2006-11 Vital Source Mag – November 2006
My Morning Jacket @ The Riverside Theater
By Caz McChrystal + Photos by Kat Berger The Riverside Theater (GO HERE to see more photos from the show) My Morning Jacket presented a perfect specimen of an elusive form at the Riverside Theater this past Tuesday night, the modern rock concert. But it is difficult to tell what a rock & roll concert is supposed to look like circa 2006. Decades of formulaic mayhem have littered the genre with beefed-up boredom and created a vacuum. The days in which a rock band’s greatness was measured by its ability to roll into a city like Rommel and conquer a submissive audience waiting to be played at are over. Rather, My Morning Jacket exploded the notion of what a rock concert is by playing to a rapt audience and treating the show as if it was a fragile being to be nurtured and coaxed out into the open. By the time the lights at the Riverside had gone black and MMJ emerged to open with “Wordless Chorus,” the crowd was already on its feet and moving along with the intelligently complicated rhythms. And it stayed that way for the nearly two hours that MMJ played. The first quarter of the show steadily built upon itself, reaching a high point with the reggae nod “”Off the Record.” The tune’s intro, a direct quotation of the seminal Hawaii Five-O opening riff thawed-out the mid-November crowd, warming up the audience before cooling it down with a run of slower-paced songs. The downshift to slower, searching improvisations broke down the rock show format, in which slower songs usually get tossed in only sporadically, and then only to give the drummer a brief respite. Here, it felt as though the band wanted to give the audience a chance to regroup, and it was well timed. Although some of these extended instrumental breaks noodled a little too long, MMJ never lost the audience. Coming out of this mellow and spacey section, MMJ slid into “Golden,” an archetypal country song off the It Still Moves record. For that song, guitarist Carl Broemel sat before a pedal steel and belted out one of those heartbroken but hopeful Nashville harmonies that felt down home and far out at the same time. This wonderful slide playing, accompanied by the plaintive vocals of Jim James, drove home the fact that MMJ is not just a group of guys who plays instruments, but musicians who not only take pride in their craft, but take it seriously. My Morning Jacket ended its show with the anthemic “Mehgeetah,” which came at the close of a half hour long encore. The impact of the show, however, did not flow from any single song they unexpectedly pulled out or effectively performed, it came from the overall arc of the evening. The concert seemed to ebb and flow, rocking with high intensity for periods only to draw back into esoteric musical self-searching in other parts. The mood would change within some songs, and sometimes without any discernible […]
Nov 27th, 2006 by Vital Archives
Give ‘Em Hell, Harry
By Peggy Sue Dunigan Speaking directly, loudly and customarily cursing, Harry S. Truman’s voice and words ring shockingly true and remain relevant in the production of Give ‘Em Hell, Harry that opened at the Boulevard Ensemble Studio Theatre November 8. The audience in the packed space greatly appreciated those words, generously sprinkled with humor and truth, both of which marked Truman’s life. Moving through the time and space of Truman’s adult years on stage, Don Devona aptly caries the one man show. Dapper in a taupe double breasted suit, Devona appears both presidential and genuinely familiar, although slightly frail. The production builds steam through the second act as Truman reminisces about the “whistle stop” campaign of 1948, ending vibrantly as he struts with his walking cane on the streets of his hometown Independence, Missouri. Opening on the day after an election that witnessed the Democrats making stunning gains, Give ‘Em Hell, Harry surprises with the timelessness of the truths expressed. Truman begins as he describes his first political campaign for county judge of Jackson County (“a new war of words instead of guns” ) after returning from France in World War I. Continuing through to World War II, Truman again reflects on after only 86 days as the 33rd President, thinking, wrestling with the decision to “drop the bomb.” He claims, “Options… didn’t have any options. Thought it was going to end the war. Dropped one. Dropped another. They capitulated. Would do the same damn thing if I thought it was going to end the war. Waiting for someone to apologize for Pearl Harbor.” As it is for politicians today, war was consistently on his mind. And facing war for a third time as he utters these thoughts on Korea: “Damn Korea thing…blowing up in our faces.” Truman again could well be verbalizing current events, such as North Korea’s recent experiments with their own nuclear bomb in 2006. However, it’s the Korean War of 1950 to which he’s referring. “We weren’t there to win. What were we there for? To stop something. Preserve the peace of the world.” Has this been said before? Or is he speaking to the reality of war and “the innocent lives of American men and women are being destroyed. It’s a tragedy.” A tragedy, similar to 1940, 1950, decades later in Iraq; the same truths exist. As the play continues traveling through Truman’s life, whether spewing political or personal wisdom, the audience is left wondering what, if anything, has changed. For Truman addresses corruption in business, dirty politics, racism, falsified bids, public housing and the minimum wage. All timely subjects for any current political arguments. Speaking like a true Democrat to the Republicans 60 years ago, Truman says, “I’m not giving ‘em hell. I’m just telling them the truth to make them feel like they’re living in hell.” VS Give ‘Em Hell, Harry runs through November 19 at the Boulevard Ensemble Studio Theatre in Bay View. Tickets: $20.00 by reservation. Please call 414-744-5757 for details.
