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Ah, devilish October. The crisp
mornings, the strange days, the
endless nights of Columbus. It's always
been a month of funky vibes for the Passenger, but I gotta tell you - even
when October brings suffering, at least I'm suffering in style. Do yourself
a favor: breathe deep this rarified air while you breeze through this week's
pop culture sheet, and while I burn myself in effigy.
Ah, life.
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PARADISE ALLEY
Man alive, what the Passenger wouldn't do to be John Lurie. Blows alto sax like no
other human being, and has a resume that staggers the mind - liberally
dotted with collaborations with Ryuchi Sakamoto, John Zorn and Morphine,
among many others. A founding member of the amazing Lounge Lizards, whose 1982 debut is a must-have for every
crib, penthouse and bedsitter. A film composer of note - "Mystery Train,"
"Stranger Than Paradise" and "Get Shorty" wouldn't have been the same
without Lurie's pure, smooth evil pushing the action. Runs with a circle of
friends that includes Tom Waits, Matt Dillon and Jim Jarmusch, and hosts a
fishing show that
features every one of them in hip-waders - oh yeah, daddy, a giant among
hepcats. Strange and Beautiful,
Lurie's record label, is everything that the player has come to embody, from
the smoky grooves to the straight-faced comic deadpan. These are strange and
beautiful times, fully suited to an ever-present John Lurie soundtrack.
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FRIED, DRIED, LAID TO THE SIDE
Get off the veggies, skinny, and go full-on Extra Crispy. Eric, Frank, Greg, Jason and Shawna are
waiting to tell you what they had for dinner, what
compact discs
they're listening to, and everything you've ever wanted to know about the
problems endemic to parking in SOMA. More than just five gearheads with
attention-deficit disorders of varying intensity, Extra Crispy is actually a
pretty funny parody of the proliferating CityGuide and Sidewalk sites; those
poor replacements for alternative weeklies that are slowly folding our
entertainment options into a stupefied, Java-based gumbo. (It's funny,
reading "editor's picks" on sites with two programmers and a bunch of
freelancers.) EC is a bit thin on useable information - enough with the
damn parking
already - but still tells the Passenger more about San Francisco than
Microsoft does. And all their faces are prominently displayed, so I know who
to blame for the phrase "kiss my cooter" - stuck in my head like the theme
to Disneyland's "It's a Small World."
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BRONZE AMBITION
He can puncture plate steel with one punch, but can't schmooze a girl to
save his life. He is a paragon of fairness and virtue, yet advocates the
correction of criminal behaviors with exploratory brain surgery. No, it's
not Ronald Reagan. Born in the heart of the Great Depression, Street and
Smith pulp fiction star Clark "Doc" Savage Jr. is the alpha and omega
in action heroes - quick witted, technically savvy, dashingly handsome and
built like an Olympic team. (The whole team.) Penned by meek-mannered scribe
Lester Dent under
the nom de plume Kenneth Robeson, Savage punched, pulled and rationalized
his way through one sticky situation after another - usually involving
cultists or ghouls or ghoulish cultists - for the better part of 15 years.
Aided by his five amazing cohorts - chemistry whiz Monk,
slick-talking lawyer Ham, engineering behemoth Renny, dapper archaeologist
Johnny and techno-fetishist Long Tom - Savage endures in a calm, collected
manner that doubtlessly inspired every cinematic action hero we've put our
money on for the last 20 years. (Yes, even Reagan.) Tune in to this
brilliant unofficial site right now - don't miss a
single beat of Doc Savage's sizzling white-knuckle action!
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NOTES FROM A HOT ISLAND
Dear Readers - Las Vegas is here, wish you were hot and cheap. Hahaha - you
get it? Anyhoo, I thought I'd send you some goodies from the Vintage Vegas
Postcard Museum, a
celebration of classic Sin City. Just lookit these babies - classic
greetings from such phantom resorts as the New Frontier, the El Rancho and
the Dunes, and sentimental looks at Fremont Street and the Strip before they
became high-rise pinball machines. Vintage Vegas also has a collection of
matchbook covers from the
early salad days of the entertainment capital - a striking collection if
ever one existed. Visit this fabulous site yourself, and see how much we've
changed out here in the meadows - and just how much we've lost. I'll be home
soon; please don't forget to feed my pet peeves. Love, The Passenger.
You'll never fully understand. I was sworn to a vow of secrecy by the Great
Lemur. However, you're more than welcome to comb my newsletter
for clues. See y'all at
the barbecue!
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The Passenger first appeared on Vegas.com and ran from March 1998 until February 2000.
Back to list of Passenger columns
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