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Tuesday, August 17, 2004

A PHOND PHAREWELL
Proving that you really can't hold a bong-hit in forever, epochal jam band Phish wrapped up it's 21-year career in the wee hours Monday mornign with a farewell show in its native state of Vermont. I've never considered myself a Phishhead, as the band's legions of fans are often referred to, but over the years I've appreciated the band's quirky guitar noodling and their willingness to put on shows that last for hours, sometimes days. Phish is often compared with The Grateful Dead, primarily because their fans typically travel with them from show to show, a backpack slung over their shoulder and bag of mushrooms clutched in hand. But The Dead didn't pack it in until Jerry Garcia kicked it, so I was a bit disappointed that Trey Anastasio didn't off himself at the show's conclusion. Oh well.

While Trey may live on, one man didn't make it out of the farewell show alive. As reported by the Times Argus, a couple of Phishheads were treated to the unwelcome sight of a dead man in their tent when they made their way back after the show's conclusion. As medics packed the body up and carted him away, this transpired:
A dreadlocked male in shorts and mud-covered bare feet appeared out of the darkness in the cluster of tents and campers and stood and stared with his head cocked at an angle at the wrapped figure, earnestly asking, "Is the dude going to be OK?" When no one answered, he repeated his question. After a significant pause an EMT turned and said matter-of-factly "No, he's not."
Phuckin' Phish.

SHYNE ON
The best thing Jamal "Shyne" Barrow ever did for his career was to be in the wrong club on the wrong night. Specifically, Club New York in December 1999 alongside his former mentor P.Diddy.Puff.Daddy.Combs (or whatever) where Shyne alledgedly brandished his gun and shot clubgoer Natania Reuben in the face. If you remember, Puffy was acquitted of all charges; Shyne was not, he was sentenced to 10 years in prison. Despite that setback, or godsend depending on how you look at it, Shyne released his first album last week, entitled Godfather Buried Alive, from prison. The album debuted in the top five on Billboard's weekly charts. I suppose we're supposed to be impressed and intrigued by this, but I don't see why - Tupac has been putting out albums from beyond the grave for years. Oh well, beats making license plates I guess. But dammit, now he can't make phone calls!

COOKIN' WITH EMBALMING FLUID
Beloved cooking diva Julia Child passed on last week and while we we're sad to see the venerated chef enter that great skillet in the sky, we were thrilled that her demise produced the following headline: Late Cooking Diva Julia Child Loved Red Meat, Gin

Red meat and Gin? Looks like I'll make it to 92 after all.

THE CURSE OF THE DEEP THROAT?
Salem, Massashusetts resident Don McFadden received the thrill of his life the other day while channel-surfing to find a Red Sox game. While McFadden was flipping through the channels on his Comcast cable system to find the game, he unexpectedly stumbled upon hard-core porn. No doubt, the die-hard fan found more satisfaction from his discovery than he has watching the ever-disappointing Red Sox in recent years. Hope you enjoyed yourself Don, it may be another 86 years before that happens again.

HUNGRY HUNGRY BURGLAR
From the in-case-you-missed-it files comes this story. A burglar in Shoreline, Washington, the town I grew up in, was nabbed a week ago after his 11th break-in. What makes this particular thief's crime spree interesting, and entertaining, is the fact that the only items he pinched were edible. In his final crime, the alleged snack-burglar managed to wolf down "a box of Creamsicles, six shrimp kabobs, about a dozen mini corndogs, half a large package of Costco lunch meats, two fruit drinks, a glass of milk, a dozen clumps of frozen cookie dough and several large handfuls of M&Ms" from resident Julie Sanchez's cupboards. The story says police don't yet "have a clear idea of his motive." They may want to consdier "the munchies" as one possibility. Hell, he may even be a Phishhead simply upset at the band's departure. Cut him some slack. And pass me a mini corndog.


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