KML on the move away from 98-Rock

Lopez has been dead for over a year, but I still can’t refer to 98-Rock’s long-time morning show as anything but “KML” = Kirk, Mark, and Lopez.

So the big news in the Baltimore radio market is that Kirk and Mark have left 98-Rock. They’re moving over to 105.7 “HFS”, where they will replace the Junkies beginning in the new year.

Here’s my opinion:

KML – er, KMS – has for several years been the morning show I wake up to when I have need to set my alarm to wake me up early. Now that they’re off the air, I woke up this morning to Mickey and Amelia, who are just awful. Plain, simple, awful. Amelia might be okay on her own or with someone else, but I can never forgive Mickey for interupting a Led Zepplin song – Immigrant Song, maybe? – midway and shouting: “THIS SONG SUCKS!” Maybe, Mickey, but the audience members listening probably don’t think so, and the audience members not listening who agree with you probably tuned away. In any case, save your sermons for after or before the music, but whatever you do, please stop interupting songs.

I don’t hate the Junkies, but I don’t much like them, either.

Long story short: the rest of this semester, waking up just past 7am and listening to the radio for half an hour before the alarm goes off, is really going to suck ass.

I don’t know why Kirk and Mark fled their long-time home at 98-Rock, but I do know that I’ll be tuning into them when they begin on 105.7. Until then, I guess I’m stuck with crappy(ier) radio.

Just Over Twenty-Four Hours Away: THE OCTOVEMBER BALTIMORE BLOGGER HAPPY HOUR

A rehash of my earlier posts on the subject:

What: The October/November Blogger Happy Hour.

With: Your hosts! Moi (that, uh, means “me”), and Jennetic.

Who: Baltimore Bloggers, Bloggers, Blog Readers, You, Me, The Pope, Prostitutes. Y’know. Everyone.

Why: Blogs. Beers. Bloggers. More beers. What’s not to love?

When: Wednesday, November 1st, 6pm.

Where: Dizzy Issie’s
300 W 30th Street
Baltimore, MD 21211

Got Questions? Leave a comment. E-mail me. You’ll figure it out. You’re smart. Or at least, moderately partially possibly possessing of some basic, rudimentary education. Yes, look at you, making fire with two twigs. Brilliant.

Live-Blogging “An American Haunting”

I’m at school — 2nd floor lounge of 7800 York Road — so there is no loaded revolver next to me as I watch this. (Actually, if I was at home, there’d also be a shotgun and a .45) There is — thankfully — a lot of light. Hurrah.

Anyway. Here we go. Trailers. “What Tamara wants, Tamara gets.” Then: hot chicks getting slaughtered in a cave. I like the menu for this movie — very creepy music.

Creepy credits in red scrawl.

(Beer and dinner when this film is over – it’s short, not even an hour and a half).

Panning establishing shot. Manor house, present day. Chick in sweats running. Bet she’s running from her boyfriend. Christ, it’s snowing, wear some fucking clothes. You’ved got boots but no winter jacket? She’s at the house — in the house, door closed. Not running from a ghost then. Someone at the door, she’s got an envelope opener — there’s a bolt-lock on her bedroom door?

Someone wants in the room.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Look out for the window!

Don’t go near the door, dumbass!

Oh, it’s a dream. Something about a little girl. Screaming. Nightmare. There should be guns in nightmares to shoot ghosts with. In dreams, everything works — even bullets against ghosts.

“What’s this?” Why is the attic off-limits? “This” is old paper and a doll.

Mom likes Vodka. Lots of it. Oh, just be a woman and chug the bottle.

That’s a creepy looking doll. “I know how you feel.” Really? I wish I knew how it felt to be a doll. NOT.

Mom’s reading the ancient letters. “I hope that no one would find cause to open this letter.” Mom has a picture of the writer on the wall?

The Story of the Bell Witch. “Considered a tall tale … this is not so!” ‘Read this journal with great care.’

Flashback: 1817. “Probably torturing poor Joshua.”

Why does the Bell girl have an English accent?

Oh, an old fashioned party. Don Sutherland is telling a story about a carriage. He’s drunk and calling other people “three sheets to the wind.” Someone is positioning mistletoe.

!!! Did Sissy Spacek just rebuke Sutherland for disapproving of a female student trying to entrap her older male teacher with mistletoe?

(Am I mispelling mistletoe?)

Dark bedroom. Fireplace. Sobbing, crying, pounding on a door. Spacek says “John?” Does she thing ‘John’ (the teacher) is banging her daughter? Could be … she’s got a candle as she walks up the steps. Checking on the kids. Ignoring the ones who don’t sound like they’re being raped/mauled by a ghost.

