Wednesday, March 30, 2011



[From the STMcC archive; 2007, May 17]

Yoey O’Dogherty, the pastor at The Holy Vineyard Church in Napa Valley, California, recently had his Sunday school children tested to determine how well they were learning their Scriptures; the results were mixed and a bit disappointing. One child wrote that “Saint Paul cavorted to Christianity. He preached holy acrimony, which is another name for marriage.” Of course, since Saint Paul didn’t “cavort” to Christianity but rather “converted” to it, this child was given just a 50% correct grade on this particular question.

Another child who scored just 50% correct on a question answered, “Adam and Eve were created from an apple tree. Noah's wife was called Joan of Ark. Noah built an ark, which the animals came on to in pears.” You don’t need me to tell you that Adam and Eve were NOT created from an apple tree (everyone knows that it was Little Johnny Appleseed who was created from an apple tree).

One kid who did manage to score a 100% on a question said that, “The first commandment was when Eve told Adam to eat the apple.” Although The Bible doesn’t actually say that the “forbidden fruit” was an apple, we know this to be a fact because it can be found in all of the famous paintings from that era. (But what even few sincere Bible students today realize is that Eve’s second bite into the apple exposed a worm, and when she began shrieking and yelling at Adam to “Kill it! Kill it!” this became the real Second Commandment.)

Genesis 3:16 tells us that after Eve transgressed God’s rule and then enticed Adam to also eat the forbidden apple, God pronounced judgment on her and stated, “I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; In pain you shall bring forth children; Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.” This goes to show that sometimes even God is only 50% correct.

Since that time, a lot of men have gotten down on women, and while some people say this is only “natural”, I say, “You shall not muzzle an ox while it treads out the grain.” (Hell, I don’t know what it means, but I quote it frequently because I found it in Gideon’s Bible in 1986 while trying to survive an excruciating hangover in a little roach-infested motel in Nevada. I credit that particular verse for saving my life, and this is a story as American as apple pie!)

I still regularly read from The Bible, but sometimes my theology doesn’t comport with that of the typical Christian church. For example, I believe that Eve has gotten a bum rap; I think that in eating the apple she was merely trying to clean her colon. The health benefits of a clean colon have since been established and there are a few ways to acquire one: some people ingest these herbal formulas found in health food stores. Other folks undergo colonics. (I’ll admit that when I was a teenager, my buddies and I sometimes pushed our way in through the out door at the theater in order to see a movie for free, but that’ll be the day I’m going to pay money to someone to push something in MY out door!) The best way to a healthy colon that I have found involves apples . . .

I was once pretty much of an expert on the Edgar Cayce psychic readings. After a thorough and objective investigation into them, however, I eventually determined that some of them relating to spirituality are downright dangerous. His “health” readings, on the other hand, I still believe were gifts from God.

Cayce was way ahead of his time (some readings are still beyond our ken) and the information in his health-related readings was unquestionably supernaturally obtained. How could he have known so long before anyone else discovered it that the Vitamin B-17 (Laetrile) content of “bitter almonds” would prevent the growth of cancer? [See the books ‘World Without Cancer: The Story of Vitamin B-17’ by G. Edward Griffin, and ‘Alive & Well: One Doctor's Experience With Nutrition in the Treatment of Cancer Patients’ by Dr. Philip Binzel Jr.]

In all the years that I have done the Edgar Cayce 3-Day Apple Cleanse, and promoted it amongst my friends and acquaintances, only two people other than myself have completed it – both of them women. (I always did suspect that women have more ‘intestinal fortitude’ than men do.)

[According to Edgar Cayce’s reading #543-26]:

“[F]or three days…take NOTHING except apples – RAW APPLES! Of course, coffee may be taken if so desired, but no other foods but the raw apples. And after the last meal of apples of the third day, or upon retiring on that evening following the last meal of apples, drink half a cup of olive oil. This will tend to cleanse the system.”

