Wednesday, November 28, 2007


I heard the sad (or maybe just weird) news that the Jigsaw in Parma has been sold. I have been assured that the place will keep it's integrity and stay the same shit hole it has been for so many decades but the news still came as a shock. If nothing else, I wish I was still in town so I could have at least entertained the idea of buying the 'Saw myself. I can't even imagine how amazing life would be if it was spent between those wall on a daily basis. I'd even get the neon Parma sign tattooed on my arm. But now... I will not.

The Beachland being up for grabs is not as big of a shock to me. I, like everyone else, had heard the rumors of their financial distress for a while now so it was easier to digest even though losing that place would be another nail in the local music scenes coffin. I don't know of a cooler room to see some touring band you have never heard of play than the Tavern. Electric Eel Shock, Supagroup, Peelander-Z, Early Man, Cherry Valence; just some of the bands I stumbled upon while drinking Straub and looking at pale girls. New music in a familiar setting is a luxury I hope we as a town do not lose.

I am still thinking about the perfect Cleveland tattoo. Without the neon Parma I might be leaning toward a tattoo some friends out here in Los Angeles were thinking about getting: Kenny Lofton's face. With a matching Lebron, perhaps? It's something to think about.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Holiday Holocaust

Is no news really supposed to be good news? I don't know about that one. It seems whenever something is happening then life is a little better. Action and reactions. More bullshit. But I am back at the library smelling my dirty jeans and trying to figure out something of note to post on this utterly awesome, but neglected, blog; it's all coming up blanks, man.

I miss Cleveland but that's a given. I just spent Thanksgiving in Encino, California with a house full of Ohio ex-patriots and a beer drinking dog. Take away the palm tree and the nice weather and I could have been in Parma or Strongsville. I kind of wish I had been. But there's a lot to be said about the west; I just seem to spend most of my time talking about the mid-west.

Yesterday, while strolling through a shopping plaza in China Town, I heard some standard Christmas song on the radio. It made me very sentimental. I almost starting to get sad but the store full of Hello Kitty merchandise made me far too confused to feel sorry for myself.

Oh yeah, I met Jesse Camp of MTV fame the other night. Remember him? He has my phone number now which is kind of stupid. I will tell you all the story over a Christmas Ale in Decemeber, okay?

What the fuck am I doing here?

Monday, November 12, 2007

The King Comes to LA

Three of us Cleveland dudes went to the fabeled Staples Center to see the King. King James, King of Cleveland, King of the Buckeye, you know who I mean. From the moment we stepped on the train I saw a bunch of Lebron shirts. Cleveland Indian hats. Man, we are everywhere. Even the guy who took my ticket was from Cleveland. When I told him I grew up in Rocky River, he upped his ante by saying 'Oh! That's where Bernie Kosar used to live.' Live, indeed.

We won the game too. How nice is that? Fucking California, I refuse for you to take my heart and it's not just me. I'd trade the nice weather for a few more chances to see Damon Jones sink some 3's.

This entry is lame. I see that as I type it but, what the fuck, I'm a little homesick and I just saw my old friends. It's was nice to have them visit us. Oh and take advantage of those free bobble heads and shit, no one got a thing at the Clippers game. Just $8.75 beer and expensive 'downtown dogs.'

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Six Feet Away

Oh man, I just saw a bulletin on myspace that put me in a bad mood. I guess today is the day where the lovely state of Ohio votes on Bill 16: The Strip Club Bill. As I write this I hope with all of my heart that my friends (and maybe even family) are out at their local voting haunt, pushing against this horrible shit.

To sum it up quickly: six feet dance rule... six feet pre-dance rule (this means a hard working dancer can't even have a post dance cuddle!). ALL clubs AND adult stores must close by Midnight. A whole lot of people lose their jobs. Most strippers have kids too.

I guess I will know tomorrow what the fate of my beloved Crazy Horse will be. Will the name Bugsy's Speakeasy go down as legend along with such gems as Model Tease and Pinkies? Or will it stand, mighty, with crusty pant legs coming and going for decades to cum?

I know I spelled that last word in a really gross way. My mind is in the gutter; right next to the people of Ohio.