FOCKS VS. COCKS

Now that one of the most unpredictable NFL campaigns in recent memory has come to a close, the need for rabbit-ear antennas is about as necessary as another season of "Beverly Hills 90210 -- The ITT Tech Years."

In case you've just now resurfaced from an underground bunker, here's the scoop. Since January 1st, FOX 43's programming has been unavailable on the Cox Cable System. The network affiliate had sought a lower-numeric position to gain increased ratings from channel surfers, you know, the kind of people who can't even program their VCRs. Cox Communications held their ground, citing neither room nor desire to move existing channels in order to satisfy FOX 43. Because Cox needs permission from the individual stations (like 43) to carry programming, Calista Flockhart has looked slimmer than usual to local TV mavens these days.

Of course, the real losers in this FOX/Cox fracas have been viewers of shows like "Ally McBeal," "Greed," "Party Of Five," etc. Though some would consider these people "losers," dispute or not, it has been their choice to fill trash-compacted minds with such unintelligent garbage. Until this matter is resolved, FOX fans will have to indulge themselves in secondary entertainment such as reading books, cleaning bathrooms, and talking to their children.

Personally, I wish FOX 43 would return to WTVZ-33 and reclaim their 1980s glory with syndicated classics like "Carter Country," "Three's Company," "B.J. And The Bear," "Bosom Buddies," among others. Such fare challenged your intellect and tickled your funny bone. This would, in FOX's words, "enable them to better serve the community."

UPDATE: On Feb 4, 2000, Cox Communications and FOX 43 reached an agreement that returned FOX's programming to its original spot on the dial. Roughly a month later, Cox switched FOX's channel position with Animal Planet's (14). FOX got their wish, but adverts for "FOX 43" still run seven months after the change- over. Where's Al Bundy to explain the ass-backwardness of this situation?

Diesel Boy/Goober Patrol/Lostribe/Kill Ratio @ Virginia Beach Skate Park, Va. Beach, VA (8/11/97)

Suhgurim from Va. Beach and The Drapes from Portland, OR had also been slated to play, but they didn't make it. Also, Ensign from New Jersey experienced van troubles that would render them absent. "20/20" should do a story on the mechanical condition of bands' vans from the NY/NJ area (Jack Black, L.E.S. Stitches and Blanks 77 have also missed shows here for that reason). Admission paid, my next order of business was to search for loose tapes by the British metal band Quartz. Using my NWOBHM detector, an oddly shaped instrument resembling Joe Elliot's arm paired with Bruce Dickinson's face, the quest for Quartz turned up nil. Just as well, because fifteen guys in NOFX shirts had been giving me a "What the hell is that guy doing?" stare. Who knows what would've happened, had my Quartz find been in the black?

Kill Ratio from Va. Beach (I think) went on first. Their sound was of the Victory/Revelation school, with heavy rhythms and angry vocals. Have seen their stickers on numerous stop signs and telephone poles. They really got people moving, when a member of the crowd sang the final number. A cover, I assume, since twenty or more up front knew the words and were clamoring for the microphone. Yeah!

Lostribe followed and were truly in their own element. These skate-punks delivered with the tightest performance I'd seen from them. Their melodic-hardcore sound with sing-along choruses reminded me of Face To Face's Don't Turn Away album. Skaters on the ramp took advantage of the live soundtrack, and they pulled off an insane arsenal of tricks (sorta like a skate video come to life). Lostribe saved two of their best for last -- "Life Sentence" and "S.C.F.B." Thumbs up!

Next, Goober Patrol from England entertained with their humorous style of pop punk. If you'd taken a Lagwagon album and meshed it with the in-between song banter of Peter And The Test Tube Babies' Pissed And Proud, you would've gotten something similar to Goober Patrol's set. They had the best T-shirt for sale -- a black one that goofed on Motorhead's No Remorse album. The oft-covered "Spiderman" theme closed things in a fun,
goofy way. Jolly good!

Diesel Boy outta Santa Rosa, CA were the last band of the night and played fast pop-punk songs about Drew Barrymore, their ex-drummer, and, of course, jerking off. By far, the number that had the biggest response was "Titty Twister" from the Fat Wreck Chords sampler Survival Of The Fattest. Sounded like everyone in the building was singing, "My pants are falling down..." Way to go, but if you'd wanted to disguise beer, ya'll should've used an A&W Cream Soda bottle instead of a Coke one. Just ask Mitch.

