Why a Naked SunFish?
Our Top 5 Picksby Ted Kaneby John Bennettby Cory Tresslerby Patrick O'MalleyTravel SectionRecipes and MoreLinks Worth a LookBack Issues

No Strings Attached
by Rick Brown

I was driving through a small Ohio town recently when I noticed a church. Hanging on the front was a banner that read, “God loves you…no strings attached”. I chuckled out loud. I have no reason to question God’s love for us. But as far as those who put the sign up…well generally speaking there are enough strings attached to their love that you could make a giant hammock big enough for God to lounge in.

When I was growing up there was a man in our church congregation who became a very good friend of my family. My brothers, sister and I called him Uncle Andy. That’s how close we were…closer than most of my real uncles…and I had a number of them. He was especially close to my dad and brother Jim. Since the three of them loved fishing he would take them out on his boat. Because we were poor he always insisted on giving us every last fish they had caught. And although I lost touch with him after I went off to college I again saw him at both my mother and father’s funerals. He was a good, decent man who happened to live with his sister and her “friend”.

I also had a real uncle named Bobby. He had been a lifer in the Air Force who got an honorable medical discharge around the age of 35. The last time I saw him was in 1973 with my family. He was living in Los Angeles alone…working in a flower shop that he lived above. Bobby and my mother had a very close relationship. He would write her letters that almost sounded like love letters…signing them “love, Bobby” with plenty of XXX’s and OOO”s below his signature. My father explained to me they were “kisses and hugs”. Not only didn’t my dad seem jealous…he appeared enthralled that his younger brother loved my mother so much. Uncle Bobby always included money in his letters to my mother. He was one of the most generous human beings I’ve ever known. Curiously, I never knew exactly what malady had forced an early retirement from the service.

And I never…ever…saw either of these men in the company of a woman. Apparently neither of them met “the right girl”. That was the assumption. Looking back at these two influential guys, I have to believe they were gay. In those days there were “spinsters”, “old maids”, “confirmed bachelors”. Ahem…these people were in the closet. So all this uproar against gays being banned from marriage is something I have to take personally. After all…I’ve known all too many straight friends who “never met the right girl”…married her anyway (she was pretty and/or had large breasts)…then inevitably got divorced. Oh the sanctity of it all!!!!

There’s a dangerous segment of American culture…way too large for my comfort…who take what they want to believe in the Bible as literal truth and deny legal rights to good, decent people because they are born with a different sexual orientation. The problem religious zealots have isn’t about marriage…it’s about SEX.

The folks in churches who love “with no strings attached” are repulsed by the idea of two members of the same sex having sex. It’s unnatural according to scripture. That’s what they believe. But what if a married couple…man and woman…got a little bored with “vanilla” sex? You know…missionary position and all? What if they experimented with “gay man sex”? What if they actually LIKED IT? And there has to be more than a few straight couples who do. What then? Does that make them gay men? Sodomites? A heterosexual woman becomes a gay man with a little naughty naughty? Do they cease to be married in God’s eyes after that? Does God have a couple strings attached to his/her/it’s love then?

The question of Jesus’ sexual orientation is one that is never discussed because it is assumed…almost unconsciously…that he was a heterosexual virgin until the day he died. His mother Mary was a virgin when she gave birth to him…at least according to the Gospels. Yet many Biblical historians believe Jesus was more probably the third or fourth child of Joseph and Mary. And Catholics profess Mary…like her (God’s) son died a virgin. Tough luck for Joseph…unless he was gay anyway.

And that brings me to Mr. Mel Gibson…self-appointed defender of the faith. Ironically, thousands of born again protestants are flocking to his monument to retro-Catholicism to watch a handsome young white man playing Christ get the living crap beat out of him for almost the duration of an entire feature length film. So much for a literal interpretation of the story. At least a Jew could have played Jesus. And why is it Jesus is always so brutally handsome? I thought the point was that he was like us. Most of us don’t look like models. Been to the mall lately and taken a good look at your average Joe? Average Joes aren’t even as attractive as the men on TV’s Average Joe. But the people who accept all this without provocation also believe there actually were an Adam and an Eve. (That’s why they always make that funny “Adam and STEVE joke!) Forget about the fact that their offspring would have had to have sex with their brothers and sisters to propagate humankind. Incest runs rampant in the Old Testament. (But at least it’s heterosexual incest.)