In reading #294-182 he elaborated that the apples to use for this colon cleanse are “the Jonathan variety, or the jenneting; the Black Arkansas, the Oregon Red, the Sheepnose, the DELICIOUS, the Arkansas Russet; any of those that are of the jenneting variety.”

Because the Red Delicious apples are always readily available, it is the variety that I use when I administer the cleanse to myself. (Ideally once a year, since I’m a vegetarian. A flesh-eater might consider doing it every 6 months.)

How many apples should you eat? Cayce didn’t say, but what happens is that the fiber and pectin in the apples loosens up all of the matter that has collected in the crevices of your intestines over time, and then the olive oil flushes it all out. So the more apples you eat, the better. I always begin with the idea of eating 9 a day, but by day three, I’m so sick of apples that I can usually only manage to get 5 or 6 of them down me.

The hardest part, of course, is slugging down half a cup of olive oil. (For crying-out-loud, DON’T SIP IT!!! The coward dies a thousand deaths, the hero dies but once). I get it down in one or two gulps and then have some Listerine handy to immediately wash out my mouth (which sure beats the Ivory soap that my Ma liked to use for that purpose).

While one might think that the results would be immediate, and that racing to the bathroom will soon be necessary, I have never found it to be so with me. In fact, I take the olive oil after the last apple just before bed, and I sleep through the night, never needing to make “the mad dash” at any time.

Does this Apple cleanse REALLY clean out your colon? Well, without getting too graphically disgusting let me just say that . . . well, just check . . . well, YES! IT WORKS, and you will find all the evidence that you need in the bowl.

I personally feel that Eve’s reputation has been unjustly maligned. I think that in eating the “forbidden fruit” Eve was simply trying to improve her health by cleaning out her colon, and if God had understood that, she would have remained the apple of His eye, and Man wouldn’t still be walking around with a lump in his throat (i.e., an Adam’s Apple) at the thought of her painful punishment.

But even if Eve was merely thumbing her nose at God, I wouldn’t allow that to color my feelings toward all women;
I wouldn’t judge them all based on one bad apple.

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.

Monday, March 28, 2011



[From the STMcC archive; 2006, May 21]

Don't listen to the so-called Blues purists! 'THE LONDON HOWLIN' WOLF SESSIONS' will rock your socks off. And if you go barefooted, then you'd better hang onto your hat!

I remember when the eponymous 'Van Halen' album was released in 1978, some writer for a music magazine reviewed it and criticized the song 'You Really Got Me' for being spunkless. "Spunkless"? There's a lot of things one might say about that song, but "spunkless" damn sure ain't one of them. Similarly, this Howlin' Wolf album has been frequently denigrated by Blues fans who like to appear highbrow and above the "adulterated" late-period Blues that found White wannabes collaborating with the genuine Black articles. It doesn't seem to matter to these people that the songs here are so hot they're smokin'!

In the very early 1980s when I was first considering buying this album (in the vinyl form), I saw a review in which the writer said that the tepid playing from the famous English Rock instrumentalists backing Howlin' Wolf (Chester Arthur Burnett, 1910-1976) on this recording suggested that the young White boys were intimidated by the huge, old, Black Bluesman (Wolf was six feet three inches tall and weighed two hundred and seventy-five pounds). I nearly passed on this record because of that asinine comment. (Yeah, the playing is tepid just like Van Halen’s 'You Really Got Me' is "spunkless"!)

Fortunately, curiosity got the best of me, I purchased the "licorice pizza" (now in the CD format), and I've been happily rockin' out to this bad boy for about twenty-one years now. And although I am well-educated in The Blues (I was probably drinking heavily late at night to Robert Johnson's, 'King Of The Delta Blues Singers' before you were born) this is still one of my most frequently spun Blues sets - and when I do spin it, I crank it up LOUD because it scares the Jehovah's Witnesses and the Mormons off of my front porch!

Sure, Wolf was old and ill when these tracks were cut (1970), but can you find one young White or Black contemporary rebel singer who sounds even half as ferocious as the Wolf does here? Don't bother answering - that was a rhetorical question because "NO" is the obvious reply.