'CAUSE I'M TVT

No, you're not the only one who has noticed Mr. T's increased visibility on the tube lately.

During its "Revenge of the 80s" week, Nick At Nite showed him in re-runs of "Diff'rent Strokes" (where Mr. Drummond agreed to let "The A-Team" crew film a scene in his penthouse) and "Silver Spoons" (as a bodyguard hired to protect Rick from a school strong-arm). Also, T appears in two hilarious 1-800-COLLECT commercials (as "Inspecta Collect") and a Lipton Sizzle & Stir spot with the likes of Loni Anderson (who serves up T a kiss, in addition to dinner), Mary Lou Retton, and George Hamilton.

Haven't seen this much of the man since the early '90s. Anyone remember his role as a private investigator on "T And T"? How 'bout T's unbelievable appearance on "The Jerry Springer Show" (at a birthday party for kids with progeria -- they had no idea who he was)?

NBC or some other network should give Mr. T another chance at prime time. Even something simple like "The Mr. T Show" could work, as long as the producers "let T be T" and don't try to complicate matters. Who could be a musical guest on T's show? Well, certainly not Sting, as was evidenced by T throwing Murdock's radio out of a window, at the same time a Police song chimed through the speakers.

DR. J, DR. WHO?

Basketball legend Julius Erving is known the world over for his high-flying, acrobatic style demonstrated with the Virginia Squires and Philadelphia 76ers. A household name even to non-hoop aficionados -- I mean, who hasn't heard of Dr. J? Well, there was one.

Not long after Erving's retirement, he visited Norfolk for a homecoming of sorts (the long-defunct Squires had played visiting teams at Scope) by appearing on a local call-in show. My mother, who had befriended the host of said talk-radio program during her days selling Dodges, was invited to see the question/answer session in person and meet Dr. J before hand. She accepted the offer, more to see the inner workings of a radio station than to mingle in the presence of a famous athlete. Also, my mom felt entitled to a well-deserved break from the 9-to-9 world of car sales, having made a hefty commission on a van purchased by (unbeknownst to her) former Oakland A's/New York Yankee great Jim "Catfish" Hunter.

Twenty minutes before scheduled on-air time, the excited host introduced her to Mr. Erving. "Hello, my name is Susan," my mother said softly to the tall gentleman, whose hand was the biggest she had ever grasped. "I'm Julius Erving. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the NBA Hall-Of-Famer responded in kind. Usually, a celebrity of Dr. J's caliber would've been bombarded with questions concerning accomplishments in his chosen field. However, my mom's knowledge of basketball was restricted to knowing what one looked like. Thus, her conversation with one of the NBA's 50 Greatest Players was along the lines of, "Nice weather we're having today, huh?" Mr. Erving -- who sensed that my mother was more familiar with an Orange Julius than he -- pointedly asked her, "You have no idea who I am, do you?" Without missing a beat, my mom replied, "Well, you have no idea who I am, do you?" Feeling thwarted with the same force of a Kareem Abdul-Jabbar block, "The Doctor" spent the rest of his stay in Norfolk taking "house calls" from people who needed no proof of his "license to practice."

Later, my mother told the host that she'd thought Julius Erving was a local disc jockey who went by the on-air handle of "Dr. J." Long before this day, my mom had met a true Norfolk radio legend (2WD's Dick Lamb) at Plaza Theaters. While movie-goers surrounded Mr. Lamb for an autograph, my mom noticed thousands upon thousands of dandruff specks clinging to his wool jacket. Dr. Flake?

Tears On Sunday - Seduction (self-released, 2002)