Donald Sutherland just grabbed her. Scared me, too.

“Noise on the roof…” “Coming from the attic.” He’s heard it three times in as many nights. “You sleep so sound, you don’t even feel me get out of bed.”

“Probably that witch trying to wear me out before tomorrow’s trial.” Did the attic door just open? Heavy breathing. I bet it is the school teacher …

Mrs. Batts the Witch, apparently. Donald Sutherland is John Bell. Contract dispute. “Spit and shook.” 20% interest. Judges seemingly aghast. He broke church law! According to church cannon, that’s usery. She’s getting the land back, not the wood he cut from it — she’s not happy. He lost his good name. “That’s their punishment for you, John Bell. Just wait until you see mine. Treasure your land, health, family, while you can.” Threatens his daughter, too. WHAT DID SHE DO? Christ.

More narration: wide-pan of woods. Bells took the curse very seriously. 1818. Sutherland and two men all with muskets. Witch hunting? He’s motioning them to flank him, running forward. Very militaristic. Foggy.

Dark shape – wolf! One shot and down. Er. Reload John Bell. Good thing he didn’t – might’ve shot his dog.

Wolf hunting? Oh, deer hunting. “We got it.”

Night, mansion house: yep, wolf outside. Night hunting, now, with lanterns. Spooky! FLOOD LIGHTS PEOPLE, FLOOD LIGHTS.

“Keep your eyes peeled, it’s black as pitch.”

They both fire! Is the wolf down? Shots wake Spacek. Nope, it’s still down there. Daughter had head outside of window – I bet the wolf is on the roof. She’s hiding under blankets. Is it under the bed? It’s growling. Is that the same doll? Windows fly open! SMASH! Didn’t jump or wet myself, yay.

“There’s something in here!”

Dad and Bro outside still hunting the wolf. Woah. Someone just shot into the house. Someone coming in – Sutherland. Why’d he shoot through the window? Oh, it was the son.

“The church has had its say and that is that.” Boy, Spacek is naive. The church can’t stop a witch!

Haunted whisperings —

– schoolbuilding. Discussion of American Revolution. “Who were the couriers?” Betsy is asleep in class. “Our house makes strange noises at night. It is hard to sleep.” Teacher looks concerned … or horny. Hard to tell.

Betsy is on a swing. Waiting for her head to spin and green vomit to come out her mouth and nostrils. Creeeepy ooky icky music. Slow motion photography. Swing higher, Betsy, swing higher.

EEK! There’s a girl on the next swing. Wasn’t there earlier. Orange dress. Can’t see the face. No one else sees the girl – this is clear. Girl reaches out a hand, Betsy takes it …

… EEE! Girl turns to skelton dissapears. Everyone is like, “Betsy’s a klutz! Fell off the swing.”

“You were swinging alone, Betsy.” She runs off, crying. AS SHE SHOULD.

Night – again. Sutherland out hunting. Did he see that apparition or not? SOMEONE ON THE ROOF! Or something. Is it in the house? Can’t tell. In with Spacek … no, Betsy. Hard to tell those two apart sometimes. Betsy’s covers are coming off. It is SO the schoolteacher, I bet. Door creaking. Creepy. Like to put some .357s into it. BANG BANG BOOM.

Woah. There goes the quilt again. Door locked. Does the schoolteacher SOUND like a wolf? Maybe it isn’t him.

Hmm. Heinekin truck just drove past.

SOMETHING IS ON THE BED! She’s being pushed back. Oooh, hairy. She’s being restrained – I think. Screaming. Grabbing her head. “MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA” — everyone is here now. “It touched me.” Where, who touched you? I don’t know, it didn’t say. Just a dream, or sexually molested by a wolf? Not so far fetched – ever read an older version of Little Red Riding Hood? Cannibalism and molestation.

“It wasn’t a dream! There was someone on the roof!” One of Batt’s slaves?

“GO ON THEN! BE A FOOL!”

It’s pouring rain. Teacher blows out a candle. Two foundations of a civilized community – church and education. “He built the church and the church condemns him.”

Bible reading in the house – the candle is being … weird. “All join hands.” Something needs to happen. “As one, we will speak this prayer three times.”

“Demon in the name of Jesus Christ, be silent and leave this house forever.”

Was that a scream? The men are standing a watch, playing chees. Almost midnight. Oh, checkers, nevermind. Sutherland wins – “Don’t you blame that on me.”

