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Askew Reviews 13

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  1.2- Cheers to the New Year!
   I'm being nice and putting a DVD review link here just incase you do not want to read my below blathering.
   December 31, 2008 saw the likes of a fairly mean storm that dropped almost 10 inches of snow on top of   Massachusetts , including my South Shore town. Once the storm ceased at approx 7pm and my driveways were clear, my daughter Reilly and I jaunted off to a nearby hill (dubbed “Big Hill” by Reilly) for some night time sledding.
   The sledding was fun, but since the snow was extra light and fluffy, the coasting was kind of slow going riddled with flake blowback. However, hauling up and down the hill made for one early bed time on this New Year’s Eve.
   Come 9 AM the next morning, we were back out hitting Big Hill. It was cold and very windy. At one point, the wind stole Reilly’s sled and threw it all the way back up the hill pinning it against a chain link fence. One chap wasn’t as lucky as his sled was thrown over the fence and carried across the baseball outfield to about second base. As the kids went up and down, I built a nice ramp that became fairly popular.
   Two hours later, we headed back home frozen solid.
   3 PM and we’re making our first run down a now crowded Big Hill. The ramp I had built earlier was still alive, but needed some help so I rebuilt it. While the age range of the kids sledding varied, I noticed an awful lot of kids five and younger enjoying the hill with their parents. However, try as hard as they did, it was almost impossible for the youngins to enjoy themselves as the parents continually yelled, “Are you alright? Are you alright?” It was insane. Most of the time a kid would simply roll onto his or her side but the parents reacted like a partial decapitation had just occurred.
   The one time a kid did get hurt, and I mean it hurt me just to see it, was due to an overzealous adult. Since Big Hill was littered with kids on sleds, the puffy snow had become more slick and hard. One guy about the age of 45 placed his nephew on a saucer sled and not only gave him a monster shove down the hill, but he spun the lil’ bugger as if he were trying to get into the Price is Right’s showcase showdown. As the kid went screaming, both in velocity and lung capacity, down the hill, the spin was too much for him as centrifugal force tried to quarter his legs and arms from his torso. At this point, the guy was running down the hill after the life sized pinwheel. As the screaming kid neared the end of the smooth run, he hit a rough patch of snow that knocked the saucer sled about causing the boy’s head to slam several times against the hardened snow. There was some blood, tears, and mild swelling, but after taking a break, the kid continued his sledding enjoyment.
   7 PM and Reilly and I are making our last trip to Big Hill for the day. When we arrived, it was dark, but the clear sky allowed the moonlight to brighten up the snow covered terrain. Also, Venus was brightly shining and really standing out in the winter sky. There was one other family using Big Hill; a husband and wife, an older kid maybe 12, and a small toddler about 4. As I repaired the ramp again, I over heard the father constantly asking the 4 year old if he’s ok. Ug. On the other hand, the guy was totally ignoring the older kid, who later called the guy “Steve,” and was obviously anther man’s child. I found the guy’s constant babying of the little kid funny only because as he asked the child face to face about his well being, he was smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke into the kid’s face. God.
   Time passed and the ramp was awesome, but I held off on trying it fearing my 205 pound statuesque (museum quality) frame would squash it. However, my thoughts changed after seeing the smoking guy take a run down the hill and over the ramp, and other than sounding a large “thud” when hitting the ground after sailing off the ramp, all appeared ok.
   My first run down I used my daughter’s boogie board and went down in a kneeling position while holding onto the handles in front of me. I launched off the ramp and landed a bit off center causing me to tumble and crashing my shoulder hard into the ground. I hit the ground and didn’t budge; just stuck there like a stick in the mud.
   For my second run, I sat on the board crisscross applesauce (Indian style) and really caught some good air after leaving the ramp. When I hit the ground, I hit it square with my butt and was shocked that my spine didn’t shoot through the top of my skull, because that’s what it felt like. No wonder the smoking guy only used the ramp once.

  12.23- Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Be safe, have fun, and don’t be stupid. Cheers!

   12.12- Cheers to Bettie Page.
   Buy Askew Reviews 13 and A Nobody's Nothings for $10! Paypal to boneprint@gmail.com
   Here's a DVD review. 
   The weekend is upon us...

   12.6/7- Tonight’s Scenes from the Local.
   Once again, tonight I walked my arse to my local favorite for some beer. As usual, what you read will not be proofed, so deal with any scaaaarew ups you may read.
   I lock the door behind me and since I despise carrying anything on my person, I stick my keys in their typical hiding place and head off to belly up to the bar.
   It’s kind of cold outside, but nothing too bad. However, as I approach the high school, I find my hands feel much more comfortable inside my sweatshirt pockets. Also, I find myself somewhat annoyed with the mass of cars clogging up my shotcut: the high school parking lot. How dare they hold an event that hinders my quest for ale!
   An uneventful six minutes pass and I enter the pub and find it kind of slow. On the other hand, the back room is noisy with an obvious private party.
   Sitting at one of the pub tables is a familiar face with a great sounding drunken voice. He’s kind of a loud mouth, but I have no reason to think anything ill of him. Surprisingly, he’s sitting with an extraordinary looking woman. After she gets up and walks to the women’s room, a few older ladies walk into the place and play about $500 dollars worth of lottery tickets then walk over to drunken loud mouth. He hugs the women and asks them to treat his “lady” nice. The women strike an odd look and respond in the affirmative. The extraordinary woman returns and, indeed, the two older ladies treat her nicely. There has to be more to this story and I want to know it all, now!
   I see yucky football on the tv and ask the ‘keep to put on the Boston Bruins, which she does. It’s good having pull.
   It’s 8 PM and there is no sign of a band, which is great because I tend to hate the bands that play here. Also, whoever is pumping the jukie with cash is playing every Johnny Cash song known to mankind, with a spatter of Bon Jovi. While I could do without the Jovi, I’ll take it if it as long as the Johnny comes.
   The guy seated next to me, who was here before me, has been on his cell the entire time. Thankfully, he is talking very quietly so even if I wanted to listen in, I couldn’t. This fact is but one positive of his cell chatter; the other being his not talking to me because I am one anti-social prick.
   The loud mouth and his extraordinary women pay their tab and the mouth runs off someplace. The extraordinary woman saunters over to me and asks me how I’m doing. After I respond, she walks to the smokes machine and opens one of the zines (Askew Reviews 13) I left there. For maybe three minutes, her eyes fail to leave the pages until the mouth returns and they both walk out of the pub. Curious, I walk over to the zine to see what she was reading; The Rakish Cad Advice column.
   The zine reminds me of a guy, a Myspace friend, who always seems comment on these types of blog posts-which this will be. He enjoys them and writes about buying my book but not being able to at the time. I think he has a child and maybe things are too tight money wise to buy a no name book. This makes me think. I am very well off in all aspects of life, sans penis size, and shipping him a free book wouldn’t hurt. Maybe I will if he comments on this story.
   The barkeep and owner are now discussing a miscommunication that the barkeep takes blame…concerning the band playing tonight. Crap! Just as they discuss the mix up, two men walk in carrying band junk. They quickly set up and begin to play: one guy on bass and vocal, the other on guitar….and programmed percussions. I guess these two won’t be taking requests this evening. This is going to suck.
   Of course, the band opens with a Buffet song. Suck, suck, suck.
   Tonight seems to be a rather busy one, lottery wise. People upon people are feeding the barkeep with paper slips and money. This has me wondering: whose job is it to take care of those little lottery pencils? I mean, are they checked for dullness and resharpened or are they simply chucked and restocked? If the previous, I would chalk that up to a monstrous waste. Really, how often do you see a lottery pencil that isn’t sharp and ready to fill in those lil’ squares and/or ovals?
   Though I have been in this place several thousand times, I am sitting in a barstool location that I’ve never sat and notice, for the first time, a painting of an obvious Irish dude with a fiddle in one hand and a pint in the other. That would be cool.
   While admiring the painting, a fella has tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “Hey buddy, what kind of beer is that?” I respond, “Smithwicks.” He then turned to his woman and says, “See, I told you.” I can’t help but think it must sucks being with him.
   Down the bar from me are two guys and a girl who came in together. They’ve been hitting it hard with beer and shots. The girl is now succumbing to the alcohol.
   A fly I noticed earlier but didn’t write about, has disappeared.
   The low talkin’ cell phone guy was joined by a guy wearing a pentagram pennant and now they are both quietly talking to each other. Kind of weird. Maybe it’s a quiet talkers club, or something.
   Next to me is a self service machine that’ll check your lottery tickets, but the scrolling “signed off” LED notice points to it being out of order. However, people continue to stuff their tickets into the barcode reading red light to no avail. Each and every one of them then stomp their feet with disappointment. I find this tremendously entertaining for some reason. Even better is how the same people retry the thing trip after trip. Great stuff!
   This band sucks.
   The barkeep hands a woman a drink and says, “If this is too strong, let me know.” Ya right!
   From this virgin seat of mine, I notice one of those grabber things (stick with little hands on one end and contracting handles at the other that operates the grabber thing) and wonder its purpose. There’s nothing around the bar that’s out of reach. Odd.
   The band finishes a butchered version of Johnny Cash’s Folsom Prison Blues infused with Walk the Line and Ring of Fire (must be Johnny Cash night). One man claps for the band, but the band blows it by recognizing the guy by name and asking him how he’s doing. The man responds with tomorrow’s work schedule; 10-7. Yikes.
   I glance up at the tv and see a college football player kick a field goal. This reminds me of a few weeks ago when my daughter and I played football, or something like football. Being the man I am, I set up the tee and tried my hand, or foot, at field goals. Let me tell you, it’s pretty damn hard and I didn’t have 8000 punds of meat rushing me. However, (fuck, that little MS paperclip thing just popped up), I did sink kicks from the 5, 10, and 15 yard lines. My daughter was not impressed, but you just flarging know I emailed my brother about my achievements.
   The two quiet talkers are now audibly discussing their distaste for the band. Right on!
   Someone down the bar as said a naughty swear word and those around him react with yells of stuff a dollar into the swear jar. This happened during between songs and was very loud. As if rehearsed, the pub’s owner, a fairly husky fellow, comes out from the kitchen with an enormous clever saying, “What’s going on out here?” It was truly funny.
   I look up at the tv again and see sportscaster Brent Mustburger (whatever his last name is) and mistake him for Marv Albert. This reminds me of a story my cousin told me about when he was having sex with a woman and for no reason, bit her back. Allegedly, Marv did this, too.
   The tv sits high on a shelf and I can see papers resting next to the set. I really want to know what those papers are.
   Exiting the bar, I look down the street and see fire engines, cops, and ambulances. I turn and walk in the other direction. A few moments later, I see a group of teenage males playfully chasing another male. They are all laughing and goofing around.
   As I pass the local gas station and its flying American flag (which should be indoors), my brain turns serious (it does happen from time to time) and I think about deployed military personal and how some are learning a lot and building amazing character that’ll lead them through life. On the other hand, there are those who will only find themselves screwed up, mentally and physically, for life. It’s a shame those people get paid so little. My mind then shifts to president elect Obama and how even though he has yet to make an executive decision-something he has yet to do, ever-I am pleasantly surprised with his cabinet picks and shallow outline of rebuilding America’s infrastructure. This is good and will make a difference, if the unions don’t fuck it up (see The Big Dig), but what this country needs to do is produce more exportable goods. That’s were the real money is. This country had turned into a service goods economy and that can only sustain for so long.
   I pass by a convenience store and wonder if I have enough Pepsi to continue on with my beloved Jameson Irish Whisky. I think I have a two liter-why do we only use metric for soda?- and I know there’s plenty of beer….so I am good. I think.
   Walking through the now nearly empty high school parking lot, I see several carnations on the ground. Perhaps there was a dance tonight?
   Off in the distance I hear a train blow its horn. This train runs along side of a small bar I want to buy, even though I have no experience running such an establishment. One day I will. One day I will.
   I see my house in the distance and remember the half pizza and jar of Tex-Mex trail mix that await my arrival. Oh, what I plan on doing to those two are probably illegal in some countries.
   Back home, I retrieve my keys, let myself into my house, and hear the Dead Boys’ “Sonic Reducer” playing on the radio. It is followed by “Alternative Ulster” by Stiff Little Fingers. Ah, home sweet home.            
                   
