Modern Science Can Cure Anything

"Do you think anyone could enjoy an existence such as mine, Doctor?

... I have not seen the light of day in almost two hundred years."


- 'House of Dark Shadows,' 1971

I'm Worried About Johnny Depp

You know, I'm starting to wonder if Johnny Depp is even cool enough to relace Jonathan Frid (pictured above,) and play 'Barnabas Collins' in any future 'Dark Shadows' feature film.

Depp bought the rights to the show a year or so ago, and this summer came news that Tim Burton was going to direct it. Now, according to last week's 'Entertainment Weekly', the project is 'on hold.' However, according to imdb.com, it is still in production - but the release date has been pushed back a year to 2011.

Shit, I could be dead by then. I could be blind. Or I could be just plain tired of waiting.

And I'm getting very tired of waiting. When Depp made his announcement last year, I had high hopes. After all, he also said that he had seen all of the original series. So I knew the project would be in good hands. After all, he was "one of us."

This was exciting news. After almost forty years of fandom, I finally felt validated.

Still not too sure about the idea of Burton directing. They've collaborated on good work in the past, but Burton is so hit and miss when it comes to picking his projects.

Not making any of this 'on-hold' status any better is finding out that the two of them are working together on a movie being filmed right now over in Engalund. 'Alice in Wonderland' - in which Depp will play the Mad Hatter. Just what the world needs - another 'Willie Wonka' eye-popping extravaganza from Hollywood's foremost recycler of other peoples' ideas.

Well, if 'Dark Shadows' doesn't or does indeed happen, I can wait. The original show is good enough for me, and no matter how good an actor Johnny Depp can be, Jonathan Frid IS Barnabas Collins. And always will be.

In the meantime, I take comfort in these particular words of Barnabas dialogue. They are spoken to his chick 'Josette' in the 1778 flashback, shortly before he gets chained in his coffin for the next two centuries.

"One day in another time, another world, you will glance across a crowded room and see a stranger you have known forever - and it will be me."

Dead Man Walking

I recently read one of those 'What's Hot/What's Not' lists for the coming decade and apparently zombies are now considered 'in' and vampires are 'out.'

Yes, according to YM magazine, it seems that zombies are more popular with the young people these days. I'm more of a vampire kind of guy. Vampires are sexy. Vampires are cool. Vampires are me. ... Well, kinda sorta.

Unfortunately I could never really pull off that whole 'Goth' thing that initially attracted the kids to vampirism. No matter how many shades of black I dyed my hair, it just doesn't cut it when combined with a slightly-receding hairline, a 'Zippidy-doo-dah' personality and a wardrobe consisting entirely of Hawaiian shirts.

Lemme tell ya, without the pointy capped teeth and Johnny Cash threads, it's hard to make it in London's Goth community.

Not so with local Zombie enthusiasts. They're all-inclusive. Anyone can become a zombie. They don't hang out in private after-hours clubs sipping claret, quoting Rimbaud and staring and your ripe alabaster throat. Nope, townie zombies even have their own annual Zombie Walk through downtown. Anyone can join. All are invited.

The second annual walk kicks off tomorrow afternoon - Sunday, October 26th at 4:00 at the corner of Wellington and Clarence. A parade through the downtown core follows.

Last year hundreds of people showed up in full zombie uniform of blood and guts. I must say that vampires are better dressers and have more style and flair but I give zombies credit for their commitment. The local vampire community on the other hand, were lucky if they could get their act together to organize the annual pot-luck swingers party.

I won't be joining in the walk. I occassionally enjoy a walk off the beaten path or a stroll down the road less travelled. But those zombies like to shuffle. And what with my trick knee and all ...

Instead I will cheer from the sidewalk as I watch the parade of death pass me by.

Then I will go home and listen to Osterborg's new self-titled CD with its 13-minute opus 'The Living Dead' based on the movie about the Night of.