Door is open again to Betsy’s room! Uh-oh, Betsy. The quilt comes off again. Not haunted me ass. She’s hit, dragged up by her hair, slapped, dropped, crawling away, grabbed again, nailmarks on the floor – ow! Picked up again, more heavy breathing, slapped again, repeatedly — odd sepia shots. Do they see the demon, or sense it? What IS it? Shreds a pillow. Oooooh. Smashed through a window. Everyone is coated in feathers.

Boy, I could use a drink, too.

Why am I live blogging this? Who cares? Anyway, so half-live-blogging a movie, I’m done.

Oh: the Prof – “There must be a rational explanation.” Whatever, science man.

Live-Blogging "An American Haunting"

I’m at school — 2nd floor lounge of 7800 York Road — so there is no loaded revolver next to me as I watch this. (Actually, if I was at home, there’d also be a shotgun and a .45) There is — thankfully — a lot of light. Hurrah.

Anyway. Here we go. Trailers. “What Tamara wants, Tamara gets.” Then: hot chicks getting slaughtered in a cave. I like the menu for this movie — very creepy music.

Creepy credits in red scrawl.

(Beer and dinner when this film is over – it’s short, not even an hour and a half).

Panning establishing shot. Manor house, present day. Chick in sweats running. Bet she’s running from her boyfriend. Christ, it’s snowing, wear some fucking clothes. You’ved got boots but no winter jacket? She’s at the house — in the house, door closed. Not running from a ghost then. Someone at the door, she’s got an envelope opener — there’s a bolt-lock on her bedroom door?

Someone wants in the room.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Look out for the window!

Don’t go near the door, dumbass!

Oh, it’s a dream. Something about a little girl. Screaming. Nightmare. There should be guns in nightmares to shoot ghosts with. In dreams, everything works — even bullets against ghosts.

“What’s this?” Why is the attic off-limits? “This” is old paper and a doll.

Mom likes Vodka. Lots of it. Oh, just be a woman and chug the bottle.

That’s a creepy looking doll. “I know how you feel.” Really? I wish I knew how it felt to be a doll. NOT.

Mom’s reading the ancient letters. “I hope that no one would find cause to open this letter.” Mom has a picture of the writer on the wall?

The Story of the Bell Witch. “Considered a tall tale … this is not so!” ‘Read this journal with great care.’

Flashback: 1817. “Probably torturing poor Joshua.”

Why does the Bell girl have an English accent?

Oh, an old fashioned party. Don Sutherland is telling a story about a carriage. He’s drunk and calling other people “three sheets to the wind.” Someone is positioning mistletoe.

!!! Did Sissy Spacek just rebuke Sutherland for disapproving of a female student trying to entrap her older male teacher with mistletoe?

(Am I mispelling mistletoe?)

Dark bedroom. Fireplace. Sobbing, crying, pounding on a door. Spacek says “John?” Does she thing ‘John’ (the teacher) is banging her daughter? Could be … she’s got a candle as she walks up the steps. Checking on the kids. Ignoring the ones who don’t sound like they’re being raped/mauled by a ghost.

Donald Sutherland just grabbed her. Scared me, too.

“Noise on the roof…” “Coming from the attic.” He’s heard it three times in as many nights. “You sleep so sound, you don’t even feel me get out of bed.”

“Probably that witch trying to wear me out before tomorrow’s trial.” Did the attic door just open? Heavy breathing. I bet it is the school teacher …

Mrs. Batts the Witch, apparently. Donald Sutherland is John Bell. Contract dispute. “Spit and shook.” 20% interest. Judges seemingly aghast. He broke church law! According to church cannon, that’s usery. She’s getting the land back, not the wood he cut from it — she’s not happy. He lost his good name. “That’s their punishment for you, John Bell. Just wait until you see mine. Treasure your land, health, family, while you can.” Threatens his daughter, too. WHAT DID SHE DO? Christ.

More narration: wide-pan of woods. Bells took the curse very seriously. 1818. Sutherland and two men all with muskets. Witch hunting? He’s motioning them to flank him, running forward. Very militaristic. Foggy.

Dark shape – wolf! One shot and down. Er. Reload John Bell. Good thing he didn’t – might’ve shot his dog.

Wolf hunting? Oh, deer hunting. “We got it.”

Night, mansion house: yep, wolf outside. Night hunting, now, with lanterns. Spooky! FLOOD LIGHTS PEOPLE, FLOOD LIGHTS.

“Keep your eyes peeled, it’s black as pitch.”

They both fire! Is the wolf down? Shots wake Spacek. Nope, it’s still down there. Daughter had head outside of window – I bet the wolf is on the roof. She’s hiding under blankets. Is it under the bed? It’s growling. Is that the same doll? Windows fly open! SMASH! Didn’t jump or wet myself, yay.

