I find television very educating. Every time somebody turns on the set, I go into the other room and read a book. - Groucho Marx


by Anthony Galli
Sept. 30, 2014

When is porn not porn? Well, when it’s all dressed up as a super snazzy spy thriller film called Ginger from 1971, I suppose.

Produced as the first installment of a reasonably budgeted trilogy of lady cop action films in the early 1970’s, Ginger, and its sequels The Abductors (1972) and Girls Are for Loving (1973), stars the indomitable Cheri Caffaro as its hip talking, miniskirt wearing, tall blonde, gun toting namesake. We are immediately informed, during the opening credits, that our heroine, 23-year-old Ginger McAllister, who isn’t a ginger at all, was raised in the Hamptons by wealthy parents who died eight months ago in a plane crash. This gives her a sort of Bruce Wayne/Batman edge that all of the other leggy blonde ultra-vixens fighting crime can only dream about.

We also learn that she graduated from a 4-year university with a “straight B” average, and degrees in history and political science. She is a tri-Delta, which may or may not qualify her to kick some royal ass, although her education suggests that she will be able to tell someone exactly why she is kicking his ass after some suitably erudite repartee.

They just don’t build them like this anymore...

Anthony Galli currently lives in Athens, Georgia. He shares a birthday with his black cat, Magic, and they both claim Wings of Desire as their favorite film. Anthony has published two books of poetry, Amnesia for Insomniacs and Invisible Idiot.

by Kristen Bialik
Sept. 27, 2014
Without knowing you at all, I can say that Fehérlófia is unlike any other movie you’ve seen. Sure, it’s animated. That’s familiar. And sure, there are some recognizable images. Like, in that the English title is “Son of the White Mare,” and there are both sons and white mares. In fact, the storyline itself is incredibly familiar, and in a way, almost universal. Based in ancient folklore, the story is culled from ancient tales of the Scythans, Huns, and Avars but it taps into a shared collection of stories around the world. Ones with kings, princesses, and dragons, epic challenges, numerical symbolism, and a hero’s journey. But like I said, it’s nothing like you’ve ever seen. In part because it’s in Hungarian and there are no subtitles. But mostly because of the colors (the glorious colors!). But more on that later...

Kristen Bialik works in public relations in Milwaukee, WI. When she’s not doing that, she’s trying to learn Korean, trying to write short stories, or trying to scheme up ways she can work for Conan O’Brien in Burbank. They’re works in progress.

by Kristen Vagliardo
Sept. 25, 2014

As a child, I loved nothing more than setting myself up on the nubby, seafoam-green living room carpet with a big bowl of Cheerios on a Saturday morning. I was not allowed to have sugar cereal (hippie parents). Instead, my drug of choice was Sid and Marty Krofft. I was so into it that when Nick at Nite aired a Sid and Marty Krofft marathon deemed “Puffapalooza” in 1995, I stayed up all night with my VCR remote, carefully pausing and re-recording to dub out the commercials. I even bought the T-shirt for $19.99 plus shipping and handling. Children’s television in the seventies was a distinct breed and it bred me in a distinct way.

Lidsville lasted for only one year, but its bizarreness amongst the other bizarre Krofft creations remains imprinted on my long-term memory, most likely taking up space that I wish was tied to something else... say, a map of Europe. That would be nice. I watched the other shows too - Electra Woman and Dyna GirlThe Bugaloos, Sigmund and the Sea Monsters - but their memory has faded.  I only remember two shows: Land of the Lost because it had dinosaurs and a girl my age as one of the main characters, and Lidsville because it was, and still is, one of the single weirdest shows I have ever seen.

Kristen Vagliardo is a Central Square girl who works at a museum and used to write lots of incredibly boring papers on obscure topics. She enjoys the Egyptian Revival, refusing to buy music from itunes (thus filling her apartment with needless CD detritus) and quoting from eighties movies that no one else recognizes. You can find her on Twitter at vagliard.

by Chris Martin
Sept. 24, 2014
I believe that for children fortunate enough not to experience the death of a loved one at an impressionable age, balloons are their first taste of mortality. Precious, present, and ever moving, a child sees a possessed balloon as a simple yet affectionate life form, a pet. The unique fragility of a balloon as a child’s play thing, as well as its dramatic transformation between life and death, stirs a very strong reaction in any child. It either explodes with a jarring pop, falls upwards, still plainly in view as it goes further and further away from your safe hands, or gradually deflates into a small sack of wrinkled rubber. I distinctly remember getting a balloon at a fair at the age of four or five, watching it roll around the ceiling of the car all the way home only for it to slip out in the sudden vacuum of the car door opening and float steadily up into the atmosphere. I wouldn’t feel the same sudden, stupefying shock for years. You can potentially keep a favorite toy for your entirely life, but a balloon is always a brief and tragic affair for a young child...
Christopher Martin recently graduated from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst with a degree in English and a specialization in Film Studies. Shockingly, he is currently underemployed. In his free time Chris likes to read old science fiction novels, enjoy what little nightlife Western Massachusetts has to offer, and watch as many films as possible. He also spends too much time on Tumblr.

by Ryk McIntyre
Sept. 21, 2014
There is a little-known story from the history of The Monkees, the band that were a bunch of TV executives' answer to the overwhelming popularity of The Beatles. They were initially hired just to sing the songs and be the faces of the show. Over time, the band wanted to show they were more than pretty faces/actors and started demanding to play on their own songs, as well as perform live as a real rock ‘n’ roll band. So, out they went on tour.

Now, whoever put the tour together picked an opening act that had started to gain acclaim in England and, on the basis of that, wanted to play in America. All the promoter knew was this was Pop music too. So imagine the scene when, in front of an audience of mostly young teen girls and their parents, Jimi Hendrix is doing his opening spot, complete with guitar humping and...

Ryk McIntyre is a Multi-Hyphen sort of person. Poet, critic, performer, workshop facilitator and co-host at both GotPoetry! Live (Providence) and Cantab Lounge (Cambridge,MA). He's been living in RI for the past 6 years, with his wife and daughter. Ryk has performed his work at Boston's ICA, NYC's New School, Portsmouth, NH's Music Hall and Lollapalooza, to name just a few. He has toured the US, performing in countless Poetry open mics and festivals.  He turned down Allen Ginsburg once.