August 31, 2009

To-NIGHT!

Yes, finally, it is nigh: The Big Quiz Thing's 200th Episode Spectacular. Read the nice semimention in last Friday's New York Post, the write-up in Time Out New York, and of course, the hyperventilating press release. And here's a roundup of some of the prizes you just might possibly maybe win.

So remember: WE ARE NOT AT CRASH MANSION TONIGHT! I have no idea what will be happening there, but it will not be the Big Quiz Thing, unless I need to sue the crap out of someone. We will be at (Le) Poisson Rouge, 158 Bleecker Street near Thompson. And it's 7PM, not 7:30. Tonight and tonight only. Excitement is in the offing, my friends.

August 26, 2009

Prizes! (part one)

For this Monday's 200th Episode Spectacular (handsomely blurbed in Time Out New York this week), I promised an extra-special slate of prizes, and I intend to deliver. Some details are still being ironed out, but here's what I can tell you now, immediately, at this moment (and now…and now…okay, I'll stop…now!):

First place gets, not $200, but $300! Incredible.

Second place gets, not $50, but $100! Unreal. Also, some treats: This week, it's cupcakes from a lovely place called Cupcakes in Heels, straight outta Bayside, Queens. I'm told "they specialize in delectably creamy cupcakes with a little bit of frosting in every bite…fresh baked goods that are both health conscious and delicious." Flavors include chocolate, tiramisu, pistachio, coconut and carrot walnut, and that urban-legend favorite, red velvet. Plus, until September 7, mention the Big Quiz Thing and get one dozen gourmet mini cupcakes for free with each order. We're hooking you up, kids. (And yes, more cupcakes throughout the evening.)


The distribution of other prizes is TBD, but we got tickets to the snappy Off Broadway hit The Marvelous Wonderettes. I have it on good authority that it's "a cotton-candy colored, nonstop pop musical blast from the past!": a '50s and '60s jukebox musical, basically, which actually sounds like a crapload of fun to me. Very pretty website, too.

My friends at Heeb magazine are offering a one year's subscription to their fine publication, featuring everything that a self-respecting hipster NYC Jew needs to know. I'm so happy to shill for them; I've written an essay for their forthcoming book, Sex, Drugs & Gefilte Fish.

Another friend of the show, Rachel Kramer Bussel (expected to be in attendance at the big show), is offering a bunch of her erotically themed book collections, including the new Bottoms Up: Spanking Good Stories (yes, it is). Don't believe anyone who says trivia will never get you laid, or a reasonable simulation thereof.

Plus, we have random yet sweet other books and DVDs, including The DC Vault and seasons one and two of the Bialik-riffic Blossom. More prize details later; off the hook is how it's all going to be.

BQT in TONY


Now it's official: This Monday's 200th Episode Spectacular is most definitely on, judging by this nice piece in the new issue of Time Out New York. Hurray for twisting arms. Click here, my friends…

August 24, 2009

Resplendent in D-E-F-E-A-T

Least surprising news of the day: I like playing Scrabble. It wasn't always this way; for years, I was more of a Boggle man. (I used to say that Scrabble was a writer's game, Boggle an editor's game. Pretentious, no?) But in recent years, I've become more enamored of the pride of Alfred Mosher Butts, in no small part to the brief Scrabulous fad, and it's drifted to the top of my board-game greatest hits list. (It wouldn't stand a chance if I could get my hands on another copy of this.)

My lady friend and I like playing Scrabble quite a lot—on our second date, we went here. I win almost every time, which seems to genuinely trouble her, yet she keeps suggesting rematches. However, just last week, she finally defeated me. Take a look:Sorry for the crappy photo, but this is a nice-looking board, some good words here. I'm particularly proud of my use of obscure mammals—I used "ELFIN" to build off "COAT" and make "COATI," and I got a triple-word score in the top left corner with "NUTRIA" (with help from "AA," which is widely regarded as one of those words useful for absolutely nothing other than Scrabble, but I first learned it in a Green Lantern comic book. So there).

Nonetheless, the lady was victorious, 304–292. In my defense, she picked and used every high-value letter; I was able to play nothing higher than a Y. And no one got a bingo. (That "MURDERER" at bottom left was me adding "ER" to her "MURDER." And hey, it intersects with "AXE"!)

However, tonight is our big rematch. I need to decide what's more important to me: winning the game, and thus maintaining my game-playing pride, or losing the game, and making my girlfriend happy. A tough choice for someone like me.