Nov 15th, 2006 by Peggy Sue Dunigan
Not Now, Darling
By Russ Bickerstaff With all the right treatment under the right conditions, life can be a late 60s British sex farce. One needs only gather the right adults together and get them to be a bit more fictitious than usual. No elaborate sets are needed. Costuming need not be extensive. The comedy comes naturally. With this social dynamic in place, RSVP Productions’ Artistic Director Raymond Bradford delves into an enjoyable evening of theatre as co-director and co-star in Ray Cooney and John Chapman’s 1969 hit comedy Not Now, Darling. Bradford himself stars as a diligent, honest furrier named Arnold Crouch. Alan Stevenson co-stars as his business partner Gilbert Bodley. Crouch, being a womanizing adulterous husband with a suspicious business sense, is quite the opposite of the virtuous Crouch. Crouch finds his morals slipping in a chain of events brought about when Bodley attempts to give a young married woman the gift of a very expensive fur coat. The chain of events is written to rush through the play in a blinding flurry. This is a comedy of escalation. With some 11 people in the cast swimming through the tiny stage at the Astor Theater, RSVP does a pretty good job of keeping things quickly enough to spark some laughs. The momentum may slip in places, but it rights itself quickly enough to shoot through a relatively entertaining evening of comedy. The roles are all written as exaggerated comic characters and the RSVP cast seems to have a really good time performing them. Kelly Simon plays the young Janie McMichael, hopeful recipient of Crouch’s gift coat. Simon plays Janie with the surreal affectations of a grossly amplified material girl. Earl Scharnick seems suitably confused as her husband Harry, who is also in an extramarital affair with an attractive young woman named Sue (played by Anne Miller) whose husband occasionally storms through the action, played by Ken Dillon. Things, of course, get even more complicated with Bodley’s wife Maude (Marcee Sturino) coming back early from vacation to find things in disarray. Notable supporting performances around the edges include Cynthia L. Paplaczyk as Bodley & Crouch’s oddly comic secretary and the tiny, talented Marilou Davido as a young, overly-friendly employee of the business. Rather than setting the production in a late 1960s England, Bradford has opted for a more ambiguous “Modern Metropolitan City” in the present. This spares the audience of having to hear a variety of different mid-western attempts at British accents, which makes the production all the more enjoyable. For anyone familiar with the style and pacing of dialogue in a British comedy however, it’s a bit disorienting. That ineffable use of silence, inflection and sarcasm with a hint of exaggeration seems to have been lifted from the script along with the accents. This distraction doesn’t detract enough from the comedy to be anything other than subtly confusing to those familiar with the genre. This is by no means deep or deeply moving comedy. Closing just one week before the Christmas […]
Nov 15th, 2006 by Vital Archives
Trudy Blue
By Jill Gilmer “Can I speak to them?” Ginger Andrews asks, referring to her family as she watches them weep at Ginger’s funeral. She poses the question to a fellow angel who is watching the funeral with her from their heavenly perch. “No,” the other angel replies. “That is what your life was for.” Talk to the people you love while you are still alive. This is the simple yet provocative message of Trudy Blue, a play by Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Marcia Norman presented by the Dramatists Theatre. The play is based on Ms. Norman’s personal journey after she learns that she has two months to live. Like Ms. Norman, lead character Ginger Andrews, a novelist, later learns that her doctor’s diagnosis of lung cancer is wrong. Thus, she will have to continue living her dreary life, a fate more devastating to Ginger than the death prediction. The play takes place nearly entirely in Ginger’s mind as she contemplates conversations with her family and with Trudy Blue, a character from one of her novels who also represents Ginger’s alter ego. The play mingles these “real conversations with imaginary people and imaginary conversations with real people” interchangeably, an intriguing technique that is at times confusing to the audience. Despite the erratic effectiveness of this dramatic technique, the play succeeds in illustrating the results that ensue when a writer channels painful thoughts and feelings into fictitious characters and stories instead of sharing them with the people involved. As a series of surprising revelations unfold over the course of the play, the audience witnesses the potential