|Jimmy Kimmel Interview||
Here is some more video excitement for you. This time around I am totally sitting and talking with Jimmy Kimmel, the popular talk show host from television. I hope you enjoy it so much.
|Dick Dale And Children Of The Unicorn||
Last night, one of my two unstoppable rock bands, Children of the Unicorn played at B.B. King’s over there on 42nd Street. Normally I’m opposed to rocking in such close proximity to an Applebee’s, but we had the opportunity to open up for surf rock legend Dick Dale (a/k/a the guy who plays the opening song to the popular “Pulp Fiction” movie in case you don’t know who he is already) so we were all like “Fuck it- let’s play across the street from Applebee’s.” It ended up being a really good time despite the fact that most people in attendance were busy eating chicken wings and discussing the fact that we were not Dick Dale during our set. Still, they clapped and yelled for us, which was all it took for us to continue unleashing the rock fury on their asses for, like, 35 minutes straight or something. The photo above is of me rocking out like I mean it. Thanks to Anya for sending it along.
After we finished rocking, I headed back to our dressing to hang out in post-rock show fashion (usually involves just sitting there drinking something and commenting on various aspects of the show while maybe also using a little profanity for dramatic effect). That went on for about ten minutes until Dick Dale took the stage. Since he was wearing a wireless guitar, he managed to run over to our dressing room and kick the door open while still playing his guitar to let us know we should come out there and watch him rock or he might kick our asses or something. I got the message and headed out to the side of the stage to watch the mayhem and was glad I did. Dick and his band rocked balls. Not too shabby for a 70 year-old. I took the photo above with my cell phone. As you can tell, Dick does not stop shredding for photo opportunities. I respect that.
After watching Dick and his band rock for a while, I snuck back to our dressing room to eat the complimentary hamburger the nice people at B.B. King’s gave me. After a few bites, however, I started to worry that Dick might come and kick open our dressing room door again and decided to finish my hamburger while watching some more from the side of the stage, thus violating my own rule of mixing rock music with food items. Still that beats getting your ass kicked by a 70 year-old man any day. Here’s to never really finding out for sure though.
|Rufus Wainwright On Letterman||
Here is a video of Rufus Wainwright performing the title track from his excellent new album “Release the Stars” on the popular David Letterman program. I missed it when it was on television a week or so ago, but now- thanks to the magic of the Internet- we can all watch it again and again. Also, extra points to Rufus for sporting lederhosen, a bold move outside of Oktoberfest circles. I’m hoping it sparks a trend.
|Warrendale And Stuff||
Yesterday, I “beat the heat” by heading to the MoMA with my friend David to stare at some art and then watch the hit movie “Warrendale,” a 1967 documentary by Canadian filmmaker Alan King that focuses on a home for emotionally disturbed youths in Ontario. My thoughts:
For the first few minutes of the film, it was more like “Boringdale” but then it really kicked in and delivered in that way that you kind of hope documentaries about disturbed people always will- lots of kicking and screaming and profanity, etc. Particularly interesting were the “holding sessions” during which the counselors at the home would immobilize a disturbed youth when they were having an outburst of sorts so that they might be able to vent from a safe place. Of course the holding would usually serve to just further irritate the youth in question, which would lead to more “holding,” which in turn would lead to further outbursts, which in turn would lead to even more holding. You get the idea. Sometimes I felt like yelling “Just the let him go!” at the screen as if I were watching “The Last Boy Scout” or something but then I remembered that “Warrendale” was made in 1967 so the people in the movie wouldn’t be able to hear me anyway.
Also of note in the hit movie “Warrendale” was the fact that one of the adolescent girls in hit movie “Warrendale” was strikingly beautiful, exactly the kind of girl you’d dream of running into if you were an adolescent male who ended up in a home for the emotionally disturbed. I forget her name but I can’t help but wonder where she is now and if she’s just, like, still totally nutty but gorgeous. I guess that is the point of documentaries- to force you ask questions.
