Naked Sunfish - Issue 1
January 23, 2002

From the Editor

Welcome to NAKED SUNFISH. If you're wondering about the name … and I'm sure you are … I'll try to come up with a clever explanation. Just don't count on one. (Crapshoot! was already taken) Naked Sunfish was originally an idea for a musical/art group a buddy of mine and I planned to form way back in high school. Initially it was to be a sort of Christian psychedelic pop/rock/folk band … a myriad of contradictions if you will. The celebration of opposite polarities. Intensive diversity that so blurred the lines … so elevated the gray areas … that the audience would forget we were constantly trying to contradict ourselves and see only a new vision floating like a cloud above the fracas. (kind of like Las Vegas) Unfortunately … through circumstances TOTALLY under our control … our intellectual experiment de-evolved into a goofy solitary gig as "Harry Legs and the Little Shavers". Fun for us. Confusing for others. (which … in some bent way could be argued a successful fruition of the premise) We spent WAY too much time playing eight-ball in my friend's basement rather than practicing. (yet another argument for philosophical success?)

There ARE ulterior motives. Perhaps some one surfing the web using the term "naked" might just come upon the SUNFISH. And if you know anything about sailing you will remember that a Sunfish is a very, very tiny sailboat. My wife and I ventured out on one many years ago off the Jamaican coast and … because of my highly polished skills … almost took us to Cuba. We were not naked when the wind caught the sail but could easily have been upon our arrival. I felt as if we were being swept away by Hurricane Whoever. The wind in my hair. The sight of a rapidly shrinking Jamaica. Once I realized my significant other was frantically screaming, "LET GO FOOL! LET GO!!"… and I did … we slowed to a comforting drift. It took us 10 minutes to travel what seemed half way to Havana and almost an hour to zigzag back to Jamaica. That's as close to buying Cuban cigars legally as I've gotten. And I haven't tried to sail a tiny boat since.

So … in the spirit of NAKED SUNFISH … both the adolescent philosophical stab at intellectual / deconstructive / existentialist mayhem AND the terrifying exhilaration of possibly screaming across the Atlantic in a tiny sailboat quite possibly beaching NAKED on the shores of the Land Of Fidel … with some help from my friends … is yet another web site (like we all need one huh?) There will be music. There will be politics. There will be art. There will be food and drink. There will be nonsense. There will be most definitely sarcasm. There will be NO rules. NO deadlines. NO consistency. NO traditions. ("…the illusion of permanence," as Woody Allen so aptly put it) Enjoy the ride whilst you can. Because some day … sooner or later … I'll be sure to hear some one screaming at the top of their lungs, "LET GO FOOL! LET GO!!!" And I probably will.

Patti LaBelle
Spring, 1984. Palace Theater Columbus, Ohio
Summer, 1999, The Columbus Zoo Amphitheater Columbus, Ohio

I'll be honest. I really don't remember Patti LaBelle and the Bluebelles. Hey...I was still pretty young when they had a hit with "I Sold My Heart To The Junkman". Sure I've since heard the controversy about it being a song about heroin use. (this makes as much sense as the "Puff the Magic Dragon" and "Along Comes Mary" pot rumors...I suspect the CIA or FBI had something to do with all this) But I don't remember the song on the most of you already know...I AM a white boy. So forgive me.

I DO remember LaBelle. The seventies group lead by Patti and backed by Nona Hendrix and Sarah Dash who had a BIG disco hit entitled, "Lady Marmalade" with the refrain of "Will you sleep with me tonight (loosely translated)" sung in French. They all wore these cheesy, R-rated space suits a la "Barbarella". Very...VERY 70's. At the time I really, really, really hated it...which was totally unfair because I was very ignorant of Patti's range of styles and vocal prowess. Continued ~ Music...

Tom and Jerry's Bum Dog Shack

The other day I heard a knock at my front door. Actually, 3 1/2 year old Bichon Friese heard the knocking first. He always does. He hears knocking when there is no knocking...but that's another story. Anyway...I scooped the pup up and opened the door to find a guy looking to be in his early 20's holding some "literature". "Uh oh," I thought to myself. I've had these encounters before. Continued ~ Food & Drink...



October 7th, 2001 - Athens, Ohio
By: Chiara Amelia Hapsari

Editor¹s note:
Since the war rages on I think...for perspective...we all should
try to remember that the situation has a more direct effect on the Afghan
civilians than Americans. I relate this not to diminish the events of 9/11
but to remind us all that innocent peoples everywhere suffer from the hatred
of others. Even those who may survive the bombings will have to live with
the terror and fear raining from the sky.