The Jesus most people believe in is what I call “Cartoon Christ”. He walks around pointing a finger at a barrel of water turning it into wine. He walks on water. He heals lepers. But no one worries about the point of the stories. It’s merely proof of his deity. And like cartoon characters there is gender…but no genitalia. Jesus becomes a sort of sexless Holy Houdini who riles up religious leaders because he’s go a better show then them. Cartoon Christ already knows he will be alive again in three days time…making his suffering and death one dimensional at best. He might have ended his life with “Th, th, th, That’s all folks!” instead of “It is finished.”

During Diane Sawyers’ interview with Mel Gibson ABC included a small sound bite from the esteemed Biblical scholar John Dominic Crossan. Mr. Crossan commented that he wondered why Christ was so severely beaten and then killed in the film when all he had done prior to his arrest was pat children on the head. He complained the movie did not show Jesus for the radical revolutionary he was. That’s because conservatives believe Christ was a conservative. But I believe had that been the case he never would have been arrested let alone crucified.

Gibson thinks his The Passion of the Christ is an accurate depiction of the Gospels. Yet the Romans speak Latin and Jesus is crucified on a cross looking like a small case “t” …an inverted “X” if you will. But the fact is the Romans spoke a Greek dialect in those days and hung people on crosses shaped like a capital “T”. These are not small oversights. Apparently a lot of Protestants are not familiar with pre-Vatican II Catholicism…of which Mr. Gibson is a devoted follower. And for only $12.99 and up you can purchase an authorized necklace with a replica nail from The Passion of the Christ!! (I wish I were kidding. Does that mean Satan worshippers wear necklaces with tiny hammers dangling from them?) Did I fail to mention the Vatican II proclamations Gibson rejects also included the Roman Catholic Church’s official rejection of the notion the Jews killed Jesus?

Contrary to what most Christians will lead you to believe, they are always looking for some kind of “secular validation” to their literal interpretations of the scriptures. Cartoon Christ as rock star in Jesus Christ Superstar being the most obvious example. Jesus as dietician in the book What Would Jesus Eat? by Dr. Don Colbert being yet another. Gibson’s movie is no exception. The epitome of Mr. Gibson’s literalistic pompousness…for me at least…came when during the ABC interview, Ms. Sawyer asked him if God had made the movie Himself. Gibson guffawed…in his creepy demeanor of that night…and said, “God does all things. God made my bed.” OOOH KAAAY.(I sure wish God would mow my lawn once in a while.) And what straight guy makes his bed in the morning? Am I supposed to believe a straight, white, millionaire tucks the sheets in and gives credit to the Almighty? Mel’s wife might have something to say about that…or his maid.

I’ll bet both my uncles made their beds. And their love for my family and me had “no strings attached”. My “honorary” Uncle Andy was a solid member of the church we attended. Both were generous, kind, loving men. There is no reason why people such as them should be kept from finding a life long soul mate…regardless of their gender or sexual orientation. Many of the gay couple seeking legal marriage now have been together 10..20..even 50 years. Straight people should fare so well.

Perhaps if people at the very least entertained the idea that Jesus may have been a gentle, caring gay man they might come to the realization that it doesn’t really matter. After all…he was betrayed by a kiss…from a man by the name of Judas. Christ does not have to be a cartoon. Like Judas he was a man also. Isn’t that part of the message: God became man? Christians seem to forget that maybe his humanity is as important as a belief in his deity. I think more. You think what you want.

I dare say that if Christ were in fact a gay Jewish man it would not change a thing. Like my uncles…whether they were gay or not…it really didn’t matter…because the relationship was about love and respect. Marriage should be like that. And all people should have that option. It’s like the sign read. It’s about love…love with no strings attached.

The Short Straw
The Worst Story Ever Told
by Ted Kane

So, I caught “The Passion of the Christ”. Mel Gibson's version of the New Testament looks like Alex's from “A Clockwork Orange”…so much gore and violence and so little positive--other than a brief flashback to The Sermon on the Mount. And there are almost none of Jesus' teachings. There may have been more violent and bloody films made, but never one so utterly humorless. I've never seen a movie in more dire need of Charlton Heston than this one.

Anti-Semitic…maybe, I don't know. This film is misanthropic more than anything. The Roman soldiers seem as bloodthirsty as the Jewish priests, really relishing the torture of Jesus. Homophobic perhaps also...Satan is shown as an androgynous figure overseeing everything that happens. Given what I know about Gibson as a homophobe, having read an interview in a respected men's magazine (ahem ... Playboy) a few years back, I think it's reasonable to read into this that Gibson is equating homosexuality with demons. Yuck. No one should sit through this.

