drewprops.com » Atlanta

Where Is Dragon*Con?

drew — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 04:24:34 +0000

I understand that my pals The Cardboard Troopers had a wild time this past weekend. They arrived in Atlanta for the 2009 edition of Dragon*Con, but they couldn’t actually seem to find a trace of the convention and the hotel people kept looking at them funny. I sure hope that they come back for the 10:00am parade on Saturday, they always seem to enjoy that.

Which reminds me that last month the Fall issue of the Georgia Tech Alumni Magazine hit the stands and I was simultaneously delighted (97%) and mortified (3%) to read the article about me that staff writer Van Jensen composed after we met prior to my surgery this summer. Entitled “How Did That NERD on the Left Become That PIRATE on the Right?“, the article does a really nice job of catching people up with the kid who won the Batman contest back in the 80s… and the second page features a certain cardboard trooper standing in front of a line of “real” troopers at Dragon*Con.

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My Heart Will Go Metallica

drew — Fri, 10 Apr 2009 00:06:15 +0000

I’m a huge Tongo Hiti nerd and can’t wait to stop typing this entry and drive down to the Atlanta Trader Vic’s to see them perform live and in person…. the video posted here is from last Thursday night and it’s *amazing*….. I’ve personally watched this thing 40 times and I’m sure I’ll watch it 40 more…. totally mesmerizing…. your journey begins with the powerful beauty of Celine Dion and ends in dark majesty. Sit back and enjoy Tongo Hiti at the Atlanta Trader Vic’s as they weave the most magical performance ever seen on YouTube at this particular time of the day (or night)….

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Steppin’ Out with Tongo Hiti

drew — Mon, 06 Apr 2009 14:12:49 +0000

Last Thursday I met up with some people at Trader Vic’s for Mai Tai Thursday and a dosh of the ultra-hawaiian courtesy of Tongo Hiti. This time around I shot a bunch of great videos, including this mellow island version of Joe Jackson’s hit “Steppin’ Out”. Enjoy!

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Let the Sun Soak Through

drew — Tue, 02 Sep 2008 21:41:22 +0000

Here’s a wonderful short film shot and edited by our pal and sci-fi fan/collector “SexyBeast“, documenting the misadventures of the cardboard troopers at Dragon*Con in downtown Atlanta, from sexy girls to maddening fights over our cardboard Dawn costume. The whole time he was shooting this video SexyBeast kept telling everyone “Hey, have fun!!”. Looking back at it, maybe we did. I especially like his choice of Human Highway’s song “All Day” playing in the background… and after reading the review of it over at SoundCheckMagazine.com I have to say that it *perfectly* fits the style of the troopers… especially the last word in the following quote from that review:

“All Day”, the album’s second track, dismantles the same sunny attitude that “The Sound” tries to establish. At first, Jimmy Buffett-esque lyrics backed by a strumming acoustic guitar and light percussion suggest the simple, trite pleasures of a lazy afternoon on the beach with your best girl: “All day, all day/Got no worries, let the days waste away/Let the sun soak through/And do what we want to do”. Unfortunately, there’s no best girl around, and spending a lazy afternoon on the beach with your slacker friends can be pretty fucking boring. At the end of the day, what has been accomplished? “So it’s through/It’s all over, and what did we do?/We walked around in a daze, looking for food”. “All Day” introduces Moody Motorcycle’s central motif: failure.

Yes.
No best girls with us, only Fail.
Funny, funny, fail.

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Trailer Trashed Book Reception

drew — Wed, 13 Aug 2008 22:55:34 +0000

Hollis, I am so sorry…. I didn’t buy a copy of your book “Trailer Trashed” this past Tuesday at your big premiere at Paris on Ponce. When I texted you earlier in the day to ask if you needed help at the event I never believed that you’d actually need it, but I was only too glad to help out. Now you need to know that by the time I got there, Shane and Grant and Lary and your other friends had already dressed the outside of the building and organized the inside… I mean, it seemed like everything was practically done already. But, at some point I realized that I wasn’t dressed thematically enough for the occasion… I mean!! I was wearing a PiratePalooza™ T-shirt and jeans; arguably an appropriate trailer park outfit, but not as instantly recognizable as the mechanic shirts and wifebeaters walking around the place.

But, when that first girl walked up… the sexy, leggy asian-american girl, something stirred deep within my… soul, and an exaggerated southside Atlanta accent slid right out. I don’t know if I actually told her that she was hot (she was), but there were plenty of women I said that to all night. Oh, it came sweet as honey right out of my mouth when I talked to your lady fans. In fact, at some point during the night I could hardly even understand myself. The interplay between consonants and vowels mixed in a heady rush, twisting and tumbling out of my mouth.

You can hear a cartoon sample of my accent in my 2006 animated Christmas card at this link.

I don’t think it took me more than five minutes to transform Grant’s punch, a mix of hooch and cheap grocery store fruit juice in jugs…. you know, that stuff you wanted me to call “Pink Flamingo Punch”, into a far more sublime drink I simply referred to as “BIRD” (in all capitals, as that’s how I said it to your fans…. loud, crisp, and hard). And I think they liked it. Pretty soon, as the beer went away, my line for BIRD kept going and going and going (after an emergency refill from Grant and then Lary).

Whether they knew it or not, I gauged the people ordering BIRD by their reaction to my accent. Some, like the stiff grey-haired dickhead who acted like he was too good to be there, received gentle hick-tinged banter and a wave of mental piss. Others, like that leggy asian american, got the special “deep pour”. When someone acted hesitant about the drink, I’d tell them it was smooth. When others would give indications that they might come around every two minutes, I told them it was really strong. That tub lasted SO LONG I started to consider it some special miracle of debauchery punch; your pal Grant’s version of fish & loaves of bread.

At one point, as you took the stage, Grant appeared most nervous and turned to order a BIRD, then another, then another…. and still the stuff lasted.

I still had time to flirt like a redneck with a bunch of your Buckhead Betties…. I don’t know if they appreciated the “YUUUUR HAHHHT” come-on I was using, but I racked up $86 bucks in my tip jar… and then after emptying it again I pulled in another 20 or more.

