July 7th, 2009
Great Scott interviews Disco Vietnam. The world will never be the same,
Scott Towler: Aight, so I have to confess right out of the gate here: I literally just learned your name through our correspondence about this piece.
Disco Vietnam: Yes, well my full name is Disco Irwin Vietnam.
ST: Let’s dive right in, shall we? Dolphin-safe tuna: myth or reality?
DV: It’s a myth. No one is safe from a dolphin’s wrath, least of all a school of tuna fish. Incidentally, I’ve recently discovered veggie tuna salad is superior to regular old tuna salad.
ST: If you were at a Waffle House and they asked how you wanted your hash browns (without looking at a menu, mind you), what would you say?
DV: I would ask my hash browns be reverse engineered into French fries.
ST: You realize that’s an insult in more states than Kentucky, right?
DV: As long as one of those other states isn’t North Carolina I suppose I’ll have to be ok with that.
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April 9th, 2009
Despite his avowed ardor for Phish, Scott Towler has never once had to “jibboo.”
How did I keep quiet for so long. I mean, Trey, Mike, Page. FISH. Phish! The first band I got high to. The band that fried my synapses during the infamous “Moby Dick” set at Deer Creek in 2000? The band whose, 7/11/91 Battery Park, VT show made me a lifelong devotee. The band whose Sessions at W. 54th, changed my life even more than the discovery that Arnold on Diff’rent Strokes was adopted: how I dressed, who I hung out with, the music I played, what drugs to split open and melt. And yet, despite providing the soundtrack to the first quarter of my life, things just don’t feel the same.
Granted, Phish is responsible for creating an underground movement only matched by the Dead, and sure, they’ve managed to put out over 25 studio records while still remaining relatively under the mainstream media radar. In fact, they’ve really only garnered widespread attention since their reunion announcement became one of the biggest rock stories of 2009. Ostensibly, I should be doing backflips and bong rips right now. Or am I doing them already and you just can’t see me (go to my YouTube channel for that).
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March 27th, 2009
Scott Towler is back like “Fletch Lives.”
Scott Towler: This is a first for me, interviewing a critic. Let alone one that’s in Vietnam, so I want to make sure everything gets its due diligence.
SO: Word, Dilligence is very important, shout out to J Dilla. I actually made my bio between shifts at work, I think that really shined through and you picked up on that directly though the mental on some telepathic shit. No homo.
ST: Exactly. So, that being said, we’re just going to dive right in here: The year is 2020, the world is overrun with zombies, but you, somehow, remain immune.
SO: That ain’t even no sci-fi son. The world is ALREADY 85% dumb deaf and blind so that’s already come to pass like prophecy. So ima just keep doin it like I been doin it, maxin and relaxin in hot weather with some old funk records and a beer in hand.
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February 19th, 2009
According to Scott Towler, National Idiot Day is Feb. 22. This may be a result of his visceral loathing of George Washington, cherry trees, and any and all wooden gompers.
Scott Towler: I like the name Douglas. You don’t hear it too much these days, except when referring to Douglas firs. Which brings me to my first question: are your parents arborists?
Douglas Martin: I love Douglas Firs! They have that swag that you don’t see in many trees. They stunt like crazy during the holidays.
ST: So is your dad a doctor, or do you have plans to go into medicine yourself?
DM: My father isn’t a doctor, but I briefly considered being a psychiatrist. I like helping people with their problems.
ST: Kind of seems like a waste of a last name though, huh?
DM: Well, it sort of sucks that I share it with that dude from Coldplay, actually. People ask if we’re related.
ST: I meant because of the whole Doc Marten thing, but that Coldplay connection is a shame. Do you like shoes? Some people are shoe crazy.
DM: Doc Marten’s are awesome! I moved to Seattle because I thought he’d move out here because of the huge profit he’s made off of this city.
ST: Charles Barkley: man or monster?
DM: Charles Barkley is a man. Men fuck up sometimes. That’s a direct quote from the Bible.
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January 14th, 2009
At times, I’m convinced that Scott Towler and I were the only ones who found Prime Time Glick hilarious.