The thing I enjoyed most about “Warrendale,” however, was a scene in which all the emotionally disturbed youths gathered in a rec room with their counselors to smoke cigars and bet on a Toronto Maple Leafs hockey game. If you’ve ever wanted to see an 8 year-old smoke a cigar while swearing at a black and white television, run- don’t walk- to the MoMa to see this movie.
After watching “Warrendale,” David and I walked down to Koreatown to eat the fuck out of some food. Curiosity got the best of us and we ended up at a place called Todai, where they had an enormous all-you-can-eat buffet serving all sorts Japanese, Chinese, and Korean food that- based on our visit- appears to be most popular with Asian people and flip-flop-wearing frat boys. It was pretty solid but- as is usually the case with all-you-can-eat scenarios and me- I felt kind of dirty by the time it was all over.
David and I decided to work off dinner by walking rest of the way home. Along the way, we happened upon the phone booth in the photo above, which just so happened to have a large picture of me on it. Since I am a jackass, I asked David to snap a picture of me standing next to another picture of me. It was pretty great even though none of the people walking by as I posed for the photo seemed to pick up on the fact that I was the same guy as the guy on the side of the phone booth. I guess I will just have to go back.
By the time I got home I was pretty wiped out from all the walking and all the Asian food and all the emotionally disturbed youths, so I called it a night. I drifted off to sleep while watching “The Importance of Being Morrissey,” which- as the title suggests- is a documentary about Morrissey that aired on England’s Channel 4 in 2002. There were no “holding sessions” or 8 year-olds smoking cigars in this one, but still I recommend it.
In other news, this morning I went to the grocery store to buy some Lucky Charms only to find that the grocery store in question was out of Lucky Charms. At first I was all surprised but then I thought “Of course they’re out of Lucky Charms- that shit is motherfucking delicious!” In the end I bought a box of Cheerios and went home to enjoy a bowl of not-nearly-as-fun cereal. Dammit.
|The Greatest Thing Ever To Happen In North America||
Do not even get me started on this topic.
|Guttenberg!: The Man||
As hinted at in the previous post, last night I opened up for the excellent Inside Joke show over there at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre on 26th Street. It was fun times. Host and close personal friend Carl Arnheiter’s guest last night was Steve Guttenberg, star of such films as “Police Academy” (a bunch of them), “Short Circuit,” Cocoon,” “Three Men and a Baby,” “Three Men and a Little Lady” and a bunch of others besides those. Steve was very charming and likeable and looks just like he did in all those movies I mentioned in the previous sentences.
Unfortunately, I had to miss the tail end of the show because some friends were in town from Cleveland and wanted to catch the Cleveland Cavaliers playing the Detroit Pistons in the NBA playoff-type things. I hadn’t watched a basketball game in a long time though, so that was fun times too. The Cavs lost, so that was negative but I did get to have some chicken wings. Also, I was happy to see that the Cavs ditched those teal jerseys that they had back in the ‘90’s (a time when every sports team seemed to be changing at least one of their team colors to teal for reasons I will never understand. Something about merchandising, I’m told.) in favor of the maroon and gold-based jerseys they had back in the days of my youth when anything seemed possible. The basketball players had better hair back when I was a kid too as I recall. That is something the current Cavs players might consider working on in the off season. Look at ‘70’s Cavs player Bingo Smith for example. We could all learn a lot from him and his hair:
Keep up the good work, Bingo, wherever you are.
In other news, today is Friday and anything seems possible. I should probably get things started by taking a shower though. Am I right or am I right? Okay then. That is all for now.
|More Rocking, Dammit.||
Thanks to Marianne, here is another clip of me rocking and shredding (set to face-irritating this time) with my rock band Valley Lodge over there at Fontana’s again this past Saturday night. My singing is kind of off-key, but hopefully my low-grade joie de vivre makes up for it. Anyway, more shamelessness from me, Dave Hill. I hope you enjoy it.
|There Is No Escape||
I was out for a jaunt in the neighborhood this morning when I happened upon the cab in the photo above. As you can clearly see, that ad on top of the cab features a photo of me in my starring role on the hit TV series “The King of Miami with Dave Hill,” playing now on the futuristic Mojo network. It is the second cab featuring a photo of me, Dave Hill, on top of it that I have encountered in the last 24 hours. I want my life back. Actually not really. Anyway, I think the cab driver was kind of weirded out by having me walk up to his car and snap this photo with my phone. I didn’t want to tell him that there was a photo of me on top of his cab because I know Anthony Hopkins probably doesn’t pull that kind of crap. I wanted to play it cool, take the photo, and then run home and blog about it endlessly in hopes that someone, anyone would read it and think that I somehow make a difference in this vast universe because I am on television, dammit. Um, okay, anyway, I just wanted to get that out of my system.