At the end of the night your friend pouring the beer suggested that we donate the money to the guys for their effort, as we’d not volunteered to make money. So we held out $24 each, so that we could buy a book. By that time I really needed to leave, so I ran in to find you surrounded by an ENG crew, I hugged your neck and darted away.

If you were befuddled as to why I said “Hey Hollis, I gots to GO!!!” to you in a redneck twang, it’s because I was still in my southside mode.

And it was fun.
And there were TV cameras around.

So.
What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t buy a book.
But I did discover that I have the talent to be a very rich bartender.
Srsly.

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Chipper Jones’ 400th Career Homerun

drew — Sat, 07 Jun 2008 03:19:53 +0000

Thanks to my friends Chele and Kevin “Captain Danger” Snow, I was witness to Chipper Jones’ 400th career homerun this past Thursday night at Turner Field, near downtown Atlanta. The sad part is, I didn’t realize that Chipper was up for his 400th HR, so I didn’t get my camera out until he was around 3rd base, headed for home.

And while it has nothing to do with this post, I’d like to remind you that today marks the anniversary of D-Day.

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Tornado Damage to GWCC!

drew — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 00:57:25 +0000

On our way to the hockey game on Tuesday evening we passed by the Georgia World Congress Center, which was hammered by the tornado that plowed through downtown back in March. Looking like the sort of modern architecture rarely executed in Atlanta, this video shows how the west wall of the building is virtually sheathed in a layer of plywood. Counting the filled-in panes it looks like there could easily be more than 500 pieces of glass to be replaced on just the west side of this, Atlanta’s largest convention center. Near the end of the video you can see some of the damage to the towers downtown. Amazing!

Update: For those who might be worried, I was a backseat passenger when I shot this video.

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Hosket Redux

drew — Fri, 04 Apr 2008 00:00:28 +0000

This past Tuesday, April 1st, I returned to Philips Arena with the Sharps to thrill again to the fantastic game of hockey. As I detailed in my post of May 25th, the hockey girls use big scoops to collect shaved ice from the rink. While I haven’t figured out exactly where it goes yet, I have managed to capture video of the game itself!

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Not an Artist? It Doesn’t Matter Anymore

drew — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 01:29:47 +0000

Dear Bauder College,
Thank you for your interest in the field of Graphic Design. I found your newest television commercial, in which a representative for your school cheerfully proclaims “Not an artist? It doesn’t matter anymore!”, to be particularly exciting as it helped prove a point that I’ve long been trying to convey to my colleagues in the arts. The reason I’m writing this open letter to you is to express my happiness that you’ve had the guts to take a Post-Modern leadership position on what makes a person an artist. Thank you for stating unequivocally, as an institution of higher learning, that sophisticated graphics software has finally reached a state that eliminates the requirement that the operator have even a passing knowledge of the fundamentals of art assembled over the entirety of human history.

I always knew that stuff was bunk.

Sure, I still worry that there are a few holdouts in the education community who believe that artistic talent is an inherent ability that (when nurtured and encouraged) can produce sublime works able to touch the soul and elevate the human condition. But, with Adobe’s announcement of a free online version of Photoshop, I’m fairly positive that those old education crustaceans will be ferreted out of hiding soon enough, to be exposed to the heavy heel of Bauder College’s new catchphrase! Silly old sods, couldn’t they see this coming?

It’s past time that an accredited 4-year community college had the guts to step forward and lead the world into that bright, gauzy future where anyone can be anything they want to be, as long as they have the right software loaded on their computer (you know, like in that movie ‘The Matrix’?). Haven’t we learned by now that it’s “not what you know, it’s what your computer knows” that’s important?

I surely have.

The man who sold me my first Macintosh-style computer told me that it was “insanely great*” and that it would let me “create professional graphic design right out of the box”. Oh boy was that guy right! It took me awhile (probably ten years or more) but because of that software I can proudly say that I earn my living today as a Designer (with a capital ‘D’).

I love all the automatic things in today’s software, like Photoshop’s “make me look younger” button and Illustrator’s “make the chart look more professional” button and PowerPoint’s” can you please help me fix this slide because my team needs to walk out the door with this presentation in five minutes and I have no idea what I’m doing” button. These things make me look like a champ every time and I *love* it!! Oh… and where would I be without CSSEdit’s “figure out how the box model for IE works and make my site do it correctly because I have no idea how to do it” button?

I want to MARRY that button!!

But then I’m just a hopelessly lazy romantic.
Software buttons are amazing.

Truth be told, it’s entirely because of all the sophisticated software installed on my Macintosh-style computer that I’m as important as I am now… and I’m pretty sure that I might in fact be even more important…. if I can get the software.

I mean, come on!!
The software is out there, it’s just a matter of finding it and loading it onto my Macintosh-style computer.

Looking through all the available software makes me realize that my career options are boundless!!

Airline Pilot
While I’m pretty certain that I could become a darned good pilot with some flight sims I just don’t have the patience to sit through all that instrument crap. Pilots have a button for that stuff, right? I like the hours they work and all the stewardess sex they say they have, and even though they whine a lot, how bad could it be driving a bus through the sky to Paris? PARIS!! I hear that some airlines in the Midwest even let their pilots drink when they’re working… how cool would that be? You know, if someone would send me a Space Shuttle simulator that runs on my Macintosh-style computer I might even pursue my 6th grade dream of being an astronaut. I’m telling you I’d *love* wearing an astronaut jacket and pushing all those “space buttons” they have. If learning some software is the price I must pay to earn my flight wings then I’m up to the challenge… reporting for duty sir!

Billionaire Warlord
My growing familiarity with Microsoft Excel has already made me consider whether I might ought to put in a resume for Chairman of the Federal Reserve, though I feel that Donald Trump is truly looking for a trustworthy disciple to carry forth his good work. I feel that I must be able to work Excel better than The Donald, which really makes me feel that he should be replaced quickly, to protect the investors who back his endeavors. (Can anyone point me toward the “keep my hair from looking like a deceased (but randy) wombat” button in Excel??)

Legendary Director
By mid-summer I’m hoping to have signed a significant motion picture deal as my Macintosh-style computer has both iMovie and Final Cut Express installed on it. Some of you may already be fans of my films. Best of all is the “pull the clips into a final edit” button. It requires no understanding of storytelling whatsoever. See?