August 23, 2009

My full day's supply of Red 40


Back in March, we did a "Soda Pop Haiku" video round, from which I cut the following item…

Like Hawaiian Punch?
Tastes great when carbonated

It’s Polynesian


The answer is Tahitian Treat, a bright-red, extremely sweet soda that, yes, tastes like a rough approximation of Hawaiian Punch with bubbles. I decided not to use that particular haiku because (a) it's not the most clever question I've ever written and (b) Tahitian Treat is a pretty obscure beverage, making this question both very hard and very boring. I didn't want balled-up answer sheets pelted at my head.

But Tahitian Treat punches a few nostalgia buttons for me. Stopping at the South Orange Community Center to play foosball after school, we'd get Tahitian Treat from the soda machine that offered only weirdo Canada Dry brands, including something called Hi-Spot (cheapo Sprite). TT was all the kids' favorite; we argued over whether it was pronounced "Ta-hee-shan" or "Ta-hee-tee-an."

Tahitian Treat still exists, manufactured by Dr Pepper (Canada Dry's current parent company), though it's hard to find in the East. Yet earlier today, walking the streets of the UWS and craving sugary soda (I had something grape in mind), I popped into a bodega and saw 20-ounce bottles of Tahitian Treat, which I had almost certainly not consumed in decades. Only $1.25, which is a bargain when you consider it's imported from Tahiti (er…). It was absolutely disgusting, and absolutely delicious.

The thing is, this stuff is definitely not just carbonated Hawaiian Punch. It's got a lot more sugar (37 grams versus 29 grams), it's noticeably sweeter, and it has absolutely zero fruit juice (HP boasts its 5 percent blend, for what that's worth, along with 100 percent of vitamin C). The Tahitian Treat ingredients list:

Carbonated water, high fructose corn syrup and/or sugar, citric acid, sodium benzoate (preservative), gum acacia, natural and artificial flavors, glycerol ester of wood rosin, red 40

I'm fairly certain that that's the recipe for death. I mean "glycerol ester of wood rosin"? (It's a common emulsifier that Wikipedia comfortingly says "leaves the body through urine.") The funniest is "red 40": You really should never consume any ingredient whose name doesn't have a noun in it. I have no doubt that by drinking that bottle of Tahitian Treat, I had shaved a good year off my life span.

Happy drinking, everyone!

August 20, 2009

NT's greatest hits, No. 18 (of 34)

These gaps must stop!


"Radio, Radio" by Elvis Costello and the Attractions

In late 1989, I was watching the Saturday Night Live 15th-anniversary (wow) special on TV, which featured a montage of brief clips of the show's musical guests. Included was a few seconds from Elvis Costello and the Attractions' 1977 performance. Watch:



Apparently, the band was a last-minute replacement for the Sex Pistols, were pretty much unprepared and in a foul mood, and resented being asked to play "Less than Zero," an older single that they regarded as too Anglocentric for American TV. So 20 seconds in, just to take the piss, Elvis broke it off and directed his band to start in on "Radio, Radio."

The clip on the SNL special was a mere 25 seconds long; it cut off just a few notes into the keyboard intro of "Radio, Radio." I had no idea what the rest of the song sounded like. But I was hooked. That synthesizer riff was the greatest thing I'd ever heard. Soon after, I'd purchased the then-current edition of Costello's greatest hits (the first of many), and played the song over and over again. I still remember: track No. 8, three minutes and six seconds.

Shortly after, I made my first mixtape in a long and nerdily detailed series, and "Radio, Radio" was track one, side one. In college, I had a regular tradition of hosting an all–Elvis Costello radio show during "Dead Days"—the several days of downtime between classes and finals. I always felt like Costello's cynicism and anger perfectly suited the campus mood of the time. The show always ended with "Radio, Radio." It's such a wonderful song: tense but perceptive, hard rocking but full of so many different great sounds. And that keyboard riff: A friend once told me he dislikes it because it's "too raga," but I like color, I like a little ostentation, and no one did it better than the Attractions' keyboardist, Steve Nieve. (As great a songwriter as Costello is, never discount the importance or talent of Nieve, Bruce Thomas and Pete Thomas; best new-wave band ever.)

I used to be absolutely obsessed with Elvis Costello, but the fandom has faded a little. Like so many others, I'm not enamored of his more recent material—personally, I feel like become a rich and worshipped rock star has made Costello lose touch somewhat with his muse (how can you be the angry young outside when you're nailing a beautiful Canadian easy-listening star and having your ass kissed by Burt Bacharach?). But also, I realize how cliché it was for me to be such a big fan. (A contrarian once said that rock critics like Elvis Costello only because he looks like them; while I am neither a rock critic nor a glasses wearer, point taken.) His older music, though, has lost none of its luster, its energy and perceptiveness looking and sounding better by day. Such a lot of fools are still trying to anesthetize the way that we feel, after all.

