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If ever there were a garden for 2010 with no water required, no gardening bills to pay and always picture perfect plumage on well-sculpted almost-topiary-but-without-the-cute-animals tree/bushes this would be it.

I love interspersing the rectangle tree with the ball trees. Thought was definitely put into the planning of this garden.

I also love tree arrangements when actual nature is involved. Here are a few from around LA that would go well with the excellent brick landscaping above.

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All trees are beautiful. Bushes sculpted to look like trees are even more beautiful. Murals painted to look like sculpted trees and bushes are more beautiful still.

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One sure shot sign of Kitsch is when someone’s idea stops at the first thought and doesn’t spin off into a more creative zone that produces deeper, more interesting and creative spinoff ideas. This holds true with any creative vision, from telling a story to writing a song to thinking of a name for your business.

I’ve long been enamored with the mind that’s capable of stopping at the simple, most obvious thought. Like when looking for a name that implies your hair skills are performed with artistry you settle upon Artistry With Hair and a simple clip art logo of an 80’s couple that must have graced signs, business cards and matchbooks in thousands of salons, many of which were probably also named Artistry With Hair or something perilously close, during that decade when this sign was undoubtedly made. And if it was made later than the 80s, double kitsch points for sticking with so dated a look.

What is just as simple and at the same time not anywhere near as simple – the kind of organic incongruity that’s become a comfortable pattern in my life – is the matter of my own hair which is having its roots touched up as I write this.

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Maintaining my hair style is the simple part. I’ve been cutting it myself every morning for 27 years – long on one side, short on the other, shaved part way up the back or not depending on my mood.

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Acquiring the hairdo was the not-so-simple part. After having long, curly even locks for 10+ years, a disastrous trip to the hairdressers in 1984 resulted in a wispy Farrah-Fawcett-flippy-bangs-and-whispy-strands-of-hair-around-the-face cut.  This was 7 years after The Farrah hit which caused me, always style conscious and never wanting to embrace a trend unless I was one of the first ones there, to go into a 31 day lockdown cutting more and a little bit more off one side every day in attempts to find an ideal length.  Finally, I was forced to go out lopsided as months before I had invited a bunch of frends to see the opening screening of Rhinestone, a really bad, kitsch filled film starring Dolly Parton and Sylvester Stallone. When no one even reacted that something very wrong was going on on one side of my head I figured it just looked natural and stayed with it, uncommitted to a perfect length to this day. It led to a fantastic conversation with Farrah about my hair. And here we are 27 years later with me still lopsided. Such is the nature of “Artistry With Hair”.

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My trip was postponed for a month so the suitcases on are back in the closet and the percussion is resting nicely in its regular bed.

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Pomplamoose tunes are so hot and I hate to dial it back to simmer but all will be boiling in June when we get together and pick up where we left off in December.

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Today I spent all day watching tv because no one knew I was home.

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I’m supposed to be traveling today but won’t know if I’m going until a couple hours before the flight due to complications on my collaborator’s side. I’m not the world’s most eager traveler to begin with but having a suitcase that makes me smile every time I look at it sure helps if one is of the nature that their traveling psyche can be affected by aesthetics.

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In three weeks I’m throwing a party/AIDS Project of LA fundraiser to introduce the Kitsch Pop art of John Lloyd Young, to whom the musical I co-wrote, The Color Purple, lost the Tony to the musical in which he starred and won a Tony for, Jersey Boys.

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None of which is relevant at all to the Disco suitcases or Pomplamoose, who I’m supposed to be recording with should I actually get on the plane today, other than the chances of me leaving town before the party if I don’t leave this week are grim. But I love working with Pomplamoose and keeping my Disco suitcases packed will keep the flame burning under the pieces of six songs we wrote and recorded together back in December and have been trying to finish ever since.

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I first saw Pomplamoose on YouTube when they did my song, “September”.

