Mark Allen's Top Six for 12/27/04:
photo of Ro-Gina courtesy of Vice magazine, "The Design Issue."
go there to read all about how this amazing device works, and see video of the Ro-Gina in all it's full, flailing, spastic, design-brilliance...
1. The Ro-Gina® (by Jim Krewson)
Nobel Prize-winning design mastermind Jim Krewson was put to task for coming up with the perfect roach catching/disposing device for Vice magazine's highly respected "Design Issue."
His goal was, much like the totally great geniuses of the original Bauhaus school in 1940's Germany (you know about them, right?), to try and build a better mousetrap ...and just let go of all the formal trappings of past design trends and build a device that was truly streamlined... and now... and FREE... and more in-line with the highly technological savvy of today's young go-getters, who don't have time for all the out-dated fussiness of their parents and grandparents roach-trapping/disposing machines.
But don't think the quest for efficiency and simplicity and functionality and perfection got in the way of having a little F-U-N with the design concept!
"I think today's young, media-savvy, technologically-savvy, super-brained generation is really all about fun... when you boil it all down" says designer Jim Krewson with a smart wink, via video cell phone conference interface from his white ovary-shaped spherical home atop the Matterhorn in the Swiss Alps, "I mean... who's to say that a design concept can't be efficient... can't be streamlined... can't be simple and modern and minimal and sleek... but also be FUN?! I mean... who's saying that? Really... who IS that?!" he angrily barks.
We gasp in awe... as Krewson's notorious genius artistic temperament begins to look like it may revel itself.
Krewson sighs loudly, closes his eyelids and tilts his head back a bit for dramatic effect, getting serious for a moment; "With so many oppressive governmental forces in rule around the globe right now, it's important for our totally, totally amazing and smart and streamlined generation to stand up to these forces by designing things with the forward-looking ability of greatness and fun and the smart power of technologically savvy smartness and greatness and designability fantasticness and humor-looking... I really think it's what it's all about right now... that was what was behind my Ro-Gina, insert registered trademark symbol, and what I was trying to accomplish... I think it's all just... just, just so wonderful!"
Krewson's truly brilliant Ro-Gina®, which won accolades of awards in Vice magazine's design competition, and later swept the Oscars, will be featured inside a giant glass sphere under a spotlight in the courtyard of the Louvre in Paris. Later, the Ro-Gina... oops, we mean... the Ro-Gina® will travel to The Smithsonian Museum of Greatness in Transylvania for it's crowning as the Most Perfect Design Ever Imagined at their annual Conference of Thinking Like a Genius.
Will all this success go to design wonderboy Krewson's head?
"Will all this success go to my head? Is that what you're asking me?" blurts Krewson, while sipping a bleached-clear cappuccino and pausing for yet another loud, resigned sigh, and gazing out his window at the inspiring Swiss skyline... his head literally swimming with brilliant ideas; "I don't have room in my head for things to go there... for things to go to my head. It's too full of thinking of great design ideas!"
Krewson moves us from the video phone conference living room interface, and boards his white, spherical, sperm-shaped snow sled car (which also has a video phone conference interface) and, as the garage door to his ovary-shaped white house lifts and the sperm sled car exits and traverses over the snow-covered Swiss countryside... Jim ponders his success and all that is ahead of him, as well as where he has come from; "I think I'll go to the hardware store and buy some pipe cleaners... I'm thinking of designing a cure for AIDS out of them, which is an idea I've been tossing around in my head."
Just then ...a sudden moment! Jim screams "AAAaaauuuuggghhh!! Noooo!! Aauuucckkugle... ohmyfuckinggod!!" as he erratically but amazingly swerves his sperm-shaped sled car out of the way of a mountain goat that had wandered into the roadway!
"Whew!" says the superior Krewson, "That was close!"
Then Krewson looks at the video screen and informs us "Of course, if I had wrecked my car... I would just figured out a way to turn the twisted wreckage and burning metal and bloody goat bits into something new and design-like and... wonderful... like a boiled egg-peeler or a face wrinkle remover or something... which I totally could you know!"
We're sure you could Jim, we're reassuringly sure you could.
Go to Vice magazine's website to read their take on Krewson's totally amazing and great Ro-Gina®, and see video of it in all it's spastic, frantic, roach-catching genius-ness. Prepare to be awed!
no, give me a hand!