  11.28- What I watched last night.

  11.26- This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for indoor plumbing and chick fights.

  11.14- Pepsi + Jameson + Denis = Tonight.

  11.7- Last Monday, I was looking around my attic and found a black & white, wallet size, picture of a girl wearing the uniform of the local Catholic school. Not wanting to throw away this old picture, I posted the picture on one of my town’s online bulletin boards and after a few days, I now have the girl’s name and mailing address. The picture was taken in the mid 1950s and its subject, now in her 60s, is living in Florida . I suppose the internet is good for something after all.
  Before I found that picture, I noticed a large box of vinyl albums left by many previous owners ago. The box contained about 50 lps and I posted the most amusing ones over at the Askew Myspace Blog.
  Now, thanks to Mighty Ben, here's a CD review.
  The weekend is ours.

  10.24- CD Review.
  Now go away and hit the weekend.

  10.17- Here's a DVD review that may interest those into art film and/or gay cinema.
  Pimp Time: Buy Askew Reviews 13 for $3. Buy my book, A Nobody's Nothings, for $10 and get the zine for free. Such a bahhhgin. 
  The weekend is here and now you should go away and do something to yourself or someone else.

  10.16- Yep, been a while. Some of it my fault, some of it not. 
  I am finally able to update this site, but I have nothing in the chamber (even though I have tons of reviews to post). Instead, I'll offer quick updates to the 9.19 Tales of Love.
  The Blossom: Last I heard, things are going well.
  The Wilting: Though I haven't seen the guy or girl since the fight, I did see the police over there the other day.
  The Compost: The man is still staying with his parents and Sunday I saw him crying his eyeballs out while sitting in his truck. That can't be good.
  You can read a pretty good review (and a bunch of great short stories) of my book in the newest Chiron Review, but you'll have to buy it since it's not online. 
  Feast 2: Sloppy Seconds = Good DVD.
  The Happening = Waste of Your Time.

  9.19- Three Thursday Tales of Love.
  The Blossom: A friend of mine went on a blind date Wednesday night with a man who she says is very nice, but is also her ex-husband’s doppelganger. She kissed him and there will be a second date, but admits she will need to get over his familiar looks if the relationship is to proceed. Thursday morning, as she told me about the date, she sounded excited and up beat.
  The Wilting: From my bedroom window mid Thursday afternoon, I witnessed the young lady (early 20s and hot) who lives across the street try to get into her apartment, but was being held back by her husband/boyfriend who refused to let her in while tossing her clothes out the door. After a few minutes of trying to get in and dropping rather loud “F bombs,” the girl gave up and retrieved her strewn about clothing. Once her clothes were in a relatively neat pile, she sat on the front porch crying.
  The Compost: Four weeks ago, my neighbors (married couple in their mid to late 60s) drove their camper thing up to Nova Scotia to visit family. A week after departure, I noticed the couple’s son, 45 or so, spending nights at the house. Today, Thursday, my neighbors returned home and I spoke with Pops about the vacation. Near the end of our conversation, he told me his son “had a beef with his wife and is staying with us…”
  Have a great weekend.

  9.17- Two new comedy DVDs you may want to watch: Brian Regan: The Epitome of Hyperbole and Bill Burr: Why Do I Do This. If you check out Bill Burr, make sure you either watch the DVD or the secret stash version on Comedy Central to avoid the censoring of swear words. Brian Regan doesn’t swear, so there are no worries about those annoying beeps. Both DVDs had me rolling.
  I am by no means an animal rights activist, but this douche gets what he deserves.

  9.12- While walking to the bank today, a Styrofoam cup, propelled by the wind, bolted by me and was carried into the busy street that ran perpendicular to our side street. The once mighty cup was not only instantly squashed by the tire of an automobile; it stuck to its squisher and went for a ride. It’s amazing how life for humans is much the same as that Styrofoam cup’s adventure: one second you're flying and the next you’re knocked flat and for a loop. However, as humans we are able to get up, flip off the car, and carry on with vigor. Not the same can be said about that cup. It’s good to be human, and not Styrofoam.
  This CD review qualifies for at least a partial "ouch!"
  Git to the weekend, already!

  9.7- While enjoying a fine lunch yesterday, I was able to try Mayflower Brewery’s Pale Ale and it was very good. Mayflower Brewery  is a fairly new craft microbrewery located in Plymouth, MA, which is not far from my house and I hope to visit the place sometime soon. The Pale Ale is Mayflower’s flagship brew, but I for one can not wait to try their I.P.A. I certainly hope you can make the connection between Mayflower and Plymouth , MA .

  9.5- If you look to your left, you'll see some new menu options: Submissions and Zine Trades. Please do take the time and become familiar with the choices, then pass along the information to every single person you know now and in the future. The new Submissions practice is a big change for Askew Reviews and it's one I think will enhance the zine. The Zine Trades is just a way to expose other people's zine work.
  Here is a DVD review.

  8.30- Recently watched:
  The Hammer- Adam Carolla stars (also wrote the story) as a down and out construction worker who gets a second chance at a boxing career. The movie is cheesy at times, but loaded with Carolla's dry and sarcastic humor, which I find most entertaining. Also features music by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Bad Religion, and Social Distortion. 
  Rogue- A giant croc eats sightseers in Australia. Finally, a horror movie that is not ruined by comedy or crappy CGI. One of the better "large animal" movies. Stars Radha Mitchell...come to me...
  Doomsday- Futuristic thriller mish mash of Escape From New York and The Road Warrior with lots of blood and guts. British dialog is thick and muddled beneath the overbearing soundtrack. 
  Recently read:
  Cannery Row by John Steinbeck. Like there's anything left to be said or written about this classic.
  Sweet Thursday by John Steinbeck. Picks up where Cannery Row left off with a handful of new compelling characters. Suzy...come to me...
  Awaydays by Kevin Sampson. Follows a month or so of a 19 year old soccer hooligan in England. Good up and down emotional roller coaster of an evolving kid stuck between brawls, sex, and wanting a better life for himself and family.

