Some are Mathematicians, Some Are Carpenters' Wives

And some order 178 pizzas in the middle of the night...

My hometown is in the news.

And not in a good way.



Bob Dylan performed this weekend at UMASS Amherst and, hours later, someone wearing a backstage pass walked into a pizza parlor in the center of town and ordered 178 pizzas for Dylan and his crew.

At 1:30 in the morning.

The staff of the pizza place (perhaps eager for the reflected glory from a music legend whose best days are decades in the past) agreed to stay late and make the pizzas.

The man with the backstage pass promised to return and said he would leave a huge tip on top of the $3900 for the pizzas.

This raises a lot of questions.

Such as: when did my hometown decide that a pizza should cost $22?

And why would anyone think that Bob Dylan would have a crew large enough (or hungry enough) to eat 178 pizzas in the middle of the night (or first thing in the morning)?

Do they think that Dylan has an entourage that numbers in the hundreds? (If everyone were to have 3 slices, that would mean nearly 500 people. Even if everyone ate half a pie, that's still 356 people. And if the average is only 2 slices, that's more than 700 people. Doesn't anyone do simple math anymore?)

And more importantly, why would anyone start a job like that without getting at least partial payment in advance?

As a friend of mine used to say, that's the problem with college towns -- everyone's really book-smart and totally lacking in common sense.

"It may be pepperoni, or it may be extra cheese, but you're gonna have to serve somebody..."

It's All Right...

George Harrison died 9 years ago

RIP doesn't seem right for George Harrison.

But any use of the word "Transmogrify" would seem pretentious...

So here he is with Pete Ham from Badfinger at the Concert for Bangladesh:

Who Knew?

Season of Surprises

You live long enough you discover that real life is much stranger than you ever thought.

For example, who knew that Billy Joel does such a good Springsteen impression?


Bruce's impression of Billy Joel, however, is not so great -- but you gotta give him props for trying.

The Orange Wallet

Better Hurry Cause It's Going Fast...

We were gathered, waiting.

It was the day, it was the time. The flyers in the paper told us where to go. The news reporters waited in the dark.

And then the crowd rushed forward. To the TVs, the laptops, the very limited selection of the very latest gadgets.

And he was first.

But he didn't seem to want to pay. He wanted make conversation.

At 4:32 in the morning.

He was stalling, not wanting the transaction to end.

Behind him in line, hundreds of sleepy shoppers grumbled and cursed him.

And then he reached into his pocket and took out a bright orange wallet.

And he withdrew a handful of cash. And he paid.

And the crowd was strangely quiet, suddenly noticing the man's bright orange hair. And his glowing orange pants.

What kind of crazy man carries a bright orange wallet? And wears glowing orange pants accessorized to his bright orange hair?

Clearly someone who marched to the beat of a drummer no one in their right mind would ever hear.

And he turned towards us, his eyes glowing with the madness of an idea that none of us wanted to know about.

We turned away. All of us.

Because, clearly, that man was insane. That sudden realization washed like a rogue wave over the crowd. The crowd who'd gotten up in the middle of the night for a $250 HD TV or a $300 laptop or one of two Viking Stoves that were being sold for $199.99.

30 Years On...

No One's to Blame, I Know Time Flies So Quickly

Yeah, there's some whitewashing by certain people who've built second careers around milking the myth of their friendships with John & Yoko.

And yeah, he was probably a bit of an asshole more than some of the time.

And yeah, some of the music seems quaint and naive these days.

But there's something about John Lennon that is still larger than life.

Even 30 years on.

Watch the full episode. See more American Masters.

Wordless and Painful and Old

Even Tried Voodoo Right Outside Your Home

There was an author. He struggled for years writing novels that no one read.

Then, on a foggy night with a full moon out, he took a pen name. And started churning out short stories. Simple, witty, memorable pieces. Quick reads. And always centered around a tragic love affair.

And as the stories grew more and more popular, Hollywood came calling. Six of the stories were turned into movies. But the movies were all horrible and the author took his name off the credits of all of them.

Nearly all the stories were narrated by broken men, devastated by heartbreak and unwilling or unable to come to terms with their pasts.

For years, the author avoided interviews, until he learned he was dying and finally agreed to talk to the press.

The question they all wanted to know was how he could write such memorable and completely different women -- each of whom managed to break his narrators' hearts in completely different ways.

And each time he admitted that he had no special gift for female characters. All the women were the same woman. The one who'd broken his heart in a million pieces. The one he pretended he'd forgotten.

The one who haunted him every day of his life.

Because he thought that maybe, if he just talked about her, he could finally break free of the hold she had on him.

And it might have worked -- except that each of the interviews and articles ran long and had to be cut. And in every case, the fact that the different women were all the same was edited out before publication.

Which wasn't what he wanted... but was the way he would have written it himself.

MUSH (The Movie)

A Brief Cross-Promotional Post

So... I made this movie.

Longtime readers might know that I have a soft spot for the Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race.

The last several years, I've gone up to Alaska for parts of the race (which runs more than a thousand miles from Anchorage to Nome, across some of the most beautiful -- and coldest -- areas of the world).

Although the race as a sporting event is amazing, I became fascinated by the rest of the race: the traditions, the rules regarding rest stops, the infrastructure of thousands of volunteers who come in from all over the world to make the race possible, and the inspiring personal stories of everyone involved.

The coverage of the race is great year after year (at least if you know where to find it), but there's very little coverage of all the other stuff.

I knew if someone could capture that other stuff, it would make a great movie. And no one else seemed to be making that movie.

So I did.

And now I'm thrilled that my Iditarod documentary MUSH will premiere in December at the Anchorage International Film Festival in December. Visit the movie's website and Facebook page.

I'll be up in Anchorage for the festival... so if you're around, come say hi.