the thrill is GONE

the red hook ballfields are back, as you may have read or seen. i knew b/c when i went yesterday there were as many camera crews there as there are paparozzi currently stationed on 64th and Central Park West outside of Madonna's apartment, waiting to catch a glimpse of A-Rod (believe me, i've seen them). unfortunately, friends, it just ain't the same. what used to be gigantic, beautiful chaos is now tightly regulated bullshit. bullshit in that, well in that i personally think it's bullshit to wait in a 75 person deep line for a lemonade. bullshit in that the 3 best vendors have taken up residence at the brooklyn flea on sundays, and apparently are sticking tight because they weren't at the soccer fields this weekend. and, finally, bullshit because the cause of the red hook food vendors has become a bit of a brooklyn cause celebre, in that the ejection of the food vendors was met with such universal disapproval and outrage (color me guilty as well. i started one of the oodles of "save red hook" myspace pages as a properly lazy act of civic responsibility), that the return of the vendors in this opening weekend was met with such a massive turnout that anyone who really loves the food and the red hook ballfields was positively turned away from the long lines for, basically, nothing. i love that all of the vendors were getting the spillover business from the outrageously over-taxed huarache stand, and even the lady selling $10 containers of ceviche and "tuna soup." but truthfully, there's a reason why those stands weren't ever really busy in the first place (i once overheard a teenage soccer player crack wise to his homies with the snap-tastic "she puts TUNA in the ceviche," which elicited massive snickering and snorting. i like to think of this joke as the ceviche version of steve martin's plumbing joke).

why so bitter, right? well those lines were really just excessively ridiculous, but i understand that i'm crabby and old. i understand that the new blood at the ballfields will thin, as it always does, and the lines will become manageable. in my impatience, i also was introduced to a vendor i've never visited before, the colombian booth, at which i had a delicious plate of beans and rice that kept me full and semi-coherent throught the entire day, which is no small feat on a saturday, especially one like yesterday in which the day was long and the cervezas were aplenty. i guess this tiny rage stems from the incompetence of the city, which happily enables any and all roasted corn & watermelon slice vendors, as well as the ubiquitous cheese steak carts, at every street fair in the city that bounces from street to street throughout the summer in new york city. the sheer size, or lack of, is undoubtably crippling for the vendors, and has permanently altered the feel of "soccer tacos" and has made it more of a nyc street fair and less of a red hook secret. i used those vendors as a surrogate for a mere 2 years, sating my constant need for mexican/latin food, which has represented 90% of my subsistence for these past 33 years, and even more than that the past 9 that i've been a vegetarian. sandwiches get old, but nachos never do, and a quality meal that even a pauper could afford was something that i grew to not only appreciate but need in the worst/best possible way. those days are now gone, and if i really want the "red hook" experience, i now have to make it a once a week occasion, and have to go to fort greene to get it, and to wade through comically overpriced antiques, neckerchiefs and knick-knacks to do so. but my loyalties lie not just with the meal but with the person who prepares it, and the best of those vendors, the hernandez huarche stand and the good el salvadoran pupusa people, they've moved on and defied the city's financial demands and continued doing things the way they've done them for 20 years. i also just really like the guy who just prepares the meat shanks at the pupusa stand, he's my favorite of them all. i'm also bitter because today i accidentally ate the second bit of meat i've had in 9 years, and the first was an honest mistake of an egg roll at a chinese buffet in oklahoma. lord, that shit was nasty. last time i go to that pupusa stand, even if they have the pupusas with the mysterious loroco flower. thank goodness there's a plan B, even if i have to ride the train to get there.

p.s., for anyone who ever walks down 9th street between smith & court street. my over/under for the stoner MORON who keeps his bong collection in the window, for all to see, on going to jail is 2 years. any takers? he/she has had it up there for at least 1 year already. how the NYPD hasn't noticed this, with the requisite black light/red light bulb back lighting, well it's beyond me. they must have bigger fish to fry.