  8.19- I recently traded zines with Christina-Marie Wright, the publisher/editor of Gonzo Parenting out of Chelan, WA and liked it so much I had to blurb off about it. The zine includes pieces and drawings concerning kids, parents, and parenting. Each piece has its own point of view and is entertaining and often funny, sans the serious “What Makes a Mother?” which will boggle the mind of any sensible person. While reading Christina’s “Step-Wives: The Good, the Bad, and the Butt-Ugly,” I laughed mighty hard more than once causing those around me at the bar to glance at me like I was a loon. Parents or soon to be parents, especially women, will get a kick out of Gonzo Parenting. All contributors are women, but I am going to try and change that for the next release.
  Here's a DVD review.

  8.11- Having computer issues stinks.
  Here's a new review of my book, and here's a CD review.

  8.6- The other day I sat on my front porch and read a book while listening to the punk channel on Sirius Satellite Radio (I've me one of those cool outdoor speakers that look like a rock-awesome). From time to time my attention would be diverted to the goings on in front of and around my house. At one point the ice cream truck drove by and when it was several houses down the street, the little boy who lives across the street bolted out of the door and chased the truck. Try as he did, and he was flying, the ice cream truck drove out of sight. As he ran and realized his chase was failing, the lil' boy began to yell/cry louder and louder in short bursts of yelps sounding similar to the noise a dog makes when hurt. Finally, the boy stopped running and turned around crying and yelling, "Stupid ice cream truck!" He is young but will soon see how many of life's chases end in disappointment, but those disappointments make the successful chases all the sweeter. 
  About an hour later, a father walked by pushing his young daughter (guessing 2) in a little car stroller. When they reached the end of the street, the little girl wanted out of the stroller and refused to sit down. Instead of simply holding his daughter's hand and walking with her, the man picked up the girl, snarled, yelled at her, and even gave her a little shake that nearly made start with him. He then jammed the girl back into the stroller and hurriedly walked away with the screams of his daughter echoing. If this father couldn't handle something as simple as a walk with his daughter on a nice day, how's he going to handle it when things get tough?
  As the cries walked out of my hearing range, the guy across the street burst from his house arm in arm with his new girlfriend (who makes Olive Oil look like one hefty mama). Together they beamed smiles and walked together like co-joined twins to a destination unknown to me.
  As a rather attractive woman walked by me, she was maybe 15 feet from me, Lee Ving (Fear) sang,  "...cockroaches on the walls, crabs crawling on my balls...oh, I'm so clean cut, I just wanna fuck some slut..." (from "I Love Livin' in the City")
  I wonder if she heard it.  I kind of hope not. Though, it is a great song and maybe she would've liked it. 
  Here is a DVD review.

  8.2- Rare Saturday post: A book review.

  8.1- Visit Kitten Coffin Zombies and vote for Shells Bells, who was the cover girl for Askew Reviews 11 (I also interviewed her in the same issue). After registering (simple process), you can vote once a day until Aug 15.

  7.28- Being busy stinks because being busy just stinks and being busy makes time go by fast and we all know time doesn’t need help with speed as its foot is already pedal to the metal, damn it.

  7.20- I wrote the below on Friday July 18.
  Almost Drunken Thoughts on Tonight’s Pub Visit:
   Though this sentence is first, I wrote it last. I apologize for any mistakes and nonsensical crap as the pints hit hard while typing and I refuse to proof because, frankly, I can’t. So, f off.
  Tonight, I hit my favorite local pub and here are my thoughts, sights, and experiences.
  I love it that this pub is an easy six minute walk from my house, but tonight is hot as hell and I fear sweat spots upon my arrival.
  As I walk passed the oldest house on Massachusetts South Shore (a local landmark), I recall scaring my daughter Reilly a few weeks ago when I told her that the house was haunted and dared her to knock on its door. She accept, but only for one dollar in quarters. As she approached and knocked, I quickly jumped behind a nearby tree and hid. She turned and called for me. Her second call was filled with terror. Knowing I may have taken this prank too far, I reappeared from behind the tree. She was pissed at me, but as we walked away from the house, she laughed saying, “Good one Daddy!”
  As I continue, I recall in grade school how kids, including me, would “like” someone and finally have the balls to reveal the likeness. However, as it often happened, at least to me, the liked person failed to reciprocate and the hurt feelings ensued. I recall hose feeling and I miss being able to actually feel emotion.
  I pass a local church (there are five within view) and see a hot looking women exit one and enter the parking lot. Yowza!
  I sit down at the bar, order a drink, and look at my chest seeing no sweat marks. Right then, I begin to sweat like a drug smuggler caught by  theTurkish border patrol.
  I see a regular who’s sporting a blatant farmers tan, but is wearing a wifebeater (or Guido T for the racially insensitive) and looks pretty damn funny.
  As the next hour passed, I come realize that the place is filling with man chicks. I really hate to be judgmental, but I am 6-1, 210 pounds, and can hold my own in a brawl. However, these “chicks’ could kick my arse sideways.
  Two men who sat in the two empty stools next to me suddenly turn awfully cheerful. Their demeanor changed like a light switch. Turns out, one of the dudes hit $204 playing Keno (state lottery game). The winning dude tells me how earlier in the day, as he drove to a nearby funereal home for a wake, was pulled over by the police in front of the very same bar in which we sit. He was ticketed $175 for two offensives, which the Keno win easily covered. How odd, and cool, is that?
  I watch as the karaoke guy and girl set up their equipment, Holy ugs! I hate karaoke. I’ve seen these two before and the man has gained and insane amount of weight, but only around his waistband. It is kind of shocking, really.
  Since I am alone, I people watch (as if you haven’t figured that out) and notice that 99% of the women have eaten 12 too many Twinkie’s and wear clothes two sizes too small. The pale skin of fat flows freely over belts, tonight.
  I notice a man, all by himself, walking around and standing alone.
  Three old ladies, guessing around 70, walk in and when each one hears the songs blasting from the Karaoke speakers (no one is singing), they all begin to boogie to the rocking tune. Though I do  not recall the song, I do know that is was rather rocking and surprised me when they moved to the sound. I look at the two men next to me (the Keno winner and his bud) and consider making a joke about us three and the three hags, but think otherwise. I can only hope that when I am that age I am still able to enjoy and move to the rock-n-roll music of the day’s youth.
  I hit the terlet (toilet) and overwhelmingly decide that the men’s room is way too hot.
  As I return to my bar stool, I pass a table occupied by two of the man chicks and one of them, the smaller of the two, release a belch awe inspiring of any Chicago Bears beer guzzling bratwurst eating sports fan. If I wore glasses, they would have certainly fogged.
  My phone rings and I see that it is my daughter, whose vacationing with her mother. I rush out of the pub and talk to her. She’s at a restaurant and I tell her I am at the pub. She asks me “Is it karaoke night?” I answer in the positive. While talking with her, I walk down the block and notice a huge Pirate statue in a window store front. It is might cool looking and tell my daughter about it. God I miss her, and it’s only been four days!
  Upon returning, I notice the farmer tan/wifebeater guy has ordered himself a pitcher of beer. I have seen this fellow do this in the past. Doesn’t it get warm?
  I curse as I see the pouring rain and blasting lightening outside. I was planning on walking home after this pint, but that is not happening.
  The barkeep comes over to me and asks if the pint she served me is ok. I answer yes, but she offers to replace the one in front of me. I wonder if I was making a sourpuss because of the rain and she mistook it for Smithwick’s distaste.
  A small crowd of people enter the pub. They are a, well, trashy looking bunch. One of them is older, very small in stature, and wearing a funky hat. He speaks and nothing but raspy whispers escape his mouth. He is so small and I can not imagine anyone fighting him even if he’s the world’s greatest douchebag because who want to pound on a lil’ one?
  A couple has entered the joint and sat down at the booth up front. She is weathered looking and kind of gross, but she is hot for some reason.
  The seemingly lonely looking wanderer has picked up and checked out my zine (Askew Reviews 13-I leave ‘em everywhere) and utters to the guy next to him, “This is pretty cool.” I wonder if he really thinks that or if he’s just trying to spark a conversation. If the latter, he failed.
  Two pints after it started, the rain has nearly stopped and I decide to leave. I order one last pint and an order of buffalo chicken fingers to go.
  A man singing Karaoke to “House of the Rising Sun” works in the name of the pub and it patrons. Genius.
  While drinking my last pint and waiting for my fingers, a man enters and lets the barkeep know that he is here to pick up some chow. As he waits, he gets into the music and raps his knuckles on the bar in tune with the music.
  I hit the terlet one last time, but rush out as I see water shooting out of the bathroom wall. Looks like a pipe burst. I return to the bar where I hear a man informing the barkeep of the waterfalls.
  The barkeep drops the bag of fingers in front of me, I down the last of my pint, and head out.
  I walk by the local high school, pass the “haunted house,” and a very young couple walking and holding hands. He looks excited while she gabs on her cell phone.
  Almost home, a trio of young girls pass me on one bike. One girl is sitting on the seat and peddling, one in standing on “pegs” extending from the rear wheel axis, and the other is riding atop the handlebars. For the life of me I can not figure out how they were able to pull it off and actually get moving. Youth is an amazing thing.
  I enter my house and turn on the Red Sox, who are beating the Angels 3-2.
  I dive into the fingers and remember why I think these fingers are the best around. Crispy on the outside but soft, moist, and very tasty on the inside, And the order is huge!
  A few fingers (each is the size of my foot) and Captains later, I have finished this nonsense and somehow someway, the Sox are down 11-3. How the hell did that happen?