Writer
I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m already off to a great start in this world where software, not talent, is what counts. Consider this very WordPress blog (the one you’re reading right now) for instance. Its many features and user-definable options make writing effortless… for instance, at this very moment I’m down at the local pizza parlor drinking a beer, yet this article is indefinably compelling and vaguely humorous. Cool, huh? I’m pretty sure it’s from all the plug-ins I’ve installed.

So, in conclusion (my software is running out of wind), let me salute the leaders at Bauder College; a place of vision. A college whose leaders recognize that we live in new and exciting times where software does everything.

Where no one individual’s talents are encouraged or celebrated…. wish we’d had this stuff at my alma mater, Georgia Tech. Sheesh, that would’ve been awfully darn handy!

But THANKS Bauder.
Thanks for joining me to stand up with a little straight talk about the future.

I’ll certainly think of your television advertisement the next time one of your students sends me their resume!

Your pal,
Drew

* a favorite saying of a computer company guy named Steve Jobs, who (as I understand it) sells computers that already let you do foolproof graphic design

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I Love Hosket!!!1

drew — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 23:15:25 +0000

Up until about a month ago I’d never been to a hockey game in my life. I knew nothing of the sport other than that it was loud, cold, involved the consumption of copious amounts of beer and often involved bench clearing brawls. Sure, I’ve ice skated a few times in my life and I’ve owned an official team jersey for going on two years, but that’s just because I spilled ice cream all over my shirt at an arena football game and decided that the Atlanta Thrashers jersey was the best looking option in CNN Center (a decision greatly aided by beer). But nothing had prepared me for the electric thrill of this game. Finally, thanks to my friends Lisa and Lawrence Sharp, I have a much broader, more comprehensive understanding of the complexities of the sport. For instance, the hockey girls in the blue sweaters and miniskirts only come onto the ice every twenty minutes.

Working in teams of two, these hockey girls have 10 minutes to field strip and repair a set of “fishnet hampers” on either end of the ice rink, racing to solidify the anchors that hold theose hampers in place, using water-filled Hudson sprayers and turkey basters (I love that part). Between their tight sweaters and their tiny skirts, these athletes possess an unparalleled range of motion, allowing them to: squat, bending way over, arch their backs and so on. It’s a rigorous sport made all the more challenging by the cold, their lack of bras, and the ringing shouts of “Please just take it off, baby!!”*

New to the game, I’ve yet to learn the makeup of your basic hockey girl but I feel safe in making the assertion that all these ladies are the tops in their game because their speed and agility at fishnet hamper repair almost always results in a photo finish between teams. And there’s never any bad sportsmanship when one team finishes ahead of the other. There are a lot of team sports out there that could learn a thing or two from these ladies and their Olympic level net repairs.

But, more about the game.

In hockey, the interval between these fishnet hamper repairs is referred to as a “period”.

I don’t know if this “period” thing has anything to do with menstruation, but I’m hoping it doesn’t because that’s a detail I do not wish to know about these hockey girls in blue sweaters and miniskirts. There are many things that I would like to know about these girls but, mysteriously, the announcer never goes into much detail about them. Instead, he shouts a running list of what could only be character names from Dostoevsky’s famous work ‘The Brothers Karamazov’.

It’s all so confusing.

“Pavlovich!!!” he shouts.

“Penalty, Smerdyakov!” he smugly croons.

“Hat Trick Kovalchuk!!” he sneezes.

All the while, those brave little girls watch and wait for the game to resume.

Apparently, the hockey girls get extra points for the collection of ice from around the nets, which they’re allowed to gather during certain moments during those “periods” I mentioned earlier. This part of hockey is always fun because the hockey girls use really big snow shovels, requiring them to bend over a lot (which requires a lot of skill on ice skates). I’ve heard that the hockey girls use this ice in snow cones somewhere around portal 126 but so far I’ve been unable to find that booth.

All things considered, I’ve become a big fan of hockey, though I now prefer to call it “hosket” after having returned from a game and trying to type a message about said game to a group of friends (after downing a particularly tall can of Canadian beer). If anyone knows where you can buy team equipment, I’d be interested in getting one of those little blue sweaters mounted.

And signed.

* note: Due to an arrangement with the Thrashers organization I no longer shout this. I shout “What IF you took it off baby??!!” (Thanks also to Chuck Burleson for the great seats last week)

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Sunday Paper : Readers’ Choice Awards 2007

drew — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 19:04:15 +0000

A friend just emailed me a link to The Sunday Paper’s website where they’re asking for nominations for their “Best of Atlanta” awards. You can click here to go to their poll (a link which is certain to stop working a month or so after this is posted), or you can continue reading to see how I voted. Notice that I left blanks for places I didn’t have opinions. How would YOU vote? Post your picks in the comments section~

1. Best local celebrity
Captain Drew (PiratePalooza.com) – I wish I was as cool as him, oh… wait…

2. Best local celebrity you love to hate
Cynthia McKinney – There should be a channel for her, she’s like a real-life sitcom

3. Best TV newscast
WSB-TV

4. Best TV news personality
Flip Spiceland

5. Best radio station
WSB Radio

6. Best drive-time morning show
The Regular Guys (yes, I *know* they’re off the air… I’m just sayin’ is all…)

7. Best radio DJ

8. Best talk radio show
Neal Boortz

9. Best arts festival
Decatur

10. Best music festival
Roguefest

11. Best film festival
Dragon*Con’s film festival

12. Best improv group
Dad’s Garage

13. Best theater company

14. Best local playwright

15. Best local theater director

16. Best local male actor – film or theater

17. Best local female actor – film or theater

18. Best local filmmaker
Dan Bush

19. Best local movie star

20. Best movie theater

21. Best dance company

22. Best concert venue

23. Best karaoke bar

24. Best comedy club

25. Best local musician/music group
Kingsized

26. Best local musician – with the biggest ego
Strong Bad (keep it rolling)

27. Best local music producer

28. Best local record label

29. Best jukebox
The Angel (pub) has Star Wars on theirs and will play your iPod for you if you’re cool

30. Best pool hall

31. Best museum

32. Best museum you’ve never heard of
Museum of Patriotism (on Spring Street) – as long as people are people, tribalism is here to stay

33. Best art gallery
Boswell Gallery

34. Best local attraction

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Serenbe Is Real!

drew — Sun, 21 Jan 2007 02:39:10 +0000

Note to Charles Brewer: I visited Serenbe today, had my cake (actually a chocolate chip cookie) and ate it too. Dude, I told you it could be done.