“I’d rather be rapping and blogging at the same time—it’s like DJing my thoughts! On a computer!” – Zilla Rocca 1/7/09
Scott Towler: So what exactly is a Zilla?
Zilla Rocca: A female lizard from Armenia.
ST: So are you a fan of Godzilla then?
ZR: I am not a fan of one diety of “Zilla.”
ST: Let’s get to the real root of the question though…why are the Japanese so scared of giant animals? Aren’t pandas like their go-to cuddly?
ZR: Because giant animals cannot so easily get shots, tags, etc. Imagine if Godzilla got an ear infection, or Mothra jumped over the back fence? We’re talking a catastrophe the size of “The Spirit.”
ST: Do you have a go-to cuddly?
ZR: I’m a rapper. We only cuddle with Teflon. And old school Teddy Ruxpin dolls. And Teddy Ruxpin dolls covered in Kevlar.
ST: The streets is rough, huh?
ZR: If you’re an ‘80s automated teddy bear with a cassette player in your back with a penchant for children and D batteries…hell yeah
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October 30th, 2008
Scott Towler’s screeds can normally be found here, or outside the Silverlake Gelson’s, where he berates innocent by-standers for buying too much soap.
This fall marks television’s return following last years’ ill-conceived writers strike, and while I initially thought the slate might be the ideal jump-start to coax audiences to return to the tube, thus far it’s been a fairly mixed bag. The few glimmers of hope are below.
Gary Unmarried (CBS, Wednesdays)
The most traditional of the new batch is “Gary Unmarried,” CBS’s (no, CBS? get out of here, you sexy senior citizen, you) multi-cam attempt at recreating the 1950s in “Gary Unmarried.” Jay Mohr stars as a divorcee who owns a house painting business, and get this- doesn’t get along with his ex wife! Didn’t see that one coming. Most ex-wives have so much going for them. Rather predictably, they squabble over their children, his ex-wife’s recent engagement to their former marriage counselor (played flawlessly by Ed Begley Jr.), and their money/possessions. Quite trodden territory, yet still timeless in it’s own way. And maybe that’s why I keep tuning in: waiting for that time when Gary finally says, “One of these days, Alice- pow, right in the kisser.” The modern twist that would spike the ratings? He’d then actually hit her in the face.
Worst Week (CBS, Mondays)
On the opposite end of that spectrum, CBS also debuted “Worst Week” this fall, a show more in tune with NBC’s recent development moves than CBS’s traditional schedule. The show, a single-cam British import, follows the life of Sam Briggs who, with nothing but good intentions, ends up having the worst week of his life. Think of it as a well cast TV version of Meet the Parents. Everything that can possibly happen to this character does. From the outset, we find him helping a drunk co-worker get home, only to have her throw up on him. Faced with a tough decision, Sam must either wear the puke-covered clothes, or borrow some of his drunk co-worker’s gear. He opts for the latter, only to have her wake up to his stark naked body standing in front of her. She immediately throws him out, and he’s forced to take an $80 cab ride to his in-laws home in a make-shift diaper. The show continues in this pattern, but many wonder how long it can last. After all, it’s predecessor operated in real time (hence, a season of “Worst Week” in England was 7 episodes, one for each day of said worst week). To be honest, I’m less enthused about the show itself, as I am in the fact that CBS is actually branching out from their traditional boring patterns. They took a chance here, and whether it ends up lasting or not, it’s already received substantial critical acclaim and has improved with every episode.
Kath & Kim (NBC, Thursdays)
The most hyped (and advertised) new comedy of the fall also happened to be NBC’s only new half-hour this year. Though “new” may be the wrong word to assign here, as “Kath and Kim” is adapted from a hit Australian program. The show follows Kath, played by Molly Shannon, and Kim, played by Selma Blair, through the course of their mall-going, retail-therapy filled lives. Both deliver masterfully in their performances, and the show fills a female-driven gap that NBC has experienced since the conclusion of “Will & Grace.” Arguably, the real story here is the outstanding performances from Christopher Guest-alum, John Michael Higgins, and breakout new-comer Mikey Day. While the show remains very female driven, there’s still plenty to like for the men; in fact, half of the show’s cleverness is rooted in its ability to take the most crass subjects and phrase them intelligently.
