The Culture Bunker

Michael's taking charge of the first part of your Culture Bunker this week, because he's got himself a romantic mission. See, recently he met a lovely, smart—did we mention lovely?—Lady Cab Driver (she even was wearing an old-fashioned cabby cap) working for Yellow Taxi. In the course of their conversation, he learned that she grew up 20 miles outside of Oklahoma City, likes Dizzy Gillespie, has a degree in anthropology, and recently returned from teaching English in Budapest. In fact, as we speak, she may well be on her way to Prague. Anyway, after a delightful 20-minute chat they arrived at the Wallingford QFC, where Michael was supposed to get out. It was at this point that he wussed big time—big time!--and didn't ask his new friend out for a cuppa joe. So, here's where you dear readers come in: Do you know anyone matching this description? In the movies, it'd take three months and innumerable misunderstandings and missed connections, but they'd find each other in the end. Of course, they'd also make plans to meet at the Empire State Building, but one of them—presumably Michael, with his luck—would get run over by a bus. But we digress. . . . If you're out there—or if you perchance know the woman we're talking about—drop a line at Who knows? You might well be advancing the course of true love!

And now back to our regularly scheduled idiocy: The Bush campaign has approved the Culture Bunker as a suitable forum for a presidential debate. Negotiations hung up briefly because of our insistence on including the Natural Law Party. But in the end, Dubya just couldn't resist our market share. . . . News broke recently that Chelsea's dating a White House intern. Our question: Is she sticking cigars up his ass?

Speaking of cigars, Fidel Castro was in NYC last week for the Millennium Group meeting of despots, tyrants, and dictators—also known as the MTV VMAs. He's actually shopping a deal for his new band, the Buena Vista Socialist Club. They rule . . . literally!

Forget Dennis Miller—hey, Kabuki man, your references are getting more muddled than the Plantagenet family bloodlines!--the true new Monday Night Football superstar is sideline babe Melissa Stark. Of course, she'd never love us, not after what she's seen in the locker room. . . . Saw an ad for the "legendary lost" album from Twilight Singers. Lost? Unreleasable, more like! Those Wayans brothers are about as funny as Serena Altschul is smart, which is to say, not at all! She makes her illustrious predecessor, the dull-witted Tabitha Soren, look like Doris Kearns Goodwin. . . . Hey, howzabout that Human Seal?

When we heard that Courtney and Liam were making beautiful music together, we didn't think that meant actually writing songs. Erm, who do you suppose is doing the actual "writing?" part? In other Oasis news, Liam recently tried to set Noel up with Shazbot from All Saints, but it seems the little fella is saving himself for his one true love, Mr. Paul Weller. . . . Y'know, referring to "Academy Award-winner Ben Affleck" in a trailer is false advertising, plain and simple. . . .

Finally, we've received word from the Pearl Jam tour that the band has banned blankets because—to quote a recent report—"some fans had been using them as trampolines, resulting in injuries. Small beach towels or ponchos were recommended instead." Eddie and Co. have also promised to play very, very quietly (wouldn't want any ears to get hurt) and will exclude all material from Yield. Y'know, so nobody gets bored to death. . . .

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