The resurrection
The Marigold Kitchen, formerly known as the Marigold Dining Room, has been around in some form or another for 70 years now, tucked away on 45th and Larchwood, but it may have finally hit the bigtime with its newest incarnation.
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The Marigold Kitchen, formerly known as the Marigold Dining Room, has been around in some form or another for 70 years now, tucked away on 45th and Larchwood, but it may have finally hit the bigtime with its newest incarnation.
In the days of yore, Street editors would fuck with freshmen every week. Now, we only do it occasionally. Room Cohabitants: College freshmen Laura Paine of Princeton, New Jersey and Eszter Boda of Hungary (you know, the country).
Comedy Central has always tended to the absurd -- foul-mouthed eight-year-olds, fake news shows and the idea that Colin Quinn is funny, for example.
The little boy in John Legend doesn't come out until his album comes on. He's an animated person normally, sure, but play a little of his album and an excited smile begins to light up across his face. Play a little more and all of a sudden he's dancing around, singing as innocently and earnestly as a child in front of the mirror imagining himself a star. It's almost as if the biggest, most important event of his 25 years isn't happening in three weeks.
Some Kind of Monster, a new documentary about iconic heavy-metal group Metallica, will undoubtedly inspire some comparisons to the seminal mockumentary This is Spinal Tap.
Michael Franti is 6'6" and thin -- wiry, some might say. Long dreadlocks peek out the front and back of the hat he customarily wears onstage, but they never seem to stay contained. They can't, really, with all the jumping and dancing he does during a concert, alternately grabbing the microphone to sing and rap or strumming a guitar that looks almost unnaturally small in the big man's hands.
I've gotten some complaints that my last column just plain wasn't funny, so I thought I'd start this one off with a joke.
There's a new porn video coming out, and for the first time in my life, I'm tempted to go out and buy it. Fuck Jenna Jameson: this is Paris Hilton.
Dave Navarro once said that going solo is the kiss of death. Then he went solo. Now he's playing guitar for Christina Aguilera at the MTV Video Music Awards. Outkast could have gone that route, too. Instead, they've stayed a group while not doing any real collaborative music, and have put out two solo CDs under their collective rubric.
George McMahon smokes ten joints a day, over a quarter ounce of marijuana. The street value of that amount of marijuana is over $100, but since 1992, McMahon has been getting it for free. Once every four months, he drives from his Texas home to Iowa, where he picks up four metal canisters, each containing 300 joints — about a half pound of marijuana — grown, rolled, prescribed and distributed by the federal government.
I've admitted it before, and I'll admit it again: I love MTV's reality shows. Real World, Road Rules, Real World/Road Rules Challenge, Fraternity Life, Sorority Life, True Life, The Osbournes, Newlyweds. They're all masterpieces, Shakespearean in their comedy, tragedy and poetry. But Making the Band 2 tops them all.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Fuck Nirvana.
"My husband and I are big tea drinkers," says Lynette Chen, proprietor of the Tea Leaf, a teashop in Reading Terminal Market, as she reaches to a hot water tap. "We're not really coffee drinkers, and we thought this would be a different idea." The water flows over loose green Jasmine tea nestled in the custom tea filter Chen has rigged, a piece of a coffee filter skewered by a coffee stirrer and then placed over the rim of a paper cup.
Stepping in to fill the void below Smoke's left by Fingers, Wings, and Things is Milan Marvelous: artist, musician, certified prosthesist, with his new store The Marvelous, selling all sorts of books, music and comic books. Street caught up with him the day after his store's unofficial opening.
Sami Dakko has been running Rami's, a Mediterranean food cart at 40th and Locust for 18 years now, since he came to the country from Lebanon, and his consistently good food has made him something of a celebrity on campus. Street stopped by for a chat.
I felt a bit defensive tonight. At some point in every conversation I've had, I had to throw up my arms in a mock defensive posture and say, "No, really, I'm not kidding. Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle is a really good movie. Seriously."
Hip-Hop musicians have never felt a particular tie to the album format. Some purists might have a problem with that, but in some cases, it can work out quite well. Take, for example, the case of Mos Def, who hasn't put out an album of his own since 1999. Still, devoted fans can find at least an album's worth of material on various compilations if they try hard enough.
Tommy Dinic's is a minimalist place. A countertop with barstools rings a small area where one waitress and three cooks bustle about filling orders. A long line forms for carry-out behind the cash register, next to hunks of smoky charred roast meat. The menu is short but sweet: five sandwiches, five dollars each. Roast beef, roast pork, Italian sausage, chicken marinara and veal scallopine. Add cheese for $0.75, add peppers for $0.75, add "greens" for $0.75. Add a combination of two for $1.25. Soda, one size, one dollar.
It's always refreshing to hear a band not afraid to bring plenty of different styles into its playing, and Soulive is just such a band. On its new self-titled live album, Soulive turns from a jam band to a jazz troupe in a second, unafraid to draw on other predecessors: funk's solid basslines and hip-hop's breakbeats are evident as well.
I have a confession to make. I have a horrible secret, one that may ruin any bits of a social life I have here at Penn, one that I did my best to keep secret, a part of my life I thought closed when I left all those who knew me as a child. You see, in my younger days, I idolized Michael Jackson.
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