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I’ve seen trillions of versions of “September” and no one gets within a continent of Earth Wind & Fire (where my percussion obsession began and what gave me a permanent seat in the vortex of Disco). But Pomplamoose dissected that thing like a frog and reconstructed something inventive and fun so I did what I never do, I tracked them down and asked if they wanted to make records together.

I’m a percussion freak and the rhythmic places Pomplamoose goes is very exciting when one thinks about all the pockets a percussion crazy person like me can drop sonic seasoning into. So here’s what my Disco suitcases are packed with for my trip:

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I loved and still love Disco, not at all a Pomplamoose thing but very much an Allee influence when when thinking about making great Pop records. An incredibly amped and happy state of mind fueled by music that melodically and rhythmically is the equivalent of 48 sets of little feet attached to your heart and racing you over the finish line of Pop Soul.

Disco, and my suitcases as representatives of it, still make me feel good even if I don’t feel good about not knowing whether I’m traveling or not today. We shall arrive whenever the time is right and pick up on the exact bass note we left off on. Of that you can be sure!

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The Snack Master, a 1-1/2″ long aluminum tube with a wooden plunger, is the vintage quintessential kitsch kitchen accessory that cuts holes in food, making teeny round, bite-size appetizers. Which means that you can turn a slice of American cheese into a slice of Swiss cheese with one simple plunge not to mention whipping up little toothpick skewers of bologna, liverwurst and other festive lunch meats to impress your friends!

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This particular tube is featured today not only because of its unique function as a standout 1950’s convenience kitchen tool but because I had dinner with a real Tube last night, Michele Rundgren, wife of Todd and member of the historic Tubes (“She’s A Beauty”). Michele and I met in 1986 when Cassandra Peterson a.k.a. Elvira brought her to my  Tourist Trap party here at Willis Wonderland.

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Though we hit it off we didn’t see each other again until we met at Street last night, 24 years later, during a trip back to LA from Hawaii where Michele and Todd now live.

Michele had never been to Street before and was very pleased with the menu.

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We ordered enough food to feed all of The Tubes with Earth Wind & Fire thrown in on on my end.  We started off with Albacore Sashimi,

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followed by Toasted Amaranth with slivered almonds, cuzco corn and roasted yam in almond milk.

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Then Malaysian Black Pepper Clams, simmered in oyster sauce with cracked black pepper, palm sugar, soy and lime,

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and Thai Rice Noodles with Chinese broccoli, seasoned pork, tomato, mint, Thai basil and chiles.

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Even though we were only half way through the meal when we snapped this photo with Chef Susan Feniger we were so stuffed it felt like we were hugging balloons.

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Our food fest continued with Tatsutage Fried Chicken marinated with soy, mirin and sake, crispy fried rice batter topped with spicy kewpie mayonnaise sauce, with pickled vegetable slaw and chilled soba noodles.

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Then we tried two new as-yet-unnamed dishes that were sent out from the kitchen with pasta, pork, chickpeas, feta, parsley, lemon and shredded crispy pasta sprinkles…

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… and albacore with mushroom aioli on top of arugula and corn salad with honey truffle vinaigrette.

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This was all topped off with Espresso, Chocolate and Halva – espresso jelly, chocolate ganache and sesame halva cream; served with sesame-matzo candies. I forgot to take a shot of it until we picked off all of the candies.

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I’m sure that Susan and co-chef Kajsa didn’t need the aid of the Snackmaster to assemble our mindboggingly Around-The-World-In-8-Dishes meal but imagine what they could have thrown together had such a handy tool been at their side.

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Disco is one of my favorite genres of music EVER.  For the most part I love more sophisticated fare (like “Boogie Wonderland”!) but way back in 1975 I fell hard for the sugary pop sweetness of “Get Dancin'” as performed by the ultra-camp and feathery Sir Monti Rock and his Sex-O-Lettes. Co-written by Bob Crewe (Lady Marmalade, “Big Girls Don’t Cry” and just about everything the Four Seasons sang) this song actually had a great melody and background vocals and exemplified the happy state of mental funktitude that Disco made your brain drip with.