  7.16- While Pah takes his monthly bath in the rusty tub sitting in the front yard, go read this DVD review, you big city schooled smarty overalls. 
  This is one bad bike crash.

  7.4- Ladies and Gentlemen, The Declaration of Independence.
  Two questions for this Fourth of July Weekend:Why is the Spider Monkey not represented along with the Chimpanzees, Gorillas, and Orangutans in The Planet of the Apes movies?
  Here is a CD review.

  6.27- Many moons ago, while working construction, I was hanging sheetrock and plastering an addition built onto a house. After completing the upstairs, we moved downstairs to finish up a couple of walls. Since this work was in part of the house where the family lived, the homeowners engaged us in conversation. It was the typical chit-chit that even included the man of the house saying while holding a large plateful of dry orange pasta, “Ever try to double up on the macaroni and cheese? It doesn’t work.”
   He was a nice guy and came across very gentle for his Hulk like stature: approx 6’ 5”, 275 pounds, and hands the size anvils.
   After some silence, the man asked us, “Hey, any of you guys know someone who’s looking to get rid of a cigar store Indian? You know, like the one on Cheers? A big one, six footer.”
   My coworkers and I paused and looked at each other probably all thinking about the odd question just asked.
   “No,” we all answered in unrehearsed unison.
   “Why do you want one of those?” my coworker John asked.
   “I don’t know. I’ve always wanted one. I have that one over there, but it’s too small.”
   We looked to where the man pointed and spotted a small wooden Indian statue standing maybe 18 inches. The statue appeared to be one of an Indian chief with full headdress.
   “I mean it’s great, but too small. Just not the same,” he continued.
   The man’s wife shook her head and walked into the kitchen.
   “What are you going to do with a big one?” I asked.
   “I don’t know. Stand next to it. It’ll be great,” he answered.
   I never saw that man again and can’t help but wonder, even after all these years, if he was ever able to stand next to a six foot tall cigar store Indian that he could call his own.
   Here's a DVD review.
  It's the weekend. Mighty Ben is off to the place of his birth and childhood to see his beloved Cleveland Indians play a game. Me? I'm off to the Kidz Bop concert with my daughter (7), niece (6), and another niece (5). Me, three lil' girls, and no beer or booze. It really seemed like a good thing at the time. Have one for me, damn you.

  6.20- On Tuesday night, I was belly up to a bar drinking a few and eating some food served by one hell of a cutie. I arrived at 7 and watched the Red Sox game until the channel was changed at 9. Of course, they just had to put on the Celtics/Lakers game. This highly annoyed me because the Sox winning a regular season game in mid June is ten zillion times more important to me than the possibility of the Celtics winning the NBA title. However, the drinks were nicely flowing so I decided to stick around, even though the stupid basketball game was on the only tv in the place. The bar was full, but only a few people were watching the game (this place isn’t a sports bar). However, one guy at the other end of the bar was into the game and obviously buzzing hard because he repeatedly cheered the replays. He wouldn’t cheer the real time plays, only the replays. Funniest thing about this was he really thought he was cheering real time and would abruptly cease cheering once he realized it was the replay. Ah, to find the positive in a negative. I found this hilarious, but still only made it through the game’s first quarter.
  On the book front, someone of high standing in the poetry/beat/small press scene wrote a great review of A Nobody’s Nothings that’ll be published in a well-respected long running magazine. However, I cannot quote it until it’s published! Something for me to anticipate! I am working to have my second book available January 2009. I could have it out earlier, but it makes more sense to do it 1-09. I have whittled the list of possible titles down to two, so now the hard decision looms.
   I watched National Lampoon’s One, Two, Many, which starred and written by John Melendez (formerly Stuttering John from The Stern Show). About a man who wanted a girlfriend who would allow another woman into their sex life, the movie does have several laughs and was honestly ok. National Lampoon could’ve put a tad bit more money into the sets as they be mighty cheap looking. It’ll be interesting to see what Melendez comes up with next.
  Links you should visit: Askew’s Myspace, My Book’s Myspace, My new photoblog, Mighty Ben’s Myspace, C. Allen Rearick's Myspace because he’s distributing some Askew Reviews 13 for me in Cleveland, same with K-Rod (CA) and Doug (MI)!
  It is Friday.

  6.13- When I started Askew Reviews all too long ago, it was given away for free. As the years passed, the major chunk of the press run was and is now sold via mail order with smaller percentages going towards comp/publicity reasons, and always the free distribution. With the release of Askew Reviews 13, I've noticed something that has me troubled: most of the places where the free stacks of Askew would go are no longer around. Used records stores, indi record stores, small bars, adult stores, etc are fewer and fewer to the point where I have a hard time offering free zines for the taking. Mighty Ben use to hit several places around his Boston workplace and he told me most of his spots are now closed. God knows all of the South Shore joints I use to hit are long gone. I suppose if Askew Reviews fit with Walmart, Home Depot, and Applebee's all would be fine, but it doesn't and it's not. So, if you live near or frequent a place where free zines litter the front entrance, let me know....
  Check out my photoblog's June 12 entry and watch the brawling yellow jackets I taped in my driveway.
  Here's a book review.
  It is the weekend. Get out there and do it before Monday ruins things. 

  6.5- I've done started a photoblog that has nothing to do with sex, booze, music, movies, or me. Imagine that! Check it out over here.

  5.28- Have you noticed that Askew Reviews 13 is available?
  Here's a CD review!

  5.2- Holy crap, time flies when yer busy. Though I promised not to put up any reviews until after Askew Reviews 13 is out, I've been a neglectful douche and shall post this CD review. 13 is almost done.
  As always, please check out my book and buy the forkin' thing, already!
  If you buy crap on Ebay, make sure you avoid user 'the-video-bin' as they are frauds.
  The weekend is upon us, what else is there to write?
  
  4.18- Watched Juno the other day and failed to see its appeal. Perhaps it’s because I am male and do not get into dialog influenced by Dawson’s Creek…I find it amusing and entertaining when competing politicians label the other as “out of touch” with the people. Trust me, all politicians are out of touch with the people and do not care about you or me beyond our votes…You will never see a better television show’s finale than the third season of Battlestar Gallactica…I really think Daniel Day Lewis is the best actor of our generation…Mike Ness of Social Distortion is performing solo shows all over America, except anywhere near the Boston area. Fyck…Forget about banning smoking everywhere, let’s start discussing banning talking on cell phones…Though an elected politician gets the last laugh, there is nothing more pathetic than a running politician pandering for votes…I recently started a book that I thought was nonfiction, but about halfway through I discovered that it is actually fiction written like it’s nonfiction. I suddenly find myself a lot less interested in the book, but it is good enough to continue reading. I am not sure what I want to do about it. Life is hard sometimes…I think I am going to write a movie about a cannibal who likes Italian food and gorges on spaghetti and testicles…Unless there is booze in it, I am not a big drinker of soda. However, this red Mountain Dew stuff is damn good…If you want to know how people feel concerning social issues, talk to them. If you wish to be influenced, lied to, and dictated to, read a newspaper…Screw the rest of my nonsense. Today is the best day, weather wise, so far of 2008…and it is Friday. Enjoy the weekend! Oh, and check out my book.

  4.17- Since I am busy working Askew Reviews 13 and not posting new reviews until after the print zine is out, here are links to some of 13's contributors: Mighty Ben Hunter, Brian McCaffrey, Doug Waltz, Hugh Fox (sorry, no link), Timothy Gager, Brian Mosher, Greg Oguss, Ed Charbonnier, Richard Nesberg, Steve Barker, and The Rakish Cad. Go give 'em hell!

  4.7- Here's a new review for my book, A Nobody's Nothings.

  4.4- Still working Askew 13 over here and also making great progress on my second book. Since I brought it up, check out my book.
  I am a huge fan of pizza and a few months ago a Papa John's opened in my town. Admittedly, I was all up for trying a new brand of pizza, but everyone I talk to tells me Papa John's pizza tastes like the underside of a dirty cow's even dirtier scrotum. What's a curious pizza fan to do? Emmmmmm...Chinese food.
  When he was elected Governor of Massachusetts almost two years ago, I rambled here about what a dangerous, dangerous man Deval Patrick is to the working folks, taxpayers, and law abiding citizens of The Commonwealth. However, I must admit when I am wrong and I was wrong. Since faux Governor Patrick took office, it has become evident his lack of testicular fortitude and heart to actually carry out any of his ideas for a "better" Massachusetts. True, he had a few ideas I championed that he has also jellyfished, but I'll take the good with the bad. While faux Governor Patrick is a great speaker and an avid use of some standard thesaurus, he is far more interested in his own personal gain and what lies in wait for him after his term has ceased. 
  Who says reviewing porn doesn't have its benefits? An executive chef and I recently traded ten DVDs for the recipe of his amazing pasta dish offered at an award winning and very popular Italian restaurant. Now, I shall master it...
  Last Tuesday night, I met up with Mighty Ben for some beers at the venerable Solace on Boylston Street in Boston. On my train ride home I sat next to an older gentleman, late 50s or so, who was tearing through some stuff he had just purchased: reel to reel concert footage and 15-20 vinyl lps. Now, I am not sure if what he had is only available in those two formats as I've never heard of the bands, but I must write that, in my opinion, vinyl records sound so much better than anything digital. Of course digital recordings are far more clearer, easier to use, and comes with all sorts of options, but vinyl records have a depth to them digital just can not capture. Same goes for camera film versus digital cameras. The depth can not be compared. I have no where to go with this, but it was really cool seeing someone so happy and excited over that stuff while surrounded by those using iPods, other mp3 players, etc. Of course, my sole source of entertainment, drunk texting, was squashed by being in tunnels. I need a breathalyzer on my cell phone.
  Although my entire week is a weekend, I am glad the weekend is here. I am done here, go in peace. 

