Banana Nutrament

Stop the Presses

Haven't posted lately due to being knocked out by a wicked cold. Our baby had a touch of pneumonia last week, so maybe I contracted a little of what he had? I've been sick for about a week, sleeping most of Sunday and not going in to work this past Monday. The strange thing is now that all the aches and dizzy spells have departed, I feel better, yet I know that I'm still the host organism for whatever parasite is living in the back of my throat. I can sense it there, I feel like a walking bacterial culture.

I finally took care of myself and got down to an ear, nose, and throat doctor on Canal Street today. The experience was something out of a Terry Gilliam movie, shish kebab-like spears were thrust into my ear canals for scraping, a small video camera on a wire was sent up each nostril so we could watch the inside of my head on a nearby screen, and to top it off, only one of the doctors knew English. Fun stuff.

Earlier in the week, in a drugged up haze, I had this impossibly annoying voice trapped in my head, announcing himself over and over as Boots. I had to go back to the Midnight Pajama Jam site to replay the video and flush it out of my head. You can do the same here.

I went to an early incarnation of the Midnight Pajama Jam years ago, and maybe six months ago took a few friends to Southpaw for a benefit that included the likes of Jon Benjamin, Eugene Mirman, Todd Barry, and countless other up and coming comedians.

Jon Benjamin and David Cross at Invite Them Up
**Buy the CD at the Comedy Central shop**
Interview with Jon Benjamin here

Benjamin and Glaser on Television (part 1 .wmv)
Benjamin and Glaser on Television (part 2 .wmv)

As bad as I feel, I wonder if Nick Sylvester feels worse. That stunt he pulled of fabricating quotes in a Village Voice cover feature, I'm not quite sure what to think of it. I've enjoyed his sometimes excellent writing over the last two years, it's hard to believe such a smart writer might think he could get away with something so stupid. So I'll propose a potential scenario. He's not sad or regretful at all, Sylvester probably sold a screenplay or scored a job writing for The Simpsons. Thought he might do a nice bellyflop swan song paired with a double fuck you to the new corporate owners of the Voice. The only thing lacking was the apology, it would have been markedly improved had it read, "lol, thx for firing Voice's factchexxoring staff, New Times = pwned".