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I am so absolutely not a cook so the fact this 1950’s kitchen tool de-veins and peels a shrimp in one fell swoop isn’t what I cherish most about it but, rather, the gorgeous aesthetics that grace the box. From the pre-psychedelic background pattern on the lid…

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… to the gorgeous color palette inside, the bizarre lower arm graphic with little devils popping out of it as they rise in steam from the non-boiling-over pot below, the meaning of which completely escapes me,…

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… to the shiny ribbon and Shrimpmaster tag laden layer of brittle plastic that still ripples over the pristine utensil – all of this is mastery in 1950’s package design.

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I bring up the Shrimpmaster today because I dined at Street last night with three as artfully designed friends, two of which were vegans and one who was vegetarian. So as not to send them screaming from the table when my usual steaming platters of Tatsutage Fried Chicken and Lamb Kakta Meatballs arrived, I ordered Andouille Sausage And Shrimp Gumbo. Yeah, it was pumped full of delicious smoked hot link sausage but all evidence of that was hidden under the okra, corn and red beans and rice while massive shrimp played lookout on top.

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The monster Crustaceans were beautiful and clean, as if someone in the kitchen took to them with a Shrimpmaster, though I know the chefs are skilled enough to accomplish this without the handy vintage tool.

My dinner companions were Tiffany Daniels, Mito Aviles and ChadMichael Morrisette.

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Tiffany played Squeak in the first National Tour of my musical, The Color Purple. Squeak’s crowing scene in the show occurs in a bar brawl with the much beefier Sofia. Compared to Sofia, Squeak is a SHRIMP.

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Just last week, Mito and Chadmichael led an ‘art attack’ on the West Hollywood City Council and not so long ago hung a Sarah Palin mannequin in efigy from their roof, an act that was plastered throughout the press. These boys are certainly NOT SHRIMPS when it comes to self expression.

As far as the SHRIMP-worthiness of our meal, there were no such critters in the vegan dishes like Indonesian Peanut Noodles:

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And none in the Stir Fried Chinese Brocolli:

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The Toasted Amaranth with slivered almonds, cuzco corn and roasted yam in almond milk was a no shrimp zone as well:

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Crossing into vegetarian territory there was positively no shrimp in the Ono Sashimi.  Our waiter pointed out that this particular serving resembled an actual fish.

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The rest of the meal was filled in with Burmese Lettuce Wraps, Fried Plantains, some kind of specially made vegan desert with too much fruit for this candy worshipper to want to try and a big ball of smooth chocolate something sprinkled with powdered sugar. No shrimp were harmed in the making of any of these dishes. But had there been a need, I know the Shrimpmaster was primed and ready for service.

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Salt and pepper shakers have always provided an excellent opportunity to spice up any meal. As a firm believer in making meals as entertaining as possible, cat chefs Salty & Peppy, typical of the genre since the 1950s, can always be counted on to achieve that goal. Six inches high with screw-on chef caps they’ve seasoned everything around here including the fried egg I just burnt myself for breakfast.

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As Kitschmeister General I love, love, love the San Fernando Valley, just inches from the center of Hollywood and pumped full of Kitsch like a buffet line at Trader Vics. This is the first in a series of short films I’m making glorifying the Kitsch monuments that abound around me for bigisgood.tv. Part 1 features everything from Roman architecture and giant submarine sandwiches to clowns, frog families, volcanoes, giant fish, horses, shoe cars and very happy houses.

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For the full glorious and kitschyfied tour:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRxzFdByMQs

And check out bigisgood.tv.

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As if the dangers of using a cell phone while driving aren’t pronounced enough already now we have the ubiquitous gadget coupled with driving danger #2, drinking.  Accompanied by a convenient clip-on carrying case, this was actually really well designed to pass as the real thing when it was first manufactured a few years ago.

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Should you ever see anyone sticking their cell phone in their mouth you know it’s God they’re calling.

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