August 18, 2009

Phenomenon? Object?

The fucked-up question of the night at last evening's Big Quiz Thing: "What natural phenomenon is believed to be the most photographed object of all time?" Well, is the moon a phenomenon or an object? Both? Neither? Who knows? All that matters is that one of my favorite teams, Robin Hood and His Merry Meningitis, got it right. We move on…

Last night was an especially high-scoring BQT. Out of 78 possible points, victorious squad Strippers for Stephen Hawking—or "Death Panel for Stephen Hawking," as they were known for one night only—scored 76. The runners-up were not far behind: All five of the teams (!) that were tied for the lead halfway through scored at least 73 points. Too easy last night (0ther than that moon question)? Perhaps. You all did better at "Ice in Us (That's 'Cuisine' Anagramized)" than I anticipated, and the 40th-anniversary Woodstock audio round was a piece of cake for pop-culture enthusiasts like you. And of course, you live, eat, and breath John Hughes. It's back to super-obscure vice presidential-trivia from now on.

S0 much success for episode 199 of the Big Quiz Thing. Next time: The big show, No. 200. We're taking it up to the Village, to (Le) Poisson Rouge, for the big 200th spectacular. Bipolar Movie Challenge, "Slooow Songs," and a whole lot more. Can you feel the electricity?

Last night's standings:
1. Death Panel for Stephen Hawking
2. Gerard Depardouche
3. Sugah Titz
4. The Fantastic Fourincators
5. Jefferson Davis Starship

We're back at Crash in four weeks, September 14. See you on the 31st, o wise ones…

August 16, 2009

Try to understand, Mama…


A very minor hobby of mine is debunking magic tricks. I'm one of those smart-asses who likes to think that no illuisionist can put one over on me, that no matter how crazy the card trick or large-scale TV disappearance, with a little thought and examination, I can determine at least a rough idea of how the effect was carried out. But it's not actually true—there are plenty of magic tricks that baffle me. Six months ago, I went to my nephews' birthday party, where a junior-high science teacher who moonlights as a party magician completely stunned me by pulling a tennis ball out of a kid's ear.

Back in the '80s, it seemed like magic was a bigger deal. Almost every other Friday night, David Copperfield would star in a TV special, and once you got past his smirking self-aggrandizement, you'd usually see something pretty spectacular. (Good joke from the '90s: What was David Copperfield's greatest trick? Making Claudia Schiffer's taste in men disappear.)

He walked through the Great Wall of China (I figured that one out), floated above the Grand Canyon (I have an assumption, but a vague one), or made the Statue of Liberty disappear (this one I know, but I had to read about it in a book to get it). That's not to say that his illusions were any less impressive because a careful observer can see their inner workings—no stage magician claims genuine supernatural powers once the show is over, so the feat is often more stunning when you realize the multitude of layers that went into its creation.

But this one is interesting: I remember watching his 1991 special, Mystery on the Orient Express, in which he made an entire train car float above his head and disappear (this I easily figured out; it's a more impressive version of an old trick in which a person is made to levitate and vanish). As part of the TV special, he presented a special interactive magic trick, to be played with viewers at home, and I recall interacting and being absolutely floored that it worked as advertised. Here you go; beware his unctuous early-'90s cheesitude:



I just watched it again for the first time, and I can't believe I was such a dummy not to instantly understand how it's done. I don't know, maybe I had yet to study enough math, but it seems brutally manifest that his instructions are designed to severly limit the possibilities. Hey, it's pretty cool that he managed to figure this out, and to stage it with the level of professionalism that makes it look more random than it actually is. But it ain't mind-reading.

Oh, and if you do want to know how all those tricks are done, ask me. Or, you can try here.

August 7, 2009

John Hughes: The truth must be told

So yeah, RIP John Hughes, etc. He touched us all, of course. I am indeed a fan: I think Sixteen Candles is underrated, a grade-A Hollywood comedy, and criminally missing from AFI's "100 Years…100 Laughs" list (though yes, it could be construed as somewhat racist). The Breakfast Club is a perfect snapshot of its time, Vacation is easily Chevy Chase's greatest moment (perhaps not such an honor), and Ferris Bueller's Day Off was extremely educational. (And I had an oddly specific crush on this girl after seeing The Great Outdoors.)