By the late 1990’s I was splitting my time pretty evenly between feature film production and architectural design, bouncing between both fields as demand (or lack thereof) required. I derived a great deal of pleasure from working with movie stars but every so often the architectural work tossed up an unexpected plum, based entirely upon the never-ending connections of Laura Heery.

Laura’s ardor for New Urbanism and Smart Growth drew her into circles with scholars, advocates and luminaries from those communities and we soon grew familiar with running into people like Andres Duany in the hallway. Every so often we’d be whisked off to some spot around Atlanta to participate in design charettes for planned communities on the outskirts of Atlanta.

One of those charettes took place in the conference room of a bed and breakfast named Serenbe, outside of the sleepy rural community of Palmetto, 25 miles southwest of Atlanta. Laura invited me and fellow Tech classmate Magnus Nilsson to join her on a Saturday with the owners of Serenbe, Marie and Steve Nygren, who told us the story of Serenbe and shared their vision for the many hundreds of acres they hoped to develop into a series of adjoining communities, villages really, that would respond to their own vision of an agrarian oasis outside the hustle and bustle of the increasing urbanization of Atlanta and its surrounding exurbs.

Leading the charette was a professor from a school out west, possibly from Washington State (Laura, can you remember his name?). Also in attendance was businessman Charles Brewer, who was in the midst of moving from internet megastar to real estate developer. Over the course of the day we broke into teams, developing the character of individual village clusters; their individual characteristics, the way they related to the other villages, how they’d be affected by the nuances of landscape and geography, their construction types and their amenities.

It was great fun, good concepting sessions are a delight.

At one point I expressed to the group how I, as a theoretical resident of the outlying enclaves of this new “town”, would want the “downtown” portion of the project to provide me with elements like a bookstore and an art gallery and most importantly a coffee shop. Charles, who was exhausted from tending to two sick children the previous evening, seemed surprised and perhaps a little irritated at my desire to have retail establishments in my community and he exclaimed “But the whole reason for moving way out here is to get away from those things, why would you want that stuff way out here?” to which I replied “I want to have my cake and eat it too”.

And it’s true, isn’t it? Regardless of how far out a citified person moves into the country, he’s going to miss the certain aspects of his life in a bigger metropolis: things like a good coffee house, an art gallery, a bookstore. The little delights.

Over the years since that charette I put Serenbe out of mind because I never honestly expected it to happen. When Steve took us for a ride out across the property to experience the rise and fall of the land, to better understand this place we were imagining, I failed to believe that such a development could be created. Then about a month ago Todd Sayre (of my cardboard squadron) mentioned a self-sustaining community called ‘Serenbe’ to me. It was a great surprise to hear him mention that name. It was a faraway and mostly forgotten place in my mind. It was an even greater astonishment to find out that the villages were actually out of the ground and beginning to be occupied.

So today, deep in the throes pondering where I can afford to buy (or build) a house around Atlanta, I hopped into my older car and went to discover the reality of a built Serenbe.

Tucked away in the bosom of the Chattahoochee Hill Country Conservancy, the first thing you see when you arrive at the new Serenbe community (via Selborne Lane) is a large, handsome building that I first mistook to be a community center or possibly a very unusual school.

It turns out that it’s a very nice community stable. A market is slated to go up across from the stable one day, according to the PDF masterplan on Serenbe’s website.

Moving deeper into the development, you begin to encounter trails that cross the road along raised speed bumps. A cluster of cottage homes is the first sign of residences and honestly looked no different to me than other upscale communities that I’ve been through in the past. But, as you follow Selborne Lane down and around the snaking road you arrive at an avenue of homes that were strangely reminiscent of the town of Spectre, from the film “Big Fish“. It would be interesting to get some of you who worked on that show to visit that part of Serenbe to see if it reminds you of that set (since you created the ‘real’ Spectre).

At the end of Serenbe’s ‘Spectre’ the road takes a hairpin curve and begins to climb. I noted an art gallery and with heightened excitement, a shop called the Blue-Eyed Daisy Bakeshop. The streets were quiet and I continued driving, hoping to see something that would orient me to the empty woods and landing strip from our brief tour from that long-ago charette.

Cresting the hill I was surprised to see the asphalt run out into a dirt road leading across a field. Just beyond was a little pond that looked very familiar. Ahead of me a car crossed the dam and pulled to the side of the road, a woman and children piling out to call a friendly grazing horse over to see them. A bearded goat bounded along beside me. Then I saw it, beyond the horse, over the hill…. Serenbe, the bed and breakfast. I continued to the top of the hill then turned around to drive back to their new community. The Nygrens wouldn’t remember me, and I certainly couldn’t afford to buy a place in their growing city, it was time to go home.

Before I left I pulled up to the curb outside the ‘Daisy in my old beater (why didn’t I at least drive my nice Accord??). Stepping inside, I ordered a mocha and a chocolate chip cookie. I greeted an older couple who were probably residents, and I wondered how out of place I looked.

With fancy coffee and cookie in hand I stepped outside and walked past another couple people who might have been the Havertys, co-founders along with the Nygrens. I’m pretty sure the man was wondering who was driving that little scooter in their town, the way he was looking at my car.

But I didn’t care: I was sipping my coffee and eating my cake.

What d’you think about that, Chuck?

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Birthday Cortege

drew — Sun, 24 Dec 2006 15:21:13 +0000

I’d like to thank the Cirque du Soleil for bringing “Corteo” to Atlanta’s Atlantic Station this month. I needed a good birthday present for my Mom and your fantastic show arrived in the nick of time.

It’s infinitely satisfying to see someone in their 70’s displaying more unrestrained enthusiasm than the entirity of that night’s audience. Unabashed, she alternated between whoops, guffaws and woofs straight out of Arsenio’s Dogpound, bouncing to the music and clapping in (and out of) time with the music – practically roaring along with the show from our spot four or five rows back from centerstage.

