AL - Red Sox - Is Beckett healthy? Can Daisuke keep the walks down? Will Lowell be a factor?They’re all valid questions, but history indicates that they'll gut it out and be just fine. Besides, Pedroia and Ellsbury are more than capable of taking over if necessary.
Angels - Every year the expectations are high and every year they respond with a lackluster early exit, so I’m not exactly giddy this time around. On paper, Teixeira, Hunter, and Vlad the Impaler should be unstoppable, but something tells me that the old adage about good pitching always stifling good hitting will ultimately ring true once again.
Sox in 4 (As much as it pains me to admit)
Rays - Are they for real or have they simply performed beyond their means? Whatever the reason, they won the tightest division in baseball despite injuries to Crawford and Longoria, so consider me sold on their ability to win when it counts. They owned Boston down the stretch and have two legitimate number ones in Shields and Kazmir, which gives them a significant advantage in a short series.
White Sox - Sure, it would be great to see Griffey Jr. finally get his ring and Ozzie win a second, but I just don’t see it happening. Their lineup doesn’t scare anyone outside of Quentin (who’s currently not playing) or Dye and the rotation isn’t nearly at the same level as the 2005 championship squad.
Rays in 4
NL - Dodgers - The additions of Joe Torre and Manny Ramirez certainly signify a team hell-bent on winning it all, but can anyone outside of Manny produce in the clutch? If they win, it will be due to a stellar combination of Lowe, Billingsley, and Saito holding it all together.
Cubs - Clearly, they were the best team during the regular season and that rotation is, in my opinion, the most well-rounded of any postseason team, but is 2008 really the year that the supposed curse comes to an end? Sadly, I think the woes will continue, because Ramirez and Lee need help if they’re seriously going to challenge anyone. I can already hear people shouting “What about Soriano?” As a diehard Yankee fan, I’ve sat through one too many 4 or 5 k efforts to know that he can’t be trusted when the game is on the line.
Dodgers in 4
Phillies - Howard, Utley, Burrell, Rollins, Hamels, Myers, Lidge, and Manuel. Any team with this much firepower has no excuse for not bringing the pennant home, so for their sake, they’d better come through.
Brewers - Sabathia has been a one-man wrecking crew since the deadline, but how much is enough? How many starts on short rest can be endured before things head South? My main concern is whether or not the bullpen has anything left after stumbling into October, but if Gagne can somehow be relevant again, they may have a fighting chance.
Phillies in 4
Friday, October 3, 2008
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
"Mirrors," "Tropic Thunder," "Red," "In Bruges," and "Righteous Kill"
It took a lot for me to push aside my electric disdain for films such as “High Tension” and “The Hills Have Eyes” (2006), but I walked into Alexandre Aja’s latest crackpot endeavor “Mirrors” with a sense of optimism not usually reserved for the horror genre. I thought that the presence of the “Master of Psychotic Tension” himself Kiefer Sutherland would at least bring a degree of reputable star power that had been missing from Aja’s previous incoherent schlock and, I have to say, the results aren’t half bad.
Sure, the running time could’ve been abridged and the blood flowed as freely as the Nile, but the creepy narrative actually amounts to much more than just a gratuitous assault on the eyes. Sutherland’s tortured detective exhibits poignant emotional profundity during his familial interaction and as he descends into irrepressible madness, we actually start to believe that mirrors can play a role in altering someone’s perceived state of reality.
Since it’s essentially a one-man show, the film tends to drag a bit when Sutherland isn’t on screen and even when he is, the possibilities for evolution are limited until the Shyamalan-esque twist of fate comes along to make you question everything you’ve just spent one-hundred minutes watching. It might not have the most ground-breaking title in the universe, but compared to some of 2008’s other suspense offerings, I’d say it falls somewhere in the middle. And for Aja, that’s a momentous upgrade.
- ** ½ out of 4
Ben Stiller’s long-awaited satirical smorgasbord of war cinema “Tropic Thunder” is everything I hoped it would be. The acting is exceptional, the action is hyperbolized, and the music contains just enough Vietnam homage to be taken seriously as an enlightened addition to the genre. Did I mention it’s also one of the funniest studio comedies of the decade and blatantly pushes the envelope more than any Will Ferrell comedy could ever dream of? Well, under the brilliant control of Stiller, Black, and Downey Jr. it strikes the right note every time and provides a perfect night out at the movies.