From the opening track, 'ROCKIN' DADDY', with its thick rhythm, Eric Clapton's fiery guitar licks, and the Wolf singing enticements to a woman (trying his best not to scare her off), it's clear that this quasi-Blues/Rock amalgamation is going to kick rump. And boy does it ever!


'Rockin' Daddy' moves right into the slightly slower, but no less rhythmically chunky and no less ferocious, 'I AIN'T SUPERSTITIOUS.' The one-two punch of the piano and horns is enough to frighten the fainthearted, and that's without even mentioning the menace in Wolf's deep howl and the "sexual" tension throughout.




The dialogue between Wolf and the White Rockers before they launch into 'THE RED ROOSTER' is classic: Trying to get Wolf to play the acoustic guitar on the track, Clapton feigns an inability to grasp his part unless he can visually follow the Wolf's fingering. After some cajoling, Wolf - indisputably the alpha in this pack - puts an end to the discussion when he emphatically says, "Alright, let's get on it!" And do they ever! And borrowing from the Wolf's command, I've been continually using that phrase, "Alright, let's get on it", for the last twenty-one years.



If you're already a Blues enthusiast, there's no reason for you not to own the Wolf's early, rawest material found on the "Twofer", 'Howlin' Wolf / Moanin' In The Moonlight'. That collection includes his standards, 'Spoonful'; 'Smokestack Lightnin''; 'Evil'; and 'Goin' Down Slow'. But if you're coming straight from the Rock genre, then 'THE LONDON HOWLIN' WOLF SESSIONS' is a perfect place for you to be introduced to this mountain of a man and one of the true giants in Blues.

Either way, this album should be kept within reach of everyone who wants a surefire way to answer the door when the proselytizers show up on the porch. At the first knock on your door, crank up the Wolf and then watch how fast they skedaddle. One time, two women dropped their 'Watchtower' pamphlets on my porch and outran their undergarments - left 'em right there in an indecorous heap on my stoop. And I had one Mormon man bolt so fast that his toupee was still hanging in midair when I opened the door!

No doubt about it, ya simply MUST have this Wolf album in yer collection. "ALRIGHT, LET'S GET ON IT!"

About a year and a half ago, my dear friend the Flyin’ Aardvark presented me with a really cool gift: The 4-episode, 2-DVD box set titled ‘AMERICAN ROOTS MUSIC’. If you haven’t seen it, you oughta. In episode #3 called The Times They Are A-Changin’, there’s a great interview segment with singer Bonnie Raitt in which she says of Howlin’ Wolf:

“I’ve never gotten over seeing Howlin’ Wolf and I never will. I listen to his records and it makes me feel the same feeling of eighteen: Oh my God, this is what men are about? And I haven’t really gone there yet and I’m just, you know— to watch him and listen to his voice – there’s nobody that can live up to the promise of that much scary maleness.

“And he just laid it on; he’s sweaty, he’s out of control, he’s playin’ it like he’s -- he’s workin’ you like he’s -- I’m a pretty powerful person and I was in his power; and the dream of every strong woman is to be overcome by a strong guy, and that guy gets me. From the moment I watched him, I said I’m – take me!, take me!, take me! – and I’ll be in love with him for the rest of my life”.
-- Bonnie Raitt

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

I loves me some Howlin’ Wolf! Wolf is not only my all-time favorite Bluesman, but he’s a person I admire for the many good personal qualities he possessed. (The story of his relationship with his devoutly religious Mother and that episode when he last saw her alive is truly heartbreaking. HEARTBREAKING! THAT is the Blues in real life!)

Muddy was genuinely GREAT; Wolf was the best.

If you haven’t read enough words yet about The Wolf, and you wish to read mo’ stuffs I’ve written ‘bout Wolf (not to mention a small excerpt from my unproduced screenplay), click the link below:


YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.

Sunday, March 27, 2011


Back in the days when I worked at the University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA), I had a number of co-worker/friends. For a place of “work”, we all actually had a pretty good time together and even met occasionally at various restaurants on the weekends for breakfast.