~ mites on a plum ~
by Patrick O'Malley

“This country is going straight to hell” Chris Cooper’s character (Col. Frank Fitts, USMC) replied when asked: “What’s new in the world today dad?” in the feature film American Beauty. I’d have to agree, although I’d say not only this country but the whole Earth and all it’s inhabitants. And we’re going not to hell, but to a much more real destination, if it can be referred to as such. Nothingness, nonexistence, extinction. First let me say this once: I have boundless faith that the human race has the potential to evolve, adapt, and eventually metamorphose into a Type III civilization. Just becoming a Type I would do for now. Theoretical types of intelligent civilization usually must meet the following general parameters:

Type 0:
Essentially, our civilization. A Type 0 civilization has only just begun to tap planetary resources such as solar power, geothermal power and wind power. Most of its power generation is still based on non-renewable fossil fuel resources such as oil, coal and natural gases.

Type I:
These civilizations can effectively control the entire resources of their planet; they can predict weather patterns and earthquakes very accurately, and even control them using artificially induced greenhouse effects or space-based lasers. A Type I Civilization could conceivably halt an ice- age.

Type II:
Type II civilizations have extended their power to their entire solar system and learned to harness some or all of the excess energy of their suns. Having colonized or at least extensively explored all the planets within their solar system, they are a largely space-faring race and have already mounted expeditions to other stars using interstellar craft.

Type III:
At the cusp of their power, Type III civilizations may span entire galaxies having colonized all the stars by wave after wave of interstellar craft. They can harness the power of galaxies by utilizing the black holes that reside within their own galaxy, or even the supermassive black holes that are the engine driving most galaxies. Type III civilizations would have sufficient power to conduct truly universe-altering high-energy physics experiments and examine matter down to the Planck length. Such high energies could theoretically unravel matter down to the superstring and thus possibly access other dimensions.

Government Mule
Newport Music Hall
Columbus, Ohio
by Cory Tressler

The heavy jazz instrumental “Thelonious Beck” opened Government Mule’s Newport Music Hall performance. From the very start Warren Haynes was delivering a triumphant execution of guitar mastery. During the opening instrumental, Haynes displayed the musical brilliance that has put him at the forefront of the jamband scene. With new bass player Andy Hess providing some great low-end groove, Haynes was able to take his playing to incredible heights throughout the night. The Mule original “Game Face” and a cover of Steppenwolf’s “Don’t Step On The Grass, Sam” were Haynes’ first chance to let his voice deliver it’s raspy, yet precise and powerful, punch. Over the years, Haynes’ vocal talents have grown right along with his guitar playing and he has now reached a point were he can induce goose bumps with either talent.

A surprising cover of Al Green’s emotional R&B song “Take Me To The River” followed and acted as a perfect catalyst for Danny Louis to lay down some impressive keyboard work. Louis’ playing provided great energy to the rest of the band and the jam that ensued during “Take Me To The River” was very reminiscent of the Talking Head’s Top 40 version of the song. The choppy laid back guitar funk of “Time to Confess” and the rockin’ power of “Bad Little Doggie” highlighted the middle of the first set. Once again, Danny Louis provided excellent playing during “Time to Confess”, where his keyboard work fit perfectly with Haynes’ rhythmic guitar patterns and Hess’ steady bass playing. The forceful drumming of Matt Abts was prevalent throughout “Bad Little Doggie”. Abts is a great rock drummer that never misses a beat and there wasn’t a moment during the show that Abts did not provide the perfect musical support for the rest of the Mule. An inspired cover of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Simple Man” was a fitting end to Mule’s first set of bluesy rock.

Blank Sight
by John M. Bennett, Ph.D.