2. You deserve a giant imaginary golden glowing fuzzy warm comforting hand hovering behind your back reassuring you that everything is going to be OK... and I'll be the person who'll decide if you deserve one or not
You're welcome! I try to do what I can... ya'know...
So I've been doing this weird thing in my head lately where, when I walk around the streets of Manhattan, I "imagine" or "project" an imaginary golden, glowing, fuzzy, warm giant hand on the backs of people I pass on the street that, from my perception, look like they may be in pain or anguish or need help. I just kind of mentally "command" this floating giant hand to go up to them and place itself on their backs... and just attach itself to them and follow them around as much as they need. The "hand" radiates warmth and comforting and clarity of mind.
Insanity knocking at my door of consciousness?
What I'm doing is playful and silly and yes a little INSANE and is probably one of the first warning signs of someone who is eventually going to end up running around town dressed in shopping bags handing out flyers about governmental mind control... I know it's nuts, but I can't help it... I feel compelled to do it... and for some reason it makes me feel better about my own problems. It's kind of like that scene in the Wim Wenders film "Wings of Desire" where that angel invisibly walks around that crowded subway listening to people's thoughts and places his hand on the shoulders of people in need, and they suddenly feel better.
This kind of self-centered, imaginary world selflessness jut makes me feel GREAT! I just stroll around this great metropolis of ours until I see someone that looks like they might really need help (which of course here is every other person) and project my imaginary hand on them, for them to keep as long as they need. I'm not interested in people that need immediate help - like they just fell down face-first in vomit, or got run over by a cab or got electrocuted by some ice near a lamp post... I just walk right past those people. I'm interested in people that look like they need the slow, long-term kind of "help" ...like they are just continually in a run of bad luck, or they are just in some kind of permanent valley of awfulness, or are in a lot of mental pain, or just need comforting because they are in a really bad place right now. People in a downward spiral or permanent life rut. The rightfully-depressed at the cruelty-of-the-world types. YOU know the type of person I'm talking about... you see them a lot on New York City (yea Mark you pointed that out already). See? Now I'm talking (writing) to myself so you know I MUST be mentally a-ok!
Of course when it comes to who I think deserves the "imaginary golden fuzzy hand" and who doesn't, is left entirely up to me and my own inner world. I go by that old adage "you can always judge a book by it's cover." You've heard that right? Where reality ends and my own perceptions (or projections) begin is of course one big great rainbow of indefinable indefinableism. So to be fair - if I'm ever in doubt a victim... oops I mean, a recipient needs my mental glowing hand of comfort... they get a hand! I do it all day long... in my mind I literally see half the population of the city walking around with these golden hands following behind them... holding and comforting them. I've become quite addicted to it!
So give me a hand! And be warned (or reassured), if you live in New York City and you're down in the dumps and you're the kind of person who wears the state of your reality on your sleeve... and you suddenly feel a prickly, golden, warm sensation on your back... it may not be that crazy bag lady peeing on you. It may be me, having just passed you and taken note and given my totally self-centered ego a little boost by doing some schizophrenic, imaginary thing in my head that's kind of witchcraft-y but in a good way and is just my way of spreading a little goodness and sunshine.
What I am doing is just the automatic reaction of an innate, primal brain function deep inside my cortex - one that tries to explain the unexplainable in my reality (especially when it carries a threat) that weighs and bargains with fate in order to try and tempt it without angering it. My reaction is no different than every other bazillions of religions that every society on the face of the planet has constructed since the beginning of people walking upright. Of course, if I played out this imaginary belief system in a healthy, normal way... like going to church or praying... then maybe it wouldn't seem so nuts. So see... my parents were right: go to church = have a healthy, normal mind. Don't go to church = inevitably create imaginary, pagan, voodoo nonsensical fantasy worlds in your head that eventually lead to schizophrenia and liberalism. The choice is mine! And I've made my choice... except the one difference in the imaginary system of checks and balances that I have created to calm the chaos in my world, is that I am the God - instead of creating one one to answer to.
I am not shitting you or making this up, I am really doing this!
3. Doodles I drew while talking on the telephone
See? I can be a design genius too! Look at these mind-blowing designs I drew on a piece of scrap paper while I was talking on the telephone! Aren't they amazing? And hello... I was TALKING while I drew these... at the SAME TIME!!! Yoo-hoo! Genius! Hellll-llllooooo?!?!?!?!