More than once she surged to the front of her seat and I was convinced she was prepared to clamber over the few rows people sitting in front of her to make her way onstage, ready to ride giant steel rings around the stage, bounce high in the air on bed-like trampolines or swing out over the audience from beautiful candle-lit chandeliers.

It was the kind of response that every performance artist says they love and I hope that a few of the performers noticed her giving them a sly point with her finger, indicating that they were tops in her book. I feel as if I got to watch two shows at the same time, and so (no doubt) did the people sitting around us.

As Corteo’s tiniest acrobat, Valentyna Pahlevanyan, floated over our heads underneath a cloud of transparent balloons, Momma leaned over and whispered “Is she an elf??” I think she meant to ask if the lady was a dwarf, but was so tickled at the question that I confirmed that yes, she was indeed an elf.

“You bet she is Momma, a Christmas elf. Happy Birthday!”

[tags]corteo, cirque, cirque du soleil, cirk, sirk, doo, solay, circus olay, atlanta, performance, artists, clown, dead clown, chandeliers, beds, trampoline, birthday[/tags]

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Clear Channel Coup

drew — Wed, 22 Nov 2006 17:43:21 +0000

I work in the same building as all of the Clear Channel radio stations (AM640 WGST, 96 Rock, Peach 94.9, Viva, etc). A few weeks ago they fired the morning DJs on 96Rock and a week or so later they flat out changed the format of the station, jettisoning its name and re-badging it as “Project 9-6-1“, a faceless jukebox station with no local flavor.

What happened over at 96Rock was just a warmup though!
The other shoe dropped yesterday.

Clear Channel fired AM640 WGST’s longtime morning host Tom Hughes, as well as Kim “The Kimmer” Peterson and most all of their other daytime DJ’s. They’re consolidating back toward a handful of syndicated shows out of cities up north, with very little Atlanta programming whatsoever.

This is happening at their other stations around the country.

I’d read about the controversy surrounding Clear Channel’s growing monopoly and shrinking concern for local programming, and I’ve seen the Frontline special on PBS on how small homegrown radio stations in New Orleans took care of the city when Clear Channel wouldn’t, but I never expected this to happen in a market the size of Atlanta. I have no idea why I though we’d be immune.

I don’t know if this is a direct result of the competition between satellite radio and traditional terrestrial radio but it’s very troubling to see a sea change of this magnitude with no explanation, executed in the cool, clinical style of corporate dismissals; fans of the shows denied any sort of closure with the hosts of the programs.

Without a doubt this is tied to the recent $18.7 Billion acquisition of Clear Channel Communications by Thomas H. Lee Partners LP and Bain Capital Partners LLC whose regulatory filing assured the FCC that they didn’t “expect any senior management changes or significant layoffs.”

Right.

While the deal is expected to take as long as a year to gain approval and selloffs of smaller stations is anticipated, I suspect that Clear Channel has agreed to make the way easier for the investors with pre-approval broom-outs of stations like WGST and 96Rock.

If you’re an on-air talent at a Clear Channel station anywhere in the United States I’d start talking to your colleagues in other markets because you may have the potential for one Mother of a class action lawsuit if any of these firings is in any way illegal. The firing of the 96Rock DJs is beginning to look pretty fishy in the light of these new happenings. I smell setup.

Meanwhile, back at the dial, the rest of us have to figure out what we’re going to do with shrinking coverage of our local markets from terrestrial radio. Our big rush to satellite radio has painted us into a tricky corner.

[tags]clear channel communications, clear channel, clear, channel, 96rock, larry, eric, regularguys, regular, guys, kimmer, kim peterson, tom hughes, radio, fired, FCC, monopoly, sale, investors, lawsuit[/tags]

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There They Go Again

drew — Tue, 24 Oct 2006 05:19:02 +0000

I hope it isn’t true but I just found out that the guys who host Atlanta’s 96Rock morning radio show “The Regular Guys” (Larry Wachs and Eric Von Haessler) may have had their show cancelled for the second time in two years and I’m not very happy about it. The occasion of their first dismissal was due to FCC fine-attracting audio, sloppy engineering and the lack (or patent misuse) of a tape delay. Their employers, the increasingly-loathed Clear Channel Communications, kept them off the air for over a year. Upon the duo’s return, much of the foundations of their original Atlanta format had been pruned back severely: several (arguably) popular sidekicks had been jettisoned, lost to other timeslots or hauled away in the dumpster. The occasion of this second dismissal is so asinine that I can’t believe it isn’t a publicity stunt (if only it were).

DJ Larry Wachs’ explains the circumstances of the dismissal in his blog on the group’s website. Essentially, the disc jockeys “Yogi and Panda” of a sister Spanish language station in the same building have sued Wachs and Von Haessler for “unspecified damages” for taping them sitting in adjacent restroom stalls sharing good conversation and even better bowel movements. I didn’t hear the piece on The Regular Guys’ show, but one of the citations in the lawsuit is that the “KLS wake up guys allegedly made on-air statements about the Viva 105.7 hosts sexual orientation, race and nationality”.

May I explain something?

The actions of the Regular Guys (Larry) in taping the other DJs is what, in the biz, we would call “high spirited hijincks” and “zany antics” and evidence of the existence of a “good natured rivalry” and a whole lot of other things that mean that any conflict they have should be kept in the public eye for as long as possible because it is the perfect set-up for bringing even more listeners in to hear their shows. Professional wrestlers laugh all the way to the bank, arm in arm with the guy that pounded them into pulp.

People love controversy more than peanut butter.

Yogi? Panda? If your contracts don’t scale with your listener-base then I will have to begin to list my esteem for you in imaginary numbers because Cartesian math isn’t big enough to contain your supreme idiocy and (obviously) fragile egos. Any Morning Drive Time DJ worth his salt loves a good dust-up with a rival.

My friend Daniel, who is from Mexico City, explained to me in no uncertain terms that Yogi and Panda are “nasty” and “not worth listening to”, to which I would add “shortsighted”, “petty” and “way too afraid of being called gay not to actually be gay”.

Controversy means ratings. Ratings mean bigger houses, fancier bathrooms in which you can hold hands under the stall. Whatever, dudes. Even if you weren’t gay, it wouldn’t matter.

Clear Channel, are you completely bereft of marketing strategists?
Maybe you got rid of them when you lost your balls.