dispatch from the jordan brand classic

so, these 2 kids in the middle of this picture, the twin brothers, are trouble. they're headed to the University of Kansas, and they're not like the collins brothers or those 2 twins who were on that one Valpo team that made it to the sweet sixteen. these kids can seriously play, and for my money were the stars of the whopping 7 solid hours of basketball that i sat through on saturday at the jordan brand classic. 15 bucks buys you a pretty solid day of entertainment, and i was totally disappointed for about 4 minutes that they were not serving beer at the garden. in reality, i figured, a day of drinking super expensive game day beer at Madison Square Garden really leaves a lot to be desired, and i'd get bored with the games and become more interested in drinking more beer, and i'd just leave without watching the game, and what's the point in that? i got my drinkin' done later, anyway, cheaply and efficiently at the Holland Bar, in a scene that resembled the middle section of LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out." It went a little something like this..."DAMAGE" huh "DAMAGE" Huh "DAMAGE" HUH! HUH! HUH!, and then i'm stumbling towards the train a mere 1 hour later. Okay, points of interest from the JBC (you want the recap, check here.)

1. never in a million years, and i've been to MSG a few times now, but never in a million years would i have guessed that among the retired numbers of Messier & Reed & Frazier, hang the retired/celebratory numbers of Billy Joel and Elton John. thanks, international all star game! your combination of balanced scoring and sound fundamental basketball led my eyes to wander, and a productive wandering at that. i spotted the sweet lower level seat that i occupied for the rest of the 5 hours i was there during that game.

2. the morris twins can roll, dude. they're gonna be like snakes in the grass for big XII foes for the next 2-4 years. my initial reason for attending the JBC was to see willie warren play, hoping he'll be the next savior of oklahoma basketball. now, i'm hoping he's also our own little riki tiki tavi.

3. willie warren was wholly underwhelming. sad to say it, and those all star games are all about dunks & 3's, but he mostly just turned the ball over & threw up ugly shots. he wasn't really the star of the show, though, that kid was Brandon Jennings. Bill Simmons has a typically brilliant idea called the "All-Shootaround Team." we all know this kid/guy, NBA he's huge and athletic & canning 3's all over the floor. college kid is tiny and white and hitting NBA 3s with his eyes closed, like 20 in a row. well, for my money, Brandon Jennings is a scrub for the All-Shootaround team. Every single time in shootaround, he goes up for a spectacular between the legs 180 dunk...and every time blows it. Never actually successfully dunks the ball. For my money, his game is all sizzle, no steak, but he can really toss up an alley oop. big deal.

4. in shootaround, while checking B. Jennings, i was drawn to his haircut, which was more bell biv devoe than i've seen in years. and, in an incredible moment of synchronicity, who comes out to sing the national anthem, but Boys II Men.

5. pre-game, the crowd becomes astir. someone real famous is here, i can tell, much more famous than ron harper, who has been roaming the sidelines chatting. no, the buzz is "it's jordan! it's jordan!" sure enough, it was michael jordan. he was only maybe 7 rows down from me, and about 3 sections, so i had a pretty clear view. everyone was kind of electrified by his presence, and i found myself staring at the back of what might be the most famous bald head in the history of bald heads (who else? buddha? atlas? Mr. Monopoly? Mr. Clean?). i always hated jordan when he played, and rooted for whoever was playing against the bulls in the finals, including a few pride swallowing years rooting for the lakers and the Utah Jazz. however, i kind of wanted to thank him. it has been a long time since there was any sort of real, exciting basketball in a building that jordan himself calls the Mecca of basketball. it was nice of him to bring it back, even if just for a night.