Life and Times of Tim (HBO, Sundays)
Last on the list of this fall’s finest is HBO’s “The Life and Times of Tim,” created by and starring Steve Dildarian. This show might be the funniest of the, crossing every known line imaginable. From shitting on the floor at work trying to save your bosses dog to objecting to your future sister-in-laws wedding just for the laughs. The best part? Tim loses every time (like the Clippers), keeping him redeemable and human. Moreover, Dildarian’s dead pan stoicism only heightens the hilarity of each situation thrust upon him. In an almost Seinfeldian way, Tim comments on his own life with keen and perspicacious observations. keeps you in stitches every week. The only new animated show of the fall, its King of the Hill-like realism means that its got no logical reason to be animated, other than the fact that it makes these everything that much more surreal. Just like Entourage, except that this actually makes you want your HBO subscription.
Download:
MP3: Wilco-”Kicking Television”
MP3: Talking Heads-”Television Man”
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September 8th, 2008
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At the age of three years-old, Scott Towler caught a BBC mini-series adaptation of Martin Chuzzlewitt. His life was irrevocably altered.
The mini-series….TV’s long lost step-child. Once a staple of the programming block, over the past 15 years, the medium has drifted increasingly further from the format. More frequently, the mini’s become the jumping off point for future serialized shows (a la the reincarnation of Battlestar Galactica). Once upon a time we got Roots, The Jacksons (starring Freddie “Boom-Boom” Washington as Joe), and the Dinosaur killing meteorite that ended them all: Ted Danson’s hair-metal version of Gulliver’s Travels.*
The sole life raft in the shallow pool of mini-series’ today is HBO Documentaries’ “Hardknocks,” a program that follows a NFL team from training camp to opening day. This season, they’re profiling the Dallas Cowboys, the second time they’ve done this since the show’s inception, a pretty transparent ploy to attract the rabid and massive Cowboys fan base (or the over-60 population who continue to have yet to discover Internet porn and thus continue to see the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders as the pinnacle of salaciousness).
Granted, I’m not exactly the Cowboys’ biggest fan, but somehow I found it difficult not to love the show. Maybe it’s as simple as the post-Labor day shift into fall and the nostalgic return of football. Or perhaps it’s the beautiful duality that exists between the show and the sport. The brief nature of football season (20 days tops to watch your team each year) mirroring the scant episode order. HBO’s only airing five “Hardknocks’”and accordingly, it heightens the impact and import of each. You sympathize for the rookies and free agents scrambling for the 4th string spot. You get wonderful insights into what it takes to run an NFL squad. Football transforms into more than sport, it becomes theory and a way of life.
Yet His Hair is So Lustrous
It’s about guys like Pacman Jones, a player whose career has been completely over-shadowed by an arrest record longer than Yao Ming’s arms. Sure, everyone remembers the infamous “makin’ it rain,” comment, but what about his game? He’s spent so much time behind bars, it’s hard to remember if he was any good to begin with. Yet seeing Pacman as a real person, dealing with the NFL commissioner in an attempt to get his life back, made him seem almost decent. Almost. Granted, I never shot up a Denver strip club, so what do I know?
Then there’s rookie wide receiver Danny Amendola, widely considered much too short and small to play (coincidentally, he’s 5′11″ and 183 lbs., a size white women like to call ‘just right,’ the skinny bitches!). In the end, he was relegated to the practice squad, but that wasn’t what mattered. Watching him make the team at all seemed to epitomize the difficulties inherent in being the underdog.