  3.26- Ad Deadline for Askew Reviews 13 is April 25, 2008. For rates and more information, please send me an email: denis@askewreviews.com
  I recently finished Steve Martin's new book, "Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life" and it is one great book. Due to nothing being said or written about his stand-up work for about 30 years, I've always been interested in it...and now I know. 
  Former Askew writer, comedian John Turco (also my long time cousin) is opening his own comedy club in Pawtucket, RI. Do check it out because the only thing funnier than John's stand up act is his face.

  3.11- Over the weekend I watched The Rage (directed by Robert Kurtzman- formerly the "K" in KNB Special Effects) starring Andrew "Wishmaster" Divoff (also had a reoccurring role in Lost) and Erin Brown, aka Misty Mundae. The movie is basically action packed, aside from maybe 15 minutes of boring back story flashbacks, and loaded with gore, albeit some of it cheesy CGI. The point of this useless rambling is my beloved Misty Mundae. Known for her countless b-movie roles and softcore action, Misty has left world of no budget projects for more mainstream fare (see Sick Girl in the Masters of Horror series) and is doing pretty well. She's avoided shedding her clothes, though she does have a sexy underwear scene, and has really worked on her acting. However, near the end of The Rage, she lets fly a few bad screams that rival the badness, and hilarity, of the shower girl scream in the faux movie that opens the Brian De Palma/John Travolta 1981 thriller, Blow Out. Ayup, I had the same reaction to Erin's scream as Travolta had to Blow Out's scream. Also, Misty's only hardcore movie, Vampire Strangler, has been re-released in separate 3 DVD and 2 DVD editions. The movie is rough and pretty sucky, but Misty goes hardcore and therefore is one of my favorites, ever. 
  For you bananas living on or near Massachusetts South Shore, I ate at this place last night and it is damn good. The sirloin steak tips are tender and most yum, cornbread stuffing awesome, asparagus gratin tasty. For an appetizer, we ate onion rings (of course) which were just ok. However, the rings come with this smokey onion relish that was so good it nearly made me want to kill someone. I love Harpoon IPA. Oh, if you choose to hit this place, hold your nose when walking through the parking lot because the owners of this otherwise fine establishment obviously do not have a grasp on their septic system. And to ramble even more, hauntings supposedly riddle this place. Please.
  Though I was impressed with its editing and cinematography, Into the Wild (directed by Sean Penn and adapted from the Jon Krakauer book) is a snorefest. Eddie Vedder's constant droning on certainly did not help; cheer the fyck up!
  Yesterday I started Steve Martin's new book, Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life and tore through 70 pages without blinking an eye. So far, it is really great and I look forward to the rest of the book.

  3.6- Typically, I do not like to refer to past reviews posted on this simply fabulous site, but Mighty Ben reviewed a book a few months back and lent it to me to read. While I loved the book for the exact reasons captured in Ben's review, I can honestly admit that I have never in my life disliked the main character of a book as much as I disliked the fella in this book. 
  We're in quiet time review wise as Askew Reviews 13 approaches. I am running flash fiction for the first time in 13 (see the 2.11 post for more info). Contact me if you’re interested.
  The weekend is here and we all shall live.

  3.4- I wonder why a french fry flavored beverage does not exist. 

  2.29- Sad news out of the independent film scene: John Polonia, half of the filmmaking Polonia twins, died of a heart aneurysm the other day. He was 39 and leaves a wife and young son.
 John Turco, one time Askew reviews contributor, stand up comedian, and my cousin, has redesigned his website and boy-oh-boy does it look good!
  Enjoy the weekend. Mine is full of pahhhteeees! Well, birthday parties for my daughter and niece, but pahhhteeees nontheless.

  2.25- Why is it when someone has the last name Wood or Woods, it's always spelled Wood/Woods and never Would/Woulds? 
  Since we're in the reviews "quiet time" (have to keep things unpublished for Askew Reviews 13), I'll share my thoughts on yogurt I bought yesterday. While at the supermarket, I was gazing at the endless amounts of yogurt and was caught by the flavor "Boston Cream Pie." I love Boston Cream Pie: desert, donuts, muffins, etc. So hey, why not try this brand of yogurt? I bough the container, which turned out to be the Weight Watchers brand, and just now finished it. Let me simply write that this stuff doesn't have a hint, not a hint, of any taste resembling Boston Cream Pie. If I were a big fatso, I'd rather stay over weight and risk heart disease and diabetes than eat this slop. 

  2.15- As you may have figured out due to the lack of posts, I’ve been busy and, well, lazy. I’ve set a Feb 29, 2008 deadline for Askew Reviews 13. I am looking for some new blood to pen a column about anything as long as it’s interesting. I am also running flash fiction for the first time (see the 2.11 post for more info). Contact me if you’re interested.
  Act quickly, for there are only a few hundred thousand copies of my book left. Act quickly before they run out in 2057.
  I am thinking about hitting my favorite local dive tonight and sitting at the bar alone drinking Smithwick’s Ale from the bottle using only a purple straw.
  The weekend arrives in few hours and I have zero responsibilities 'til Sunday night. Yikes.

  2.11- Calling for Flash Fiction/Nonfiction 250 words or less to stick in Askew Reviews 13. Must be 250 words or less and can be anything other than sexually graphic material. Should you choose to submit, be sure to include your name and website (or other contact info) that’ll be published with your 250 or less words. Please do not send previously published material. Come up with something new, it’s only 250 words. No, you will not receive money or sexual favors, but I’ll send you a copy of the zine to show mother. Get it in by 2.29.2008: denis@askewreviews.com

  2.4- As if your life isn't already cluttered with too much nonsense, now you have to add this interview with me to the mess. (as of 2.11, you have to scroll down and find my interview, if interested.)

  1.29- If you're into small press, this is one cool DVD.

  1.25- It is the weekend and unless you are having naked cybersex with someone you think is hot but is really a gross slob, you should not be on the Internet. Go on, piss off and get pissed (pissed as in drunk, not angry pissed).

  1.23- Apparently, I wrote this CD review Friday/Saturday. I honestly have no remembrance of it. However, I do remember writing a story during the same time...

  1.22- Mr. Woodcock- waste of time.
  Good Luck Chuck- few good laughs, lots of boobies, but not worth your time.
  Death Sentence- stars Kevin Bacon. See 1974's Death Wish, but add some good gore.
  Seraphim Falls- stars Pierce Bronsan and Liam Neeson. Set in 1868, man hunts man through the mountains and deserts. Though slow at times, lots of tension and great scenery make for a purdy good 110 minutes.
  Eastern Promises- directed by David Cronenberg. Bore of a movie, unless you want to watch Viggo Mortensen brawl buck naked with franks and beans freely flopping in the breeze.
  Rescue Dawn- stars Christian Bale and Steve Zahn. A movie adaptation concerning the man and his prison camp experience covered in this great documentary. Both are directed by Werner Herzog. Dawn is good, but I recommend the documentary first.. 
  I am reading "Legend of a Rock Star: The Last Testament of Dee Dee Ramone" (a memoir) and though I am loving it, Dee Dee was one whiney lil' bitch.
  New to Askew, Budd reviews a Hungarian animated DVD.
  
  1.16- DVD.

  1.11- My shaggee had lunch with a friend yesterday and the friend brought along sex astrology book. The shaggee read about the male Aquarius, which I am, and was informed that men who are born under this sign have enormous testicles. Well, the shaggee didn’t have to look far to see how wrong the book is. My cousin on the other hand, who is not an Aquarius, holy bouncy boys!
  Though I did not understand one major aspect of 3:10 to Yuma, denis likie...alot. 
  A guy I worked with years ago recently died. Another guy I worked with, along with the now dead guy, tried to commit suicide the day after dead guy was buried. What the hell?
  I'm going to be setting a deadline for Askew Reviews soon. If anyone out there would like to pen a column, run it by me! 
  If you like grindhouse/golden age porn/sexploitation, this book is a must.
  The weekend is here and that's all I have to about that.

  1.9- Years ago, a company called Video Dungeon provided me with many movies that are not readily available on the American market. From banned horror to the grubbiest of adult entertainment, Wilson was the man. Then without a word, Video Dungeon disappeared. Last week, after years of silence (which was caused by a nasty divorce), Wilson reappeared with his new company Cinema de Bizarre and is once again offering those impossible to find gems.
  Shoot 'Em Up, starring Clive Owen and Paul Giamatti, is pure nonsense, but damn it is a fun movie.
  I am halfway through season three of Melrose Place and along with enjoying the fyck out of myself, I have come to realize that women in the early to mid 90s wore their pants pulled up awfully high.
  Like when I have sex, here's a quickie DVD review.