L-ish Poems

Love, Laughter, and Lies
2Co’s Cabaret
Columbus, Ohio
by Rick Brown

Tom Cardinal is omnipresent. From the beginning of Love, Laughter, and Lies he…along with Megan Overholt…sings backup for Stephanie Shull during a soaring version of Sting’s “Fortress Around Your Heart”. In an instant he’s up on stage welcoming us all to yet another superb 2Co’s production. Before you know it Tom is closing the first section, fronting house band Downtown DFN singing Dada’s “Get High”. After a brief intermission Mr. Cardinal is once again belting out Nickel Creek’s “Green and Gray”. Moments later he’s back in the lights performing a marvelous reading of Arturo Vivante”s “Can Can”…a funny and pungent monologue concerning marriage, trust and betrayal. Upon completing this wonderfully charming piece he races back to the band area where he and Gabe Smith put on the dog behind David Gigliotti’s ultra-hip rendering of the Stray Cat’s “Stray Cat Strut”. I guess Mr. Cardinal is a “tom cat”! Sorry…couldn’t resist. And just a short while after that…there’s Tom belting out Steven Lynch’s “Lullaby”….a deliciously filthy ditty that made me smirk with joy.

The Passion of the Christ
reviewed by Jonah Baldwin

During these bygone autumn and winter quarters here at OSU I found myself hard at work studying a subject that I – a Classics major – had never anticipated encountering in my days as a student – Christianity. Two post-Classical Latin classes, medieval philosophy, later Roman Empire; apparently for about 1600 years (let’s use Augustine and Ambrose as our line of demarcation in the west) the most intelligent and introspective human beings in Europe turned their well cultured psyches towards one question – the Christian God. Needless to say, the Jesus was a big part of this equation. So I read – liturgies, passion plays, lives of the Saints, Augustine through Aquinas – and I began to think, maybe I have these religious types pegged all wrong. And, in the midst of all this ivory tower revelry and discovery of an intelligent spirituality, along comes The Passion of the Christ – Passio Christi. I thinks to meself, now here it is. Finally an inspired filmmaker – Mel Gibson, Mr. Braveheart himself – will bring before the whole of a lethargic and spiritually defunct American populace all the glory of an all but lost Christianity – one founded, nurtured, and reared on the backs and minds of men who sought after truth with a capital T and found life in pursuit of the mystery that is God. Latin, Aramaic, Hebrew, controversy, how could I go wrong! I know what you’re thinking – this kid is on crack. In retrospect I must concur. But at the time I was ready and willing to throw my very being into the waiting arms of Mel and his trusty sidekick Jesus (played by James Caviezel).

Tremulous and transfixed I watched the first cells flutter across the screen. Jesus is kneeling, praying, a few disciples sleep nearby, it’s Gethsemane. Moments into the film Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan - whatsoever moniker you care to dub the Dark One with – makes his appearance. He is played by Powder – a figure conspicuously absent from the cinema since his self-titled debut in the early 90’s. One of the columns of my naively erected artifice is rent asunder. Such a corporeal satanic presence was never part of my whole ethereal Passion vision – it is however part of the common Christian conception and Catholic doctrine for that matter. Pardon the expression, but it was all downhill from there. What ensues is more or less a Biblically inspired bloodbath cut with parable scenes reminiscent of Sunday school – a rather illuminating juxtaposition as it were. From the moment the henchmen of the Sadducees seize Jesus – beating, dragging, hanging, spitting upon him – to the driving of the nails on Calvary any attempt Mr. Gibson makes to insert the mystery and spiritual power of these events is lost in material obsession. I heard one commentator on NPR remark that the gore brought to mind the ultraviolence of Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange. Perhaps we oughtn’t go that far, but then again perhaps we should. The fifteen-minute scourging is painstakingly detailed; there was no doubt even digital enhancement of Christ’s suffering. Digital enhancement of Christ’s suffering? Something is amiss. Judas is assailed mercilessly by video demons – children with their computer distorted faces crying in their Aramaic tongues “Traitor!”. At one point Satan makes an appearance with what is seemingly a hairy dwarf wrapped in his cloak, scowling at and mocking Jesus. Immediate reflection: this is Mel Gibson’s personal conception of the Devil? How inartistic, how banal, how blasé. Even in the recesses of my underdeveloped agnostic mind I’ve conjured up something a little more formidable than a black clad albino cuddling a menacing little person. Perhaps a hyper evil cloud or shade of gray would have served better. In his portrayal of Pontius Pilate – who in my 14 younger years of Bible camp and mission work was always the consummate villain – Mel falls victim to a veteran Hollywood cliché: the pensive noble Roman. Quid est veritas, Claudia? I check the oncoming laughter. Pilate would no doubt have been a somewhat educated man but hardly a Cicero or a Seneca and I fail to discern the import of his rendering of Pilate as such. And now that we’re on the subject of the Romans let us discuss Latin, and for that matter Aramaic. From the linguistic studies that have been performed by countless experts we know one thing about the Romans of the 1st century AD – they did not speak Church Latin. Soft C’s and rolled R’s nearly drove me into torrid madness – if you’re going to tout your picture as an attempt at historical accuracy at least consult some historical linguists! Aramaic I am not familiar with, but anyone who sees the movie will agree that the attempt at the native dialect is forced and as opposed to adding to the experience distracts the ear. James Caviezel (as Jesus) is a pretty sound victim of torture, outside of that he comes across as just what he is – an actor playing Jesus, a tall Semitic Adonis.

