Roller derby in your face

Have you been to a Roller Derby match at the Masonic Temple? No? You should go. Nothing else quite like it around. Get your tickets early because they always sell out. Watching chicks roller-skating and kicking the crap out of each other is a good time. I can't tell you much more about it, though, because I was lucky enough to steal a press pass and take pictures for The Detroiter. When I'm taking pictures, I find it nearly impossible to actually follow whatever I'm photographing. Something to do with the way the brain works, or, at least, MY brain. Ah well. Here are a few pics (my flash crapped out on me, so my pictures ended up being total crap... thank goodness for post processing and the "gritty" look!).

Saint Patty's Parade

The luck of the Irish was with me as I captured this image of a young man looking on, as a big-ass tractor-thing rolls through the Saint Patty's Parade in Corktown (for more pics, go here):

Jay Leno, Detroit HATES YOU!

Is our city going to recover? In a word: No. Not anytime soon.

For one thing, most of the people who live in the city, don't give a shit about the city (or, at least, they don't do anything about it). The few that DO care, may simply be too few to affect change. For example, only about 10% of the damn people in the city voted in the mayoral primaries!

Here's more proof of the apocalypse:

http://www.clickondetroit.com/video/18900540/

Speaking of the apocalypse... can't we arrange some kind of natural disaster, that will wipe the city clean, so that we can just start over? What about the Detroit River, can we build a dam and flood the streets? You know... just long enough to wash away every elected official (including the entire public school council)? That would also take the pee smell out of some of the alleys, which would be an added bonus!

How, in holy hell, do people like THAT get elected to the city council?! Apparently, beggars CAN be choosers within the city limits. That's news to me. If I were Jay Leno, I tell our city to screw off. Seriously. Why even bother?

Reporter - "You do know, they have the Final Four the night before at Ford Field?"
Dumb b on city council - "I don't know... what's going on. Whatever it is, we need to have Jay Leno make the commitment to play Detroit, whenever it is."

Reporter - "Now, you realize that [even] if he IS in Detroit, you can't go, though?"
Dumb b on city council - "Why not?"
Reporter - "Because you're not unemployed!"
Dumb b on city council- "Well, yes I am. In a way. I usually dance in the street."
Reporter - "The rules are; you have to unemployed to attend the concert."
Dumb b on city council - "I'm unemployed right now. I have two jobs. There's nuttin wrong with hustling."
Reporter - "Heheheh. Oooook."

Oh. My God. The veins in my forehead just burst all over the wall. Shoot me. In. The. Face. Detroit City Council, I hate you. I mean that in all sincerity. You are part of the problem, not part of the solution. QUIT BLAMING EVERYONE ELSE and use your brain.

I need to punch a baby or a puppy I'm so pissed right now... please keep all small, defenseless creatures away from me until I cool down...

The immortal wristband

Yes, everyone's written on the gynormous display of local indie music that was the Hamtramck Blowout. If you missed it, you... blow. For an official explanation of the event, go here, or go here for the unnoficial (real) story. I'm not going to re-hash was has been said. Instead, I'm going to talk about the wristband.

If you attend the entire 4-day fantastical extravaganza, you will have worn the same, non-removable, overly-tight, flesh-scraping wristband for that entire 100 hour perdiod. I actually wore mine even longer, just because I could. My wristband endured at least 10 different venues, 6 or 7 showers (pass the GODDAMN smoking ban and I could cut that number in half), 1 indoor soccer game, 1 baby shower, and 1 very important presentation at work.

When I finally cut the band off my wrist on Sunday evening, I felt as though I was cutting off a piece of myself. And now it just sits here, on my computer desk, motionless, sad, severed... and a reminder of the good times had in Ham-town. See you there next year.

Do not step on the wood chips

I spent Saturday with the dogs.

Thousands of dogs and "dog people" descended upon Cobo Hall this past weekend for the Detroit Kennel Club's 90th annual dog show. It was a grand, face-lickin', ass-smelling, leg-peeing, barking good time. For more on the experience and additional photos, read my report over on the mother station.

Images from the event:




And finally, proof that I was in fact raised by dogs: