.)  In other nerd news, the yukata (traditional Japanese ryokan garb) that they provided us with is suspiciously similar to the jedi robes I wore last Halloween.  Just saying.

Anyway, Red Sox.

Interest seems to have picked up following the ALCS win with Matsuzaka and Okajima on the mound in game seven.  Here are two newspapers from the next day:

 

Also, while at the ryokan and enjoying the libations at the bar, the barkeep asked us where we were from. When I responded "Boston" he perked up, asked "Red Sox Boston?" and then gave us a thumbs up.  I tried to get more info out of him, but the language barrier proved too much of a hurdle.

Today, Game One of the World Series (it's on in my hotel room, a good sign) and then we head to Kyoto, hometown of Hideki Okajima.  Let's see if the interest keeps up.

Konnichiwa!

A note about the time difference vis-a-vis Tokyo and Massachusetts: I'm writing this at roughly five p.m. on Monday, while in Boston it's currently about four a.m.

The upshot of that is this: game seven of the ALCS began at nine a.m. on Monday morning.  Despite this, and despite arriving in Tokyo and finding an almost Dice-K free zone, the wife and I decide that we're going to find SOMEPLACE to watch it.  The hotel room is not an option, as we're not getting any channel which is showing American baseball.  On the morning news there was a blink-and-you-miss-it mention of the game, presented mostly as a curiosity ("those wacky Americans and their championship baseball!  What a country!"), but yesterday we started doing some research, helped immensely by the lovely and talented Yoshimi.  During the World Cup a lot of the pubs in Boston will open early to show matches that are being presented in a different time-zone and we figured there would be some Tokyo equivalent.

Not so much.

We scoured the Roppongi area of the city for a couple of hours, since there are a couple of American-style sports bars around.  None of them opened early.  No one could help us in finding a place that would open early.  With both Matsuzaka and Okajima on the mound we thought there would at least be some cursory interest in the goings-on in Beantown, and we continued in our disappointment until we saw this:

The official Major League Baseball Clubhouse! Located in the Shubiya section, it had a whole mess of Red Sox-related geegaws displayed, and a large-screen t.v. showing the Sox in all of their ALCS Championship-winning glory.

The gentleman on staff told me he couldn't help with regards to finding some other establishment (say, one that served nachos) in which to watch the baseball, but we were welcome to watch the game there.  Even though "sterile department store" is NOT my favorite atmosphere in which to watch televised sporting events, our options were limited so we commenced with sitting on a row of steps leading down into the store, directly in front of the t.v. shown above.

A few observations about the Japanese broadcast of the game:

1. The ambient sound of the field is more noticeable, allowing one to hear "Sweet Caroline", "Shipping Up to Boston", and "Tessie" underneath the announcers.  I am in favor of this.
2. One of the highlights of FOX's playoff coverage is the 9,000 or so cameras they've got placed throughout the field, allowing you to see any play from a multitude of angles.  The Japanese broadcast didn't utilize this nearly as much, and the broadcast had an almost obsessive focus on the pitching (even after Daisuke and Okajima had left the field - they showed the close-up of Jonathan Papelbon's pre-pitch stare more times than was really necessary), and had an almost capricious regard for elements of the game that I have always felt to be kind of important - bases being stolen and runners actually setting foot on the bases, for example.  When Julio Lugo messed up that left-field catch, however, they showed THAT on a continuous loop for almost five minutes.
3. There are no commercials.  During the period of the game where commercials would usually be there is instead a replay of every pitch from the half-inning we just saw.  Occasionally, if there weren't enough pitches to take up that time, they would show pitches from previous games in the series.

At a few intervals during the game some businessmen would stop by the store and watch a couple of plays, but no one seemed all THAT interested in what was happening.  I asked my friends who are residents if Daisuke really is as famous as I had previously believed and they assured me that, yes, he is.  And yet I've still seen no Red Sox hats or shirts on the street.  You know what's really popular?  Snoopy, the comic strip character.  You can even see him in one of the photos above.  Snoopy is EVERYWHERE.

With the World Series upon us, I wonder if interest will pick up.  I haven't heard or seen anything to indicate this yet, but I'll be on the lookout.

Okay, so I know we've all heard from various media outlets that Daisuke Matsuzaka is a revered baseball celebrity in Japan, with fame eclipsing that of David Beckham, Michael Jordan, and M.C. Hammer.

I'm here to tell you it's lies and balderdash!  You've been hoodwinked, people of Boston!  The emperor has no clothes! Soylent green is people! "To Serve Man" is a cookbook!

I have been in Japan for ALMOST two days now, enough time to become an expert, and I have seen not ONE mention of/reference to the great Daisuke Matsuzaka, nor the Red Sox.  I had been lead to believe I would arrive in Tokyo and it would be, like, Red Sox Nation East.  Sox caps as far as the eye can see, Fenway Franks and sushi scarfed down in equal measure, "Dirty Water" blaring from every street corner.

Well, it ain't so.  No Matsuzaka, no Red Sox merch calling out from store windows, no footage on TV. (as an aside, the TV. here is AWESOME.  My knowledge of the Japanese language is limited to "Konnichiwa", "Sayonara", and "Domo Arigato, Mister Roboto" but I could still watch Japanese television for hours on end.  It's just an endless stream of people screaming, shots of food, colorful computer graphics, and incredibly catch three-second jingles inserted roughly every half-minute.)  I had hopes of showing up here with some authentic Red Sox merchandise and being able to cash in, like Arvid Ingen and Dennis Blunden tried to do when they went to the Soviet Union in that episode of "Head of the Class" with a crate full of blue jeans and Beatles tapes.  Like Arvid and Dennis, I am stymied in my efforts, but also like Arvid and Dennis, I am learning about the world and, by proxy, myself in the process.  And that's one to grow one.

I have seen many strange and wondrous things, including a legitimate CELEBRITY SIGHTING on the streets of Shibuya, of actor Stephen Root (who played Milton in the film "Office Space"), decked out in the Milton beard, making me wonder if he was in town filming a commercial as that character.  I have seen my beloved PIPETTES on every street corner and video screen, with flyers announcing their album and upcoming Tokyo concerts.  A couple of the record stores I've been in have been playing Pipettes videos on a perpetual loop. 

My friends Matt and Yoshimi, who live here and deserve medals of some sort (or possibly a trophy) for being the best guides a gaijin moron like me could ask for, got my wife and I tickets to the Studio Ghibli museum, which is dedicated to the famed Japanese animation studio. Ghibli produced such classics as "Princess Mononoke", "Spirted Away", and "Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind" (all directed by Hayao Miyazaki), three of my favorite films ever.  They have taken us to amazing restaurants that English-speaking tourists would never be able to find and/or order from.  They have promised us the option of a restaurant where you get served food by people in ninja costumes.  They, in short, rock.

We are leaving Tokyo for other parts (Kyoto, Osaka, etc.) in a couple of days.  Perhaps the Daisuke love flows more freely there.  I will be on the lookout and I will keep you posted.

Sayonara and Go Sox,

Kevin

Losing My Wedding Ring in the Ocean

So a few weeks ago my friends Matt and Yoshimi were visiting from Tokyo. They and some other friends rented a place in Chatham, near a fairly secluded beach and invited the wife and I over for some relaxation and fun. Fantastic! Until I decided, in a fit of whimsy, to try doing some handstands in the ocean, losing my wedding ring in the process.

The New Cupcake Place in My Neighborhood

I had high hopes that a new business which specifically specializes in the making and selling of cupcakes would bring heretofore unseen plateaus of deliciousness into my daily life, but in fact: no. Too small, too expensive, too much frosting, frosting too buttery, cake too crumbly. The sandwich shop nearby has larger and tastier cupcakes for, like, a third of the price. I had previously thought the cupcake was one of those perfect inventions that we humans would be unable to mess up and now my whole world has been shattered. My friend Tim and I went on a cupcake-tasting mission, so excited were we about this new addition to our snacking lifestyle, and both left sorely disappointed. Silver lining: I can continue wearing the same size pants.

Of Montreal’s On-Stage Antics

Wednesday night I went to the “Revenge of the Bookeaters” benefit for 826Boston, a new center to help kids and teens with writing skills. Performing were various comedians, writers, and musicians, and I enjoyed all of them (especially Mates of State, who did a killer cover of Jackson Browne’s “These Days”, which I had seen them perform at a live “This American Life” performance once before, but it was nice to hear it again.)

But enough of this positivity! I am here to complain today, and I wish to complain about the on-stage mannerisms of Kevin Barnes, lead singer of the pop group Of Montreal, a group who are not without talent, but that talent is completely obscured in a live setting by his bizarre “I am a winsome man-boy, look at how eccentric I am….” act, thereby ruining any enjoyment I might have gotten out of their set. Not even covering “Ever Fallen In Love” could save them.

300

Rented this a while back, and I was looking forward to seeing it as it’s based on a graphic novel by Frank Miller that I own and enjoy. What worked for me in comic form, however, did not work in cinematic form. All the characters were defined by one single character trait (This one’s duplicitous! This one’s heroic!), the stylized dialogue and battle scenes didn’t work for me (it felt like I was watching someone play a video game), and I didn’t understand why King Leonidas responded to every situation by bellowing out “We are Spartans!”

Examples:

Soldier: “My liege, we must rest for the evening.”
King Leonidas: “We are Spartans!”

Washer-woman: “My liege, your tunic is back from the cleaners.”
King Leonidas: “We are Spartans!”