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Cardboard Stormtroopers 2006

drew — Tue, 05 Sep 2006 11:16:22 +0000

Update: Now there are videos about us on YouTube! Take a look at us in the DragonCon Parade, here’s a closer angle and here’s the news report where Alfeo and I are interviewed. Track all the new photos of our costumes on Flickr! If you’ve missed earlier posts about my cardboard robots don’t miss reading about how it all started, our 2005 box costumes, the cardboard underwear I made for a friend, and the challenge that led to this year’s hijincks.

DAY ONE
Alfeo, Elliott and I suited up in the parking garage of the downtown Atlanta Hilton on Saturday morning and headed upstairs to begin walking down to Woodruff Park. I was bitching everyone out, telling them to hurry up. That went over famously.

Exiting the elevator, I figured that the first 20 people we ran into would provide us with a good idea of how we’d be received elsewhere for the rest of the day. We were particularly worried that the “real” stormtroopers would take demonstrable umbrage at our cardboard costumes, which was never my intent.

At first people didn’t even notice us. There are lot of costumes at DragonCon and you can only see so many at once. In fact, they’re so common that you kind of stop seeing them at all after awhile, especially the stormtroopers since they all look so similar (unless you’re in the 501st and know your friends by the details and insignia of their suits). The only costumes that really grab my attention are the T&A costumes, and that’s just instinct at work.

When people DID notice us they’d be confused for a split second then they’d get a “Oh no you dih-en!” look on their face and bust out grinning. The girls especially loved us because we were “cute”… but you know that I get that a lot already.

We hit the street for a 4 or 5 block hike south to the mustering point of the parade. Consulting with Alfeo, I suggested that we take a street that runs parallel to Peachtree to avoid too many people seeing us. It was a good shake-down hike, to see what parts of our costumes wanted to fall off. As we passed two restaurant workers at a crosswalk, one of them yelled to the other “Hey James, ain’t them the boxes you threw in the dumpster?”

Good sign.

The next street down a guy whipped his car over to the curb on the opposite side of the street from us and jumped out to snap our photos. He didn’t get it right the first time so he turned and ran down his sidewalk away from us then turned to get another. Nope, not right yet. He turned, ran, then crossed the street to get over where he could get a clean shot of us as we clumped down the street toward him. At the next corner we turned and saw the crowd of parade participants and went up to join the Star Wars division.

There were a lot of smiles and helpful directions to where the real stormtroopers had gathered. Upon our arrival several people approached us for photos. Then more people. Then more.

Alfeo and Elliott had a view of the line of stormtroopers behind me and were getting antsy because the guys in the trooper uniforms looked like they were trying to decide what they thought about us. But then one of the folks (Ian) in Imperial officer’s garb walked over and put us in the proper place for people who don’t belong to any of the official fan organizations like the 501st. After that we were much more relaxed. Todd, who is ALWAYS on the lookout for the cheapest solution, had parked somewhere west of the hotel and made his way down to join us 20 minutes before the parade kicked off.

When it was finally our turn to march the route we fell into place, four abreast. As we drew near to the convention hotels the crowds grew larger, as did their response to us. I think I speak for everyone when I say that it felt like we were astronauts in a tickertape parade. Every so often we’d break into an action pose and the cameras would go crazy.

It seemed to take forever and by the time we were two thirds of the way to the end I was ready to take a break, driven on by pure adrenaline. I’m sure that’s the way it felt for EVERY person in the parade, which is what makes it so fun for everyone. The air-conditioned comfort of the hotel is a great reward to people who’ve just taken a fast half mile walk wearing heavy costumes so there were a lot of hot, happy people at the end.

Over the course of the day we were continuously met by enthusiastic reactions and by the afternoon had decided that we should sign up for the costume contest, well, at least the other guys had definitely decided. I was nervous about doing it, but led the guys down to the signup area and we were given our ribbons, a tech sheet and told when to report back on Sunday. Soon afterward we de-boxed and headed off to other appointed rounds.

Day Two
We met in the parking garage in the early evening to get dressed for our final foray into DragonCon as cardboard stormtroopers and again I was bitching at everyone to hurry up. We were already running late as we piled out of the elevator into the lobby of the Hilton and were again slowed down as people shouted for our photographs. Once you’ve been photographed a couple hundred times you learn how to hit your marks quickly so it took less than fifteen minutes to get up to the Hyatt and into the prep area for the masquerade.

Once we’d been assigned a “den mother” we settled in to wait our turn onstage. We had talked about needing some sort of choreography but we hadn’t actually planned anything. Elliott suggested that we work something up and everyone set in to arguing about what we should do, which was really silly because the entire idea BEHIND the cardboard stormtroopers was low rent. At one point we had all agreed to end our act with each trooper doing a supermodel catwalk off the stage, which was discarded when Elliott questioned it closer to show time. Being backstage with the other costume contestants was fun and chummy; one of the ladies from Netherworld came over and painted glitter polish on the gold tooth in the smile of Alfeo’s cardboard helmet.

Back in 2003 when I was nearing the conclusion of my screenplay “Love & The Dragon” I distilled the spirit of every sci-fi costume contest I’d ever attended into the finale, but only from the point of view of an audience member, since I’d never actually been a contestant. To find myself standing in the footsteps of my fictional characters was an unexpected thrill that has already started shaping this fall’s planned rewrite.

I think the reason that I was a bit nervous about doing the contest was that I didn’t want to get out there and find the experience less than what it had been in my screenplay. I didn’t want to be disillusioned about the experience and thus about the work I needed to do to the screenplay.

I shouldn’t have been so worried.

As we stood queued on a ramp just offstage, separated from the audience by a sheer black curtain, I momentarily slipped out of myself and into the world of my screenplay. Even though we couldn’t see the audience from behind the black curtain, and even if we hadn’t heard them out there laughing and clapping for the dancing hippo onstage, we could feel them out there. At that moment I understood that the film must capture the presence of a Con audience because they’re as important to a costume contest as any contestant.

And then it was time.

We began marching in place before we’d even been announced, the ramp boomed to our rhythm like a drumhead and you could feel the audience swiveling its gaze in our direction. The judges, actor Peter David and comics artist George Perez, practically did a double-take when they turned to look at us and barely choked out our act’s name.