- *** ½ out of 4
I might be in the minority on this one, but I think that Brian Cox’s stoically intimidating performance in “Red” is one of the finest thespian undertakings of 2008 thus far. His face is weathered, his voice is gravelly, and the only thing he loves more than his dog is the tantalizing possibility of dispensing justice to a spoiled, spineless troublemaker who thought he was above the law. When his dog is mercilessly eliminated as part of a robbery, he goes out of his way to maintain a sense of Christ-like objectivity, but the shallow pomposity of the assailants eventually leads him to settle things in true Bronson-esque fashion.
Now, if you’re thinking that the story is just another brute retribution saga, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken. The deeply rooted themes of honor and restitution resonate heavily throughout Cox’s solo campaign for justice and are much more plausible than the slick invincibility made famous during the later half of Steven Seagal’s career. He doesn’t have a magical bag of tricks to extract from, so he approaches the conflict just like any over-zealous, pro-gun good ol’ boy would. The only difference is that for Cox’s character, emptying the clip wouldn’t be the first option.
- **** out of 4
Martin McDonagh’s “In Bruges” plays like a beautifully operatic Shakespearean tragedy in which the laughs come early and often, but are later supplanted by a sinister climax that forces the “protagonists” to come face to face with their ill-favored life decisions. I put the word “protagonists” in quotes, because when you consider the fact that the main characters are cold, calculating assassins, somehow the concept of heroism doesn’t exactly seem appropriate. That’s not to say that they don’t have feelings. I just think they’re not the type of crowd that assigns a high value to sensitivity training and would throw someone out a window if only for the hedonistic purpose of watching them fall to their death.
Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson capture the bruising camaraderie of pub life in a wickedly comical manner as two hit men sent to Belgium on vacation and both deliver career-best work in the process. Their initial reactions to being exiled to what Farrell’s character refers to as a “shithole” are priceless and provide much of the boredom-fueled hi-jinx that occurs in the film’s blistering first half. Even with their spectacular performances, the real star of the show becomes the glorious city of Bruges. It possesses a captivating “old country” feel that we don’t usually see in mainstream pictures and the more we see of it, the more we realize that it’s far from being considered the doldrums of Europe.
- **** out of 4
Am I the only one who had a feeling that “Righteous Kill” would be less than impressive? I sure hope not, but I can see how swarms of moviegoers can be duped into believing that De Niro and Pacino would be able to recapture the same high wire explosiveness they so effortlessly toyed with in Michael Mann’s masterpiece “Heat.” I mean, they waited thirteen years before deciding to pair up again, so the prolonged anticipation must’ve been worth it right?
If I said yes, I’d be lying and if I said no, that wouldn’t be entirely accurate either. Actually, I’m still trying to fathom how they agreed that a third-rate buddy cop flick with a plot better suited for Saturday afternoon television would be the best way the work off each other. Couldn’t they have chosen something that wasn’t practically begging the audience to solve it within the first ten minutes? I suppose they thought the performances would be enough to overcome the idiotic denouement and, to a degree, they do just that.
De Niro is strong as usual and Pacino looks to be having a wonderful time cranking out one dirty joke after another, but we all know they’re slumming it. Personally, I find it distressing to think that Travis Bickle and Frank Serpico are so far in the past, because I often wonder if they’ll be able to turn in something truly amazing ever again.
For people inclined to use “Heat” as a litmus test, might I say that Jon Avnet is nowhere near the director than Mann is and if he ever played poker, he’d lose pretty quick, because he opts to put all of his cards on the table before the betting has even begun. If you’re still trying to piece together the poker analogy, I’ll make it easier by saying that you shouldn’t expect anything close to what happened in 1995.
- ** out of 4
Sure, the running time could’ve been abridged and the blood flowed as freely as the Nile, but the creepy narrative actually amounts to much more than just a gratuitous assault on the eyes. Sutherland’s tortured detective exhibits poignant emotional profundity during his familial interaction and as he descends into irrepressible madness, we actually start to believe that mirrors can play a role in altering someone’s perceived state of reality.
