The Culture Bunker
by William Ham
illustration by Dave Coscia
Hey hee hoo hah, folx. Yep, it’s official – the fine monthly fire-starter you’re holding in your sclerotic mitts has gone national, which means that these hermetic ramblings o’ mine are now accessible to sniveling, whitehead-ridden outcasts (present company excepted, of course) all over this great land of R’s (Republicanism, Rampant Mayhem, and Red Dog). A fond halloo to all of you whose orbs are running rheumily over these words for the first time. You got a real purty mouth. As you can probably surmise through your psilocybin haze, this upgrade brings with it a certain sense of responsibility – we are now the cultural emissaries of the “scene” here in Beantown (that’s what us locals call Boston – I believe the name comes from the heavy odor of bad-chili-derived intestinal distress that hangs over our fair-to-below-average city like a diaphanous body stocking). So, for those inspired to make the pilgrimage, here is my guide to just a few of the places, people, plants and birds and rocks and things that make this town the Mecca-in-ill-fitting-slacks that it is.
Places to Go
* Ben Gay (2060 Sidneygreen Street) – Boston’s premiere subterranean showplace, comfortably located in the heart of the Cerebral Hemorrhage District. Every night has a different theme – Tuesday is Gingivitis Night (the ideal marriage of techno and bad dental hygiene – a favorite of visiting Englishmen), Thursday is Dork Rock Night (DJ Chris Himmler spins platters by Falco, Andrew Ridgeley and C.W. McCall while the management fills the room with carbon monoxide until everyone dies), and Sunday is their world-famous Quadriplegic Dance Party. “One of Boston’s clubs” – The Weekly Fishrap.
* Bob’s Bar (72 3/4 Generic Street) – not, as the name implies, a watering hole, just a fire-damaged storefront containing what owner/manager/derelict Bob Andweeve calls “a really cool shower curtain rod” he found while foraging for old Chinese food containers. One of the most popular hangouts in the city. Nobody knows why.
* The Virtuous Lady (841 Getoffmy Street) – the area once known as the Combat Zone has undergone a number of changes in recent years, and this revamped adults-only club (formerly The Panting Repairman) is a prime example. Non-exotic dancers from all over the area come on stage in shapeless, unrevealing outfits, and, to the music of Mahler and George Winston, put more on. Ten dollars will get you a table dance (and lemme tell ya, some of those tables can really hoof it), and for $25, the dancers will take out a restraining order on you and have an anxiety attack. Stupefaction guaranteed.
Places to Eat (Food)
* Chez What? (42 Wrong Place) – a fine restaurant for those who aren’t terribly hungry, this footnoteworthy spot offers a wide variety of photographs of Italian, French, and Rosicrucian cuisine, a well-unstocked bar of liquid-free drinks from around the world, and the best wax fruit cocktail in the state. Call ahead for reservations; they’ll curse and hang up.
* Little Coffee Shop of Horrors (69 Breakdown Lane) – NYC’s renowned necro-beanery (“Where Every Cup Of Joe Is A Little Death – located just minutes from Grand Guignol Station”) has relocated to Boston. I mean that literally – it just showed up here one day. Home of the Bottomless Pit of Coffee, they’ve recently added several items to their last supper menu. The Beef Skellington leaves something to be desired (like meat, perhaps) and the Filet of Soul in Eternal Torment tends to be a trice overcooked, but the Disoriental fare is first-rate, particularly the Crab Lice Rangoon. “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” – and don’t forget to tip.
* You Want Your Food? Come Over Here And Take It From Me! (.02 Concentric Circle) – Oh, good god, don’t make me go in there again. You might like it, though.