But let's establish the facts here: John Hughes did not direct all of these films; in fact, most of the so-called "John Hughes movies" were directed by other people. He was, primarily, a screenwriter, and wrote all of the aforementioned films (and produced many as well). He was also the pen behind a lot films that people don't normally associated with him: the 1996 101 Dalmatians, Beethoven, Mr. Mom, lots more. He did some crap, too.

So I was annoyed—you know, 'cause I'm that kind of person—by the NY1 headline of "'Pretty in Pink' Director John Hughes Dead at 59." Lazy, and a little sad; Howard Deutch is alive and kicking.

Wikipedia has all the info you need, naturally, along with a neat chart showing you which actors appeared in which Hughes films (whoa—it's gone! I swear it was there yesterday). But let me spread the word: John Hughes directed only eight films: Sixteen Candles; The Breakfast Club; Weird Science (this one got old for me); Ferris Bueller's Day Off; Planes, Trains & Automobiles (a forerunner of cringe comedy); She's Having a Baby (never saw it); Uncle Buck (eh…); and Curly Sue (yeah, sure). He wrote and/or produced about a billion more, and presumably died with a corresponding amount of money in his bank account.

Now the '80s truly are dead. Whew…took only 19 years.

Before I go… never saw this trailer before. Awesome:


August 4, 2009

The curse (?) is broken


Getting to the ending, last night, the Fantastic Fournicators won, again, yet for the first time in many months. As EDP pointed out, they hadn't yet triumphed during the Obama administration, so perhaps they were cursed. Or in league with Dick Cheney. Or perhaps being fed answers from Karl Rove via a secret earpiece. Alas, no more, and the FFs return to their place at the top, as opposed to near the top. We're all so proud.

The computer worked perfectly last night, thank Buddha, and we enjoyed "Movies Go Kaboom!," which I'm proud of, since for a remarkably simple concept, it took me a long time to come up with it (I played with a half-dozen explosion-related video round concepts, including juxtposing them with the sounds of children at play). All's well that ends well, some guy always said.

The only other especially notable news from last night was my continual hyping for the big anniversary show on August 31—our 200th episode, at (Le) Poisson Rouge in Greenwich Village. (Details here.) I can't say too much at the moment, but I think you'll be pleased. I know you people by now.

And last night's standings. All regulars…

1. The Fantastic Fournicators: But for how long?
2. Cash Cab for Cutie: Only perfect score in the first round.
3. Gerard Depardouche: Playing with only four men. Less douchy?
4. Strippers for Stephen Hawking
5. Jefferson Davis Starship/Sugah Titz (tie)

We're back at Crash on August 17 with fun fun fun, then the big show: August 31. I will certainly see you there…

August 1, 2009

NT's greatest hits, No. 17—an amendment



The great thing about my "greatest hits" blog series is that it forces me revisit those songs that are ingrained in my psyche. Tasked with writing about them, I listen from a fresh angle, and develop an even greater appreciation for them (usually—one entry on the list was cut after I relistened to it and realized it doesn't quite deserve the honor. Still Peter Gabriel's best song, though, and still an awesome video).

So last week, when I wrote about "Could You Be the One?" by Hüsker Dü, it got me going back to the entire catalog from the band, and reaffirming my blogged conviction that it was perhaps the best American rock group of the mid-'80s. And I maintain that "Could You Be the One?" is their finest hour, but I must retract this quote: "I still think Warehouse is Hüsker's best album."

Wrong: 1985's Flip Your Wig, I've come to realize, is a nearly perfect piece of hard-rock crafstmanship. Straightforward yet experimental, bracingly angry yet tender and touching—three wasted-looking guys smashing out brilliant music, making it look easy. This is the essence of genius. Flip Your Wig was also Hüsker Dü's last album for indie label SST, before they were scooped up by Warner Bros., where they recorded the middling Candy Apple Grey, and then bowed out with the excellent Warehouse (now my second favorite of their albums). Thus it represents a band on the verge, at that tense moment of asking themselves if they'll stay true to what inspired them in the first place. The songs ping-pong between introspection ("Makes No Sense at All," possibly the closest thing the band ever had to a hit, deservedly so), rage ("Divide and Conquer," the Byrds as nihilists—clever), and even straightforward sentiment ("Green Eyes," the best punk love song ever), packed with effervescent passion, and you can feel the growing tension between songwriters Bob Mould and Grant Hart. Thankfully, they never sold out or watered down on the major label, but perhaps that cost them the future of their band.

But seriously, listen to Flip Your Wig; some great benefactor to mankind has uploaded most of the Hüsker catalog to the Web, so if you click on the image at top, you can listen to the first quarter of the album (go to Songza for the rest).

Just wanted to set the record straight. Some fresh musical commentary soon…