Since it’s essentially a one-man show, the film tends to drag a bit when Sutherland isn’t on screen and even when he is, the possibilities for evolution are limited until the Shyamalan-esque twist of fate comes along to make you question everything you’ve just spent one-hundred minutes watching. It might not have the most ground-breaking title in the universe, but compared to some of 2008’s other suspense offerings, I’d say it falls somewhere in the middle. And for Aja, that’s a momentous upgrade.
- ** ½ out of 4
Ben Stiller’s long-awaited satirical smorgasbord of war cinema “Tropic Thunder” is everything I hoped it would be. The acting is exceptional, the action is hyperbolized, and the music contains just enough Vietnam homage to be taken seriously as an enlightened addition to the genre. Did I mention it’s also one of the funniest studio comedies of the decade and blatantly pushes the envelope more than any Will Ferrell comedy could ever dream of? Well, under the brilliant control of Stiller, Black, and Downey Jr. it strikes the right note every time and provides a perfect night out at the movies.
- *** ½ out of 4
I might be in the minority on this one, but I think that Brian Cox’s stoically intimidating performance in “Red” is one of the finest thespian undertakings of 2008 thus far. His face is weathered, his voice is gravelly, and the only thing he loves more than his dog is the tantalizing possibility of dispensing justice to a spoiled, spineless troublemaker who thought he was above the law. When his dog is mercilessly eliminated as part of a robbery, he goes out of his way to maintain a sense of Christ-like objectivity, but the shallow pomposity of the assailants eventually leads him to settle things in true Bronson-esque fashion.
Now, if you’re thinking that the story is just another brute retribution saga, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken. The deeply rooted themes of honor and restitution resonate heavily throughout Cox’s solo campaign for justice and are much more plausible than the slick invincibility made famous during the later half of Steven Seagal’s career. He doesn’t have a magical bag of tricks to extract from, so he approaches the conflict just like any over-zealous, pro-gun good ol’ boy would. The only difference is that for Cox’s character, emptying the clip wouldn’t be the first option.
- **** out of 4
Martin McDonagh’s “In Bruges” plays like a beautifully operatic Shakespearean tragedy in which the laughs come early and often, but are later supplanted by a sinister climax that forces the “protagonists” to come face to face with their ill-favored life decisions. I put the word “protagonists” in quotes, because when you consider the fact that the main characters are cold, calculating assassins, somehow the concept of heroism doesn’t exactly seem appropriate. That’s not to say that they don’t have feelings. I just think they’re not the type of crowd that assigns a high value to sensitivity training and would throw someone out a window if only for the hedonistic purpose of watching them fall to their death.
Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson capture the bruising camaraderie of pub life in a wickedly comical manner as two hit men sent to Belgium on vacation and both deliver career-best work in the process. Their initial reactions to being exiled to what Farrell’s character refers to as a “shithole” are priceless and provide much of the boredom-fueled hi-jinx that occurs in the film’s blistering first half. Even with their spectacular performances, the real star of the show becomes the glorious city of Bruges. It possesses a captivating “old country” feel that we don’t usually see in mainstream pictures and the more we see of it, the more we realize that it’s far from being considered the doldrums of Europe.
- **** out of 4
Am I the only one who had a feeling that “Righteous Kill” would be less than impressive? I sure hope not, but I can see how swarms of moviegoers can be duped into believing that De Niro and Pacino would be able to recapture the same high wire explosiveness they so effortlessly toyed with in Michael Mann’s masterpiece “Heat.” I mean, they waited thirteen years before deciding to pair up again, so the prolonged anticipation must’ve been worth it right?
If I said yes, I’d be lying and if I said no, that wouldn’t be entirely accurate either. Actually, I’m still trying to fathom how they agreed that a third-rate buddy cop flick with a plot better suited for Saturday afternoon television would be the best way the work off each other. Couldn’t they have chosen something that wasn’t practically begging the audience to solve it within the first ten minutes? I suppose they thought the performances would be enough to overcome the idiotic denouement and, to a degree, they do just that.
De Niro is strong as usual and Pacino looks to be having a wonderful time cranking out one dirty joke after another, but we all know they’re slumming it. Personally, I find it distressing to think that Travis Bickle and Frank Serpico are so far in the past, because I often wonder if they’ll be able to turn in something truly amazing ever again.
For people inclined to use “Heat” as a litmus test, might I say that Jon Avnet is nowhere near the director than Mann is and if he ever played poker, he’d lose pretty quick, because he opts to put all of his cards on the table before the betting has even begun. If you’re still trying to piece together the poker analogy, I’ll make it easier by saying that you shouldn’t expect anything close to what happened in 1995.