These breakfast gatherings were called “Bitter Meetings” because we’d all rant about what was going wrong at work and, of course, spread rumors about and talk behind the back of whoever failed to show up at the Bitter Meeting.

Well, through a mutual friend, I was just recently put back in touch with one of my old pals from those UCLA days: F#ckin’ Lelly.

Lelly’s real name is Larry but we all called him “Lelly” because our Asian boss, Suey, always called him “Lelly” as he couldn’t pronounce the R’s in Larry.

The “F#ckin’” part of “F#ckin’ Lelly” came from the fact that Lelly was so freakin’ big it seemed that he was always in our way. Whenever you tried to move, there was Lelly standing in your way, but because he occupied so much space, he really couldn’t help it. Our friendship with Larry was like having a friendship with a nice and gentle but big-footed dinosaur. But that’s how Larry became “F#ckin’ Lelly”, which was gradually shortened for decency’s sake to “F-in’ Lelly”.

A friend of mine recently Emailed me to say that he and some of the other guys had gotten together for a Bitter Meeting in Los Angeles. Below is a portion of what he wrote to me. This was part of a private correspondence, and since I have not sought permission to post it publicly, I don’t feel at liberty to state who wrote it. All I will say is that the four dudes who attended the Bitter Meeting were Lelly, Rick, Mike, and Lonnie. You might be able to figure out who wrote this if you’re willing to sit down with a calculator and spend the necessary time doing the math:

“FnLelly made an appearance at this Bitter along with Rick and Mike. Larry promptly bumped into 4 tables, knocking them and 12 patrons over as he sat down. (Kiddin', S.O.B.) But when he stood up he knocked over two pregnant women and stepped on a puppy.”

I’m STILL laughing! God bless F-in’ Lelly! He’s just like I remembered him!

[See, we dudes can call each other “S.O.B.” and “F-in’ Lelly” and stuffs like that because, in fact, we’re all old friends. Emphasis on the “old”.]

My old buddy F-in’ Lelly is a Blues guitarist. I went to see him play nightclubs back in the day, when he was the frontman for ‘The F#ckin’ Lelly Blues Band’.

OK, I confess, that band name is just a joke, but F-in’ Lelly’s gonna kill me if he ever reads this. He’s been axing me to send him a link to my blogs but I’ve withheld them so far and tried to discourage the idea. (I don’t want my best friends reading this crap I write, but I guess S.O.B. Lonnie - that fool! - must have mentioned my blogs to Lelly. Don’tcha hate it when that happens?!)

But seriously, Lelly’s been a professional Blues guitarist since I met him, and it was actually Lelly who turned me on to the legendary guitarist Danny Gatton approximately 147 years ago (that’s in “dog years”).

Well, I’ve learned that F-in’ Lelly’s still playing in local L.A. Blues bands. Two bands, actually. He’s a member of the band ‘Slavin’ David And Loose Gravel’ (I’m old enough to remember when Slavin’ David was playing acoustic guitar on the Venice Beach Boardwalk for spare change) and Lelly’s also a member of the band ‘Doc Rogers And The Roc Dodgers’. On the bio page for the latter group, it says that when Larry’s not playing guitar he “works as the bouncer at the local Christian Science reading room.”

Ha! Well, that’s a rough gig but Lelly’s probably big enough to handle it.

Below are some links to F-in’ Lelly’s band stuffs. I hope y’all check it out and dig it because F-in’ Lelly’s pretty f-in’ good.


Black Jack 21
[Note: F-in’ Lelly’s the big dude with the guitar, wearing the glasses and the black cowboy “smile pocket” shirt. He stole the shirt from me and stretched it out by tying it to the asses of two asses and then making ‘em “Giddyyap!” Back in the 1890s, Lelly used to laugh at my Western wear, but now he’s wearin’ the Western wear hisself, and on stage no less. Ya see? I was a man both behind and ahead of my time.]

Promo Video
[Note: Lelly’s the big dude bumping into the other band members on stage.]