Why persist in this scathing criticism? The grave disparity between my expectations and the actuality of this film speaks for itself. Whatever it is that one is searching for when they turn their minds or hearts to a higher power, it is not to be found on the big screen. The Passion is in the end a supercharged version of the popular conception of Christ’s crucifixion, replete with all the stereotypical images and lore proliferated over the years by the Church. It is, in the words of the Talking Heads, “the same as it ever was.”

A Political Piece, sort of; a Book Review, Sort of; and a Travel Piece, sort of, Rolled into One
by David G. Hochman

It has been gently and not unwisely suggested to me by Rique, the esteemed editor-in-chief and brewer of fine beers as well as a musician of note, that I shouldn’t write so much about politics. I assume he means that I could be putting the readers to sleep, and possibly causing harm to myself from sheer frustration at the current state of affairs.

So, Rick--this one’s for you, sort of. And forgive me.

For I feel that nothing rules our lives more, certainly today, than politics. And what has been happening in the US is a catastrophe. Michael Moore is right of course: our government has been seized—he refers to it, not incorrectly in my view, as a coup d’etat--by thugs, thieves and general lowlifes.

I feel, as do many other like-minded individuals, that the US has regressed by decades at least, to perhaps the early twentieth century, with its disregard for the environment; a fair tax system; a social net. And basks in an unhealthy, arrogant and dismissive attitude towards the rest world.

I don’t know how we’ll get out of the mess, even if Bush is defeated. Assuming the Congress remains Republican--and there’s no reason to believe it won’t--a Democratic President--should he be elected and in my view that stands a 50% chance at best—will have his hands tied very much the way Clinton had had.

That beckons this: how will a Democratic President repeal the horrific tax cuts, balance the budget, get us out of the hell of Iraq and get Iraq and that forgotten land of Afghanistan on the right track, tighten environmental regulations, etc? How indeed. I pity the sucker to be elected. That doesn’t mean, of course, that we shouldn’t kick that illegitimate parasite Bush out, and forthwith. But it does mean that we should be realistic and realize that Kerry--should it be him--in the White House is only a fraction of the battle. Because while we have all been sleeping, the conservatives have taken over. They have bullied, gerrymandered, and altered the political landscape in such a way that reasonable policy will be almost impossible to attain.

Recently, I have read The Clinton Wars, by Sidney Blumenthal and I can’t recommend it enough. It was one of the most interesting and fascinating non-fiction reads I have immersed myself in, in quite some time. What Blumenthal shows is the wall of resistance any Democratic President can expect when entering the White House and that any policy changes are far from certain. It is a frightening account of how right wing America tried to destroy a President.

What amazed me, frankly, is how Clinton was able to get up every day in the onslaught of ignorant and arrogant attacks by idiots—for lack of a better term—and do the very best he could for you and me. And why. I fear that I would have said one day, to hell with this. What is the damn point? It must have been the most intensely solitary and lonely and ungrateful job one can imagine. The fact that he fled to Lewinsky’s embrace, frankly, doesn’t surprise me. That he didn’t flee to each and every woman’s embrace who entered the White House does.

It’s an astounding read; and it vividly portrays the reality of politics in the US today, and what was happening and continues to happen behind the scenes. I repeat: I pity future Democratic Presidents and I pity the Blumenthals they bring along.

Onto the “sort of” travel piece:

I play soccer in a park in a part of Johannesburg called Norwood (a predominantly Jewish suburb). The field is not particularly well taken care of, but it’s free, and at least we have a place to play. I am the only white guy there.

I guess I want to speak about the social implications of that, at least as far as I am able.