TOP: The Christian Astronauts blast off into salvation
BOTTOM: Charlie Tweedle ponders "Eilrahc Elddewt"
4. The Christian Astronauts "Beyond the Blue" LP
Charlie Tweedle's "Fantastic Greatest Hits" LP
So I got these two CDs sent to me to review by the totally great Companion Records, and I just have to write about them here also, because I love them so much.
First of all... Companion Records was started by this guy named Will and another guy, and their main thing is finding oddball, old vinyl records (most often self-recorded, custom-pressed records with homemade covers from locals, in local places, in days gone by) in thrift stores that have that certain "something" about them, and that obviously never made it to the "big time" (whatever that is/was) and then arranging to re-release them on CD. Now they aren't the first to do this, obviously, but I just love these two CDs so much I have to explain it all to you here as I tell you about them... mmmkaaayyy? Their whole aesthetic stems from a site Will started several years ago called ShowAndTellMusic.com, which I highly recommend and explains pretty much everything about them, I think.
The first CD is by a Christian family recording troupe calling themselves The Christian Astronauts. This Freedmont, Ohio-based family had an act during the 1970's where they dressed up in tinfoil and silver lame space suits and pretended to be aboard a "Gospel Rocket" blasting out into outer space... the destination? Saving your soul! They sang Christian space songs on organ accompaniment, and performed little skits where they would have to... say, fly through meteor shower and narrowly escape and then would use it as an analogy for, like the story of how David slayed the giant Goliath with God's help or something like that. On board the ship they had a ventriloquist's dummy named Jerry and a cardboard robot named Loose Nut and their two kids and even their grandmother would sometimes make an appearance. They had a whole spaceship set and everything they would cart around to perform in, and they even had a cable access show in the Washington DC area. One of the few remaining remnants of this whole thing was this homemade album "Beyond the Blue" that they would take with them and sell whenever they went around performing for children at churches and festivals and stuff. The album has a waaaaay homemade feel... like maybe the quality of those tapes of little skits you would make as a kid with your friends on a carry-around tape recorder way back when. Captain Shoup (the dad) does most of the voices himself, and often creates sound effects with his mouth. Shoup is quite talented as a ventriloquist... but since on the recordings he is often doing the voices of three different characters at once, he sometimes seems to forget which one he's on (the grandmother starts to sound a little like the robot). The singing is much off key but loaded with charm and total sincerity. The humor? Unintentional and actually not all that funny as much as it is endearing. The album is 1,000,000% pure sunshine no matter how you slice it... it's hard to look at it ironically or cynically. It's like Sun Ra crossed with Tammy Faye Baker crossed with Lucia Pamela crossed with Ed Wood. Whatever it is... I love it and can't stop listening to it. Hoo-ray! You can read more about The Christian Astronauts here (sound clips too).
The second CD is by a man named Charlie Tweedle, and is his self-produced, self-pressed, self-recorded one man vision called "Fantastic Greatest Hits" - originally made in 1974 in a "limited" edition of 500. Originally going under his (self-proclaimed) prophet name Eilrahc Elddewt, Charlie Tweedle felt that his loner-concocted aesthetic of bizarre, rambling folk music, nature field recordings and strange tape player experiments and science fiction sound effects made with electric shavers would enlighten an entire generation... and of course it didn't really work out that way. Hearing the record now is a very soothing, warm, open-ended experience. Charlie loved to record songs in an open room, or often outdoors in the middle of the woods or near a beach... with a tape recorder of the cheapest variety used as the sole recording device. All background sounds make it onto the record. This results in the album having this kind of subconscious "open air" quality to it that is sorely missing on the average Jessica Simpson song. Listening to this record... which is filled with folk songs about three alien beings landing on beaches, 20-minute long tracks of nothing but forest sounds with the occasional old woman banging on a cabin door and yelling, grade-Z sci-fi sound effects that sound like they were made with kitchen appliances - suddenly all the voices in my head start to compliment me rather than scold me. And all the evil thoughts in my head escape just like a Pandora's Box. It's like self trepanning! This LP is like Kentucky Mountain Music recordings mixed with Captain Beefhart's "Trout Mask Replica" on slow, slow-motion with a little bit of Royal Trux's "Twin Infinitives" and then that part with Harold fiddling with the banjo Maude gave to him in the middle of his mother's garden from that bucolic scene from "Harold & Maude." All on one recording! You can go here to listen to some sound clips and read more about Tweedle.