  1.4- When I was but a wee laddie raising the ire of the local bogman with typical boyhood shenanigans, everybody had a dog and unless you saw the pooch running in and out of their house, you never knew it. Back then, when dog owners visited other people they left fido at home. Nowadays, dog owners feel they have the right to bring their flea infested poopbags everywhere they go, including other people’s houses. You go to a party and there are seven dogs, none belonging to the host of the party, walking around and chewing the snot out of stuff and filling the room with the aroma of freshly bent steaming piles of doggie biscuits. Look, I am well aware that over the past twenty years society has allowed the pussification of children who graduate from high school with the reading and writing abilities of the above mentioned doggie biscuits and a roomful of “winner” ribbons because there are no losers, no first placers: just all winners for self esteem sake. But since when have dogs needed to be coddled, treated like newborns, and dragged around like kids belonging to a soccer mom all jigged out on caffeine and the day’s Dr. Phil television program?
   A dear family friend (been hitting the martini glass hard over the past 30 years and has probably slept with someone you know) has decided to share is wisdom via question and answer advice on his newly build Myspace page.
   Ever notice how people that cry the loudest about racism are the first to drag race into every aspect of life?
   Someone (I know who, but shall not offer) recently told my soon to be 7-year-old daughter what a “queef” is. Reilly, my dottah (daughter), then asked my niece/her cousin, who’s six, if she knew what a queef is. Katie answered, “yes, it’s Spanish for pancakes.”
   I once had half sex with a woman who is half Asian (story can be read in my book). Does that count as sex with an Asian woman?
   Though I have many reviews to post, I sense this weekend will be a great one and shall not be a part of holding you back from beginning your debauchery, or whatever it is you do for a good time.

  12.31- I found some ice cube trays that make my second favorite type of ice "shapes" (my all time favorite ice things are machine made and I only know of one place in Massachusetts that has it) and used them last weekend. Trust me, I was happier than a dog at a dump. However, the second time I attempted to twist the ice out of the trays, they BOTH exploded into 80 jillion pieces. Boo. I guess that why they were being sold at one of those cheepo dollar stores. Ah well, back to boring square cubes. God, life is tough.
  Cheers to you and the new year.

  12.28- I lost my hat during a snowstorm two weeks ago, but I found it after the snow melted.
  I watched Hatchet the other night and thoroughly enjoyed the gore and story. However, I am tired of comedy constantly dragging down otherwise good horror movies. 
  Hard to believe Vic Tayback has been dead for almost 18 years.
  I lost to my six year old daughter in Junior Monopoly ('lil buggah didn't land on my properties) then she absolutely kicked my arse at Wii Bowling (this was the first time either one of us has played). Yes, my ego is bruised and I may just have to punish her for no good reason.
  Life can sometimes be like the enjoyment ceasing and sudden tangling of the Yo-Yo's twine.
  The lid for my trash barrel disappeared one night during a windstorm. Two days later, as I walked to the bank, I found it in the middle of the road about a quarter mile from my house.
  If I am ever arrested, I hope I am not naked.
  Mighty Ben reviews a CD that just may be his favorite of 2007.
  A few weeks ago I listened to Fangoria Radio on Sirius Satellite Radio and heard perhaps the greatest nonsensical interview ever with actor Thomas Jane. This guy was so drunk, but tried to act like he wasn't and it was so damn entertaining. I swear, my butt crack was even smiling.
  Near the end of the "Greased Lightening" scene/song in Grease, Danny Zuko runs around the car unraveling what looks to be a large roll of cellophane. What does that mean or signify? I've never understood that part, dahhhnit!
  Enjoy the weekend.  

  12.21- Even though I've been off work all week, there's simply something grand about Friday and the arrival of the weekend.
  Someone I recently met is in an abusive relationship. She, is tall, skinny and good looking enough. I have never met him, but I've heard that he's a short loudmouth with issues. Though they fight all the time and he smacks her around, she always returns. Some time ago, they were fighting and he sprayed her in the face with Raid. Fearing for her eyesight, she ran to the bathroom to flush her eyes and he ran to the basement and shut off the main water feed to the house. She left vowing to never return, yet two hours later she was posting her love for him on his myspace page and had returned and left him several times since the Raid incident. Wow.
  Fisherman's IPA and Wachusett IPA are both gross.
  Here's a CD review that doubles as a fight review! POW!
  I refuse to let you forget about my book.
  Now go and have yerself an amazing weekend. I have a week's worth of catching up because I've been sick, which stinks when you're on vacation.

  12.19- I've decided to come up with farewell blessings: May the road you travel be littered with good health, good cheer, and good people wanting nothing more than to put a smile on that good looking face of yours.
  Here's a book review.

  12.13 (1:35PM)- In approx three hours, I start my two week vacation (from work) and it shall be a grand two weeks. Indeed.
  Enjoy this book review and curses to the snow that falls upon Massachusetts today.

  12.8- Hall of Fame CD review worthy of a drunken Saturday night post!

  12.7- Over the past year or so, the television airwaves have become inundated with commercials starring white men pushing various “male enhancement” products. While this is a blatant example of racism, I very highly doubt Jesse Jackson or Al Sharpton will march in protest. And if you think of it, from whitie’s point of view, it’s pretty damn prejudice, as well!
  DVD review.
  Now enjoy the weekend, you weekend slacker, you.

  12.5- Last night at M.J. O’Connor’s Pub in Boston, I ate the greatest buffalo chicken wrap in the world. I swear it felt like I was having an orgasm in my mouth, in a nonhomosexual way, of course. On the flipside of things, after ordering and drinking two pints of Harpoon IPA, the waitress decided to slip me Harp ale without telling me. I tasted the difference, but didn’t say anything. Can you handle such written excitement?
  If anyone knows the name of the female singer/guitarist who was playing at the Park Street Red Line Station ‘til 9 last night (Dec 3), please let me know. She was wearing a red jacket, black cap, pants, and boots.
  Check out my book.

  12.4- Ayup, going out for beers with Mighty Ben tonight and we're going someplace I've never been; should be a good time. Although, it is purdy cold out there in lovely downtown Boston and I loathe wearing a jacket, but I think I'll have to sport one today. Now, the last time we did this, a girl spilled a pint of beer that landed right inside my left shoe and I got so stewpid drunk I though a good friend was someone else. Drinking on a more than empty belly is never a good thing and shall not be repeated tonight. 
  I was thinking last night while bored to tears watching the Transformers movie (I hate Shia LaBeouf and it pisses me off that he's in the next Indiana Jones movie) and felt anguish over the fact that I've never snorted coke off the lovely bosom of a pricey striper while being entertained by a live recording of a Barry Manilow concert. I gots to gets to livin'!
  You know, I have no plans this weekend, but next weekend everyone I know is having a Christmas party. Of course, these parties are at the four corners of the Earth. Hey, wait a minute...
  You know, how do we, the average folk of the world, truly know that the world is round? If you think about it, all proof of the Earth's roundness comes from the governments of the world via astronauts, satellite pictures, etc. What if they're lying to us? Wouldn't be the first lie they've told. I say we, the average folk of the world, devise a plan to jack a space shuttle, tell a crackhead the moon is made of crack, shoot the junkie into space, call him, ask him to look over his shoulder and tell us if the blue thing is round. Finally, the truth will be known.
  Here's a CD review.

  11.30- Since it is fall in New England, the ground is covered with leaves and people often rake these fallen leaves from their yards and properly, sometimes, dispose of them. As I drove to pick up my daughter from school yesterday, I passed an old man raking leaves in his front yard. The yard was maybe 15x20 feet. So what’s the big deal, you ask? The old man raking was seated in a lawn chair with a walker next to him. This old timer obviously has trouble walking, yet he found a way and the motivation to rid his property of dead leaves, in the rain no less. About 20 minutes later, I passed the old timer again and he had almost completed raking his yard nearly to the point of not leaving a single leaf to crunch beneath your foot.
  Isn’t it amazing how a single person with bad gas can turn a beautifully fragrant, delightful, and hospitable room into a barnyard you’d fight to exit in mere seconds?
  If I ever come into a ridiculous amount of money and start hanging with rich snobby fycks, one thing I'll never do is tie a sweater around my neck. If you happen to see me, maybe at the tennis and wine club, with a sweater tied around my neck, you have my permission to drive your index finger right into my arse.
  DVD review for all you avant-garde types.
  Finally, the weekend has gracefully fallen upon our squashes.

  11.27- DVD review. 

  11.21- Thanksgiving has arrived and tomorrow we offer thanks for what we are blessed to enjoy while stuffing our faces. Let us try to make tomorrow an event that will live on past this weekend. Let us toy with the minds and hearts of our loved ones. 
  While at the dinner table, try saying nonsensical statements that’ll bring pause to those around you: “This turkey is so good, I think I just pulled my groin muscle.” 
  When giving yourself some mashed 'taters say, "These smashies remind me of what a great comfort food tuna casserole truly is."
  Constantly warn those around you that you feel like you’re going to vomit. 
  Bring up aging, liver spots, erectile dysfunction, and yeast infections
  Announce to the table that you’re passing on the squash because it reminds you of a coworker's ear wax..
  Later in the day, draw unnecessary attention to yourself by using swear words when talking with children, or maybe bring up and discuss past “relations” with ex-girlfriends/boyfriends.
  Loudly belch mid-sentence and be sure to hang out your tongue while doing so.
  Disappear into the bathroom for 45 minutes and return without your shirt declaring, "Things got messy in there."
  Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!
  Here's a DVD review and here's a CD review.