The band describe their style of music as 'Hypno-Jive.' And that's a good term for it - because it's otherworldly, hypno-tizing stuff.

'Nachtmusik,' is another term they use - self-described as "Music best enjoyed during the period of darkness between sunset and sunrise."

As such, it's the kind of thing ideally listened to at about three in the morning on those occassions when you need more than Sinatra. It's soundtrack music for all creatures of the night - zombies, the graveyard shift, nighthawks, the still-loaded, the always alone and even vampires.

It also has a nice beat and is good to dance to - especially that new dance craze the kids are all so crazy about these days, 'The Zombie Shuffle.'

Nuthin' Funny About this Funny-Business

When I woke up this morning, I thought maybe I had over-reacted in my anger the night before when I realized that the London Free Press had screwed up and didn't even run Friday's edition of the 'Funnies.' The whole page was a re-run. That would be okay when they used to re-run 'Peanuts' after Charles Shultz died. Or the current version of 'For Better or Worse.' But the storylines in both 'Funky Winterbean' and 'Rex Morgan, M.D.' had been gathering momentum for the big Friday cliff-hanger.

And when I went to the Free Press blogs, intending to ask about it, I got even more angry when I read the 'Editor's Blog' and Editor-in-chief Paul Berton admiting, 'Oops we screwed up today - we ran yesterday's comics instead of todays.'

Now, I can understand. Mistakes happen. Just listen to Radio 980-AM any Sunday if there isn't a game on after the Roy Green Show. Incompetence runs rampant in our society, it is something we are all guilty of - even me on occassion. But incompetence aside, what really pissed me off was - that you didn't rerun "yesterdays" comics, Paul - they were from the day before yesterday, that being WEDNESDAY.

I'm seriously beginning to wonder if this guy even reads his own paper. He sure don't read the 'Funnies.' In a post from about two weeks earlier he was talking about 'Doonesbury' and how good it was and recommended that us readers should check it out. Well, if it's so good - why aren't you running it? If it's so good, why is my wife paying a subscription? And more importantly, what's the point of being the Editor-in-chief of a mid-market daily newspaper if you can't even use your power and influence to have them run your favorite comic strip?

But like I said, I woke up this morning and realized I had over-reacted. It's only one day of the funnies, after all. And Paul had promised to run yesterday's real comics today along with today's crop. Which they did.

So I picked up today's Free Press and after I finished two pages of comics, I started at the front. On Page 2, Paul Berton had his usual Saturday column, 'From the Editor's Desk' all about the trials and tribulations of being a newspaper editor.

And that's when I got mad again. Earlier this week, apparently in the early evening, someone walking down York Street in our downtown area had taken a rock "the size of a grapefruit," and had hurled it with enough force for it to pass through two thick panes of glass and land on Paul's desk. While he was across the street having dinner.

Now, this is pretty serious. It's a not-so unsubtle THREAT. Obviously a reaction to something that Paul had written or something that Paul, as Editor was responsible for being printed.

But that's not how Paul sees it.

And this is the hilarious part - and I quote - "... I returned briefly from dinner to assess the situation. What a mess. I decided immediately the rock probably wasn't meant for me. My office at the Free Press on York Street has more windows than most others, so I'm guessing it was simply a matter of percentages (or bad luck.) The culprit was not apprehended, but I'm guessing the person was probably under some kind of influence, and not aiming at me in particular, or even The Free Press, but who knows?"

Geez, what fukkin' world is this guy in?!?

The modesty is commendable but the denial and naivete are downright troubling.

Paul, baby - this wasn't a matter of some teenagers letting off steam. Or some downtown ne'er-do-well hauling a thirty-pound rock around to throw through any window when he got tired of carrying it.

Whoever threw it, wasn't aiming at the office next to yours or the broom-closet on the other side. He obviously knew the lay-out of the building and just whose office is whose. They didn't throw it through the window of the TV-station or CJBK or Jeff MacArthur's office window across the street.

