Four fliers for the Democratic primaries came through the mailbox all at once the other day. It’s the only way some of those guys are ever gonna get together.

I’ve heard Anthony Dawson give his stump speech a couple times, and am impressed with his history as a maverick alderman in the ‘80s and ‘90s. But his flier really turned me off. It’s the most overtly negative campaign lit I’ve seen this month. It’s single-minded focused on street crime, alleging that while incumbent mayor DeStefano does nothing, our children are being murdered!” It parrots the much-maligned assertion that “New Haven is the fourth most dangerous city in America” without footnoting where the info’s from. (It’s from a preliminary FBI report on crime stats which the bureau specifically suggests should not be taken out of context as some sort of national ranking.)

Dawson also dumps on opponent Clifton Graves, coldly labeling him “Puppet of DeStefano” because he worked for the City of New Haven. Say what you like about Graves, but puppets don’t ordinarily run in political primaries against the very people supposedly pulling their strings. If you can’t insult someone better than that, don’t bother.

And how should the other guy in the race, Jeffrey Kerekes, feel, not being mentioned in Dawson’s flier at all?

It’s nice to have a primary with four genuine candidates for a change. They’re different men with different approaches for running the city. They’ve been differentiating themselves well without the need for namecalling and sensationalism, and it’s a pity that Dawson’s playing this desperate card days before the primary.

1. Joy to the World. Bullfrogs are not usually classified as pets, but this one not only has a name, Jeremiah, but is deemed “a good friend.”

2. “Ben. “The Michael Jackson love-rat song. I once heard this played incessantly during a performance art piece by Lyle Ashton Harris during a Yale Conference entitled “Regarding Michael Jackson: Performing Racial, Gender and Secual Difference Center Stage.” Ben came back into my consciousness while reading the autobiography of Meredith Baxter Birney, who co-starred in the film for which Jackson’s tune was the theme song.

3. “Sometimes I Don’t Mind,: The Suicide Machines. Begins like a love song to a human—“Something in the way you walk… I watch you sleep… I buy you things sometimes…”—but the tip-off comes in the penultimate verse: “You won’t lay down, you’ll hardly sit, I give you a bath when you smell like shit…”

4. “Suppertime” from You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown. The original Off Broadway razzle-dazzle version, not the Fosse-fussy Joe Cool revamp from the Broadway revival. There are several solid Snoopy-as-pet routines in the show, including Lucy’s insistence to Charlie Brown that Snoopy “only pretends to like you, because you feed him.”

5. “Eric the Half-a-Bee.” This early Monty Python bit is now over 40 years old, an astonishing half-life and an enduring philosophical inquiry into Bee-ing and nothingness.

Two songs I won’t include in this ongoing series because I’ve never liked them, but also because there are other reasons to exclude them: “Me and You and a Dog Named Boo,” which doesn’t really explain the dog’s relationship to the others; and “A Horse With No Name,” since it can’t be much of a pet if it hasn’t even been given a name.

By Artie Capshaw

You know those songs which open with seemingly endless drum n bass breaks? Most of us just go back to the bar until the set stays in earnest. But DJ Fistula, a connoisseur of live approximations of studio- steady beats, took some bands’ ever- lengthening intros as a personal challenge.
So how far ahead of the vocals and melodies did Fistula choose to begin his beats? Three minutes? Five? Try SIX HOURS. He cane into the Bullfinch in mid- afternoon, set up his kit and started swinging. Forty-five minutes later Mo Walsh waltzed in and plugged in his bass. A half hour later, Fisti was risking carpal tunnel, so Bullfinch booker/ barback extraordinaire Q took over for a while. Q was the guy who’d OKed the project, and who’d warned the middle- aged Bullfinch administrators that they might not want to do office work that day.
A few subs later– including us, in our pro drumming debut– out was nearing showtime, and the sidemen (whom in most bands might be considered frontmen) took their places… for a standard 35- minute opening set.
Which most of us couldn’t focus on anyway, after that longwinded, mesmerizing lead-in.
No one has yet tried to better DJ Fistula’s beat- busting record, But Sonny Blitt insists he’s got a drippy faucet in hits bath tub that’s a contender.

The Composition Books, who don’t even have a drummer, at the Bullfinch… Flight Paper, which boasts two drummers—and two guitarists, and two bassists; they’re kind of a franchise—at Hamilton’s… Made in Vietname at D’ollaire’s….

Somehow, I am already overdrawn.

Goodman Brown, Fuck It’s Free EP.

Goodman Brown plays at BAR in New Haven TONIGHT (Wednesday Sept. 7) with The Capstan Shafts. I love the Capstan Shafts, so that’s reason enough for a recommendation. Goodman Brown is fun-lovin’ of a slightly different complexion than the Capstan Shafts—a bit jammier, more outgoing and, strangely, rather darker. The two songs on this EP are titled “Better Off With You” and “Done and Killed Myself,” which gives you a sense of the mordant humor at work.
You can easily imagine these bands on the same bill, especially in the middle of the week in a college town.

Blew through a bunch of cheesy free reads on the Kindle, and can’t remember the title of one of ‘em. Already deleted ‘em too. This is a rather common occurrence. The potency of cheap fiction, to paraphrase Noel Coward. I devour these romantic short story collections (Ah, now, I remember… “Summer…” something) and erotic mysteries (a spy in high heels), read myself to sleep, then can barely recall the plots the next morning.
The Kindle has a screen, and I’m treating it just like a television…

Kathleen, Mabel & I have been canvassing for an aldermanic candidate in our ward.
We have a Frank Douglass sign in our front yard. The New Haven Independent has done a piece on how some candidates are apparently lifting their opponents’ signs without permission.

Folks quoted in the article, and many of the commenters, downplay the importance of the signs, but they’re being disingenuous. Well-run neighborhood campaigners are rigorous data-gatherers on par with census takers or online cookies. A lawn sign is important currency for a campaign which otherwise has only promises to go on. It’s easy to tell someone you might vote for them, then not do so, but it’s a majorly meaningful gesture to put a sign outside your house proclaiming your personal support. It announces that you’re willing to argue a position.

If someone removed the Frank Douglass sign from my yard, I wouldn’t consider it as anything less than a personal affront.

As of this writing, the Frank Douglass sign in our yard is still standing, having survived not just the impulsive acts of candidates and their followers but Hurricane Irene besides.

The primary is less than a week away, Sept. 13. The polling place in our ward is the lovely, recently renovated Troup School on Edgewood Avenue.

Archie Comics Digest #2 (Oct. 1973):
Hip Quips
Draw Flaw
Cool Skool
Touch Me Not
Bully for You [concerning the school bully, Big Moose]
Get the Message [about sidewalk graffiti]
Cute Suit
Hand Daft
Just Desert
Couch Coach
Spellbound
Switcheroo
Little Red Archiekins
I’ve Got a Secret
The Great Pizza Race
The Muscle Builders
Everything’s Coming Up Roses
It’s a Gift
The Box of Candy
The Most Dangerous Game
and The Needle [which is not about Jughead’s nose]