- ** out of 4
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Step Brothers
I think it’s safe to say that I’m an ardent fan of just about everything Will Ferrell has been a part of over the last ten years or so (“A Night at the Roxbury” and “Semi-Pro” not included), but his latest potty-mouthed solecism “Step Brothers” didn’t quite rattle my rib cage the same way a modern cult classic like “Anchorman” always does.
It’s a coarse, cacophonous basket case of a movie that revels in the kind of mean-spirited impudence I would expect from a comedy troupe that is yet to be acquainted with a Judd Apatow production. In Apatow’s work, the characters can say or do things that leave the audience in a state of hilarious disgust, but more often than not they prove to be all bark and no bite.
Here, that couldn’t be further from the truth. These people hate each other with all their heart and soul and are willing to shatter familial relationships if it leads to dominance over their fellow wayward couch potatoes. I didn’t think tossing your own father down a flight of stairs constituted humor, but apparently writer/director Adam McKay finds that sort of warped giddiness to be a critical part of any comedic offering.
In fact, much of what goes on in this film falls into that warped category, because the entire execution feels like something they threw together at the last minute and includes a bunch of gross-out moments that must’ve sounded funny in the planning stages.
Ferrell plays Brennan Huff, a 40-year-old slacker who still lives at home with his mother (Mary Steenburgen) and has no aspirations outside of eating junk food or practicing karate in his garage. When he discovers that his mother is getting married and that he’ll have to share a room with another adult loafer played by John C. Reilly, his life couldn’t be more disrupted. He forges a volatile relationship with his new step brother Dale and most of his energy is spent trying to conjure up different ways to torture him.
Here is where I lost touch with the film, because it wants us to believe that these two oafs actually become best friends just as their parents’ romantic bond is rapidly unraveling. Things get quite raunchy and idiotic in the final act, so don’t get too excited about the idea of Ferrell and Reilly in the same project.
Sure, they have some humorous gags along the way, but Brennan’s biological brother played by Adam Scott is actually the funniest person on screen. The scene in which he leads his family through a demented “Sweet Child O’ Mine” sing-along definitely takes the top prize in my book.
Fans of Ferrell will certainly find some amusement in his antics, but I see it as just another wasted opportunity that could’ve been something special had they not opted for schoolyard sight gags. If you like your comedy without all the tedious adolescent jabber, may I suggest “Tropic Thunder” for a much more satirically enlightening experience.
- ** out of 4
It’s a coarse, cacophonous basket case of a movie that revels in the kind of mean-spirited impudence I would expect from a comedy troupe that is yet to be acquainted with a Judd Apatow production. In Apatow’s work, the characters can say or do things that leave the audience in a state of hilarious disgust, but more often than not they prove to be all bark and no bite.
Here, that couldn’t be further from the truth. These people hate each other with all their heart and soul and are willing to shatter familial relationships if it leads to dominance over their fellow wayward couch potatoes. I didn’t think tossing your own father down a flight of stairs constituted humor, but apparently writer/director Adam McKay finds that sort of warped giddiness to be a critical part of any comedic offering.
In fact, much of what goes on in this film falls into that warped category, because the entire execution feels like something they threw together at the last minute and includes a bunch of gross-out moments that must’ve sounded funny in the planning stages.
Ferrell plays Brennan Huff, a 40-year-old slacker who still lives at home with his mother (Mary Steenburgen) and has no aspirations outside of eating junk food or practicing karate in his garage. When he discovers that his mother is getting married and that he’ll have to share a room with another adult loafer played by John C. Reilly, his life couldn’t be more disrupted. He forges a volatile relationship with his new step brother Dale and most of his energy is spent trying to conjure up different ways to torture him.
Here is where I lost touch with the film, because it wants us to believe that these two oafs actually become best friends just as their parents’ romantic bond is rapidly unraveling. Things get quite raunchy and idiotic in the final act, so don’t get too excited about the idea of Ferrell and Reilly in the same project.
Sure, they have some humorous gags along the way, but Brennan’s biological brother played by Adam Scott is actually the funniest person on screen. The scene in which he leads his family through a demented “Sweet Child O’ Mine” sing-along definitely takes the top prize in my book.