Cupcake Seller: “Would you like a chocolate or vanilla cupcake?”
King Leonidas: “We are Spartans!”


Car Bumper Stickers

Living, as I do, in the metro Boston area I come across a lot of motorists who feel the need to express themselves politically through the medium of Decal Placed on Rear Bumper of Car. These stickers seem to convey one of two ideas:

1. “I Am Not a Fan of [insert politician's name here] and Wish to Inform You of This Fact!”

2. “Even Though I Live in [insert region of the country here], Do Not Mistake Me for a [insert predominant political ideology of previously mentioned region here], As You Would Be Mistaken! For, You See, I Am Not a [ideology] and, In Fact, Will Use the Opportunity of Placing This Decal on My Automobile’s Bumper to Inform You of That Fact!”

Has anyone’s mind ever been changed by a bumper sticker? I like to think the issues being argued on The Ideological Battleground are more complex than this.

Although if King Leonidas drove a Range Rover in 2007, I have a pretty good idea what his bumper sticker would say.

Star Trek: The Original Series

This may shock and amaze you, since my last set of blogs were all about how much of a big honking dork I am, but I'm not particularly familiar with the world of "Star Trek" beyond the stuff that pretty much every standard-issue human being knows. That changed recently here at the Fortress of Dorkitude when one of those new dvd sets they periodically release in a shameless attempt at milking the fanbase (I'm not judging, as I've purchased the "Star Wars" films on home video and dvd a total of, oh, six separate times) with a bunch of episodes thrown together thematically. They're calling it the "FAN COLLECTIVE" and they've all got whimsical themes like "KLINGONS", "THE BORG", and "ALL-SINGING, ALL-DANCING".  This one was all about the CAPTAINS, and I've been watching the ones about Captain Kirk. While I don't have a lot of interest in any of the more recent iterations of this venerable sci-fi franchise, watching William Shatner punch and bellow his way through an art-deco vision of the future (a future in which, apparently, all hostile alien races are female and dress like Nancy Sinatra on the cover of the "Boots" album) and then don his ten-gallon FISTS OF HAM to deliver a speech about how "We all... should just... get along..." is dvd entertainment of the highest order. Live long and prosper!

Old Popeye Cartoons

A dvd set of old Popeye cartoons from the 30's was recently released, fully-restored black-and-white shorts from the Fleischer studios (who also did those fantastic "Superman" cartoons in the 40's) before any of that Popeye-nephew and Poopdeck Pappy crap started messing up the franchise. It's just Popeye downing spinach, beating the snot out of Bluto, and macking on Olive Oyl. The extras are great, too - if you're at all into classic animation this is a must-get, or at least a must-rent.

Jaws

There's no new release dvd or special edition released to theaters with Jar-Jar Binks digitally generated onto Martha's Vineyard or anything, but witnessing all of the awful Quint impersonations on the FOX25 Morning News a couple of weeks ago gave me a hankering to watch this one again. Spielberg's recent stuff has been hit-or-miss with me, but HOT DOG does this movie rock, and with dvd prices dropping to the extent that they have recently on catalog titles you can probably find a copy of this to own for about thirty-eight cents if you look hard enough.

"Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell" by Susanna Clarke

This book was all the rage a couple of years ago, but I've just gotten around to it now. I'm only about 200 pages in (it's over 800 pages long) but I'm totally hooked - I haven't been this excited about a book I've read in ages. It's a historical fantasy novel set in the early 19th century in Great Britain where actual magicians alter the world around them in both obvious and subtle ways. I know I'm making it sounds horrible, but the writing is astounding - like a hybrid of Jane Austin and Charles Dickens - the characters are incredibly well-drawn, and it's hilarious without being silly, while still taking the plot and characters completely seriously. I was never particularly into the whole Harry Potter thing, and I've heard this one referred to as "Harry Potter for Adults" on a number of other websites but it's richer than that - the book took ten years to write, and you can tell a whole mess of research and care went into crafting it. It's making the last five or six books I've read seem really tossed-together and shoddy in comparison.

Buying Pants Online

I needed pants, but did not have time to go shopping for pants, what with all the wonderful diversions listed above, so I tried that thing where you go online and order pants and have them delivered to your door. I hate shopping for clothes - I'm envious of comic strip characters like Charlie Brown who have one outfit they wear at all times, never having to worry about color-coordinating or matching shoes with belt or whatever (note to self: Charlie Brown had no friends and was generally loathed and despised by all those around him, except for Linus, who was prone to sermonizing at school plays, Snoopy, who I think only used him for food, and Peppermint Patty, who is probably running for some public office on the "Green Party" ticket, so keep the envy to a minimum) - but through the magic of the internet I now have pants where, before, there were no pants. Also: free shipping. This truly is a golden age we live in, even without foxy aliens in go-go boots.