The Chop Goes on a Date With a Republican

Yes friends, today is a most unusual day in the saga that is the life of the Chop. It’s the day that we, being of sound mind and body and with a full awareness of the world around us and the possible repercussions have willingly agreed to go on an actual date with a card-carrying registered Republican. Mark your calendars. This may never ever happen again. This may be the day that hell itself is so frozen even Ted Stevens is catching a chill. (Cause he was from Alaska, get it?)

If you’ve ever heard us talk about politics before, you know that subtlety is not exactly our strong suit. Whether it’s calling people flat-out racists, coming down in favor of class warfare, or challenging Bob Ehrlich to bare knuckle boxing, our Progressive true colors are always on prominent display. It is the internet though. At least in polite conversation we cuss a little less and don’t actually foam at the mouth.

Arnold Schwarzenegger and maria Shriver on their wedding day

If it doesn't work out, we can always bang the maid, right?

All kidding aside, we go on a lot of dates. We’re looking forward to the one tonight a little more than usual though. In a relationship, it’s important to find someone who can challenge you; can keep you on your toes more often than not. What we’re looking for ultimately is someone who inspires us to be just a little bit better than we were yesterday. Every day. We’ve known some people in life who’ve sought partners the same way that water seeks its level, flowing down along the course of no resistance to eventually settle and stagnate. That’s the last thing we want in life.

We should also mention that we dated a GOP’er once before. It was actually a lot of fun. The whole dynamic adds a lot of extra energy, both conversationally and physically, that can be difficult to find among the Hopkins grad students, MICA alumni, social workers, Americorps teachers and nonprofit managers that generally make up “our type.” The truth is that we would probably date Republicans more often, except that they’re kind of hard to find in Baltimore City, and finding one that’s pretty and single and willing to date a Socialist sympathizer such as the Chop is like finding a unicorn that says to you, “Hop on and I’ll fly you over the rainbow.”

After all is said and done though, she is a Maryland Republican. How crazy could she be, right? It’s not like this is Kansas or Texas or someplace. And it’s not like she’s committed some sin that’s completely unforgivable, like rooting for the Red Sox. At the end of the day we may have different opinions politically, but at the very least we both care enough to be paying attention to the same thing. That’s what’s important.

From the Back of the Room/Sick Fix @ CA Tonight

Half of us will never know what it’s like to be a woman. Most of us will never know what it means to be punk, either. It’s only a precious few people who live the experience of being a woman in punk, and tonight at the Creative Alliance some of the most prominent of those women will come together to share that experience with the rest of us.

From the Back of the Room was produced over a four year period from 2007-2011. The film spans almost the entire history of punk (’cause, you know, women have been a part of it all along) and features interviews with more than two dozen women from all over the country, and from all the niches, ebbs, and flows in American punk. Rather than taking the easy way out and focusing entirely on “grrrl-bands,” DC based director Amy Oden concentrates in the main on bands whose members take femininity as merely a starting point, not a raison d’etre and be-all end-all. In other words, bands like Look Back and Laugh, Kylesa, Submission Hold, and Blatz. Pretty fucking hardcore.

Oden will also be in attendance tonight for a brief director’s talk and Q-and-A session immediately following the screening.

One of the women profiled in the film is Baltimore’s own Michelle Northam, whose band Sick Fix will be performing live after the film ends.

Sick Fix is pretty fucking hardcore in their own right, playing old-school straightedge tracks about how much heroin sucks that all clock in right around the two minute mark. Now that Ian MacKaye is 50 it’s harder than ever to find decent edge bands. Sick Fix probably could have taken over the world if they had started at 16, but as a band that formed well into adulthood they don’t play as often as some of their younger counterparts. When they do play, unfortunately, it’s usually in DC.

So come check out one of their all-too-rare Baltimore appearances, if for no other reason than to see the giant X’ed up hands Michelle rocks on stage.

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Creative Alliance is located at 3134 Eastern Avenue in Highlandtown. Doors open at 6 pm with a DIY craft show. Film starts at 7. All ages, $10 for the general public, $5 for Students and CA members.

Andrew Jackson Jihad @ Ottobar Tonight

We don’t really like folk punk. The last time we went to a folk punk show it was maybe the worst show we’ve ever been to and we ended up demanding our money back after 90 minutes of horseshit and a headliner that didn’t show up. That’s what you get with most folk punk- whiny hippies with a punk aesthetic. That’s not what you get with Andrew Jackson Jihad.

We love Andrew Jackson Jihad. While every other folk punk band wants to be Bob Dylan, these guys took a page out of the Phil Ochs book, playing music that’s as close to a pure expression of feeling as music can be. Listen:

It’s rare enough to meet people in this world who understand what it means to be alive. To be a person, just walking around and breathing, is really fucking hard. We all like to pretend that it’s not. We have to pretend that it’s not. It’s also, sometimes, truly profound and beautiful.