Fans of Ferrell will certainly find some amusement in his antics, but I see it as just another wasted opportunity that could’ve been something special had they not opted for schoolyard sight gags. If you like your comedy without all the tedious adolescent jabber, may I suggest “Tropic Thunder” for a much more satirically enlightening experience.
- ** out of 4
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Hosed
Not only did He Kexin get a gold medal, she also got a visit from the tooth fairy. 16? Are you kidding me?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
The X-Files: I Want to Believe
For diehard disciples of Chris Carter’s awesomely multifarious chiller “The X-Files,” the latest big-screen adaptation might not be the supernatural recharge they were hoping for. “The X-Files: I Want to Believe” contains almost no mystical commotion outside of a pedophile priest who claims he can see missing people and even he doesn’t offer much in the way of legitimate paranormal aptitude. Instead, Carter strings together a series of spiritual challenges designed to compel Mulder and Scully into a state of full-on personal introspection, while still hot on the trail of an illegal organ harvesting cartel (Now there‘s the horror we’ve come to love!).
As a mild fan of the show’s later seasons, I found the subtle narrative groove here to be a welcomed upgrade over the cloudy meanderings that often dulled the show’s creative edge near the end. Some people may disagree with making the two sullen FBI agents a couple, but I think it only makes sense considering how much the sexual tension has percolated over the years. The fact is that they bring out the best in one another and their love has only grown stronger since the last time they worked a case together.
David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson have these roles so embedded in their system that the chemistry is just as sharp and breezy as it was back in 1993, which, to me, is reason enough to spend your time indulging in this never-ending search for the truth.
Like I said before, the plot couldn’t be further from extraterrestrial territory and Amanda Peet and Xzibit have been brought in as co-stars, so don’t go expecting a spectacular Summer thrill ride. However, the surprising gravity of comedian Billy Connolly as Father Joe is intriguing at every twist and sets the stage for some of the more creepy moments.
If the intensity level doesn’t quite do it for you, may I suggest picking up the first three seasons (Brilliant, to say the least) of the show to witness what pure cinematic fright is made of. Or check them both out and then decide for yourself whether the truth really is out there.
Side Note: Watch for the scene where the picture of George W. Bush is accompanied by the eerie theme music (Nice touch).
- *** out of 4
As a mild fan of the show’s later seasons, I found the subtle narrative groove here to be a welcomed upgrade over the cloudy meanderings that often dulled the show’s creative edge near the end. Some people may disagree with making the two sullen FBI agents a couple, but I think it only makes sense considering how much the sexual tension has percolated over the years. The fact is that they bring out the best in one another and their love has only grown stronger since the last time they worked a case together.
David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson have these roles so embedded in their system that the chemistry is just as sharp and breezy as it was back in 1993, which, to me, is reason enough to spend your time indulging in this never-ending search for the truth.
Like I said before, the plot couldn’t be further from extraterrestrial territory and Amanda Peet and Xzibit have been brought in as co-stars, so don’t go expecting a spectacular Summer thrill ride. However, the surprising gravity of comedian Billy Connolly as Father Joe is intriguing at every twist and sets the stage for some of the more creepy moments.
If the intensity level doesn’t quite do it for you, may I suggest picking up the first three seasons (Brilliant, to say the least) of the show to witness what pure cinematic fright is made of. Or check them both out and then decide for yourself whether the truth really is out there.
Side Note: Watch for the scene where the picture of George W. Bush is accompanied by the eerie theme music (Nice touch).
- *** out of 4
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Two Doors Are Better Than None
If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have believed it. It was loud, long, and filled to the brim with the kind of wistfully intoxicated belligerents that make you afraid to leave the house. No, I’m not talking about the 1968 Monterey Pop Festival, although that certainly falls under that distinction. Actually, I’m referring to the Molson Canal Concert Series where, last Friday night, the sultans of psychedelia Robbie Krieger and Ray Manzarek rolled into Lockport for a scintillating two hours of unadulterated musical heaven.
Spearheaded by ex-Fuel warbler Brett Scallions, the Riders On The Storm took the stage around 9:00 p.m. and proceeded to tear into one Doors classic after another. Everything from the twangy groove of “Love Me Two Times” to the oddly anthemic potency of “Peacefrog” made an appearance and as someone who wasn’t fortunate enough to experience the band in its entirety, I was deeply moved by the intimate relationship they seemed to develop with the diehard audience members.