“There’s something in here!”

Dad and Bro outside still hunting the wolf. Woah. Someone just shot into the house. Someone coming in – Sutherland. Why’d he shoot through the window? Oh, it was the son.

“The church has had its say and that is that.” Boy, Spacek is naive. The church can’t stop a witch!

Haunted whisperings –

– schoolbuilding. Discussion of American Revolution. “Who were the couriers?” Betsy is asleep in class. “Our house makes strange noises at night. It is hard to sleep.” Teacher looks concerned … or horny. Hard to tell.

Betsy is on a swing. Waiting for her head to spin and green vomit to come out her mouth and nostrils. Creeeepy ooky icky music. Slow motion photography. Swing higher, Betsy, swing higher.

EEK! There’s a girl on the next swing. Wasn’t there earlier. Orange dress. Can’t see the face. No one else sees the girl – this is clear. Girl reaches out a hand, Betsy takes it …

… EEE! Girl turns to skelton dissapears. Everyone is like, “Betsy’s a klutz! Fell off the swing.”

“You were swinging alone, Betsy.” She runs off, crying. AS SHE SHOULD.

Night – again. Sutherland out hunting. Did he see that apparition or not? SOMEONE ON THE ROOF! Or something. Is it in the house? Can’t tell. In with Spacek … no, Betsy. Hard to tell those two apart sometimes. Betsy’s covers are coming off. It is SO the schoolteacher, I bet. Door creaking. Creepy. Like to put some .357s into it. BANG BANG BOOM.

Woah. There goes the quilt again. Door locked. Does the schoolteacher SOUND like a wolf? Maybe it isn’t him.

Hmm. Heinekin truck just drove past.

SOMETHING IS ON THE BED! She’s being pushed back. Oooh, hairy. She’s being restrained – I think. Screaming. Grabbing her head. “MOMMA MOMMA MOMMA” — everyone is here now. “It touched me.” Where, who touched you? I don’t know, it didn’t say. Just a dream, or sexually molested by a wolf? Not so far fetched – ever read an older version of Little Red Riding Hood? Cannibalism and molestation.

“It wasn’t a dream! There was someone on the roof!” One of Batt’s slaves?

“GO ON THEN! BE A FOOL!”

It’s pouring rain. Teacher blows out a candle. Two foundations of a civilized community – church and education. “He built the church and the church condemns him.”

Bible reading in the house – the candle is being … weird. “All join hands.” Something needs to happen. “As one, we will speak this prayer three times.”

“Demon in the name of Jesus Christ, be silent and leave this house forever.”

Was that a scream? The men are standing a watch, playing chees. Almost midnight. Oh, checkers, nevermind. Sutherland wins – “Don’t you blame that on me.”

Door is open again to Betsy’s room! Uh-oh, Betsy. The quilt comes off again. Not haunted me ass. She’s hit, dragged up by her hair, slapped, dropped, crawling away, grabbed again, nailmarks on the floor – ow! Picked up again, more heavy breathing, slapped again, repeatedly — odd sepia shots. Do they see the demon, or sense it? What IS it? Shreds a pillow. Oooooh. Smashed through a window. Everyone is coated in feathers.

Boy, I could use a drink, too.

Why am I live blogging this? Who cares? Anyway, so half-live-blogging a movie, I’m done.

Oh: the Prof – “There must be a rational explanation.” Whatever, science man.

SpamKarma2

Doesn’t seem to be working properly – it just allowed some Acne spammer to post about twenty plus comments.

Son of a fucking bitch! And of course, my Dashboard settings for my laptop aren’t as high as they are on my desktop, so until I get home, I can’t delete them.

Tim … ?

She and I Used to Bump Cunts

Nothing like a completely out of context quote – from Art School Confidential – to get people to meander on over.

Okay, so here’s the deal: ASC tries hard — really hard — to be this introspective flick about art students, and maybe it succeeds (not being an art student myself, it is kind of hard to tell), but with so many characters and so few of them relevant to the long, drawn-out, “is it a murder mystery or a love story?” questioning regarding the plot, really, it’s worth seeing for John Malkovich and Steve Buscemi. Oh, yeah, and Sophia Myles‘ boobies.

I Tried To Shoot A Ghost With My .357 But The Bullet Went Right Through It!