damage to relationships when a person conceals their true persona from the people they love. It’s a dynamic that is likely experienced by introverts and artists of many types. The Dramatists Theatre’s production of Trudy Blue is a commendable adaptation of a difficult story. Unfortunately, its overall impact is diminished by an inexperienced cast, which offers the audience minimal assistance in understanding or caring about the two central characters, Ginger and her alter-ego, Trudy Blue. A tedious first act may lose some audience members while the stage is set for the more compelling second half. This notwithstanding, a play of this complexity is an impressive accomplishment for a theatre company in its second season, operating on a shoe-string budget. (The actors were not paid, and artistic director Marjorie Shoemann also manned the box office and snack bar.)VS Trudy Blue is the second installment in the Dramatists Theatre’s series of plays by Marcia Norman. Each season, the company showcases the work of a single playwright. Trudy Blue runs through Saturday, November 18 at the Marian Center for Non-Profits, 3211 S. Lake Drive. Tickets are $16. For reservations, please call 414-243-9168.
Nov 15th, 2006 by Vital Archives
The Hold Steady
By DJ Hostettler Once upon a time back in the 1980s, there was a genre called “alternative.” It’s hard to believe these days, but back in the day, labeling a band “alternative” actually meant it was an alternative to what you’d hear on your local corporate top-40 radio station. Siouxsie and the Banshees didn’t sound like Pat Benatar, and that was a beautiful thing. Then when “alternative” became meaningless in the 90s, “indie rock” sprung up to remind us that no, Sebadoh doesn’t sound like Pearl Jam either. These days, indie rock still doesn’t sound like what you’ll hear on the local Top 40 station, but thanks to The Hold Steady, it definitely sounds like your local classic rock station. It’s an odd state of affairs when Vagrant Records’ hottest new acquisition sounds like Bob Seger with Thin Lizzy’s guitar solos, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing either. Boys and Girls in America is the perfect title for The Hold Steady’s third full-length. The no-frills hard rock herein evokes images of Midwestern blue-collar Night Moves-style Americana, while Craig Finn’s trademark love-‘em-or-hate-‘em spoken-sung vocals spin yarns about modern boys and girls going to “all ages hardcore matinee shows” (the crazy catchy “Massive Nights” ) and apparently taking lots and lots of drugs (just about every song on the album), giving the retro soundtrack distinctly modern subject matter. The constant theme of teenagers in love taking loads of drugs is worn thin by the end of the record – “Chillout Tent’s” dueling he-said/she-said boy/girl choruses are pretty annoying, to be blunt – but overall, Boys and Girls in America is solid, rockin’ and has a few potential classics (I dare you to not hum along with the “woah-woahs” in “Chips Ahoy” ) without sounding as stale as the classic rock it references. VS
Nov 15th, 2006 by Vital Archives
Lloyd Cole
By Blaine Schultz Lloyd Cole and the Commotions’ 1984 debut album, Rattlesnakes, garnered a good amount of airplay (both on college radio and MTV) and press. In the years that followed, this competent record would be lionized as a masterpiece. In hindsight, the dude had a ways to go. Twenty-plus years and a dozen albums find Cole releasing another sophisticated pop album. Or mature pop album. Or literate pop album. Let’s just say that, lyrically, Cole comes across as pretty sincere… verging on humorless. He is content to merely litter the landscape – dropping hip, young urban references whenever he gets the chance. His jumbles of words come off like a blatant attempt to impress the listener. Covering Moby Grape’s “I Am Not Willing,” he sings of a romantic breakup: “I’m so grateful, no longer willing to have a home,” relieved that she gave him a reason to split. The very next song, “Slip Away,” offers this: “I propose an exit strategy… to slip into the ether where I belong.” Maybe only a true artist can blur the lines between woe-is-me and self-satisfied sneer. Maybe Lloyd Cole is that artist… Maybe. But a typical album is a good year’s hard work, so let’s not pitch this disc into the landfill just yet. Musically and sonically, the album is brilliant. The stylish arrangements build on Cole’s modern folk tunes, adding brushed drums here, textured keyboards there and even a richly impressive string section on a few tracks. Rhythms lean toward bossa nova, while subtle loops and delayed guitar riffs add to the palette. If you can get beyond the lyrics, Antidepressant would be perfect listening in a Starbucks or Barnes & Noble.
