By Joel Warner
By Michael Roberts
By Alan Prendergast
By Michael Roberts
By Michael Roberts
By Amber Taufen
By Patricia Calhoun
By William Breathes
A giant blue bear whimsically peering in windows at the Colorado Convention Center? Sounds like a companion piece to the GGWG, another piece of world-class public art that has Denverites bustin' their buttons with civic pride. In case you're not au courant, that's the new acronym for the Giant Gay White Guys...
Broncs cheer:Despite being vegetarian for eight years, the fact somehow eluded Libi Striegl (whose letter was published in the July 7 issue) that precious few people (those old enough to read, anyway) give up meat because they don't like the taste. Of course it's okay for vegetarians to "pretend" to be eating meat when it's made out of tofu. It's not an issue of taste; it's an issue of conscience. And where, exactly, is she coming across all these "holier-than-thou" vegans? In my experience, the whole notion of the arrogant, self-important veggie is a complete fabrication by those who, inexplicably, feel threatened by the mere notion of some people choosing a meat-free diet.
As for that goddamn bear, between the random shrapnel littering the lawn of the Denver Performing Arts Complex and the parking garage mural taken straight from a retarded child's coloring book on 14th Street, the art of downtown Denver has to rank dead-fucking last in the country. The goofy, geometric bear makes a fine addition to our growing collection of atrocities.
Way to go, Bronco Country.
I drove a cab in Denver for eleven years -- quite successfully, I might add. And let me tell you, it's a very tough business! It's dangerous, it's entertaining and it's ultimately profitless, the way the business is structured. Want to waste your life? Spend eleven years before the mast (meter).
Truth be known, any Tom, Dick or Harry should be able to start his own cab company or put his own cab on so long as his cab is clearly identifiable, he carries the proper insurance and bonding and there are enough canny cab inspectors out there riding incognito to monitor service. But the "regulated monopoly" approach (Jay Gould all over again!) in Denver is anathema to good business and good service. It means higher fares so that millionaire cab-company owners can get richer. The riding public has no idea how much cab companies gouge their drivers and how much of that cost is passed on to the public. How would you like to drive eight hours on a slow business day just to break even? (I ran 66 trips in one day. I knew how to drive a cab. I was the hardest-working cab driver in the Western world.)
In any case, we don't really need any gypsy cabs. Both the drivers and passengers of such vehicles are truly captives. But the reason gypsy cabs thrive is the same reason any other black-market business gains a foothold: monopolies and bad politics invited them in. I once helped the former Yellow Cab co-op lobby the legislature to keep other cab companies out. Wrong, wrong, wrong! Hey, cab drivers: Get a life.
About "George Romero's brain eaters," any zombie fan knows that Romero zombies prefer entrails or any scraps of flesh they can get their rotting digits on. The "More Brains!" zombies are featured in Return of the Living Dead, directed by Dan O'Bannon.
As for "28 Days Later (where I spent the whole movie rooting for the zombies to eat poor, pasty Cillian Murphy and put both of us out of our misery)," zombies aren't in 28 Days Later.
And calling "guys who make zombie movies...freakish, obsessive man-children," aside from Romero and the above-mentioned Dan O'Bannon, what directors are you referring to? Just curious.
Please stick to what you know. Now make like a Romero zombie and go grab some ribs.
via the Internet
Swig party: "It's that bittersweet time of year when we must say goodbye to certain members of the Institute of Drinking Studies as they move on to greater responsibility, more disposable income and, with any luck, more time between binge-drinking bouts," Patrick Osborn writes in the July 7 Drunk of the Week.
Now, come on! There's more than one bloody opening (see above), and how many oafs are as well qualified in the art of slinging booze down their throats without getting a) married, b) arrested, c) hospitalized, or d) hit with a restraining order? At least have a tryout, something like Drunken Idol. Eight lovable lushes from across Denver compete for the prize of being an Institute member for a year (or a week, or a month, depending on state of their livers).
If you give me a tryout, I promise I'll be on my best (or worst) behavior.