When Columbus Movies in Vaaa Beeech played pre-film music from artists like Bryan Ferry, Matthew Sweet among others during their early-90's "Dollar Days," the feature presentation often would be a huge letdown compared to the piped-in programming of an imaginary DJ who had been spared the noose. "Dum And Dummer" vs. "Divine Intervention"? You get the picture. "Cinema Song," a "psychosexual paranoid fantasy in A minor," says one who knows that his first name is, like a Baldwin brother, Stephen, crunches popcorn with the hallucinogenic emptiness of Galaxie 500 standing in the ticket line and eating their Twinkies ("Don't wanna be your boyfriend/Just wanna give you head/Don't wanna take my medicine/Just wanna die in bed"). "I Hope You Stay" keeps me in my seat to witness the drama of a lost Stone Roses video trailer ("How can I change the fate that binds me to this place/Illusions fail reality/Kicks me in my face"). "Tokyo" horrifically finds Godzilla attacking a broken heart with "no subtitles beneath (his) tears." "What Luna Sees" fringes amongst bird noises and bar flies ("Hey, you're pretty cute" is overheard in the darkened theater). Extra footage: In 1991, Luna performed at the Boathouse in Nawfuck with The Sundays. I was there. What Luna sees, she tells me. I saw Luna, and I'm telling you. What Luna sees. What lunacies.

Wondermints - Mind If We Make Love To You (Smile, 2002)

Having served as the backing band for Brian Wilson's 2000 "Coming Out Of The Sandbox" (not the official name, but Good Humor me, popsicle!) tour, the reclusive Beach Boy says thanks by contributing background vocals to "Ride" and "So Nice." All the expected components of lush, orchestrated pop are present: piano, cello, harp, quiet annunciation, and "ba ba ba ba ba ba ba ba" (courtesy of the wonderfully drippy "Out Of Mind"). In this age of nouveau metal where the intent is to out-anger (does the ink from tribal tattoos seep into the blood and boil it at toxic levels?), it's a pleasurable diversion when music is so unapologetically strawberry-sweet and
seemingly innocuous. For contemporary listeners whose record collection begins in 1989, think Oranges And Lemons/Nonsuch/Apple Venus-era XTC sharing rehearsal space with Ben Folds minus the Five.

WHY YOU RODE THE PIE?

"Act It Out" was a Christian talk show aimed primarily at teenagers and young adults. It was shown Saturday nights at 11:30 on Cox Cable (channel 40) between 1993-95. As the title implies, (pre-recorded) skits were used to guide viewers from sin to salvation. Each program's opening credits pictured a girl running away from home. While walking "the streets," she is confronted by a group of up-to-no-good kids. They attempt to steal the girl's purse and chase her into a dark alley. Suddenly, a large and scary gentleman with a Jerri-Curl appears. His name is Alfonzo, and all of the kids are obviously intimidated by his presence. Troublemakers are gone in a flash, but the girl remains (leaning on a fence and gripped with fear). Does he want her purse? Does he want her? Amazingly, Alfonzo offers a blanket and a shoulder to cry on. Tears are wiped away. They talk things over coffee at a two-bit diner and he convinces the girl to go back home, where her parents are waiting with open arms. Before he speeds off in a Porsche 924, Alfonzo and the girl exchange goodbyes. The car is evidence that he is not only in touch with God, but also with DMV authorities. The Porsche has decals from '88, while the license plate reads ACT IT OUT (8 letters instead of the maximum 7). Guess being chosen does have its advantages!

One of which was hosting "Act It Out" -- a position where Alfonzo excelled. Adopting a "You can be Christian AND be cool" approach, the show pushed the envelope further than most. Comments from Alfonzo like, "I'm gonna jackslap you," "Why you this way?" (to a homosexual guest), and "You ball?" (he asked that of nearly everybody), in addition to dated El Debarge and Fat Boys references, showed "Act It Out" formed comedic angles that even Letterman had never protracted. Dr. Miller, the show's resident psychologist and second banana (not just because he wore the same damn yellow sweater every week), must've had a hard time getting his P.H.D. His answer to any proposed question was invariably, "Because the Bible says so." The equally omniscient audience was responsible for brilliant statements like, "God didn't create Adam and Steve," "He O.D.-ed on alcohol," "I from E.C. Glass," and "Why you rode the pie?" (For those not fluent in Pig Ebonics, that last interrogatory can be translated, "Why do you ride the pine?" in jock-talk; "Why do you sit on the bench?" in plain English.). "Act It Out" had Jerry Falwell's stamp-of-approval and showed him in self-promotional spots extolling the virtues of Liberty University. "We have a fantastic... coliseum," and "Baseball... coached by... former New York Yankee great Bobby Richardson" were the two main hooks.

This "Act It Out" viewer has two inquiries for Rev. Falwell, Dr. Miller, and Alfonzo: 1) Who the hell is Bobby Richardson and 2) Did he rode the pie?