Nov 1st, 2006 by Vital Archives
Joanna Newsom
By Erin Wolf When one insists on being called a “harper” rather than a harpist and becomes peeved when told that one sounds “childlike” (“Bjork-ish,” too) even though the description is nail-on-the-head, it’s obvious one’s perception of oneself is a tad bit off-kilter. Some would call this stubborn, some would call it quirky; most would call it self-absorbed. This self-absorption, though, is just what makes Joanna Newsom’s music work. Her first two EPs and full-length album, The Milk-Eyed Mender, were studies of self-absorption, created from a world not known to anyone other than the 24-year-old herself, characterized by music and lyrics straight out of the writings of Homer and a “childlike” voice more like a infantile gnome with a bad cold piped in between harp pluckings. To write music that sounds centuries old, the writer must obviously not be spending too much time watching television. Going from the intriguing base that is her first album, Newsom’s latest, Ys, is a wash of strings and rich orchestral sounds, surrounding the ever-plucky “harper’s” own string manipulations and warbling. Ys was produced and mixed by Steve Albini (!) and Jim O’Rourke, and adding even more magical elements with string arrangements was Van Dyke Parks of Beach Boys fame. Blending lyrics that are pure poetry (“there is a rusty light on the pines tonight / sun pouring wine, lord, or marrow / down into the bones of the birches and the spires of the churches”) and music arranged in a manner that resembles an old school Disney score takes incredible patience and craft. It also takes incredible patience on the listener’s part, as most of the songs clock in between 7 and 17 minutes long. It is worth it to be patient with Ys, though. It is an album meant to be reflected upon, for it has definite stories to tell. There’s a slim to none chance that the five songs featured here will ever make it to Top 40 radio, but this is just exemplary of the diamond in the rough quality Ys possesses.
Nov 1st, 2006 by Vital Archives
And trade “them” for what?
By Jon Anne Willow Dear Readers, Being a monthly publication has its disadvantages of timing. Never is this more apparent to me than when I have to write this column before a momentous event, knowing most people won’t read it until after. Such is the case with these midterm elections. As of this morning, both liberal and conservative think tanks are predicting that Democrats will pick up 18-22 seats in the House (15 are needed for a majority) and 2-3 seats in the Senate (of the six needed for a majority). In short, by the time you read this, it’s likely that Democrats will take back one of the houses and hold a stronger position in the other. It would seem that change is in the air. But I’m troubled. The other evening, VITAL hosted a screening of Robert Greenwald’s Iraq For Sale: The War Profiteers to a packed room at Bremen Café. Granted, this is pretty far-left stuff, attracting mostly those who already know they’re mad as hell and aren’t going to take it anymore, so I wasn’t surprised that the lively talkback session after the film touched on wholesale revolution in the streets. But as PeaceAction’s George Martin whipped up the crowd with enthusiastically rejoined calls to “Send them home!” I couldn’t help but ask: And trade “them” for what? Is our collective memory so short that we’ve forgotten that Republicans rode into Washington in 1994 as reformists, vowing to end a very real decade of Democratic power-mongering and scandal? Does anyone recall that even though Democrats are campaigning on Bush’s poor handling of the “War on Terror,” 145 of 211 Democratic Representatives voted in favor of the 2001 USA PATRIOT Act and only one Senator against? Or that 66 Democrats in the House voted in favor of the reauthorization in 2005 and only three Democratic Senators against? Are we impressed today by Congressmen like Sherrod Brown (D-Ohio), who positions himself as the “People’s Defender” yet voted in favor of Bush’s recent evisceration of the Constitution as it pertains to prisoners of war? Will Democratic voters, at some point, acknowledge the irony of their present mood? Let’s put this in perspective. This election serves one very valuable purpose: to restore some modicum of party balance within the three branches of our federal government. But a Democratic House will not have the power to make sweeping changes to our domestic policies on health, education, jobs, campaign reform and the federal budget. And even if the will to do so is there, this cash-strapped nation is so committed to military spending at this point that to withdraw significant funding from the war to reallocate it to domestic interests would potentially put the lives of our deployed soldiers in even greater peril. I’ll lay down money that few Democrats with future political aspirations will take up that charge, for fear of alienating their home base and drawing easy fire from angry, organized Republicans. It’s all very interesting. While I applaud the […]
