and then, peter falk looks at me and says, “you are a fantastic journalist”

I’m happy to report that upon meeting my idol I did not collapse into a pant-shitting heap. In fact, I did quite well. He even complimented me at one point on my interviewing skills… He liked the fact that I brought up his old friend, and four-time Columbo nemesis, Patrick McGoohan, and reminded him that it had been 19 years ago this very morning that “Wings of Desire” had begun filming… I can’t tell you how cool it is to have Columbo lean across a table, put his hand on your arm, smile, and compliment you on your observation skills.

I’m also happy to report that he’s a genuinely nice guy. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I didn’t think that he’d be as open and warm as he was. (It’s always nice when your idols don’t turn out to be assholes.) I also didn’t expect him to say “fuck” and “tits” as many times as he did, but it was kind of endearing in a way.

Part of me wants to figure out how to podcast the interview, but I think I’m going to try to transcribe it instead, submitting part of it for publication in the Ann Arbor Paper, and putting the rest of it in the perpetually “upcoming” issue of Crimewave… There’s lots of shit I’d like to write about in the news today, but I think I’ll sit here and work on the transcription instead. Today is a little highlight in my life and I want to enjoy it for a while before I get sucked back into watching the Cheney cabal go down in flames.

As for today, I’d like to thank a few people for making it happen; my friend Monica for tipping me to the event, her housemate Steve (a jazz guitarist who had been hired to warm up for Columbo) for getting me in touch with the organizers of the event, and the women on the Events Committee of the Downriver Town Hall lecture series for allowing me to have a little bit of Mr. Falk’s time. It seriously couldn’t have gone any better, and I have all of them to thank for it.

Posted in Art and Culture | 19 Comments

peter falk doesn’t make the marquee

No time to blog tonight… Too much studying to do for tomorrow’s interview with Peter Falk. I did, however, want to show you what other acts are coming to the Crystal Gardens Entertainment Complex in Southgate.

Just a warning, if you go to the Chippendales show, be sure to wear some sort of protective eyewear if you’re seated near the front. The last time I went to see them perform, I got a crab in my eye… They really should warn people. (At least when Gallagher played Crystal Gardens they handed out ponchos to all of us in the first five rows.)

Posted in Art and Culture | 6 Comments

news roudup

Steven Colbert’s new show is now up and running and, I’m happy to report, his parody of Bill O’Reilly is dead on… Apparently, Colbert isn’t the only one out to get O’Reilly. According to an interview given recently by the right wing attack journalist, he’s in mortal danger every second of his life. Here it is in his own words: “I spend an enormous amount of money protecting myself against evil.”

Speaking of the forces of evil… Rumors of Cheney’s resignation are flying, and Tom Delay is preparing to be booked.

And, as if things weren’t bad enough, researchers have decided to publish the genome for the 1918 flu that killed 50 million people, making it available to absolutely anyone who might want to kill 50 million people or so.

And, closer to home, I just heard though my network of informants that Tom Cruise has purchased a house in Toledo, within an hour’s drive of me…

Posted in Pop Culture | 7 Comments

dink phillips and the dead birds

Last night I posted something about the possibility of covering Clementine in dead birds for Halloween as a way of spreading awareness about the Avian Flu… It occurred to me as I was posting it that I should have included a request for dead birds… You see, there’s a history of that in my family.

I never met my dad’s step-grandfather. His name was Dink Phillips and he lived in Liberty, Kentucky. I believe he owned a saddle store, practiced dentistry (most likely without a license), and drank heavily. Occasionally, when I’d wonder around town as a kid, people would talk to me about Dink and his infamous practical jokes. It was Dink’s job, I got the sense, to entertain the community until television came around.

I’ll save the really good story for a later date, but I wanted to share one with you now. It has to do with dead birds… It seems that, for whatever reason, Dink had a problem with a faculty member at the University of Kentucky, and decided that he needed to be taught a lesson. I’m not sure how the idea came to old Dink, but he decided to travel though the mountains of Kentucky telling the poor people there that this doctor at the University would pay them some large amount of money for every dead bird that they sent his way. I don’t know that I ever heard an amount, but as this was probably during the Depression, I think anything would have seemed like a lot… Anyway, according to the story, hundreds of rotting birds began pouring into this man’s office from all over, along with demands for payment. I don’t know how I’d go about verifying it, but I suspect it’s true.

So, as I was sitting here, getting ready to post my story last night it occurred to me that old Dink, had he been a ghost standing behind me here, might have urged me to request dead birds, and then give the address of one of my many foes.

As for Dink, I think it was a pretty cruel thing for him to have done to the people who lived in the country, who were probably barely staying alive, but the idea, I think, was brilliant. I didn’t think that people thought that way in the 1920’s. (No doubt if he were alive today, he’d be producing a reality television series… or working for the administration.)

Posted in Mark's Life | 2 Comments

karl rove’s ladder

I don’t want to be morbid, but as I was sitting here, looking at this photo of Karl Rove’s garage, it occurred to me not only that the story was stupid and oddly timed, but that it would be strange if, after the indictments were handed down, he went home and used they very ladder to climb up into the rafters and hang himself. I guess it’s an OCD thing, but now I can’t get the thought out of my mind.

Posted in OCD | 24 Comments

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