No, they went to a lot of trouble to missile it through the window of the Editor-in-chief of The London Free Press. They went out of their way to throw it through YOUR window, Paul. This particular rock only had one person's name on it.

Shit, you don't have to be J. Jonah Jameson to figure that one out.

"I decided immediately that the rock probably wasn't meant for me. ... I'm guessing the culprit wasn't aiming at me in particular, or even The Free Press."

That's like George Bush looking at the New York City skyline the day after 9-11 and saying, "Well, we still don't know who did this - but you know, I have a feeling they weren't really aiming at US."

This is the kind of curious, investigative mind at the helm of The London Free Press.

Well Paul, windows can always be replaced. But as for our confidence in you as the Editor of our only daily newspaper is concerned, that will be a lot harder to repair.

On Chickens and The Coop

Come harvest time and the crops are in and the leaves have turned colour, a young man's thoughts turn to poultry. And sometimes Alice Cooper.

Particularly during the Thanksgiving weekend. Which coincidently marks the return of Alice Cooper to town. I'm taking the boy to the show. He's almost 14 years old and this is probably the last time he won't be embarrassed to be in my prescence at a 'Rock' concert for a few years.

Besides, Alice Cooper is as much a prerequisite to adolescence as 'Catcher in the Rye.' To that purpose, The Coop has been serving every generation since 'I'm Eighteen' from about 1973. Going to see 'Uncle Alice' should be a rite of passage. I'm sure my ol' man would have taken me but he was more into Deep Purp at the time and so we had a falling out about musical tastes back then.

To celebrate his arrival this weekend I am forgoing the traditional turkey holiday repast. Instead we are having the very trendy and newly popular Beer-Can Chicken, prepared on top the BBQ - as pictured at the top of this post. Yep, Ol' Milwaukee BBQ'd chicken, Stove-top stuffing with sausage - it's going to be a White Trash Thanksgiving!

As for chickens, they have never strayed far from The Coop's legacy. Even the free-range ones.

Two decades ago, back when I was interesting, I wrote about Music on a freelance basis for what was then a very-good daily newspaper. These days, the same paper is generally considered to be the worst daily in Canada. But people do remember when it had quality and I'm always grateful when a stranger comes up to me on the street and asks, "Hey - didn't you used to be Sonny Drysdale, that music writer guy at the Free Press?"

Here's an example of how good it was back then - I was a freelancer. They had their own staff 'rock' critic. But one day, on a whim, I asked the powers-that-be, "Hey, Alice Cooper is coming to town - can I do the preview interview?" The editor said yes.

The following is a portion of that interview from TWO DECADES ago. But like Alice himself, it's still current, just like why he's still important and a genuine icon - and why the kids still love this stuff.

We talked about the rumours. The one that he was Eddie Haskell. The about where he and Frank Zappa had a 'Gross-Out' contest on stage - who could be more grosser - and it starts with one of them dropping their pants and taking a shit on stage. The other guy out-grosses him by eating it. ... I've been to a few 'rock' concerts in my life, and I know that this story is just a lot of bullshit because no one stops a copncert to have a 'Gross Out' contest with the opening act. And because no one can move their bowels on demand.

But here's Alice's response to the other infamous rumour at time - that he had once bit the head off a chicken on stage (long before Ozzy and the bat story,) AND TWICE ON SUNDAY!!!

Never happened claimed Alice. "No, what really happened was, it was at a rock and roll festival years ago in Toronto. Somebody in the crowd threw a chicken onstage. And I'm from Detroit. I'm not a farm kid at all. And I saw the chicken, figured it has feathers, it has wings, it can fly away.

"So I picked it up and tossed it, thinking it could fly and it went into the audience and the people in the first rows tore the chicken to pieces.

"The next day, I'm reading the paper and I see 'Alice Cooper Tears Head Off Chicken and Drinks Blood.'

"And I've never gotten past that rumour. Which is fine. I've never denied it."