'Slavin' David And Loose Gravel' Website


'Doc Rogers' Website And Audio Links

Dudes and dudettes, I really dig this ‘Doc Rogers’ stuffs! Be sure to listen to the tunes ‘National Inquirer’, 'Seen It On TV', and especially 'Hey Doc'. Really good stuffs!

[* F-IN’ LELLY: I know I can only stall ‘n’ stonewall just so long, and you’re eventually bound to see this blog bit. Brother, all I can say is: “I love ya, man! And please don’t kill me, as I have a child and five wives to support!”] .
~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.

Saturday, March 19, 2011


[From the STMcC archive; 2006, August 1st]

I'm kind of a quirky character - "unique" is the word that my friends have used to describe me. Those who were not my friends used other less friendly words from time to time, but those people are all dead now so there's no point in our discussing them.

One of my little "quirks" is to occasionally ask odd questions from out of the blue. It might be a reasonable question such as, "The year of your best Summer?" (Mine was '74, how 'bout yers?) Or the question might be something totally nonsensical like, "What did you do when the crops failed?"

Now, if you expect to remain a friend of mine for very long you will be required to consistently reply immediately with something (at least mildly amusing) that we can develop into a full-blown, long-term nonsensical discussion. Acceptable answers to that last question would go something like: "We turned to cannibalism" or "I died in the famine." You get the idea?

When I suddenly blurted out, "Best guitarist?" to my buddy at work, The Great LC, he answered, "Gary Hoey."
I said, "HOEY? WHO HE?"

I thought I had heard of all the highly acclaimed guitarists but this cat was news to me. Well, the compact disc-addicted Rams fan, The Great LC, loaned me a copy of one of his Hoey CDs and I was turned onto truly one of the most unjustly unknown six-string slingers extant. And it came as an added surprise and bonus when I discovered that 'Who He Hoey' had also written and performed the musical soundtrack for the movie sequel 'ENDLESS SUMMER II' (1994).

The first 'ENDLESS SUMMER' movie (1966) you'll remember was the original full-length movie on surfing that - along with the fabulous music of The Beach Boys - really pushed the sport into the American consciousness, and it is still considered the classic, holy grail of surfing films. (In the days before art house/cult flick movie theatres and Beta/VHS tapes, they used to show 'Endless Summer' at the packed Santa Monica Civic Auditorium to kids like me who rode waves all Summer long in our quest for skin cancer. That was before the invention of sunblock, ya understand!)

So, is 'Who He Hoey' really the "best guitarist"? Well, The Great LC ain't no dummy, and I'd say that Hoey is darned sure in the running; the cat can really sling it! I think I'd still have to side with Danny Gatton because, despite his amazing versatility, I'm not sure Hoey could quite match Gatton's exquisite finesse on numbers like 'Canadian Sunset' and 'Poinciana.' But I'd certainly be interested in seeing the boys duel. That won't happen any time soon though because Gatton "died in the famine" of '94.

But let's briefly examine this soundtrack and see what 'Who He Hoey' is doing on it:

The first thing you'll be happy to find is that this does NOT sound like your typical movie soundtrack album. There is none of that draggy "movie music" with cheesy orchestras sawing away on strings that meander over nondescript melodies - you know wot ahm talkin' 'bout here: FILLER! No way dudes and dudettes, this is a SERIOUS surf guitar Rock album! This is the one movie soundtrack album that REALLY ROCKS! I mean this baby makes most so-called "real" Hard Rock guitar albums sound like the "movie filler" we've been yakkin' 'bout here!

It opens with 'RIPTIDE', a highly electrified excursion into swirling waters of sonic danger. (How many of you blokes know how to swim out of a riptide? There's a secret to it, but I'm keepin' it to myself.)

'BLAST' is a heavy-chorded piece of menace (think Black Sabbath or sumpin' like dat), but 'SWEET WATER' is a fluidly-picked bit of metal funk with neo-reggae rhythms.

Then we get Hoey's outrageous cover of the old War classic, 'LOW RIDER' - the unofficial theme song of my hometown, Los Angeles (maybe you've heard of the place?) It's obvious that Hoey's amplifiers go up to eleven and that's where he keeps 'em set during most of these recordings.