Ideologies from the Jersey shore

This weekend I went out to spend the weekend at the Jersey shore. Nice weekend, relaxing and a fun new travel destination. While waiting for the train to take us back to NY, we stopped into a small coffee shop and I spotted a copy of the newest issue of The Rag, a local arts publication for artists & music types, you might already know which issue i mean. The one with local tattoo artists from A New Empyre on the cover. Inside, I found a treatise on the state of artistic expression in the Bradley Beach/Asbury Park/Neptune City/Belmar area that is simply impossible to ignore. Delivered by by local singer/songwriter Scott Thomas Webster, I felt implored to share his message with any and all willing to listen. So, this column is reprinted without permission, but you can see a copy of the actual article at his myspace page.


Rebelling Against Tyranny Is Obedience To The Soul by Scott Thomas Webster

Hello everybody, I'm Scott Thomas Webster and I'm here this time to create an uproar. That's right - I'm throwing off the gloves and getting controversial. I'm an unconventional singer/songwriter that has a lot of passion and it burns like gasoline. I'm tired of feeling silenced and possibly not taken serious because I'm the "young guy." So I'm calling you out!

Haven't you musicians realized the DJ's are cunningly taking away the artistic soul and art of creation? Trust me. Businesses and DJ's are getting away with MURDER on this! Honestly, from a business point of view, if I ran a club or restaurant, I would hire a DJ as well. Let's see...it's cheaper to hire some monkey behind a spin board than pay an entire live act. The monkey would end up playing all those songs that are already hits, which in turn would make all the customers happy so they'll keep buying drinks. There would be lack of complaints because the monkey can spin any disc in order to reach all different kinds of people. MURDER! It's very clever, though. I tall you what...it's a little secret...I'm not a businessman in some cheapass suit. I'm an artist.

So what can we do? What I have been noticing is that people, even our middle age generation, are tired of hearing the same crap. Hell, how much of the Hawk can we listen to? I'm tired of the same old song and dance. Aren't you? HA! Anyway, Donnie G (publisher of this magazine) offers plenty of venues in this newspaper that support the arts and creativity of uprising musician s such as myself - take a look. Like I said, I'm just stirring it up right now. My first punch goes to you DJ's!

Here comes a left hook. Ever since that soap bopper, reality TV series, sludge factory American Idol started; karaoke is now taking the spotlight. From a business point of view, that's not a bad idea. Hmmm, like I said before...it's cheaper to hire a karaoke crew than to pay live acts. The best part of this is the customers can participate, which is a beautiful thing at times because there are some fabulous singers that want to get their chance and can't make it to those corporate whores of American Idol. I do support karaoke to an extent. I can't help but to get discouraged at moments, because some drunken buffoon that can't sing thinks he/she could be the next Taylor Hicks. That's when I sit down and think...my hats off to you, because I see more of that than the real deal singers. On a serious note, I wish the best for all of you singers putting yourself out there and shooting for your dream. Write some poetry and get a band. Take charge if you have the talent. YOU DESERVE TO GET PAID! Not some karaoke junkie. WHAAMMM! I hope that didn't "hurt" too much!

Now, I'm a rebellious fighter and us musicians want success in what we strive for, correct? Good, glad we're on the same page. So this is what we do. LET'S THINK POSITIVE! We need to start a fire before we can keep warm. So get all your material together and try to keep it within 3 minutes. The average person's attention span is probably around 30 seconds. People easily get sidetracked when they are presented with something they have never heard before or simply isn't catchy. I am guilty of this. Next, MySpace offers free unlimited access to whatever we want! Create a music page - I can't stress that enough! That guy Tom is presenting us with a gift. Let's run with it! In today's world, it's death to the record. Technology is surpassing the music business. Don't sign a contract right now; you'll get chewed up and spit out faster than a stale piece of gum. You want to make it big? Build a fanbase and don't be biased to other artists. You must create a crowd that won't be silenced. Be prepared to feel delusional before professional. This doesn't happen overnight, and I'm still learning as well. I'm the "young guy..." What do I know? I've taken many punches, but I'm still going, even when I starved and slept in piss. I hope you're feeling fancy!

I have so much more to say so if you have comments, suggestions, or want to throw a punch at me...reach me at www.myspace.com/ScottTwebster or at ScottTwebster@yahoo.com.