"I don't understand a damn bit of that trash!"
5. Fellini's "8 1/2" glitches into infinity...
So I rented the DVD of Fellini's "8 1/2" from the video store... and when I got home I found out the DVD disc was pretty scratched up. It did that annoying thing where it freezes and then jumps to another part of the film. The disc was so uniformly damaged that it managed to do this all throughout the entire film. At first I kept going "Arrrggh!" and trying to fast forward over the part that caused it to freeze, and the going back to try and get to the place right after it had skipped and try to hope that I didn't miss to much. But it kept doing it over and over and over... I mean it just kept doing that... like in about five different places, and I was already halfway through the film.
And soon... I just let go... I just sat back and let it run like that. The DVD was literally jumping all over the place... sometimes letting a whole five minutes pass before it did it again... sometime doing quick jump cuts all over the place, back and forth. It was always able to re-start once it froze by jumping to somewhere else on the disc, for some reason it never just started at the beginning again. And it always cut in different sections of each scene, even if that scene ran more than once.
Now I haven't seen "8 1/2" since, like college or something... but my God what a beautiful and amazing and mind-blowing film... and to watch it in this manner... it made so much sense! It was like I was witnessing the future of cinema right there on my TV screen... I felt like it would just play forever and ever like that and never end... always different each time. The film made perfect sense this way!
Damaged? This disc is a double masterpiece (the film on it is already a masterpiece). When I return this to the store, instead of complaining and asking for my money back I'm going to pay them double, and tell them to throw away all their other DVDs in the store because this one is too perfect... it's amazing to watch, it makes total sense despite not having a plot, it never repeats itself, and it never ends...
"It don't worry me. It don't worry me. You may say that I ain't free, but it don't worry me!"
6. Making Beautiful Music Together (see last week's entry below)
So I've been literally bombarded with ten or twelve emails ever since our gig in Northampton asking how, how... HOW DID IT GO?! And here is your answer:
Jim and I were really proud of the set we had worked out. It began with a solemn but ear-splitting version of "I've Been Over the Rainbow" from Mort Garson and Jacques Wilson's 1968 hippie/electronic non-sterpiece "The Wozard of Iz" LP - which we worked out to have me singing and playing samples of birds chirping and car alarms, and Jim accompanying on acoustic guitar (have you ever tried to convert moog to guitar cords... IT'S NOT EASY!!!). Then we were going to do this yell-y thing where I was going to take these drumstick wrapped in socks and duct tape and beat the Hell out of this giant gong we constructed out of sheet metal Jim had found on his roof, tied with an old extension cord to this rusty magazine rack we found on the railroad tracks behind a convenience store, and Jim was going to be playing all these samples he spent a whole day collecting, processed heavily through this insane effects box and chorus echo filter thing so it kind of sounded like "Forbidden Planet" (but with Einsturzende Neubauten in the background) and then I was going to SCREAM these really ridiculous words to this song I wrote way back in 1994 (in my nightclub days) and then that was going to segue seamlessly into a rip-roaring ragtime number with Jim on guitar and kazoo and me still pounding the destroyed metal gong thing in the background. That was the plan at least... and when we had rehearsed it all through the weekend it sounded great.
But, due to a crazy mix-up between the promoters and the venue... we ended up getting rushed and caught off guard at the end, and were only allowed to perform for five minutes(!) as the last act on the bill. The promoters were friends of Jims and were very apologetic and very, very cool about it - it was kinda beyond their control. So... we did the best we could. We set up quickly (but didn't have time to mic the sampler or effects boxes) and we just ran through the "...Rainbow" song and then I pounded on the metal while Jim jumped right into the ragtime number. People applauded! Then we were yelled at by the club owner to get off the stage and the house band stepped on our toes as they set up their equipment (them demanding to start at their regular time was apparently the reason for the mix up). I was so frazzled that I even forgot to give Jim's friend my camera to take pictures... in fact it was such a chaotic (warning: a really faggy word is next) denouement, that we felt a little like Barbara Harris singing at the end of Robert Altman's "Nashville," just with more violence and less explanation.
