A Tribute To The Man

Dave Hill

R.I.P. Don Knotts: 1924-2006

We'll miss you, buddy.

Dave Hill

Great Moments In American History

As much as I hate 95% of everything, I stumbled upon this video of Hüsker Dü playing on the Joan Rivers Show in '86 or '87 and remembered that sometimes excellent things do happen in our culture. Bob and the guys played "Could You Be The One?" and then sat down with Joan for a delightfully awkward interview in which you can see Bob Mould wearing a lot of makeup for the cameras. I remember seeing this live when I was a youngster and thinking Joan Rivers had the coolest talk show ever for the simple fact that she had these guys on the show. Since then- and this is the namedroppy portion of this entry- I've met both Bob Mould and Joan Rivers on a few occasions and had the chance to tell both of them just how much this magical moment meant to me. I hope I didn't creep them out too much. Anyway, watch this video now and share the magic with me. And then go out and buy all of Hüsker Dü's records (and Sugar and Bob Mould records too, except for "Modulate," which I'm still pissed off about) and improve your life in the process.

Dave Hill

Fashion Week!

I had a chance to catch some of the magic at Fashion Week in Bryant Park last week. Here are some of the highlights/lowlights. I hope you enjoy it so much. Oh yeah, it's best to let the whole video load first before viewing.

Dave Hill

A Keen Insight That Took Me 4 Years To Come Up With

What is it with people who have really crappy taste in music and their need to listen to it really, really loud? When was the last time some douchebag in an SUV rolled up to a stoplight cranking really good music? Never. The douchebag in the SUV just got the new Nickelback record and wants everyone to know that he is totally rocking out and he might even take off his shirt later. Anyway, I just had to get that off my chest. There- I nailed it. I am so angry! Dammit.

Dave Hill

The Baby Jesus Potato

You heard it here first: I am currently in possession of a potato that looks exactly like the baby Jesus. I imagine I will be going on a press junket to discuss and show off the baby Jesus potato in the very near future, but for now I can tell you that it is in fact a real potato and has not been altered in any way. The potato looks exactly like the baby Jesus swaddled in actual potato skin. I am not exactly sure why I have been chosen to be the recipient of the baby Jesus potato, but I am pretty excited about it and am ready to take on the many responsibilities that go along with being the caretaker of an actual potato that looks exactly like the baby Jesus. Please feel free to contact me here for inquiries and interviews and to also schedule a personal visit with the baby Jesus potato. However, you cannot touch, boil, fry, scallop, or do anything else to the baby Jesus potato other than look at it and marvel at it and then maybe leave a cash offering or something. Let's just get that out of the way right now because if you bring it up in person when you visit the baby Jesus potato I will totally not be "having it."

Dave Hill

The Laws Of Nature

The other day I read a story about a hamster and a snake who- against all odds- have become close personal friends while living together in a cage at the world famous Tokyo zoo, which is in the heart of Japan. As the story goes, what happened was the people who worked at the zoo tried to feed the hamster, whom they named Gohan (which is Japanese for “meal”), to the snake last October and then- much to the surprise of the Japanese zoo-working people and also Gohan, the hilariously-named hamster- the snake decided to not eat the hamster as everyone thought would totally happen. Instead, the snake, who is named Aochan (I’m not sure what that means), just started hanging out and totally not eating the hamster, who pretty much just sat there with a look on his face that seemed to say “Holy sh*t! Holy f*cking sh*t!” Now they spend most of their time curled up together and giving the laws of nature the big F-you.

The more I think about the Japanese snake and his hilariously-named hamster friend, I can’t help but think of the time I was severely beaten by a couple of eighth graders when I was just six years-old and walking home from school one day. File under: Never saw it coming. It was the dead of winter and I was trudging the two hundred yards or so from my elementary school to my house when- next thing I know- two boys who were seven years older than me started dragging me around my neighbor’s front yard by the hood of my tan corduroy winter jacket through about a foot of snow with a thin layer of ice over eat, the kind that tends to stab into your neck if you happen to be dragged through it at that level, which I was. Next the two eighth grade giants repeatedly tossed me into a long row of bushes that divided my neighbors’ houses, the same bushes I had attempted to hurdle every day with mixed results throughout the entire previous summer. Worst of all, as the eighth graders repeatedly threw me face down into the frigid snow, I could see the snowman I had built just a few days earlier just standing there smiling his bullshit charcoal smile and letting the whole thing happen right before his bullshit charcoal eyes. F*ck you, Mr. Shivers.