The dull moments were few and far between, because the tautness of the band superseded any of the inevitable comparisons being drawn between Scallions and Jim Morrison. We all know Morrison is a legend, but I thought Scallions did a more than honorable job of injecting his own passion into the material and disagree with people who feel otherwise.
Personally, I think the absence of the Lizard King enabled me to further marvel at the virtuosic prowess of Manzarek and Krieger. It always seemed to me that their contributions were somewhat overlooked due to Jim’s god-like persona, but this time they got their due. Krieger’s soloing is as dazzling and melodic as anybody out there and the instantly identifiable ring of Manzarek’s keyboard is what separated The Doors from the rest of the pack. Together, they’re a living, breathing testament to the “We’re Not Gonna Take It” philosophy of the late 1960’s and still bring the thunder every night regardless of how their age has advanced.
This show is easily among the top five I’ve ever seen and I’ll always remember the night I witnessed these Rock ‘n’ Roll icons up close and personal. However, I feel compelled to address the complete lack of consideration on the part of many concertgoers who believe the Ulrich City Courtyard to be their own personal Bally. I mean, how many drunken buffoons can you fit in one area before agoraphobia sets in?
There were times when all I could think about was how fast the kid in front of me would drop if I gave him a karate chop to back of the neck. I wouldn’t do it of course, but you get the point. I love outdoor concerts as much as anyone, but sometimes I feel that the majority of morons in attendance are there strictly for the party and could give a rat’s behind about what’s happening on stage. If you want a kegger, stay home.
Well, it’s just a thought. I don’t expect the atmosphere to change anytime soon, so if you plan on heading out for a show, make sure the brass knuckles aren’t far behind. I kid, I kid.
Other Set Highlights: “Touch Me,” “L.A. Woman,” “Light My Fire,” “Five to One,” “When the Music’s Over,” “Break on Through,” and, of course, “Riders on the Storm.”
Spearheaded by ex-Fuel warbler Brett Scallions, the Riders On The Storm took the stage around 9:00 p.m. and proceeded to tear into one Doors classic after another. Everything from the twangy groove of “Love Me Two Times” to the oddly anthemic potency of “Peacefrog” made an appearance and as someone who wasn’t fortunate enough to experience the band in its entirety, I was deeply moved by the intimate relationship they seemed to develop with the diehard audience members.
The dull moments were few and far between, because the tautness of the band superseded any of the inevitable comparisons being drawn between Scallions and Jim Morrison. We all know Morrison is a legend, but I thought Scallions did a more than honorable job of injecting his own passion into the material and disagree with people who feel otherwise.
Personally, I think the absence of the Lizard King enabled me to further marvel at the virtuosic prowess of Manzarek and Krieger. It always seemed to me that their contributions were somewhat overlooked due to Jim’s god-like persona, but this time they got their due. Krieger’s soloing is as dazzling and melodic as anybody out there and the instantly identifiable ring of Manzarek’s keyboard is what separated The Doors from the rest of the pack. Together, they’re a living, breathing testament to the “We’re Not Gonna Take It” philosophy of the late 1960’s and still bring the thunder every night regardless of how their age has advanced.
This show is easily among the top five I’ve ever seen and I’ll always remember the night I witnessed these Rock ‘n’ Roll icons up close and personal. However, I feel compelled to address the complete lack of consideration on the part of many concertgoers who believe the Ulrich City Courtyard to be their own personal Bally. I mean, how many drunken buffoons can you fit in one area before agoraphobia sets in?
There were times when all I could think about was how fast the kid in front of me would drop if I gave him a karate chop to back of the neck. I wouldn’t do it of course, but you get the point. I love outdoor concerts as much as anyone, but sometimes I feel that the majority of morons in attendance are there strictly for the party and could give a rat’s behind about what’s happening on stage. If you want a kegger, stay home.
Well, it’s just a thought. I don’t expect the atmosphere to change anytime soon, so if you plan on heading out for a show, make sure the brass knuckles aren’t far behind. I kid, I kid.
Other Set Highlights: “Touch Me,” “L.A. Woman,” “Light My Fire,” “Five to One,” “When the Music’s Over,” “Break on Through,” and, of course, “Riders on the Storm.”
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