We were happy with the way our set went even though it was so unexpectedly cut short. I have performed on stage, but never sang a slow song in front of an audience under a spotlight with just a guitar accompaniment... and even though I know for a fact I sing just like Kermit the Frog during an emergency roadside tracheotomy operation... what a thrill it was!
At least two whole people told us they liked our performance. Then the club's house band (guys in their 60's playing cover songs) started up - which literally cleared the place out in 30 seconds flat, no kidding.
Ahhhhh... it was nutty... Jim and I left pretty bummed that we were kind of gypped after arranging so much material and traveling all that way, but realized it couldn't really have been avoided due to reality being what it is. The promoters (two truly lovely people) thanked us and apologized again for the zany mix-up (it was actually fine in the end). But were proud of what we were able to pull off in such a rushed set!
We drove home, deciding to scrap our plans to troll around Smith college and look up all the filming locations for "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" - where we were going to re-enact every scene (and if you think you know which of us would be playing which role, trust us... you could never guess).
Mark Allen's Top Three
For December 13th, 2004:
1. Jim Krewson and Mark Allen to perform LIVE! Saturday, Dec. 18th, 8pm at The Elevens (North Hampton, Mass.)
Sine-ola Entertainment presents "A Holiday Event" at The Elevens, in the northern realm of Northhampton, Massachusetts, Saturday, December 18th, 8pm.
On this snazzy, festive, chaotic musical bill is none other than Jim Krewson and Mark Allen - LIVE! Yes! US! Performing together for the first time (in public)! It will be like the Beatles performing on the Ed Sullivan show... but with more girly screaming (from the stage)! Don't miss this painfully special opportunity to catch us in all our rare, naked, defensless glory as we scuttle around this week thrying to throw together a set of original ideas, songs and material worthy of not throwing globs of cold, wet saurkraut at (or cans of saurkraut).
Jim will be playing banjo, trumpet, laptop samples and maybe drums of some kind. I will pe playing a giagantic sheet of aluminum with some mallets and hammers, and we both will be singing and maybe yelling. We have already constructed a loose version of "I've Been Over the Rainbow" from Mort Garson and Jacques Wilson's seminally forgotten "The Wozard of Iz" LP. But why just read about cheap thrills for vulgar sissies when you can come on down an experience cheap thrills for vulgar sissies... live!
So come one, come all! Come say hello, and feed a nice holiday feast to your ears and eyes. Celebrate the pre-holiday week with a non-stop merry-go-round of greatness and mind-blowing musical brilliance... GUARANTEED!
For all info go here and here.
Spaking of sociopathic behavior...
"I'm no longer a slave to sin. I'm fully delivered from the power of sin over my life. Meditation in God's Word will form explosives, it rearranges things. $$$ is looking for me NOW--$10 billion looking for me NOW. Meditate on 'money cometh.' My seed goeth while I'm expecting 'money to cometh.'" "Bring my Boaz to me now!" "AM A MONEY MAGNET - I ATTRACT MILLIONAIRE/BILLIONAIRE MENTORS - I ATTRACT MY DREAM TEAM - I AM A BILLIONAIRE IN CHRIST JESUS - I AM A GIVER, A GENEROUS CHEERFUL GIVER - I ATTRACT MULTIPLE SOURCES OF INCOME!"
2. Sociopaths rule!
Texas writer/investigator Glenna Whitle recently wrote two superb, in-depth, edge-of-your-seat pieces for The Dallas Observer about a woman named Sandra Bridewell. "The Return of the Black Widow" (first published in January 22nd, 2004), and "Seductress of the Saints" (published December 9th, 2004).
Sandra Bridewell is a 60-ish, lucky/crafty/ironic sociopathic, pseudo-New Age Christian murderer, and a predatory, bipolar, M.P.S.-ish, con-artist/black widow nut job who has left a trail of complex, messy chaos, bizarro clutter and unbelievable dysfunction (and a suspicions death or five) in her sick, sad wake. Like a sit-com character from an evil dimension, Bridewell seems to always fall just one forged check, one phony plea, and one secret corpse short of becoming queen of the world.
Oh yea... and she's from my hometown.
