it doesn’t take a lot to get a lot of us to talk this way

I’ve got a post up on Overthinking It that I’m particularly proud of: Toward a Grand Unified Theory of Schwarzenegger. Critics accuse Arnold Schwarzenegger of always playing the same type in his 80s action roles. But what if that’s deliberate? What if he’s actually playing the same person?

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My answers to yesterday’s questions:

1) Find some activity where you’ll meet more girls. Not to date, just to learn how to talk to.

2) Take a few computer classes.

3) Nothing in your life is as important as you’re making high school out to be. If you can’t handle something, tell your parents. If you can’t tell them, tell a counselor. If you can’t tell her, tell a priest (while you’re still talking to them). But letting the pressure build until it breaks you will accomplish just that.

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Monthly Yelp Elite event at Nile Lounge in Allston last night. Free drinks and snacks courtesy of Kick for Nick, a charity that distributes soccer balls to Iraqi children. The easy, cynical response would be to laugh – what good are soccer balls in a civil war? – but don’t forget that futbol is the most popular sport everywhere in the world except for the U.S.

Nile Lounge is a hookah bar, and I indulged in many fragrant incenses. You’d fit a little plastic mouthpiece over the tip of the hookah, draw in a deep draught and exhale gently. Wash your palate out with a little Naragansett and try another. Personal favorites: White Peach Apple (light and sweet) and Blue Nile (tastes like Powerade).

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I couldn’t stay at Nile long, though, as I had an Atmosphere concert to hit up at the House of Blues.

First, some words about the venue: the line for admission stretched to the end of the block. Red-shirted guards rousted drunks and rowdies from the queue; I saw one poor stumbler get cuffed and paddywagon’ed while I was still one hundred yards from the front door.

The inside tiers like a stadium: open ground floor, balconies ringing the second and third levels, and even some theater seating in the way back. They closed off the first floor by the time I arrived, but I got a killer view from the second floor: balcony corner closest to stage right.

slugThe artist: this was my second time seeing Slug and Ant live. I’d immersed myself deeper in their foreign language in the past year, picking up not only God Loves Ugly and Seven’s Travels but even some of the sad clown bad dub tracks. This was fortunate, as 90% of the set came from God Loves Ugly and When Life Gives You Lemons …, with a rare mixtape track thrown in.

As with last year, Slug eschewed that fake-ass encore shit to take us out on a high energy set. “Now, the smart thing to do would be not even mention the encore and just play the set,” he admitted. “But I’m not that smart.”

But the following changed between this year and last:

Size of the venue: Roxy had about a thousand fans; House of Blues holds over 2400. “This is some Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome shit,” Slug observed. “Ant was comparing it to the Los Angeles crowd. I was comparing it to home.”

No pushing: Slug pointed out a vortex of moshing humanity ten feet back from the stage. “I ain’t down with that shoving. No crowd-surfing, neither. I’m serious: I’m getting too old for that. You keep up that shoving, I will politely ask security to put you in a chokehold and take you to the fucking sidewalk.”

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