Surprisingly, Tony Romo barely played a role in the series, a fitting metaphor for just how irrelevant any one man is on a football team. While the Cowboys might boast that they’re the most “Hollywood” of any team, Romo never gave off that impression (and certainly looked better than Tom “GQ” Brady or Matt “Creative Artists Agency” Leinart ever will). Mind you, dating Jessica Simpson doesn’t help your cause much, but when the show cut to the booth during pre-season game play, the focus was on Romo’s father, and not his Dukes of Hazzard partner in crime. That makes sense though, I’m sure Jessica had a lot on her mind. “Maybe I should eat that taco. My sister is a hack. Oooh, John Mayer sure got my jeans wet, but he doesn’t play football. My dad touched me.”
Pac-Man: Heroic Yellow Blob or Psychotic Ghost Killer-You Be the Judge
Sadly, the show has already wrapped up for this season, but it’s merely left my appetite whetted for the next five months of football. Really, I can’t wait. As Ferris Bueller once said, “Life goes by pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Then again, Ferris Bueller was a rich prick who coaxed his friend into a mental breakdown after he trashed his father’s car. Some friend he was, the schmuck.
*OK, so I can’t directly trace it to Ted Danson, but I’d like to. Had Gulliver been Woody Harrelson, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.
Download:
MP3: Jay-Z-”Hard Knock Life”
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August 12th, 2008
You can read more of Scott Towler’s hateful screeds here. Expect upcoming posts on his loathing of puppy dogs, ice-cream and puppy-dog flavored ice cream.
We all remember the email forwards of that now-seemingly ancient epoch of the late 90s. Scrolling down to read some corny punchline originally sent by your dad’s boss about how Asian people suck at driving. It’d eat up 40% of the free space in your email memory, and for what? Something you were shocked that anyone found funny. Wow, the punchline is that Asian people can’t drive? Comic genius! You mean to tell me women are insecure about their weight? WHY DIDN’T ANYBODY TELL ME THIS SOONER? Luckily, somewhere around Sept 11, those emails seemed to stop coming. September 11, 2000. I’m not a total dick.
Meanwhile, our present is plagued by a whole new world of email forwards: web videos. And they annoy the shit out of me, every one of them. I know what you’re thinking…”Viral web video, or webisodes as they are called (much to my chagrin, thank you), have yet to hit their mark, asshole! They’re still in the early stages of legitimization, where the vast majority of the market is kids on youtube posting something they’re imitating from a film, TV show or music video. So ease off those nuts, you fucker.” But are they though? Should I? Because every time I open my email and see a link to a youtube video, there’s a 4 in 5 chance that I’m going to click delete without ever opening the link. They’ve become the forwards of tomorrow, today! Guess what, I’ve never seen 2 Girls and 1 Cup. I’ve never watched a video of a person watching 2 Girls 1 Cup (too meta for me). I hate the Star Wars kid. I’ve never seen chocolate rain fall in my neighborhood (if you have, please grab a bucket and call me, it sounds delicious). Sure, Pearl would be a MUCH better landlady than the one I have now, but that still doesn’t mean that 2 billion people should get that reference. And I want that head-turning gopher to get some better music than “Kill Bill Vol. Mediocre.”
One of South Park’s finest episodes occurred when they took on the subject of web video and turned it into a central plot line. For those of you who didn’t catch it, it intercut a story about the WGA (or Canada, as it were) striking due to low wages. In order to get the Canadians to return to work, they demand better payment, so the boys set out to raise money for them so their favorite programs would return. The easiest way to do so? The Internet! What followed was a dissection of web video at large, culminating in a brilliant scene that featured some of the web’s all-time most viewed videos fighting to the bloody death to see which was worthy of the award for the ‘Webs Best Video.’
Please don’t.
Maybe I’m re-iterating the same thesis as the South Park guys, but really, if I had to choose one video that’s ideal for the web, the choice is simple: none. Zero. Nunca. In fact, save for the handful of studio-run web video outlets, and the forthcoming SNL You Tube-style site, I’d argue that the best web videos out there are porn. Any kind. Ebony midget ballet dancer. 3 girls, no cup! Take that!
But the PG internet hasn’t become a place where writers and actors are finding a new home. And as we witness the erosion of the monopolistic mega-studios over the next 10 years, I can’t imagine that the volume will increase for them that much. After all, I’ve never had one person forward me a web video that had the words ‘written by’ in them, or ’starring.’ And I’ll wager you dollars to donuts that you won’t see Al Pacino doing a short for Funny Or Die.