Neil Young and Crazy Horse (and about 50 other people)
March 11, 2004
Cleveland State Convocation Center

by Rick Brown

After literally running through a cold rain to get inside CSU’s Convocation Center for my second excursion to Neil Young’s personal Our Town I took a good look around me. It was like a cold shower kind of realization. Are we all this OLD NOW????? Old age was always a favorite topic of Neil’s…especially early in his career. (Isn’t it amazing how when you’re young you have being old all figured out? Then when it happens to you it’s like “Whoa! Wait a minute.) Yes people…I was definitely in the land of Rogaine. Young’s crowds have always been predominately men…now old…balding men…for the most part. “We’re a lot like you were.” (Old Man circa 1972) I mumbled a short prayer of thanks to the God of Hair. Yet the fact that I’m only noticing this now might just imply a senior moment on my part.

I saw Mr. Young perform Greendale last summer in Columbus. (Naked Sunfish Issue 14) But that was at an outdoor amphitheater with over 15,000 people. I was sitting off to the side and couldn’t see all the staging. And Greendale hadn’t even been released yet. This time around I was familiar with the music and I assumed…since the crowd was only 4000 and possibly comprised mostly of hardcore Young fans…that people wouldn’t be sitting in their seats shocked. Yet the crowd in Columbus…albeit stunned…gave the band a few standing ovations for music they were hearing for the very first time. Not so here in Cleveland…home of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Hey, hey…my, my…how things change. The citizens of the Land of Rogaine are a restless bunch indeed.

Not that they were rude. When they were young and at a Young show they could be rock n roll RUDE! Woo! Woo! Wooing it up with the best of them. Complacent might be a good word. Neil and Crazy Horse came out and plowed their way through a rock opera about an American town where Grandpa laments the old days…a cop gets shot…a young women chains herself to a statue on top of the utility company. Young spins the yarn between songs…filling in details. (It was during these monologues that the Rogainites grew antsy. One guy yelled “Ohio” several times…like Neil is going to play “Ohio”.) Still…like most Neil Young ventures outside of the standard rock concert experience…it’s mildly dumbfounding. Very enjoyable…but dumbfounding. And that’s always been a large part of Neil Young’s charm. You’d think his fans would know by now that Neil is going to play what Neil wants to play.

The tunes of Greendale…while meandering…are very, very enjoyable. And having actors lip-synching onstage to the song lyrics…along with simple stage production…and a smaller venue/crowd…combined to make this whole ragtag concept work. Especially when the story line reaches the wisdom and poignancy of the acoustic “bandit” with the refrain of “Some day…you’ll find…everything you’re looking for”. Or the wonderful line “You’re invisible. Bob Dylan said that. Something like that.” It’s smooth sailing from then on, culminating in the entire cast finale of “be the rain”. Young leans heavily on post-hippie environmental ethos and it’s not only refreshing…it’s moving and relevant. Young…in his offhanded…casual style rewrites the Nick Lowe message “What’s so funny ‘bout peace, love and understanding?” Well…I concur. What IS so funny?

It doesn’t hurt that the character Sun Green is a beautiful, young woman. But it’s the total package that makes Greendale Neil Young’s best effort since Ragged Glory. During “be the rain”…a song he sings through an amplified megaphone…Young is joined onstage by all the cast members including his wife and kids. It’s a really, really groovy neo-60’s moment…one that I most certainly enjoyed.

Young returned to the stage with Crazy Horse to give the restless Rogainites what they wanted. “Hey, Hey. My, My (Into the Black)" … which was loose even by Crazy Horse standards…an extended jam of “Cowgirl in the Sand” closing with ”Rockin’ in the Free World” which…as in Columbus…he played “Taps” with an anti-war attitude during the feedback crazed ending. (Neil Young really doesn’t END a song. He kind of walks away from it.) And a rowdy “Roll Another Number” was thrown in for good measure.

Yet about half the crowd stayed sitting on their aging asses during all this. I never thought of the line…from “Roll another Number”…”I’m not goin’ back to Woodstock…for a while” as prophetic. But hey…while I’m waxing theological here…I did have somewhat of a epiphany. I realized Ohio has changed. Columbus rock audiences are now every bit as good…and maybe even better…than those in Cleveland.

Our Top 5 Picksby Ted Kaneby John Bennettby Cory Tresslerby Patrick O'MalleyTravel SectionRecipes and MoreLinks Worth a LookBack Issues

© 2001-2004 NakedSunfish, All Rights Reserved

Issue 1 - January 2002