If you don't get mental pictures of some long-haired surfer dude pulling off spinners and hanging ten on his longboard while Hoey plays his original composition 'WALKIN' THE NOSE' then you simply have no imagination whatsoever (and yer gonna be in big trouble when out of the blue I ask you to, "Tell me about your business with Roger O'Vernout.")

'DRIVE' has a nice little melody; it's not gonna wake the children or anything, but it's got a good beat and you can dance to it.

With 'LA ROSA NEGRA' (that means "The White Petunia" in Spanish), Hoey gives us his Carlos Santana impersonation; it's fairly Latinized for a White Surfer-lookin' dude, and it's a "daisy" of a tune.

OK, yer halfway thru this disc now, Surfcats.

'LINUS AND LUCY' is a cover of Vince Guaraldi's famous theme song for the Charlie Brown TV specials, and Hoey launches into it with all kinds of weird harmonic shifts and...somehow I'm thinkin' dat Linus an' da kids (and even Snoopy) would have had a difficult time doing their goofy dances to this version!

'SURFDOGGIN' is one of my favorite tracks. It's a bit o'tickling Country-Surf Pickin'. I dunno but metinks 'Who He Hoey' may have invented a new genre with this composition and it really shows off his nimble fingers as they fly all over that fretboard and make me smile - this piece has a real Sense O'Humor...SERIOUSLY! "No, no, I'm nuh kiddin' you, uh!"

'PIPE' is an almost indescribably moody composition with Hoey's sparking guitar trading licks with Bud "Barefoot and Slippery" Shank's nasty Tenor Sax and Tony Franklin's great grumbling Bass pushing everything through the whitewater - probably my very favorite cut.

Hoey duets with one of his heroes, surf guitar legend DICK DALE, on Dick Dale's classic 'SHAKE & STOMP (Part II)' and it sounds like that wacko who used to juggle live chain saws on Venice Beach...only faster and louder. Forget about waking the children, this one's gonna getcha evicted from yer apartment.

'THEME FROM THE ENDLESS SUMMER' is the theme song from the movie 'Endless Summer' (guess that's why they called it that) and I've liked the tune since I first heard the original recording by The Sandals.

'ESCAPE' is pure Heavy Metal “Shock 'N' Awe” pyrotechnics. You might as well crank it up full blast because the manager's already on his way over to yer unit with the eviction notice in his hand anyway.

And the disc ends with the surprisingly "spiritual" 'THE DEEP' - it's an electric ballad with long notes of sustain. With this one, 'Who He Hoey' proves that still waters really do run DEEP - this is a genuinely moving piece of introspection and a fitting way to end what is otherwise an energetic assault, like an electric eel attack while riding waves in the Big Blue. And for that reason, I love to work-out to this disc! Yer gonna dig it too.

I'll end this review now with just one question for ya:
"What were you doing on the trail with Lewis and Clark?"

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

Gary Hoey plays ‘Linus And Lucy’ [Live]

Gary Hoey plays ‘Drive’

Gary Hoey plays ‘The Deep’

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.

Thursday, March 17, 2011


At school, Casey Heynes had been picked on and picked on and picked on, and finally he reached the end of his tolerance and body-slammed the little bully, Ritchard ("Dick") Gale.

Hey, Little Dick, did you learn a lesson? Little girlie dogs shouldn’t pick on BIG MANLY DOGS! Remember that, Little Dick, for it will serve you well as you go through life.

The school in Australia, where this incident occurred, suspended BOTH boys. But then that shouldn’t surprise us, since everyone knows that the most emasculated countries in the world are Australia, Canada, and France. (The United States of America probably gets only fourth place on the “Most Emasculated Countries” list.)

Internet service: $39.99
Popcorn & Soda Pop: $4.50
The sound of Little Dick's body meeting the pavement?: Priceless!

I love this video!: love it, Love it, LOVE it!

For follow-up crap, you can click here.

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.