It’s almost impossible to find regular people who will admit that out loud. It’s like a miracle to find people who can articulate it in songs. This is a truly special band.

After being around since 2004 and putting out many releases, this is AJJ’s first full US tour. With a schedule like that, it might be their last. Who knows? As great as those records are, we’ve got a feeling that this is one of those bands that is only best experienced live. Music that’s just so personal should be heard in person.

Doors at 8, show at 9. All ages at the Ottobar. Joyce Manor and Treasure Fleet also play.

Stop Doing Yoga In Public

Maybe it has to do with the coming of Spring and the warming of the weather lately. Maybe it has to do with us waking up earlier and actually leaving the house before happy hour once in a while. Maybe it’s just a natural rise in general douchebaggery. For whatever reason, we’ve seen way too many people doing yoga in the streets of Baltimore lately.

Don’t get us wrong, we’ve got no problem at all with yoga. This blog is decidedly pro-yoga. If you do yoga, hey, good for you. It promotes health and fitness and it can be a nice social activity and it sustains several small businesses and it’s fine and dandy… until you bring it into the street.

snooki doing yoga

When you do yoga in public you look exactly like this. Yes, YOU.

Listen yoga people: when we see you downtown on the edge of the water standing on one foot welcoming the dawn and chanting mantras, it’s all we can do not to shove you into the harbor. It’s gauche. You look like an asshole. You are an asshole.

We’re serious here. Aside from being a fitness activity, yoga has a lot of religious and spiritual connotations associated with it, and when you flaunt that in such a public way you’re attempting to place yourself above everyone else around you. You’re no better than the end-of-days proselytizer in the busy intersection or the Mormons going door to door. There’s a reason people go to churches to pray. There’s a reason yoga is done in studios. How dare you wave your enlightenment in our faces? What about the rest of us? Haven’t we got the right to be unenlightened jerks? Of course we do. We’re Baltimoreans; it’s what we do best.

We understand why you do it. There are some beautiful views along the waterfront. Problem is, when we’re trying to devour a giant burrito at lunchtime or even just sit around and contemplate the world in our own secular, non-spiritual way, the rest of us are trying to enjoy those views too. It would be nice if we could do it without being distracted by your Lulu Lemons and your smug self-satisfaction.

It’s bad enough we’ve got showoff-y joggers in the way all the time. Keep the yoga in the studio.

The Bar Telephone

In a Baltimore Sun piece last week, the lazy, mediocre Erik Maza took pains to mention four separate times in a 400 word review that there is no telephone hooked up in Murphy’s Law Tavern. “It seems [Bar Rescue’s] producers — or the owners — forgot to fix some things. The phone line, for one. I called for several days, and no one picked up.”

There’s a good reason for that. Because it’s 2012 and the house phone at a bar* is completely obsolete.

Erik Maza does not know his way around a bar. Literally. According to last week’s article, he couldn’t even find the entrance because the sign was 12 feet from the door. To be sure, this is more lazy, inept reporting on the part of Maza, but we suspect another factor at play here. Namely, Maza is too young to remember when bars had telephones.

Before the advent of cell phones, all bars had phones that were hooked up. Most bars had two telephones, a house phone and a pay phone. The house phone was for business and the pay phone was for customers. At least in theory. In practice the employees were also the customers and the customers were also friends and family and friends and family were often part time employees and if you couldn’t get someone to answer one phone you would just call the other one. It was a mess.

In some bars you can still find jokey signs like the one pictured above. Like all jokes though, those signs are based in truth. In the old days, when corner bars were public houses and no one had an iPhone, wives actually would call the bar for their husbands. Regulars would call for other regulars: “Hey hon is Bunky down the bar? Put one in the hole for ‘im I’mma come down when I git off work.”

Regulars would call for employees and the owner would have all manner of shady people calling and the damned thing wouldn’t stop ringing once it started. On top of pouring drinks and running the bar and everything else that bartenders have to deal with, they were also made to be receptionists and switchboard operators. In most bars, phone privileges were extended to only the most loyal, least troublesome, and best tipping regulars.

In the cell phone era there’s simply no reason for a bar to have a phone. And if a bar does have a working house phone, there is very little incentive for them to answer it regularly. Many bars are closed during the day and are working at night. All the patrons finally have their own phones, and anyone doing business can call the owner or manager’s cell phone directly. Maza says he tried the owner’s cell several times but the great thing about cell phones is, they screen calls. If we had some hipster dufus repeatedly calling us just so he could shit on our bar in a lazy review, well, we wouldn’t be in much of a hurry to pick up either.

We may watch reruns of Cheers and think that Norm dodging calls from his wife is a quaint TV gag, but it used to be an everyday occurrence in bars nationwide. Bottom line, bars are better off without phones.

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*In this context, “bar” means a neighborhood tavern or dive bar, of the sort that Murphy’s Law is.

Read the Sun’s article here.