  11.19- My book has been reviewed.

  11.16- Some words from readers concerning A Nobody’s Nothings (that would be the book I wrote, ya basturd):
  Female:  “I read your book, it was great. I haven't laughed out loud so much while reading a book since I read "Freak" by John Leguizamo!”
  Male: "Your earlier bulletin made me grab the book off my to read shelf. Now, just three pages deep I can't put it down! This will be the first book to ever go on tour with me. We leave for Norfolk tomorrow and I will avoid driving duty best I can just to read this.”
  Female: “I was reading your book at work last night on my break... got the part about the Irish dude at the Red Sox game, and burst out loud laughing... many people looked strangely at me. Just thought you should know. I am now the weird lady who sits by herself, laughing. PS - The book is fantastic!
  Male: “I am LOVING the book!”
  Female: “…then, I remembered I had a little black book in my bag....:-) Well, let me tell you, your book was the BEST ESCAPE from Chucky Cheese…engrossed in your book, I felt like I was in the corner of the bar observing those characters first hand. I laughed, I gagged (at the many sweat, vomit and nasty sex references) and yes, at the end of each story, I, someway, somehow felt choked up. Thank you for the great escape at one of America's worst establishments!”"I just want to tell you what I think of this book you wrote. First, I skipped all the sex stuff because there's only so much some people can take. Are you suicidal? Are you an alcoholic?"
  Here's a DVD review. 

  11.13- Cheers to John (see 11.6 post) for winning "The Last Smart Ass Standing" contest and pocketing 5 grand!
  When I was in the second grade, I handled having a tree branch enter my skull through my eye socket and breaking off inside my head, I’ve broken every finger on both hands and reset all of them myself, I once got plaster lime (which can cause blindness) in my eye that was roughly and hurriedly cleaned out with a large cotton swap as nurses gagged, I watched scared to death as my daughter was pulled from my wife’s (now ex-wife) body because her heartbeat was deathly low, I held the hand of my Grandmother as she breathed her last breath, I helped a friend as her head swelled to sci-fi channel epic proportions after a terrible fall, I ignored my bicep as it tore from its tendon to help complete the task of lifting a water heater…yet as my daughter experiences her first lost tooth, she ran from school Friday while showing me her bloody loose tooth, I mean it is hanging from my lil’ sunshine’s gum thread, I nearly passed out. Reilly's first tooth fell out early, too very early, Saturday morning. Unfortunately, she swallowed it as she ate a bowl of cereal.
  Here's a review of a naughty DVD that'll have fans of dirty 42nd St slop drooling.

  11.6- Last December, I wrote a short story about the day my Grandmother died. This story is included in my book and for the first time, I read it to my six-year-old daughter. As I read the story, I constantly made eye contact with Reilly and she appeared ok. However, immediately after the last word escaped my lips, tears poured from her eyes and she cried, “I miss Great Gramma.” It was pretty damn emotional, even for me.
  On the flip side of things, a few hours later Reilly fell asleep on the couch WITH HER FRIGGIN’ EYES HALF OPEN! It freaked me out and coupled with her previous sadness, it was perhaps the greatest emotional swing I’ve experienced since the first time I got laid; another story in my book!
  To promote his new movie, Bees, Jerry Seinfeld has been appearing on every talk show this side of Joan Rivers’ mouth. Unfortunately, I’ve heard about four interviews with this guy and he has become one bitter and nasty man. Not only is he the most overrated celebrity, aside from Julia Roberts, he really needs to just go away.
  Askew Reviews writer (though he hasn’t done shyt for a few years) and comedian John Turco has made the final three in WHJY’s "The Last Smart A$$ Standing" and needs your vote to win $5,000! The man is also my cousin, so do him a solid and give him a vote-he's finalist #1. If he wins, I’ll make him buy me beer.

  11.2- Although a few things come to mind, is there anything better than falling asleep and waking up what feels like seven hours later, but when you look at the clock only one hour has passed? That was my night last night; it happened about three times. It was simply grand.
  Yesterday, Massachusetts Senior Senator Ted Kennedy said that he will not support President Bush's nominee for Attorney General, Michael Muksaey, because of his unwillingness to directly answer the legality of an interrogation method used to simulate drowning. Of course, this is his right. However, I wonder if Teddy will refuse to support Hillary Clinton (should she be the presidential nominee for the Democrats) due to her unwillingness to answer 95% of the questions thrown her way. Certainly makes you wonder.
  On Halloween, nobody was giving out Charleston Chews! What gives? Made rifling through my daughter’s loot mighty disappointing!
  If anybody out there has watched or watches the movie Reeker, please contact me. I have a question.
  Well, looks like Dog the Bounty Hunter has gotten himself in a world of shyt by dropping the "nigger" word. You know, one would think that saying "nigger" is a requirement for people with six foot mullets, so why all the fuss?
  Mighty Ben reviews this spoken word CD.

  10.23- Here are some capsule reviews for the last few books I’ve read:
  A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. Ignatuis Reilly is a grown man who behaves like a know it all child and injects himself into the lives of those who surround him, whether they want him to or not. This book is definitely one of the top five funniest books I’ve read. Written before Toole’s suicide in 1969, the book languished before is publication in 1980.
  Junky by William S. Burroughs. Written in 1953, Burroughs writes about addiction to drugs and being a homosexual. The book is compelling and very candid, but lacks grit one might expect when reading about drugs and living a life to support addiction. I really enjoyed Junky, but I got the sense Burroughs may have felt writing this novel was beneath him.
  Happy Endings by Jim Norton. 2007. I think Jim Norton is one of America’s funniest men and I love the guy. The short stories center around Jim’s experiences as a stand-up comic, women, and his most notable addictions: sex and prostitutes. I did find some of the punch lines a bit redundant, but damn I laughed every time.
  The Lone Surfer of Montana, Kansas by Davy Rothbart. 2005. This collection of eight short stories deal with very real people in very real situations of loneliness and hope with blasts of romance, humor, and lots of oddity.
  Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski. 1982. Through the voice of his alter ego Henry Chinaski, Bukowski details his rough upbringing, abusive father, and the plight of being a teenager riddled with acne of epic proportions. About a year ago, I watched an interview with a drunken Bukowski shortly before his death and in an instant, he flipped and basically attacked his girlfriend on camera; it was shocking. After reading this book, I can see why he had that in him. 

  10.19- While driving my daughter to school this morning, I stopped at a four way intersection and watched as everyone patiently waited and took their turn. No one jumped the gun and bolted out of place. Now, I am sure most of us, each stop sign had a line about four-six cars, were in a mild hurry to get to work, school, drug dealer, etc., but everyone cooperated and the intersection smoothly flowed like a Ted Kennedy Sunday morning beer shit. This occurrence was not the exception as every time I pass through this intersection, usually four times a day, it works the same. Now, why can't everyone just cooperate a little in life to make this planet a better place. It's not that hard and easy to partake, jackass.
  Buy my book!
  Like a fist to the face, the weekend is here and it won't be grand unless you make it so. Hop to it and make Monday's arrival a life saving event!
  Doug gives us a DVD review. 

  10.17- I was recently reminded of this story: About a year ago, I was having sexual relations with a hot female friend of mine. Although this was our first time together, we seemed to be doing everything right and really pushed each other’s buttons. No awkward moments or second thoughts; you have to love that. We started off with kissing, touching, oral, which led to the bumping of uglies. We shagged in the ol’ missionary position first, and then rolled over so she could ride me. After a few minutes and still on top, she spun herself around so that her back was facing me. Since she had an incredible arse, the site was stunning and the sex top notch. As she glided herself up and down, she seductively looked over her shoulder and said, “You like that, pussycat?”
  It was that very moment I realized no matter the circumstance, I do not like being called “pussycat.”

 10.10- DVD Review.

  10.5- Mighty Ben reviews a book (and throws in a Q&A with its author) that I'll be reading very soon.
  I’ve lived in my house for almost four years and never has a spider built its web outside of my kitchen window, ‘til last week. One night, a good size spider built a web that covered about ¾ of the outside of the window. It was really amazing watching the spider’s engineering skills at work. After a few days, the web and spider were gone. Two days ago, a different spider moved in and built a web. This spider was a bit smaller with longer icky legs. Yesterday, my daughter and I watched the spider as it wrapped a bee in its web. Since we had our mugs pressed up against the window, our snouts were less than an inch from the spider; I have double pane windows, as I am high class, yes. Anyway, as the spider wrapped its meat, another bug snared itself in the web and let me tell you that you have no idea the meaning of lickety-split ‘til you see a spider sprint across its web to capture prey. Holy crap, lightningman! We watched the spider wrap up meal number two, then return to the bee and sink its two lil’ jaw things into and most likely devour the inside of the webified treat. After the initial yuckness, Reilly and I moved onto other things. A few hours later, I noticed that the bee was gone from the web, so of course I ventured outside to investigate the steps that rest beneath Spider Window. Yes, sure enough, that spider is one damn litterbug.
  Do you think some dogs practice racism, well, breedism?
  I now leave wishing you a drunken (or carb, fat, taste free if you're into that) weekend and implanting the purchase of my book in your mind.