Bridewell has one spine-chilling story to spin. That is if she's ever caught... which she weirdly has not been after all this time. The thing about sociopaths, is that... if you ever did catch up with them and confront them with their crimes and tell them to spill the beans... they would lay forth the most boring, bland story ever. No matter how complex and lurid and lengthy their lives and crimes really were - in their minds it's nothing but the daily grind and the need to get ahead. Truly evil people do not think they are evil, they think everyone around them is evil. Most psycho/sociopaths, despite the outward effects of their actions and behavior, are humbly glorified, deserving saints inside their own minds... too "giving" to ever want credit for what they see as kind deeds that benefit themselves and all of mankind. It's like a malicious, Richard Ramirez-type who goes around sneaking into people's houses at night and torturing them to death and gouging out their eyeballs... but inside it's like they are a sobbing Richard Simmons... helping fat people to regain their dignity.
A sociopath's inheret inability to separate their own life experience and inner struggles from the rest of the world's causes them to subconsciously and automatically project everything on the people around them. Reasoning, lessons learned, blame, punishment ...become automatic justification for anything. People in their lives, which are like inanimate objects to them (in a complex way), become the automatic shoulders to bear the brunt of their own actions... of course! Sociopaths hear in their heads a constant stream of canned applause, to which they imagine patting their hand towards and smiling and saying "Oh me? Stop! I don't deserve such praise!" Meanwhile they are robbing, murdering, stealing identities, staging fake suicides, concocting fake blame, secretly setting fire to homes, or strangling people in their sleep ...all the while their conscious and morality monitor is going a nice, healthy *blip!* *blip!* *blip* ...nope, no problems here! In moments of despair or unhappiness, they might feel, at the most, misunderstood. Or maybe just temporarily unlucky.
They say that the best way to lie, is to literally believe the lie inside your soul... and for a sociopath this is the same as breathing or making poop out of food... it's automatic.
But like I said, guaranteed: catch Sandra Bridewell... put her in a room, and sit her in front of a video recorder and ask her to start from the beginning and tell every detail of her obviously fascinating and lurid life on the run... and you will see her look dead into the camera, say about three sentences that are the most bland, boring thing you can imagine... after which she will look around the room wondering why everyone is so shocked that there is no story behind why she has done all the things she has. She won't pe putting on an act... that's reality to her. That's the creepiest part... a sociopth's outward characteristics, once uncovered, are fascinating and intriguing and seem to be the mark of a highly intelligent mind, but inside... their brain is a sheet of paper with one sentence on it.
These two articles about Sandra Bridewell are certainly due credit to Texas writer Glenna Whitle, who spins an amazing yarn here (in the true Texas spirit). I highly, HIGHLY, HIGHLY recommend reading both of these lengthy stories (also linked above). If you don't have time... bookmark them and go back and read them later. The first one was published in early 2004. The second and most recent one (much longer and vivid) came out this month. You've got to read the first one to understand the full context. Other stories about Bridewell have been written in the past, particularly one (mentioned in these articles) in Texas Monthly magazine. These are the only sources of information online. Both are linked below.
"The Return of the Black Widow" - by Glenna Whitle, Dallas Observer, January 22nd, 2004, and
"Seductress of the Saints" - by Glenna Whitle, Dallas Observer, December 9th, 2004
...and if you happen to be in a roadside diner and see a cute, smiling, effervescent older woman a little worn around the edges, with a bible in her lap, and you find yourself in conversation with her and realize she is like no one you have ever met, and that she makes you feel great and empowered and almost seems to be a little answer and solution to all your recent troubles, and you find she keeps touching your arm and wanting to hug you... just sit back and watch one of nature's most magnificently doomed creations: the upwardly mobile sociopath.
3. Creepiest arms - EVER!!!
As the lovely and talented Pseu Braun* put so eloquently on one of her recent WFMU radio shows; "...it looks like he has kittens sewn under his skin." Bodybuilder Greg Valentino is an avid steroid user and reportedly "The most hated man in bodybuilding." As Pseu recommends, do a Google Image search and prepare to suddenly become very aware of the fact that slimy masses of red sludge are swimming beneath your skin that probably aren't adorable pets (yet). Indeed it does look like he does have kittens sewn under his skin. Have you ever seen arms like this? I mean... ever? Yow! He should make a maze out of his arms, like those ones you get on paper placemats in restaurants.
* be sure and tune into Pseu's show on Friday, December 17th, where the terminally brilliant Ed Shepp will once again grace Pseu's airwaves and more high snazzed brilliance will commence.
Copyright 2004 Mark Allen
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