I actually get scared very easily. When I was a kid, I couldn’t watch “Clue” without having my parents check closets and dimly lit corridors for secret passageways that might admit murderers armed with candleabras or wrenches. Now that I’ve grown up — physically, if not emotionally — I can enjoy “Clue” as the comedy it is without feeling the need to turn on all the lights in my apartment.

Now, certain other films? Er, certain other horror films? (Yes, “The Shining” – which I adore! – gives me the creepy-jeepies and I need to turn on a lot of lamps before, during, and after watching it).

Several years ago, a cute girl I had a writing class with told me she loved “House on Haunted Hill”, so I picked it up used at Record & Tape Traders. I got through it, sure, with a lot of “hands over the eyes”, burying my face in a pillow antics. Mind you, this was in my old studio apartment: the blinds were open — it was early afternoon — all the lamps were on, my place was brightly lit, and I was still jumping at shadows.

With the movie over, and the lights blazing, I still felt the inexplicable need to take my revolver from its drawer, load it, and keep it in easy reach in case some goblin tried to attack me. I know this was irrational — regardless of the caliber firearm, a bullet can’t kill a ghost.

But, the point is: scary movies scare me!

And here’s my dilemma, because I want to watch “An American Haunting” today or tonight. So I decided I’m going to watch it after my Chaucer class, in the brightly lit 2nd floor lounge at 7800 York Road. I’ll probably be done watching it by four, but I can guarantee you that when I leave campus at 9:30 tonight, any ghoul-costumed student who jumps out at me screaming will cause me to first wet my pants, thus placing me in the position of being forced to beat the living shit out of them with my ten pound Chaucer text. (I certainly won’t beat the shit out of them with my laptop, if I did, I’d be the one crying!)

Groaner

Stop reading if you’ve been told this before.

Man is walking home. Man hears an odd noise behind him — *clump* *clump*

Turns around. There’s a coffin, standing upright, wobbling after him. *clump* *clump*

Man – understandeably – gets nervous. Quickens his pace.

The coffin matches its pace to meet his — *clumpclump*

Man panics. Starts running.

Behind him he hears: *clumpmpmpmpmpmp* as the coffin hurries after him.

Man runs into his house, slams the door, locks the bolt. After a moment, takes a deep breath of relief. Then, through the heavy wooden door, he hears a faint noise, growing louder: *umpumpumpumpump*, and then the coffin smashes its way through the door.

The man screams, wets himself, runs into the bathroom, grabs a bottle of NyQuil, and hurls it at the coffin. The bottle explodes into shards when it hits the coffin …

… and the coughin stops.

(Don’t you dare comment about how awful this way, the post title is ‘groaner’, remember?)

A Cast of Wonderful Watercolor Characters

maguire

I was at a customer’s house Sunday night delivering a pizza when I say this print, framed, on their wall. The woman had invited me in and left me in the foyer with her big evil satanic dog while she went for her checkbook. I noticed this on the wall and began to slowly realize that it was a painting of the cast of characters of my favorite John Irving book, The Hotel New Hampshire. This was confirmed to me when the woman returned with the money, who seem rather pleased that someone knew what it was. (I got the feeling a lot of her upper-middle-class friends had no idea what it was supposed to be, and she wasn’t sure if it was a good thing the pizza guy did).

It took several minutes that night, using “The Google”, to find a representation of it on the internet. It’s the work of an artist named Robert Maguire, who did a lot of cover-art for paperback novels from the fifties into the eighties. This was from the 1982 release of the book.

I Oppose Same-Sex Marriages…

I should specific, clarify, that I oppose same-sex marriages for animals. (I fully support same-sex marriages for people.)

I should now specify that I also oppose inter-species marriage for animals. Male lions shouldn’t be able to marry male lions, and male lions certainly shouldn’t be able to marry male or female deer. (And, of course, I fully support inter-racial marriages for people.)

I say this because a museum in Oslo — which is somewhere far, far away, probably the Midwest* — is featuring an exhibit, “Against Nature?”, which discusses homosexual animals. Buttfucking: it’s not just for gay men anymore. (Or, more generally, “it’s not just for people anymore!, for that matter).

Best line? The last: ‘…a Pentecostal priest lashed out at the exhibition, saying taxpayers’ money used for it would have been better spent helping the animals correct “their perversions and deviances”.’

And … you’re going to do that how, exactly? Up here in Baltimore County, we’ve got an overpopulation of deer as it is. If anything, we could use more homosexual deer so that the population wouldn’t grow as fast. I think we should encourage deer to engage in more homosexual behavior, actually. It’d probably be a lot more enjoyable for them than getting hunted down or having their nippers nipped.

*Norway. I’m not dumb, I just pretend for the purposes of blogging.