Monday, March 14, 2011


A couple of weeks ago, brother Nappy and I went to have breakfast at our local - oh, what's the name of that restaurant? 'Elephant's Memory Bar And G'rill-a'? 'Tiny Tim's Tearoom'? 'Yoey O'Dogherty's Roadkill Chophouse'? 'Sal Monella's Coffee Shop'?  'Mimi's Cafe'? Wait! That's IT!
'Mimi's Cafe'.

A couple of weeks ago, brother Nappy and I went to have breakfast at our local 'Mimi's Cafe'.

Hmmm..... Now I forget what I was leading up to. I know it had something to do with something.

Oh, to hell with it then! I'm just gonna post a few pictures:

Oh, wait! That's IT! Now I remember what I was going to say.

A couple of weeks ago, brother Nappy and I went to have breakfast at our local 'Mimi's Cafe', and the hostess who seated us just went crazy over the Lion King T-shirt I happened to be wearing. The hostess was a young girl, maybe 18 or 19, with short dark hair and, unfortunately, her face was marked by "teenage skin issues".

Anyway, she seemed very nice, and went on to tell me how much she adored the movie 'The Lyin' King' (Disney stole the idea from Osamu Tezuka and Fred Ladd) and admitted, somewhat sheepishly, that she still had a stuffed Simba at home, which she dearly loves.

After she managed to yank her wide, lusting eyes away from my T-shirt and go back to her station near the front door, brother Nappy suggested that I should give her the shirt off my back. (Well, not right there, exactly, - he wouldn't wish that on other people trying to hold down their food - but sometime later.) I said it was a good idea but I wasn't sure I could give the shirt away.

Nappy asked, "Why? It doesn't mean that much to you, does it?" And I told him, "Yeah, it kinda does. The Countess gave it to me in 1994."

The shirt is very unique (unlike 'The Lyin' King' storyline) in that it was never available to the public. (No wonder the hostess admired it so - she had never seen one like it before!)  In 1994, when my then-girlfriend, the Countess, was working for the Disney Company, the shirt was sold only to employees from a gift shop located on the grounds of the Disney Studios. She and I had gone there one time, and loving the Rafiki character, I also fell in love with the shirt. A short time later, the Countess bought it for me and hid it in the trunk of her car.

We were preparing to take a trip somewhere and the Countess pretended to have left in the trunk of her car something she needed to pack in her suitcase and asked me if I'd go down there and fetch it for her. She was watching from the second floor window of our Los Angeles apartment when I walked down to her car, opened the trunk and found the Rafiki T-shirt waiting there to be discovered by me. Very, very cool!

So, anyway, I'm thinking that tomorrow I might go back to Mimi's Cafe and, if she's there, give my (freshly washed) T-shirt to that nice, young hostess. But before I do, I wanted to save some pictures of it somewhere for safekeeping (and for me, too).

Therefore, if you think of this post at all (although there's no reason for you to do so since it exists solely for myself), think of it more as a photo album than a blog installment, alright?

Incidentally, the Disney Company is an agent of the devil, and I ain't "Lyin'." If you doubt it, read the book 'DISNEY: THE MOUSE BETRAYED' by Peter and Rochelle Schweizer. It's about "Greed, Corruption, and Children At Risk", and it's also about 360 pages.

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Essential Tools & Techniques For Modern AUSTRALIAN WRITERS Living In Greece


A personal computer for writing.

[father, son, & holy "spirit"]
Wine for inspiration and relaxation.

A bulldozer for clearing away writer's block.

Thick skin to survive rejection notices.

Rope . . . should an 'escape clause' be needed.


1: After writing dialogue, speak it aloud to see if it sounds natural.

2: While describing scenes, don't forget to incorporate the various senses: sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, libido, and sometimes y.

3: Use fuck shit asshole profanity very sparingly for maximum effect.

4: And... uhm... well... oh, "derrieres and dog doo!" ...Thought I'd something more to say.