Upcoming Events
* Pretensions Pending: An Exhibition of Theoretical Art (Tacks Wrightov Gallery, 2 Little Tulate Street, Cambridge) – Boston’s cutting-edge art scene gashes the left thumb of the intellectual elite once again with this new installment, comprising the heavy cream of the local micro-minimalist and abstract repressionist movements. Locally tolerated artists like Jean-Paul Georges-Ringaux and Gnikrap On exhibit their latest blank canvases and empty frames while they stand in the corner, explaining how great their pieces would have been if they’d gotten around to them. As a special bonus, February 16 brings the unveiling of the newest work from Native American sculptress Two Otters Mangled and Bleeding In The Drainage Ditch Jimmicum (of the Procrasti Nation), “Hunk of Clay That Was Going To Be The Great White Hunter Getting A Pedicure #4.” See it soon before it goes out of style – oops, too late. (through April 31)
* Shakespearotica Festival (Sherbet Theatre, 10 Dentious Avenue) – in an attempt to recoup the losses incurred by last year’s all-amphibian production of Macbeth, the Royal Shakespeare and Traveling Wet-Nurse Repertory Theatre has taken the unprecedented step of mounting a series of the Bard’s greatest works, subtly rewritten for the adult market under the supervision of Lord Humphrey Prong. Plays in the series include: Titus Androgynous (March 4-6), Romeo Does Juliet (March 7-9), The Really, REALLY Merry Wives of Windsor (March 10-12), Ass – You Like It? (March 13-15), A Midsummer Night’s Cream (March 16-18), Love’s Labias Lost (March 19-21), and Coriol’s Anus (March 22-24). A truly unique theatre experience that’ll have you saying, “Hey! This isn’t a dagger I see before me!” Cum and see ’em (not necessarily in that order).
* Fifty-first Night (various locations) – the lesser-known of Boston’s two all-night celebrations, but certainly the second-most fun. Join the revelers (six at press time, but Jimmy’s cousin just got discharged from the Army, so it’s subject to change) as they see in February 20th the only way they know how (unless they forget). As always, there’s too many events to list here, but highlights include: Watching Tommy Get The Dry Heaves In Front Of Au Bon Pain (approx. 9:30), Jon Sees How Looped He Can Get On Ronson Lighter Fluid and Nyquil (10:15 sharp), the Fifth Annual Pakistani Convenience Store Clerk Taunt-off (10:30), Fun With Sleeping Winos, Aqua Net, and Mark’s Father’s Monogrammed Lighter (continues throughout the evening), and of course, fireworks at midnight (Paulie found two cherry bombs in his garage). A night you’ll not soon recall. Admission: free (but bring your own bail).
On The Radio
WANK (108.5) – this local institution has been put through a staggering number of format changes (12 in the last week alone), but after extensive demographic research and an intense game of darts, has finally hit on a format that station manager Douglas Fir believes will finally break the proverbial bank: Boston’s first all-“Radar Love” station. That’s right – all “Radar Love,” all the time. The gambit has worked – ratings for the winter quarter are the highest since the station’s legendary days as the leading sound-effects-records and hair-care-tips broadcaster in New England. Tune in Friday nights at 10 for the Top One Countdown to hear what their most-requested song is this week. I know, but I’m not giving it away.
People To See
Gerard Havalina (78 Malady Lane, (617) 165-4832) – this guy pissed me off. He made fun of my new Christian Lacroix toga a few nights ago and said something decidedly impolite about my mother and her Saint Bernard. So if you come to town, do me a favor: drop by and pay him a visit. The later the better. Pelt his front door and picture windows with month-old guavas. If he has any mail, take it. Charge calls to 1-900-BLOWHOLE to his phone. Load up a rabid pit bull on PCP, keep it in a small packing crate for two days, and release it on his lawn just as he’s leaving for his job at the Copy Gestapo in the morning. Think of the warm feeling you’ll get knowing that you’ve performed a valuable public service. “If you’re going to harass just one bile-sucking parasite this year, make it this one” – Me.
Valuable Tips For Tourists
* When asking directions from police officers in Boston, preface any comments by saying, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be rooting for truffles and rolling in your own excrement?” and dropping to all fours, snorting and squealing. The cops around here have great senses of humor – you’re sure to establish their trust immediately this way.
* The prices for taking the T (Boston’s underground transit system) are just suggested donations. If you don’t feel like paying, feel free to vault over the turnstiles.
* Same goes for tollbooths. Enjoy your visit!
Thanks to John Engstrom.