After I happened upon the cab that totally had a photo of me on top of it, I continued on my way back home. I stopped off to buy a couple bananas from a street vendor and quickly at the fuck out of those things. Now I am doing laundry and cleaning up my apartment because my friend Tim is visiting for a couple days and I want to create the illusion that I don’t live in squalor all of the time (which I pretty much do, though- to be fair- it is a glamorous and tasteful kind of squalor of my own design that just so happens to smell nice too). Later I will open up the Inside Joke show at the UCB Theatre (featuring guest Steve Guttenberg!) and then probably go out and drink something or another even though the medical community advises me otherwise. As for you, I hope you have a wonderful day. You seem nice.
As you can see from the photo above, last night I took a vacation from my problems and went to see Steely Dan at the Beacon Theatre here in scenic New York City. Predictably, the show was crawling with lots of hot, young chicks. There were also a few older dudes with glasses and mustaches. Actually, now that I think about it it was mostly older dudes with glasses and mustaches, most of whom kept drunkenly singing the opening guitar riff to “Reeling in the Years” in between songs in hopes that the band would play their popular hit. Unfortunately for the guys with the glasses and mustaches though, it never happened. Me, I was okay with it.
You might not be able to tell from the photo above, but I totally wanted to bone one of the backup singers for Steely Dan. She was singing and dancing and looking really boneable, which is pretty much what one looks for in a backup singer I guess, and by about a couple songs into the show I was totally sitting there thinking “I totally want to bone that backup singer.” It was this kind of thinking that got me through those times in the show when Steely Dan decided to play a song I didn’t recognize.
Having seen such music veterans such as Barry White (twice), Neil Diamond, and Ozzy Osbourne in concert in the past (for real, this isn’t, like, some ironic sentence or anything), I’ve learned that if an artist is around for over 30 years there is usually a good reason for it and Steely Dan was no different. They were super good and even if you don’t really like Steely Dan you can’t help but think to yourself “You know, these guys are actually super good” at least for a moment before you go back to thinking about how much you want to bone the one backup singer.
An interesting thing about the Steely Dan concert was that most of the audience remained seated throughout the performance. I kind of enjoyed this since I had just eaten a bunch of scallops- something I almost never order- right before the show and was feeling like I might have an incident if I moved around too much. Occasionally, however, a drunk woman or two would get up and dance during one of Steely Dan’s more popular songs and look around the theater with an expression on her face that seemed to suggest “I am totally dancing to Steely Dan and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.” Usually the people behind her would get all mad after a few seconds and have looks on their faces that seemed to suggest “How the hell am I supposed to see Steely Dan when they start playing ‘Reeling in the Years’ right after this? Sit down you drunk bitch or I’ll punch your husband right in his tweed blazer!” Eventually though Steely Dan would start playing some song that was never on the radio and the drunk lady would sit down and everything would be okay with everybody except for the fact that Steely Dan wasn’t playing “Reeling in the Years.” I was okay with that since I was really busy thinking about how much I wanted to bone the one backup singer and couldn’t really get bogged down about Steely Dan’s setlist as I had all sorts of imaginary boning to do throughout the show and that is really enough to keep one man busy.
Another interesting thing about the Steely Dan show is how much Walter Becker and Donald Fagen (the Steely Dan guys) looked like dentists who shop at Sam Ash on the weekend. Then again I guess they always kind of looked like that. Still, they rocked it and that’s what really matters in the end. Also, they are good at hiring highly boneable backup singers so there’s that too.