But when those words “Cardboard Stormtroopers” did come out, the place EXPLODED!! Our reputation may have preceded us… I think our “street cred” had been established from our march in the parade.

I was too busy concentrating on trying not to screw up my portion of our rudimentary choreography so I didn’t have an opportunity to study the faces of the audience. But the cheering was incredible. Not just because it was an ego boost for four idiots running around in cardboard boxes, but because it was exactly the reaction I’d imagined for my characters when I’d written my screenplay. How many writers get to live out their own stories after they’ve been written?

I won’t know how terrible our choreography was until I get a copy of the 2006 DVD but I suspect it was pretty miserable; it’s pretty darned difficult to see out of those boxes.

We didn’t win anything, which isn’t really surprising as there wasn’t a category for Best Cardboard Characters. Still, the guys were really bummed out until we went onstage for the post-contest photo opportunity and were surrounded by a hundred people with cameras snapping their photos. I’m particularly amused at how our “anti-costumes” had become an ego trip for us in two short days, circumventing any notion that these boxes could simply be an ironic statement about the people (my people mind you) who spend so much time making costumes.

We’d been seduced by celebrity, or the nearest thing to celebrity within three city blocks of DragonCon.

Everywhere we went that night there was clapping, cheering, shouts of “You were robbed!” and endless requests for photographs (even in the restroom).

At the entrance to the Marriott Marquis we were once again marching in quickstep, box heads rattling, cardboard tubes thumping. As we emerged into full view in the crowded atrium a roar went up, echoing throughout the belly of that beautiful beast and fueling our egos far more than they deserved, but once you start it’s hard to know when to quit. It didn’t help when a guy stopped by to tell us that we’d been on the 11 o’clock news a few minutes earlier.

Todd decided to go up to the Stargate party to check out the food while the rest of us went downstairs to run around and act crazy. We rounded the corner and pulled up short, trying to decide what to do. One of the photographers spotted us and pointed to our right saying “Oh man, you’ve got to do it!” which meant that he wanted us to go and pose for him with three Darth Vaders, a couple of 501st Stormtroopers and a Darth Maul. The 20 other photographers with him quickly agreed and the crowd between us and the legitimate Star Wars costumers parted like the Red Sea.

As we stood staring at them Elliott said:
“THIS is the uncomfortable moment we were talking about.”

I tried waving at them, friendly-like. Some of them waved back and the Darth Vader (one on the left) gave me a thumbs-up, a good sign. I pointed at them, then I pointed at myself, then I pointed at them; this being the intergalactic sign for “You and Me? Get together?” for which I was rewarded with a “come on over” gesture.

The photographers were grinning from ear to ear as they snapped away. I’m fairly sure that there weren’t many people there who weren’t grinning, it was far too funny.

Ten minutes and one offer to see a woman’s breasts later, we found ourselves back upstairs on the way to a sports bar called Champions there inside the Marriott. Before we could go in we ran into a guy who inquired after our missing trooper (Todd), whereupon he spotted Todd wandering around by himself two floors below. It turns out that while Todd found lots of food in the Star-Gate party room, he couldn’t eat any of it because his box head was taped to his box body. Thus defeated, he’d come back downstairs trying to find us.

The good Samaritan turned to us, said “Stay right there by the rail” and turned back to the crowded atrium and shouted “Find the lost cardboard trooper!!” and by “shouted” I mean his voice rang up and down through the towering atrium. This wasn’t just any good Samaritan, this was Crazy Shouting Guy! Throughout the hotel people turned to look at Crazy Shouting Guy. Then he yelled louder: “Find the missing cardboard trooper!!” and pointed to the three of us.

Beside me I heard Elliott or Alfeo say “Oh, we’re going to get in trouble with Security!”

But in that same instant the people got it.

Two floors below, somebody grabbed Todd and tilted him back so he could see up to where we were (his being the only costume with the head permanently attached), whereupon our missing cardboard trooper began making his way up the two escalators separating us. With hundreds of people watching, laughing and cheering, we found ourselves suddenly cast in a bit of improv street theater by Crazy Shouting Guy!

I jumped up and down in theatrical excitement as Todd climbed the first escalator, my box helmet bouncing up and down. Suddenly inspired, I turned and lumbered around the edge of the balcony toward the top of the second escalator, past a security guy who was very likely headed around toward Crazy Shouting Guy. Seconds later I ran into Todd just as he arrived at the top. Elliott and Alfeo were close behind, slamming into us with a great big cardboard group hug. You just can’t write this stuff.

We finished up the evening with a celebratory pitcher of water just a table down from some of the folks from the show Mythbusters, none of whom I knew since I don’t have cable. Old wounds were re-opened when one of the judges from the masquerade told some of our guys that we’d been given perfect scores by some of the judges. By that time though I think that their disappointment had been tempered by the continued strong reaction of the fans and by the dawning realization that they might have, as Alfeo said, “Become a part of the legend of DragonCon.”

Which was the entire idea.

As we de-boxed ourselves back at the cars I noticed that we were all very careful to hang onto the cardboard boxes we had cavalierly discussed throwing into the recycling bin after everything was over.

It’s hard to let go of fame.

Edit: I’ve added screenshots from the Channel 46 spot that featured Alfeo and me!

This is Alfeo discussing how shallow he is.

Here I am explaining how we can repair our suits with tape:

Where Is Dragon*Con?

All Nudes Rave

drew — Tue, 11 Jul 2006 21:35:12 +0000

This past Friday I was driving toward Decatur to attend an art opening at my friend Elliott Boswell’s gallery, an opening featuring nudes. The hook? Naked models being body painted and free “nude” martinis. As I navigated the twisty turns of Ponce from Atlanta toward Decatur I called a few art department people I expected to see there, to see what time they expected to make it… you know, driving chatter. Of course none of them answered so I left one of my trademark annoying fake messages for each of them, cranking up Album 88’s 400bpm dance music show on my car radio and pretending that I was already at the gallery, well into my 18th free vodka. As it turns out, that little bit of theater was fairly accurate insofar as far as the pulsing dance music went…. by the time I got there it was fairly well a rave!