Happy Thanksgiving to all. I don't really care for the drumstick. Or breasts. But if you think of it, please save me the neck and the giblets.

Toyota's "Gotta Go" Radio Ads Got to Get Go

It's with sadness that I report that the series of radio commercials for Toyota car dealerships featuring that "Gotta Go" guy seem to have disappeared from the air-waves. I haven't heard one for a few days now. The good news is that we've been there before. Don't fear, he'll be back.

For those of you unaware of the latest Toyota radio-only commercials and those who don't listen to AM all day long, the "Gotta Go" advertising campaign is ostensibly about how the narrator (a Toyota car dealership employee,) is telling all the 2008 Toyotas on the lot that they "gotta go," in order to make room for the 2009 models. As such, dealers are dropping their prices like crazy! They're practically giving them away! Because all those Toyotas on the lot just gotta go.

To the non-discerning ear, it's just another annoying radio commercial. Sort of on a par with the new 'Crabby Joes' spots. And sure, superficially, it's just a gimmick for a clearance sale to sell Toyotas.

But the reality is that "Gotta Go" is an ancient philosophy that still resonates to this day.

Biblical scholars claim that the Gotta Go movement has its origins in the Old Testament days. Translated from the original Greek, "gotta go" actually means "got to go." As in when Moses spoke to God and beseeched him, "Yo, Lord. My people, they got to go. Let them go, Oh Lord." Moses and his tribe then escaped Egypt and spent 40 years wandering around the desert in search of the Promised Land.

Today, the saying still has currency in our modern-day culture. Consider the classic Jim Reeves' song, 'He'll Have to Get the Hell Outta Here.'

"Put your sweet lips, a little closer to the phone.
Let's pretend that we're together all alone.
I'll tell the man to turn the juke-box way down low.
And you can tell your friend there with you, he's GOTTA GO."

'Gotta go.'

Life is like that sometimes, isn't it?

You're born. And before you even start kindergarten, you've spent at least three years of your parents holding you up in the air, looking into your eyes and asking "Gotta go? Gotta go?" before plopping you down on a toilet until you do.

As you get older, there are other occassions when you are told you gotta go. Like after standing for three hours behind the velvet rope once at Studio 54. Or that time you puked during a lap-dance at your brother's stag. Or that time you were dating Jim Reeves chick.

But as you grow older, you start to fear the phrase 'Gotta Go' more and more. You suspect that you may be asked to leave the party early.

That happened to me the other day. Went for my annual physical. The results - NO CANCER! Prostate is fine, colon is fine, pancreas is fine and testicles are not only fine, they're spectacular!


After the examination, I took off my gown that does up in the back, looked in the mirror and saw the Grim Reaper staring right back at me. I looked him in the eye, laughed and then told him, "Not this time! This time, YOU gotta go."

I may not have been able to say that without the strength I've derived from those Toyota 'Gotta Go' radio commercials.

Possibly it may be because of what you *don't* hear in those ads. All you hear is the narrator yelling at different Toyotas of all different shapes, prices and colours that they've got to go.

But he occassionally mentions 'Murray,' presumably one of his co-workers. The thing is, you never actually hear from Murray. At least not audibly. And as such, you have to wonder, does he physically really exist?

Themeaticly, 'Murray' may very well be serving the same purpose as Norm's wife on 'Cheers.' Or the never-fully seen philisophical gabby next-door-neighbour on 'Home Improvement.'

Perhaps 'Murray' is just a metaphor for something else. Something that only Moses and Jim Reeves might be able to tell us. Is he really the narrator's conscience? Is he God?

Or is 'Murray' simply that thing within all of us? The thing that lets us know the difference between right and wrong?

I'm starting to think that's possibly exactly what those Toyota radio commercials are really all about. It has nothing to do with selling cars.

Consider this quote from the narrator in the very last ad - "Murray, let's start the day off with a nice hot mug of Gotta Go."

Life is sometimes like that, isn't it?