  10.3- Ever notice how much better toast smells when someone else is making it and how gross popcorn smells when someone else is eating it?
  You know, I really do like the Dropkick Murphys and I am very happy for their success, but if you live within a twenty mile radius of Boston, there’s no escaping their over exposure. Pretty soon, none of us will be able to drop a deuce without hearing Ken Casey’s and Al Barr’s awesome vocals backed with James Lynch’s screaming guitar and Scruffy Wallace piping the bagpipes and…ah, crap.
  This morning I had a new storm door installed and one of the installers hails from New York and is a Mets fan. When he told me this, I honestly felt sympathy for him due to the Mets’ monumental collapse over the past three weeks. Hey, maybe I do have a heart.
  If yer a Red Sox fan, the golden road to the World Series starts tonight. For this round we shall cheer for the Sox to defeat the Angels and for the Indians to spank the Yanks, not for the sake of beating the Yankees, but to give Mighty Ben (he’s from Cleveland) some love before the Tribe fall to the Sox in the ALCS.
  Last night, I had an amazingly hot and sexy woman in bed with me, bottomless, and I fell asleep. I fell asleep. Yes, you read that correctly, I fell asleep.
  Bug is a good, but whacked movie.
  You will now buy my book.

  10.2- Though I try my hardest to not put my political thoughts up here anymore, I am just too annoyed with how these fyck politicians in Washington DC waste our time, our money, and our energy (hey, they work for us, the tax payers) bickering back and forth over ads and words spoken by those who make no difference in our lives. First, The Republicans went after moveon.org, now the Democrats are hunting Rush Limbaugh. Infuriating! What we have in Washington is a gang of bloated douche bags who do not care a shyt about anything other than their wallets and control over us. I say we vote out every single federally (Dem, Rep, Ind) elected official until they are all replaced with someone new. 
  New to Askew Reviews, Dave offers his first review.

  9.28- Tonight at O'Briens (3 Harvard Ave. Allston, MA) is the record (review be here) release show for Kermit’s Finger. Also on the bill: Darkbuster Light (Lenny, Dan, Amy )—Opening Acoustic, Kermit’s Finger, Beantown Boozehounds, Rat City Riot, and The Ugly Fucklings.
  I wonder if racial labels transcends to mannequins. For instance, is a black mannequin simply black or is an African-American mannequin? White or Caucasian?
  This may make more sense to those living in drunkurbia than city folk as dog owners amongst the former tend to be greater because having a dog for a pet in the city means you have to worry about the pooch becoming rat food and being peed on by bums. Then again, in drunkburbia dog owners have to worry about coyotes and vampire like ticks that will drain Spot of his life force like a welfare recipient on a block of cheese. What the hell was my point? Oh, why is it when someone yells for their dog, their voice inflection alternate between two tones? The first is like a statement with the last syllable of the dog’s name dragged out: “Luckeeeeey!” Which is followed by a question: “Lucky?” 
  Check out my book, damn you!
  Enjoy the weekend, for it begins with a bang: tonight's Kermit's Finger show!

  9.25- I just finished the Dexter: Season One DVD set, and ferociously look forward to season two's premier Sept 30. Though, Showtime deserves a kick in the balls for having only one episode on disc 4. 
  Here's a DVD for adults who are into 1971 documentary nuttiess.

  9.21- Finally, my book, A Nobody's Nothings, is available for your eyeballs. Buy one (or 20) today and you'll have it for next weekend's boozefest or to read while at work so you actually have fun. 
  Have a great weekend.

  9.14- While watching Californication (one of my favs), I was pleased as fleegin’ punch to see one of my top three “spank bank” actresses, Pamela Adlon (Luckie Louie) grace the small screen. Mzzzz. Pamela has been on the show a few times, but last night she was dressed in nothing but sexy underwear and a tight t-shirt. Oh ya, it was mighty nice. I immediately got the urge to call a girl I mess around with, from time to time, who reminds me of Pamela Adlon: short, black hair, cute lil’ boobies. Now, if I had called her it would have been for my own sexual satisfaction, nothing else, and I would not have been thinking of her while banging away (for three minutes) since I would’ve been thinking of Mzzzz. Adlon. Does this make me a bad person?
  As we discussed the finer points of making tuna casserole (not many people create this fine cuisine so I am quick to engage in any conversation about it), a respected friend asked me what brand of tuna fish I use, “Geisha, always and forever,” I answered.
  “Oh, you simply must try the tuna made by Bumble Bee that comes in the gold and black can,” she offered.
  Although I am brand loyal and really do find Geisha to be the most venerated of all tuna, I investigated my friend’s recommendation and discovered the tuna she spoke of is Bumble Bee Prime Fillet Solid White Albacore. I bought a can.
  Well, even though it's labeled as “prime” and priced 40% higher than most other brands of tuna, including Geisha, Bubble Bee’s Prime Fillet is tasteless and has the consistency of saw dust. I wouldn’t feed this slop to the Hobo Cats who roam the woods behind my house. Phooey!
  Before skipping off to a wonderful weekend, I trust you'll enjoy this DVD review, first.  

  9.13- I liked this CD so much, it get its own daily entry!

  9.11- My book, A Nobody's Nothings, will be available for purchase next week. 
  Over the past two years or so, I’ve often written about my hopelessly devoted love for Whole Foods “Chef’s Own” salsa. Well, the fleegan tree huggers went and not only changed the recipe, but basically doubled the price of the salsa. Now, the salsa tastes just like every other salsa out there, and is insanely expensive. The bastard! Yes, I have dropped the mess from my life. Since the breakup, I’ve been searching for a replacement and ran two brands through the ringer: Trader Joe’s homemade salsa and Sister’s Salsa (sold through Hannaford’s supermarket). Trader Joe’s salsa is rather boring and garlic heavy; will work as a back-up, but will never find a true spot in my heart, or belly. The tomato and onion chunks in Sister Salsa’s offering are large and there’s plenty of fresh cilantro. However, the color is bland and the vinegar taste (third listed ingredient) is so damn offensively strong, it made me think I was dipping my chippies in an Easter egg coloring kit. Opting to eat my chips dry, I tossed most of the salsa.

  9.4- I awoke Sunday morning with absolutely nothing to do. My daughter was on vacation in Hawaii with her mother and I had no plans ‘til approx 11:30pm. I took this free time to do about an hour’s worth of small junk around the house, then planted my arse on the porch to finish the book I had been reading.
  As I read the book and checked out the neighborhood’s going ons, I noticed that a flowering “thing” to the right of me was covered with about 8000 species of bees. It was a bit odd looking, but they were over there and I was maybe 10 feet from them, until a swarm of sparrows decided to invade the flowering “thing” evicting the bees. Rather than attack the sparrows, the bees decided to call my body home. I was nearly covered from head to toe with bees, but not a single one chose to sting me. I thought it best to retreat into my house while gently brushing the buzzing squatters off me.
  Still wishing to relax, I decided to visit the place that is 100% relaxation to me: the Scituate lighthouse. Now, to arrive at the lighthouse, there is one way in and one way out. Once you start the trek, there is not turning back.
  As I approached the area, I noticed an abundance of cars and people lining the sidewalks, yards, and driveways. I thought perhaps something was going on in the harbor or maybe the yacht club, or something. Nope. I was wrong. Turns out the town of Scituate was in the midst of their Labor Day parade and I quickly became its caboose.
  As my driving became a stop and start crawl, I could see the clowns and police car that ended the parade. Since I was so close to the end, the spectators were still standing around and having a great time. Of course, these joyous people extended their happiness towards me with shouts of “Hey! Look everybody, it’s a guy in a car!” or “Look, a man wearing sunglasses!” and some even threw candy into my car and many cheered my passing (passing in my car, not passing wind or dieing).
  Not being one who likes attention, even though I am a fleeegin loudmouth here, I was not really enjoying my situation, but I kept my smile and cheers going.
  Finally, after being a bee hang out and a part time spectacle, I sat down on the jetty and finished my book while watching three guys unsuccessfully fish. 
  Here's a DVD review for those who dig Christina Lindberg.

  8.31- I wonder if the woman I am currently having sex with, which includes oral treats, would get mad if she were to find out that I touched my penis with her toothbrush (100% hypothetical)…I wonder if there is something I do not know about apples, oranges, bananas, etc. After all, why else would some people refer to homosexuals as “fruits”…I wonder if as humans evolve over the next 1000 years if A) gay men’s assholes will ever self-lubricate. B) erect wieners will ever self-condomize. C) a woman’s clit will ever grow a giant sign declaring “over here, fella.” D) if a prostitute will ever be able to accept credit card payments by simply swiping a card through her vagina…I wonder if it’s ok to use an onion ring as a cock ring…I wonder why the Surgeon General hasn’t set a recommended daily allowance for women concerning semen consumption. You know that would be my first action once appointed…I wonder if men would have to wear a penis snorkel while having sex if we breathed through our blow hole…Other than the male gawk factor and shock value, I wonder why it’s ok for a fat guy with big, supple man boobs to walk around topless while it’s not ok for a flat chested woman to do the same…I wonder why some asshole guys grab their junk and say to a nearby woman, “You want some of this?” when in reality, the entire “this” isn’t enough to satisfy her, nevermind just “some” of it…I wonder if men would be more inclined to snuggle after sex if once both parties are “happy,” a frosty beer would shoot out of the woman’s head…<