While standing in line for one of those nude martinis (which I kept accidentally calling “nipple” martinis) I heard a college kid in line behind me talking to his friends on the phone, giving them directions to the gallery. My first thought was that the focus of the event (the art) had been wildly surpassed by the happening-ness of the show. My second thought was that the kids would leave as soon as the alcohol ran dry, never having seen the artwork on the walls at all (the place was literally shoulder-to-shoulder, easily the biggest opening Elliott has had in the 11 months the gallery has been open).

My third (and most important thought) was that “Hey, why am I judging these kids… I haven’t even looked at the art myself!! What a hypocrite I am– hey, can I have another nipple martini?” With martini in hand (I think they were giving me watered-down lemonade the entire time) I began sliding along the walls of the gallery to see the artwork, and I was actually impressed with much of what I saw, a few of which I’ll mention here:

Rory Powers. If you’re a serious art collector you need to buy one of Rory’s paintings. He’s good, very good. I understand that he’s involved with costume design on/off Broadway and he has a knack for capturing/caricaturing attitudes. He’s next on my list of artists I’d like to collect, hope that he has something teeny-tiny that I might afford.

John Tindel. John’s graphic style catches my eye, partially because it’s very much of the nature of my own way of approaching illustration/painting with oils and acrylics. I was happy to get to meet John at the gallery and he seemed fairly happy to be getting to paint a young woman who was there as one of the nude (GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS!) models who made the events such a splash with the Jezebel Magazine socialite set.

Ellen King. Ellen was painting a male model who was wearing a gladiator-style getup but she was far more interesting to look at as she was dressed as a goth angel in a Betty Page wig and lacy underthings. I can’t remember if I found her paintings on the wall because I needed another nippralatini…

Charles McCarthy. Charles worked in the office on “Remember the Interns” or “We Are Interns” or whatever that latest Warner Brothers movie was that finished shooting here recently. Charles’ work is pen and ink nudes of women who would be best described as archetypal earth-mother figures. Interestingly, none of his inks were repros, they were all originals. If you like his work this would be a great time to grab originals for which there are no reproductions.

There were a couple of other artists whose work I really liked but I can’t remember their names at this moment, I’ll post a follow-up comment with their names if I get a chance.

Mostly, hanging nudes in your home is a tricky, tricky thing. People react so strangely to nudes that most people eschew them for safer works in fear that their guests will label them as ‘kinky’. Interesting how things change from age to age. I’ll be impressed if Elliott is able to sell most of the paintings from this show but I’ll tell you, there are some real gems on his gallery walls and even if you didn’t make the show you should consider dropping by to look at the works because some of the artists on his wall may never again wander back into the range of nudes and those paintings may be more valuable for their rarity. I’m thinking now of Leann Zafuto and Elliott Boswell himself, both of who prepared works expressly for this show.

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Emergency Summer Vacation

drew — Wed, 21 Jun 2006 01:59:43 +0000

Now that film productions have returned to Georgia in droves I’m hearing from a lot of crewfolk who are getting burned out from all the work they suddenly have! They say that they need a vacation but can’t afford to take a couple of weeks off for a real trip to the islands.

Next best thing? You guessed it.
Trader Vic’s, this coming Saturday night (June 24th) from 7pm-Midnight
Dress for the beach, stay for the rum.

Trader Vic’s is in the basement of the Atlanta Hilton. Parking is underneath the hotel, the garage entrance is off of Piedmont. Parking tickets validated with purchase from the bar/restaurant.

Visit the Official Website for the Atlanta Trader Vic’s

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Bossman

drew — Sun, 23 Apr 2006 02:14:31 +0000

I went with my sports-obsessed friend Ronny to the arena football game this afternoon. In the 2nd quarter we headed over to the food court and I ordered up a hamburger and a soda. I was shooting the shit with a guy at the counter about how much I like the new orange ten dollar bills. He had a weird grin on his face and said something about them being the color they should’ve been all along, which sounded kind of weird but like all checkout banter I just laughed and waited for my food. As I turned to walk away the guy said “see ya next time, Bossman”. Yep, that’s me: Bossman. It’s what all my slaves call me. I insist upon it. Thanks a million for the racist checkout guys at the hamburger grill Philips Arena. Really adds zest to the experience. You can bet that I really enjoyed that sandwich. Really.

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Thompson Ventulett & Sauron

drew — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 04:21:28 +0000

It was a wild and stormy night so I settled in to re-watch the last half of Peter Jackson’s 800 minute extended version of ‘The Return of the King’. At the point when Frodo finally reaches the entrance to the Crack of Doom I was struck by the design of the stonework around the entrance, all hard planes and jutting fins. Bereft of humanity, soulless and sullen, it looked ever so familiar and tugged at my memory but I wasn’t sure why. And suddenly, in the ruddy light of Mount Doom’s coursing lava, I knew. I knew where I’d seen that alien style before. I’d seen it in Atlanta…. it’s the in-house design style of the large Atlanta architecture firm Thompson, Ventulett & Stainback! Seriously. I kid thee not. Are you familiar with the AT&T Promenade building in mid-town? Sauron’s evil eye winters there. You know that stingy little building they squeezed in where Gorin’s diner used to be? I have it on good authority that it was designed by a very cross orc who was having a very bad day. No lie. Check it out. But that’s not all. These guys are so bent on filling the world with their inhuman designs that they are beginning by switching the meanings of words to confuse people and possibly to kill innocent fish. Read on…

According to TVS & Associates’ website, they want to make a “Paradigm Shift Underwater”. Apparently this involves taking all the fish out of the water, to whit:

Quote:
“Given Atlanta’s land-locked address, the design team has focused on the importance of “emersion,” wrapping the guest in an underwater world, coming face to face with some of the most incredible ocean creatures. Our design of the Georgia Aquarium will shift the “aquarium” paradigm and how its visitors interact with inhabitants.”

According to every dictionary that I could lay my hands on the word “emersion” means emerging from water, not being immersed in water. That would in fact be immersion.

Oh for goodness sakes humanity, immerse yourself in a book once in awhile. I recommend beginning with the dictionary and moving outwards. Check back with me and I’ll tell you when you’re ready for ‘The Lord of the Rings’.

To be a good sport I also make fun of my own mistakes. However, making fun of architecture firms has become a hobby of mine, partially because I usually have friends at those firms and partially because architects are never able to take a joke, which is funny in and of itself. Oh yeah, Foster is short.

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