Amelia Hapsari is a recent graduate of Ohio University and
independent documentary film maker who recently returned to her native

It is Sunday, October 7th, 2001. The sun shines bright and the breeze is gentle and sweet. Golden autumn leaves are falling. The dining table of the church is filled with children's laughter. Hands join hands to pray for the goodness that they receive. That day, America bombs Afghanistan... Continued ~ Op Ed...

Mo Fo Funk #49
A Special Tribute to My Dentist

Way back in the late 60's a local Cleveland (soon to be national) power trio called the James Gang used to play a song called Funk #49. Actually they played one called Funk #48 also. But what happened to the first 47 funks? Is there some one out there with a closet full of funks? Were there funks AFTER #49? There's gotta be. Maybe only white guys number their funks.

Hell...George Clinton's got a Grand Canyon full of funks. I remember going to see him at a club here in Columbus. I was one of about 7 white people there...which didn't really bother me. The shoe on the other foot is good therapy and healthy for all of us, especially when you want to get be in the be one with da funk. Before the show I went to the bathroom (a much too civilized word to describe this room) and as I was standing at a urinal, this big, big black guy with a group of friends comes in and takes the urinal next to me. He's incredibly drunk and struggling to remain standing. So while he's peeing his terribly impressive manhood is flopping all over the place spraying randomly on the urinal, wall...whatever was in it's way. As I tried valiantly to remain OUT of the way the big guy looks at me and says, "I HATE white people." NOW, I felt a LEEETLE bit uncomfortable. I gazed over at his friends who actually seemed embarrassed by what he said...that and the fact that he was so drunk we all appeared amazed that he was still standing up and pissing in the correct direction. I looked back at the guy and coyly replied, "Gee...I don't care for a whole lot of them myself." And all his buddies burst out laughing. Everything was cool then. I got to experience the funk. Real...true funk. DA FUNK. Call it my "baptism into da funk". P Funk!!

Now no one is going to argue that many African Americans have DA FUNK.
So let's get back to whether any regular white folks have some funk...any funk. How about those first 47 funks? Maybe some white dude has that closet full of funks. Is there any funk in "Funk and Wagnalls"? I looked up "funk" in Funk and Wagnall's and do you know what the very first definition is? "Funk" comes from a French word (huh?) meaning, "to give off smoke". Okay, I guess that makes sense. But is the WORD funk funky? There sure ain't no funk in Funky Winkerbean...that's for sure. I used to go to school with a guy named Greg Funk...nothin' funky 'bout this white boy either...he was like Funk #11...if he had any funk at all. The guy could have BEEN Funky Winkerbean. I think I heard he's a dentist now...dentists aren't funky...but wait...MY dentist IS pretty funky!!! His name is Gene Jumper (no kiddin') Gene Gene the Dancing Machine. Remember him? He was on the Gong show...way back when. Whenever I go for an appointment he tells me he wants to learn to play the bass. Last time he tells me he sometimes drives in his car, turns up the radio REAL loud and pretends to play the bass. He takes BOTH hands off the wheel and plays "air" bass. He's the only person I've ever known who played "air" a car...on the freeway. That's GOTTA be funk...don't it? I mean Gene Jumper's more like the Gene "Bring on Da Funk" Jumper type....or Funky Gene Jumper...Gene "Funky" Jumper. Or...hey "Mutha Fucka" Gene Jumpa!!! Or "Mutha Fucka" Gene Funka Jumpa!!!! Maybe "Mutha Fucka Gene Mutha Funka Jumpa"!!

And all I know is I can't wait until Jumpa gets this damned temporary crown outta my MO FO mouth. It's as big as a Mo Fo Winn-O-Bay-Go!! I say,"Get this Mutha Fucka Temp-OH-"Fuckin"-rary crown outta da Hood that is my Mutha Fucka mouth Mutha Fucka Gene Mutha Funka Jumpa!!!! Man...I'm tellin' ya. The dude can play "air" bass with Da Funk. And he's a good dentist too.

Yo...maybe the James Gang could get back together with Rick James as the lead singer and they could call themselves The Rick James Gang. They could play "Super Freak #48" and "Mutha Fucka Funka #49"!!!!! You know...with Mutha Fucka Gene Mutha Funka Jumpa doin' that "air" bass thing. Wow! Play that funky air bass Jumpa!!

I need a vacation...and if this made any sense to you so do you! ...

Rick James Brown