Nov 1st, 2006 by Jon Anne Willow
Anders Parker
By Frank Olson On his self-titled album, former Varnaline frontman Anders Parker displays a knack for capturing a lonely highway vibe not dissimilar to The Rolling Stones on their old country songs. Parker, though, is neither as engaging as Mick Jagger nor as good a songsmith as the Glimmer Twins, which, while not a criticism in itself, casts a long shadow for Parker to sidestep. The end result is a singer-songwriter album with dreary, light-grunge singing and forgettable songwriting. There are a few decent songs here, including the opening “Circle Same,” which uses a looping structure to give the standard going-nowhere lyrics more weight, and “False Positive,” which marries a tightly-coiled verse section to a George Harrison-esque chorus. But even these bright spots seem more the work of a good producer (Adam Lasus, who has worked with Clem Snide) and a good band (including former members of Uncle Tupelo and the Jayhawks) than of the spotlight talent. The album’s best moments are the ones that allow the band to stretch out and reshape the generally uninteresting songs. A dramatic electric guitar/steel pedal duet ends the otherwise dull “Dear Sara;” instrumental breaks change up the pace of “Airport Road;” thundering percussion underlines a sensitive pedal steel solo in “Under Wide Unbroken Skies.” But these moments are few, and most of Anders Parker is dominated by generic alt-country songs and lyrics that often literally sound like Hallmark cards.
Nov 1st, 2006 by Vital Archives
Art during wartime
By Amy Elliott + Illustrations for Terror Chic by Joy Harmon (top) and Kristopher Pollard (bottom) In 1932, Betty Gow was accused of a playing role in the now infamous kidnapping of the Lindbergh baby. The Scottish nursemaid was never tried, though conspiracy theories about her involvement persist. Seventy-four years later, the incorrigible Ms. Gow is back – in Milwaukee, organizing her creatively inclined friends for Terror Chic 11/9, a showcase of art, fashion, and music in response to life during wartime. The show – and the alias – is the brainchild of teacher, writer, artist and all-around jetsetter Terisa Folaron. Recently returned from a year and a half abroad in Southeast Asia, she’s back in the “experimental swing of things” – first with The Dystopia Project this past October, an artistic response to the internment of artists and composers during the Holocaust – and now with Terror Chic. “Art offers a very personal and direct response to these events,” Folaron says. “[Other mediums] are not as accessible, or immediate, or intimate.” True as that may be, the years following 9/11 and the declaration of war on terrorism have made us all ask how much is too much, how soon too soon. Folaron’s research led her to reports that even fashion designers had backed off previously prevalent camouflage, epaulets and Maoist color schemes to avoid inflaming the sensitivities of a society suffering from post-traumatic stress. In direct retaliation to that, Terror Chic aims to cast a spotlight on the connection between art and war. It’s about creating at full tilt. Every piece of art, music and design was commissioned specifically for the show, and Folaron hopes that the event will give artists the chance to network, collaborate and start a conversation she feels has been tacit. “I approached an artist friend one day and asked, How has the war on terrorism changed your art? His response? ‘That’s right. I forgot we are at war,’” she says. “I laughed, until I received similar responses from other artists.” So what should we expect at the Hide House on 11/9? A somber Cold War vibe and tongue-in-cheek haute couture? Probably some combination thereof, as Terror Chic explores a range of perspectives on the current wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, from unabashed anger to dogged support. It also spans a range of musical styles, from the “happy hardcore” of Juniper Tar to the cello experimentation of Janet Schiff. Participating musicians contributed to a Terror 11.9 compilation CD, mastered by Ben Derickson of Zod Records and available exclusively at the event. Then there’s the art: photographs by Emma Freeman and Amanda Rose, pixel art by Craig Robinson, prints by Dwellephant, Matt Cipov and Joy Harmon, among contributions from many other highly regarded artists. Artwork will be for sale and buyers and collectors are encouraged to make an appearance. And have we stressed that there’s a catwalk? More specifically, that a fashion show will take place on the catwalk, featuring area designers, models and stylists – […]
