Q: What's the matter with Boston?

A: First it was the desperately wanting to believe terrorists cared about them, even if it meant hysterically screaming about cartoon characters and Christmas lights; then it was the mayor banning great blogs for silly reasons.

Daisey: Spurned by a bunch of dim bulbs

The latest incident in Boston's increasing fear of everything occurred last week, during a performance of Mike Daisey's Invincible Summer at the A.R.T. Daisey is an acclaimed monologuist, whose talent for improvised storytelling has earned comparisons to the work of Spalding Grey and David Sedaris; last Thursday, 87 members of a Christian group stormed out, mid-performance, in reaction to Daisey's use of the word "fucking" (specifically "fucking Paris Hilton").

One purported "Christian," on his way out the door, took the liberty of pouring out a bottle of water on the handwritten outline Daisey uses to mold each night's show — "a kind of anti-baptism," as Daisey writes in his blog.

I sat behind the table, looking up in his face with shock. My job onstage is to be as open as possible, to weave the show without a script as it comes, and this leaves me very emotionally available — and vulnerable, if an audience chooses to abuse that trust. I doubt I will ever forget the look in his face as he defaced the only original of the handwritten show outline — it was a look of hatred, and disgust, and utter and consuming pride.

It is a face I have seen in Riefenstahl's work, and in my dreams, but never on another human face, never an arm's length from me — never directed at me, hating me, hating my words and the story that I've chosen to tell. That face is not Christian, by any definition Christ would be proud to call his own — its naked righteousness and contempt have nothing to do with the godhead, and everything to do with pathetic human pride at its very worst.

The whole bizarre event, and Daisey's reaction, was captured on video. Bostonians, please be warned: The following involves about ten seconds of course language. And several minutes of distorted Christianity.



The good news for Daisey — and bad news for those who would have him silenced — is that the incident raised his profile much more than even a Times profile ever could. The video is among YouTube's most viewed this week (70,000+ views, as of yesterday), after earning the coveted designation of "popular" on Digg. Not bad for a theatrical event with a seating capacity of 300. [original story via Gregg Henry @ TKC]

BREAKING: Daisey has confronted the people responsible. I'm just reading it now (Digg it here!)...

As for what's the matter with one of my favorite cities, I have no idea. What happened to Boston as a hotbed of crazy liberals and drunken coeds!? Has winning the World Series driven them mad? Someone needs to start pumping Prozac into the city's water supply or something, so its people can get back to what they're good at, scamming casinos and wasting my tax dollars on municipal highway projects.

EARLIER IN MASSHOLES: Damn you, Click and Clack!

Q: Who are the Sterns?

A: I have no idea, but I love both these songs.

Don't be discouraged by this horrible album art, btw.

The Sterns - Sinners Stick Together

The Sterns - Supreme Girl

Well, okay, I have some idea who they are, but only because they're on MySpace:

Boston-based quintet the Sterns exemplify the knack for masterful song craft, strapping studio work ethic and a get-in-the-van-and-go DIY mentality. Sinners Stick Together, to be released nationally on March 13, 2007 by Boston’s Omnirox Entertainment, showcases the Sterns' deft lyrical turn of phrase and sonic anglophilia, melding the best elements of the Kinks, the Clash, Belle and Sebastian and the Smiths.

[Any band whose P.R. material lists the Kinks first among their influences automatically has a good chance of appearing on T.A.M.S.Y., fyi.]

Co-produced by Richard Marr (whose credits include Sebadoh, Mary Timony and Gigolo Aunts), Sinners Stick Together expands their tongue-in-cheek world weary wit and shimmering anxious guitar pop to include idiosyncratic narratives and lush chamber-pop arrangements.

"Supreme Girl" -- about a young woman who turned out to be "not the supreme girl I thought she was" -- begins with the lyrics, Now she brags about her law degree / We used to chat about the lottery / Don'tcha know she used to present / Those novelty checks. I don't know what Ray Davies would think (or how lottery-related conversations symbolize the halcyon days), but I like it.