I guess for me it all boils down to the fact that when I want to watch something, I use a TV or a movie theatre. The thought that someday I’ll be tuning into my little desktop monitor to watch the newest episode of Quarterlife makes me want to vomit out my insides and serve them to some macrobiotic at Urth Cafe. It makes me want to tell every un-funny person I’ve ever met that they, “really have a chance. You should take improv classes, you are so funny!” Hopefully this, like so many other passing whims in Hollywood, will fall by the wayside for the next new fad. But since it almost certainly won’t, I guess all we can hope for is an improvement in content, so I can actually sit through more than 15 seconds before wanting to end it all. Live from inside your computer, this is Great Scott, reporting.
Download:
MP3: The Replacements-”Seen Your Video”
MP3: 2ew Gunn Ciz ft. Esso-”Audio Video”
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July 31st, 2008
Scott Towler has spent the last few months at the Canadian Grammar Rodeo and catching Andy Williams shows while talking to Samson in Branson, Mo.
Don Mclean was never a hippie, but I was. At least I thought I was. I wore patchouli oil. I had patchwork pants and parkas. I tried to turn my hair into dreadlocks. I even partied with a friend named Ginsberg. OK, so Allen and I weren’t that close, but I was there man. I was part of the revolution. The only problem was the fact that I was born in the generation of neo-hippies, where the word ‘revolution’ was merely a song by the crappy frat-band O.A.R.
In the summer of 1995, when I was in 7th grade, I got offered tickets to see the Dead on what would be one of their last shows before Jerry died. My parents wouldn’t let me go and it’s irked me ever since. Sure, I hadn’t heard The Grateful Dead at the time, but I was familiar with the culture, and had a general sense of how it much it affected me.
Yeah, that’s me on the left.
A few years later, I attended my first Phish show and got hooked, eventually going on to see 22 of their shows, not like it matters. What does were the discoveries that occurred a little later on, when I finally plowed through my Dad’s record collection to discover the roots of the music I loved. Hendrix. Led Zepp. The Doors, The Dead, The Who. The good drugs. The now-canonized stuff that went down before the deluge, when any punk kid with garage band and a knowledge of q-base or pro-tools could put out a record.
Do you smell that? Damn, It’s Just Me.
It’s different today obviously. Every show is brought to you by Supafly Productions. And they want you to know that. It’s branded, polished, and no glass is allowed (oh, save for all the crystals and bongs and pipes). There’s been like 12 Bonnaroos now. Like, are you kidding me? I went to the first one thinking it would mean something, and even that one wasn’t good enough to merit a second trip. These festivals preach going green and saving the Earth. Then everyone leaves the campground, and there’s more trash there than the city of LA produces in a week. Seemingly no one has a job, but everyone has drugs to sell (hey, some things never change). You ask someone about peace, and they say “Sorry, all I got is papers.” The point is, it’s all fake. It’s candy land. And I finally had enough.
So I came to a realization recently, as the last traces of MDMA and psilocybin left my system: for me, it’s over. No more poser-hippie bull shit. No more five-year-old kids in Dead tee shirts, running around barefoot while mommy tokes a doob. I’m done. I just can’t look at those people anymore. And you know, for the longest time I’d been trying to figure out why. When did I shift from being a tree-hugging wanna-be to some button down version of my father?
I guess it’s just part of getting older. After a certain amount of time, we give up on the idealism of our youth. We make decisions about what we want in life, and then we go for them. isn’t about the music. The music never stopped. Even when Jerry died, the band played on. And maybe that’s just it. I’m grounded here. My life is ramblin’ on with no end in sight and I couldn’t be happier with the direction it’s going. Hippies, on the other hand, have no where else to go but on the road. They spend their entire lives searching for meaning through music because they never really knew what they wanted to begin with. And I’m not saying that I don’t want that feeling back. I do, very much so. If Phish were to come back and tour, I’d fly half way around the world to see them play again. This time though, I’d stay in a hotel, bring more than one change of clothes, and shower. Maybe.