Nov 1st, 2006 by Amy Elliott
Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin
By Erin Wolf Polyvinyl must love Boris, seeing as the respected indie label is presenting a freshly remixed and remastered version of their original 2005 release, Broom. To give this album a review so late in the game is almost ridiculous, but the fact is that SSLYBY hasn’t been playing by the particular rules that govern indie-rock publicity. SSLYBY only recently surfaced from the depths of their homemade environs (originally recording Broom in an attic) when they placed a few songs on the World Wide Web. Then, Magic Blog-land whipped itself into a frenzy of admiration for the band and their album and hastily posted criticisms, which admitted that although SSLYBY did sound an awful lot like Olivia Tremor Control, Beulah, The Shins, Of Montreal, Weezer, Elliot Smith, Bright Eyes, Ben Kweller, etc. … that gee, they sure could write a nice song. After being background-checked and deemed inoffensive copycats, Broom became slightly legendary. Just like the original release, Broom is filled with unintentionally precious and breathy off-key vocals and yodels, strummed guitars and the air of relief for not being a political band, despite the name. The songs slip one by one down a string of lyrics ranging from travel songs revolving around packs of cigarettes to girls named Anna Lee. Pleasant and familiar, like reading a well-worn book of short stories in the sun, Broom isn’t a half-bad way to pass a half hour. Now that they’ve ventured a bit further from Internet notoriety, perhaps they’ll become more adventurous in other ways as well.
Nov 1st, 2006 by Vital Archives
We sing in the car
By Lucky Tomaszek We’re driving out to a rock climbing place for my daughter Lena’s 11th birthday. It’s July but it’s cool enough to have the windows down to the let breeze in. Lena says, “Will you play that one song, Mom?” I smile at her in the rear view mirror and scan through to track four. “Louder!” she calls from the back seat. I turn it up and look at her again, eyebrows up in question. “Louder!” She laughs as I crank it and then she’s singing along at the top of her lungs. Her friends bob their heads and sing the few words they know. As the song ends, she calls out, “Again? Please!” It’s her birthday, so I indulge her and start the song over, singing along with the stereo and my daughter while her friends try to keep up. As we pull into a parking space I turn the stereo down. Lena says to her friends, “You know how some families play softball or go for long bike rides? It’s like that. We sing in the car. It’s what our family does.” I have always loved music, and when my kids were born I swore I was going to do my best to share that love with them. To be clear, I’m not musically talented, not in any way. I can’t sing or play any instruments. And I can’t dance. Don’t ask me! But I have a great appreciation for the musical talents of others and never tire of hearing new music. I have worked hard to raise children who are musically open-minded, as well. Family favorites When Lena was a year old, her favorite CD was Peter Gabriel’s Shaking the Tree. She would bring me the disc over and over and shake her wee-tiny groove thing to “Solsbury Hill.” Not long before her second birthday, she fell in love with the song “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” by Cake. Being an incredibly articulate toddler, she could actually sing most of the words, though she didn’t really know what they meant. Emma joined our family around the time Lena turned three, while I was riding a wave of chick music: Indigo Girls, Tracy Chapman, Jewel, Sarah McLachlan. As I danced through the house, Emma nodded along in her sling, strapped to my chest and laughing with me as Lena followed banging on empty Tupperware containers. Even at eight years-old, Emma’s favorite song is still Edie Brickell’s “Black and Blue.” When Jeffrey was born six years ago, I was on a kick of revisiting all of my high school favorites. Tom Petty played throughout our home, punctuated by Deee-Lite’s World Clique. Concrete Blonde’s first album, U2’s Rattle and Hum, Replacement’s Hootenany – these and so many more were passed down from me to the three kids, giving them a healthy foundation from which to start to form their own musical opinions. Musical evolution I will be the first to admit that it was hard for me when Lena, at […]
Nov 1st, 2006 by Lucky Tomaszek