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011


Here in the Blogosphere, the vast majority of bloggers I am familiar with dispense writing tips to would-be novelists on nearly a daily basis. It seems to me that "blogging" is just a shorter way of saying "Writing about writing". Personally, I feel these people ought to be "writing about writing" less and just freakin' WRITING more!

[Think how much work you would get done on your latest "WIP" if the time you spent telling us all about it you actually devoted to the "WIP" itself! Stop yakkin' about it and just DO IT! What, are you afraid of success, man?]

Frank Zappa said, "Shut Up 'N' Play Yer Guitar". I say, "Shut up 'n' write!" I mean, I really don't think we need any more blog bits from unpublished or self-published writers discussing the finer points of writing with other wannabe writers. When you've made the New York Times Bestseller Fiction list (and also, preferably not before Hollywood has adapted your bestseller to the silver screen) you should be sure to get back to us and tell us how ya did it. But until then . . . just shut up 'n' WRITE!

However, since no one pays the least bit of attention to what I say, and since I know y'all are going to go right on writing about writing, I figure I might as well join you.

Below is a review I wrote a number of years ago for the Syd Field book 'SCREENPLAY: The Foundations Of Screenwriting'. Hopefully you'll find this helpful as you continue on your hopeful path to stardom via the helpful process of "writing about writing":


I red SCREENPLAY many years ago before righting my own movie, BILLY 'N' BILLIE. Iliked the book. It was reel good at showing you what elimints are needed in construkting a movie that will cell.

There was only one thing that buged me and that was he says that all good movies follow a certin pairadime. But then on page 118 he says "What about NASHVILLE? Is that an exception?" He then shows how it doesnt seem like it but NASHVILLE reely does follow the pattern. Then he winds it up by saying "Robert Altman... films may look randomly composed but in reality they are executed with sculpted finesse. NASHVILLE fits the paradigm to a tee." (It seems I mispelled paradigm earlyer but you knew what I ment right?)

But what bugs me is that NASHVILLE reely doesnt fit the paradigm to a tee at all and SYD FIELD didnt have the curage of his conviktions to come out and say so. and ferthermore NASHVILLE is not a good movie at all. I tryed to watch it three times and never made it. But the rest of this book is good.

My movie BILLY 'N' BILLIE nobody bought but even tho that happened to me I still think this book is good and I wreckamend it. My copy is totaly dogeared! I still dont no why my movie didnt cell but I might re-right it today on my lunch brake and try it again.

Goodluck everyone!!!

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011


Just yesterday, I received an Email from my dear old friend Pooh, who included an ancient photograph that he had taken of me in downtown Los Angeles once upon a lifetime ago.

Below is his comment and the photo:

Hey Steee-heee-phen,

I remember when you been had been Mr. Intense. See attached photo of a trip to downtown L.A. long, long, ago. I found some old slides as I was tossing stuff so I had it scanned. Time has ravaged us....that and the things we did to our selves as well.

Love ya, (JW)
[Note: The "JW" stands for "John Wayne". Those are the initials we guys always place right after we use the word "love", just to ensure that the other bloke understands you haven't gone all "Boy George" on him. It ain't easy bein' heterosexual... in an increasingly homosexual/gender-mixed-up world! Ha!]

And my reply to Pooh:

Ha! Thanks for the photo of me "doing my best James Dean".

I remember when I learned they were going to raze that "Jesus Saves" sign - I was so ticked off. Not because Jesus meant all that much to me then, but because the sign was like a great old landmark downtown. ...Hmmm... Come to think of it, I'm STILL ticked off about it. (See? Dogged if I don't still have a spark of the old intensity! It just doesn't see the light of day very often anymore.)

~ Mr. Intense

Pooh's nickname for me back in the day was "Mr. Intense" because... well... because I was. But then I got old and tired, and didn't look so cool in black leather anymore.

"Oh yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone."

~ Stephen T. McCarthy

YE OLDE COMMENT POLICY: All comments, pro and con, are welcome. However, ad hominem attacks and disrespectful epithets will not be tolerated (read: "posted"). After all, this isn’t, so I don’t have to put up with that kind of bovine excrement.