Download: (Because even if you hate Phish, you might like these songs, the ones that Phish fanatics hate to admit are their favorites because sober people actually sometimes like them too).
MP3: Phish-”Bouncing Round the Room” (From Live Phish 19)
MP3: Phish-”Fee” (From Live Phish 19)
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April 25th, 2008
Scott Towler once received six weeks in jail for kicking Tucker Carlson in the groin. Politics as usual.
Hillary won Pennsylvania! Did you hear? Do you care? Yeah, me neither. But with all the recent hub-bub about who’ll be our next president, it’s getting harder and harder to ignore. What’s next for this great nation? Personally, I think it’s time to think outside the box. Get a new face in the political realm. Hire someone with half a brain, instead of just a quarter. But there’s a lot more to think about than just that: where the world will be in 10, 15, 25 years; what will become of America’s youth; who will win the space race; just how long will this steroid problem go on; and finally, just how old should our president be?
OK, granted, he isn’t American, which completely rules him out of ever being president. And you’re right, he’s older than the universe itself. Some even contend that it was his cosmic dust that made the planets. Richards will tell you otherwise. But as I started to think about who I wanted to run this mucky-muck of a crap factory, it became very obvious: someone who’s invincible. Kieth Richards can’t die. He’s tried. He’s also outlived his mother and his father at this point, who, rest their souls, never touched any needle drugs or peyote. Still not convinced, eh? How bout the fact that he was alive during the Revolutionary War? He practically begged the colonies to succeed. He’s the father of this country for Christ sakes!
OK, I flipped out back there. Perhaps someone that old isn’t competent enough to run the country. Perhaps adult sized diapers should never set foot into the oval office (I’ll spare you the incontinent Cheney-with-a-shotgun jokes). But there is something to be said for a person who can affect the minds of millions of Americans. And what better way to build better citizens of tomorrow than starting them off at an early age. That’s why The Wiggles seemed like a natural choice. I firmly believe that the two best forms of birth control are A) flying on a plane with a baby, and B) going to the grocery store. Have you ever seen how unhappy those parents are? And just how mad does it make you when the kid starts screaming and the parents do nothing about it? Well, somehow, The Wiggles have written songs that put children in a trance, causing them to shut the fuck up, do their homework, and eat their vegetables. If that’s not role model behavior, I don’t know what is.
Of course, the only issue with The Wiggles is that they could create a people’s army of children. Nobody wants that. Plus, there’s four Wiggles, but room for only one president. Socialism just isn’t ready for this country. Because of that, I think it’s important we elect someone both powerful and important. Kind of like Barry Bonds. Think about it…Bonds is guilty as sin, right? But he’s the only one who has yet to face charges for blatantly breaking the rules and ruining baseball. Call him the O.J. of non-violent crime, cause he’s got the system figured out. My only issue stems from the fact that he could one day go on a roid rage, killing everyone in his path. Our country needs someone more balanced than that. Or smaller! A miniture Barry Bonds would ensure that we were taken seriously while preventing us from ever going off the handle. Plus you could put him in your carry-on bag.
The only other potential issue that will arise in the coming decades is how we’ll conquer space. While the space race of the 60s left much to be desired, the race of tomorrow will end with the colonization of Mars, the continual search for alternative fuels and the eventual discovery of life beyond ours. Who better to pioneer this front than Meteor Man? In an effort to gain a legitimate nomination, most of his friends already call him the ‘Barack Obama of space.’ Personally, I think the ‘Lewis and Clark’ of space might be more appropriate, or perhaps the ‘black-manifest-destiny-2010,’ but either way, he’s hot on the heels of the competition (that being Richard Branson and Laika (the first dog in space)). With the growing importance of preserving our planet, and the fact that we all already know hope is lost, this issue will percolate to the top of the political scene before any of us stop voting.
So as the election draws nearer, take some time and really think about who you’d want running this country. Whether it be a white woman, a black man, or an old person, one thing is clear: it won’t be a robot. Scott Towler, live from Washington D.C. reporting.
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