Word of the beating spread pretty fast around the neighborhood and, eventually, around my entire elementary school, the principal’s office included. A few days later, I ran into my assailants and braced myself for the worst. Much to my surprise, however, they were all like “Hey, what’s up? We’re totally not going to kick your ass. Want to walk down the street with us and not die?” And once I got used to the idea of not having my ass beaten, I was thrilled with their non-violent attention. Until, of course, the day the two eighth graders invited me to play football with them and their friends. I thought it was really cool until they started passing the ball to me over and over again when I wasn’t even on their team. I knew our peaceful coexistence couldn’t last. And I’m still picking the grass from my teeth.

Getting back to the hamster and snake buddy duo, I suppose I can’t help but fear the worst. Just as eighth graders with a penchant for beating the crap out of six year-olds tend to stay that way at least until graduation, it would seem that even really friendly snakes eventually get back to being regular snakes, the kind that eat rodents that take naps next to their head. And for the hilariously-named hamster, that is totally going to f*cking suck.

Dave Hill

Podcasting In My Spare Time

Given my penchant for being futuristic and all that, I recently decided to sit down and record my very own podcast. I’ve never actually listened to a podcast before, so I pretty much just have to go with my gut on this one and assume that my podcast is pretty f*cking sweet. Anyway, if you find yourself with at least twelve minutes to spare (and if you are reading this right now, I know you do), I encourage you to listen to my exciting new podcast by clicking here (or anywhere the word podcast appears in this entry). I hope you like it. Please feel free to share with others and also write in with harsh criticism and/or extreme praise. Or something like that way. You seem really nice.

Dave Hill

Club Monaco Mannequin Gets Wood

I was walking down Broadway in SoHo this morning and happened upon this rather excited mannequin in the Club Monaco window. Looks like someone really likes casual dress slacks...a little too much. Still, he's got sass and I like that.

Dave Hill

It's Raining In New York City

Can you feel it?

Dave Hill

Poetry Corner

I AM THE NIGHT

I am the night

I come to you at end of the day

You might need to turn on a lamp or something

That is because I am dark

I am at times also mysterious, but trust me on this one, the lamp is not going to help much with that

I mean, it might, but don’t count on it

I am the night

Dave Hill

I Can't Compete

Yesterday I received my quarterly high school alumni magazine in the mail (NOTE: For anyone potentially looking for biographical information on me or for anyone who is in fact currently writing an extensive biography about me, I would like to point out that I attended St. Ignatius High School, a Catholic school for promising young men in my native Cleveland). At the back of the magazine, there is a section that lists what various alumni have been up to lately- weddings, babies, deaths, various job promotions, assorted achievements, stuff like that. I’ve always been tempted to write in some sort of update about myself. I would really like to read in the magazine, for example, how I am now a newscaster in Sarasota, Florida and am married to a woman named Peg Landers or something (Peg Landers sounds like a good name for the wife of a Florida newscaster to me for some reason). Or maybe something about how I just opened a chain of martial arts supply stores in Ontario.

As I was flipping through this most recent issue however, I noticed an item about one of my fellow classmates who is now a bar owner and owns the distribution rights (I’m not sure what this means either) to Alcohol Without Liquid (or AWOL as it is known in fun circles), a “process that takes hard liquor and dispenses it as vapor in an oxygen mist, making it possible to breathe in a shot instead of drinking it.” This impressed me on at least four or five different levels. For starters, I liked how my fellow classmate decided to corner the market on this sort of thing before someone else got around to it. Also, it was nice to find out that there are other people out there who want to get hammered but are tired of the bullshit of having to ingest actual liquids while doing it. Suddenly I don’t feel so...alone. And as you can tell from the photo above, using AWOL is pretty much guaranteed to lead to hardcore boning if you play your cards right (and don’t breathe in too much I’m guessing).

Anyway, after reading the item about my fellow classmate’s AWOL business, I decided there wasn’t much I could write in about myself that could really compete with that. Don’t get me wrong- I’m pretty f*cking sweet and all that, but let’s face it- it’s almost noon and I’m still in my underwear.

Dave Hill