Before I get to the thesis statement of this post as described above, let me just say this: We have it on every confidence that singer/songwriter Mutlu is a bona fide, certified, undeniably NICE GUY. A sweet guy. A guy who wants music to HEAL you. I also know that for many, his lite soul confection is like a warm summer rain at an end-of-the-rainbow BBQ with your best friends and some other sweet, sweet people you’re just getting to know. But none of those people read Philebrity, and we don’t traffic in dreams here, people, and it really is just this simple: Mutlu is awful and makes me want to kill myself. He is everything punk rock was created to destroy. He’s like what would happen if you mashed up the Blues Traveller guy with the Jamiroquai guy. He is the male Edie Brickell. And the more “Livin’ It,” his new single gets spun on WXPN — who made a deal with the Demographic Devil back in 1990 to play anyone and everyone who sounds like Mutlu — the more I begin to think that I may have a heart as cold as one thousand dead crows. I don’t want sympathy. I don’t care if you love or hate the music of Mutlu. I know what I know, and I know this: Mutlu is awful and makes me want to kill myself.
I just needed to get that off my chest. Back to work now.
If Philly begins to look a tad more courant in coming weeks, it’s because TLC’s What Not to Wear was in town last week to ambush four local women and make over their wardrobes.
Reallllllllly, Michael? It would only take FOUR women to make a dent in this City of Slobs? Just four and suddenly, we’re Miami? Realllllly now. And pray tell, Michael, have you ever seen this show? Are you aware of the cookie-cutter Limited Express junk clothes WNTW pours its hapless subjects into? Really now. Tell me the truth, Michael: You don’t own a television, do you? You’ve never seen this show at all, have you? Now get out of my office before you tell me the population of Philly is 12.
“Bad Lede Writing 101 With Michael Klein” is brought to you in part by a generous donation from the “How In The Fuck Do You People Have Jobs” Fund. It will appear intermittently on Philebrity as warranted.
Hey, everybody, this is Daniel Delaney, pictured at right. Or, as you may know him, Rittenhouse Square, the Twitter/Facebook account we wrote about a few weeks back. (We later sent an intern to his potluck, which produced some of the loser-y-est, most dickhurt and least self-aware comments to ever appear on Philebrity.) Well, newsflash: This is Daniel! He’s out, he’s proud and he’s tired of being the voice of Rittenhouse Square, so get over it. In a blog post today, Delaney reveals that it was all just a big social-media experiment — and a fairly successful one at that. But it’s over now.
What’s next for @rittenhouse? Well, being anonymous was always a concern with this project. I’m all for transparency on the net, but no one wants to know there’s a short guy in the Mickey Mouse suit. So, I worked to keep my involvement fairly hush hush, accordingly I’ll be passing the account over to a new anonymous author in the next few days as I desperately want to go back to just being @danieldelaney. Interested? Let me know.
As one commenter on Delaney’s blog noted, here should be exactly where the Rittenhouse Row Association enter the fray. But do it quick, people! Leave that thing on the market too long, and the Perry Milou’s might start grabbin at it. DanielDelaney: Man Behind The Curtain Quits
Do you remember that episode of The Real World from a few seasons back where the seven strangers, like, had to take some retards to the zoo or something and that one girl, when presented with her ‘tard, ran away screaming as if the lil’ guy was going to claw at her flesh and tear her appendages off? This is no doubt the kind of reaction I would have if, say, I ever found myself across the room from U.S. Olympic Team swimmer/Havertown native Brendan Hansen. Staring at him on my TV screen over the weekend, secretly hoping that for once, French shit-talk may be prophecy and not fantasy, I realized that through no obvious fault of his own, here is an imposing, ultra-futuristic being whose very visage strikes several of my core fear nodules:
· Being beaten to death by a robot
· Trying to scratch my way out of the robot’s grip, only to be further shocked that he bleeds mercury, which then poisons his attackers
· And a generalized feel of human/alien hybrid beings I’ve had ever since I took that UFO class at Temple back in the day
All of this, of course, I know because I see it in Brendan Hansen’s eyes. Nevertheless, the media continues its relentless ploy to anthropomorphize Hansen. Just read this and tell me that you don’t start to wonder if Hansen is, all the way around the world, a latent carrier of the Philly Choke gene? I can’t even think about that: Only HUMANS can carry the gene! Yet still, I want to love: Even though I’m certain he would destroy me, I’m just like everybody else in that, well, nobody really wants robots to lose. Otherwise, what is the point in building them?
Were you as bored as everyone else by the Inquirer’s decision last week to try and hold some content from going online until it runs in the paper? Chris Krewson, executive editor for online/news at the Inky, wasn’t. Krewson spent an awful lot of time last week responding to chides and “WTF?” queries on his Twitter account, and it’s still going on. In addition to this all being a fairly colossal waste of time — the Inky is obviously not an open-source entity, so why start acting like one (or even acting like it cares, especially now) — it’s boring. And the more Krewson responds to his trolls, quantifying and explaining the Michelangelo-esque nuances of the Inky’s decision, the more you kind of start to think that he deserves it. The back-and-forth has already spawned this insufferable, tempest-in-a-teapot interview, and we get the sense that sadly, this post will only serve to keep it going for another day or so. As goes the Twitterer, so goes the tweet. Or something like that. If nothing else, this should all just go to show that Twitter is not a place to take on one’s critics. Twitter, if it’s good for anything, is best for laying down the law.
Our buddy Enrico Campitelli of The 700 Level is in Beijing covering the Olympics for AOL Fanhouse. In this clip, he discovers that Chinese cab drivers speak better English than most in Philly AND they don’t pull that “Oh, the ATM swiper thingy is broken” move.
It’s not that we don’t think you’re handsome, Dude; it’s just that we want to see your whole face! Also, you come off GREAT in this piece, even if you are still kind of half-assedly shilling for Hillz.
I know we need to stop harping on it, what’s done is done, but we are really disappointed in Our Gays that we weren’t able to throw in a spoiler at the Mr. Gay Philadelphia contest that, uhm, went down on Friday night. It could have been a next-level act of subversion, a sort of Stonewall for Gays With Brains, if you will. But you won’t. And you didn’t. So instead, Gay Philadelphia’s hopes and dreams now rest squarely upon the shoulders of one John Caputo (pictured) who, for the next 363 days, shall be addressed as Mr. Gay Philadelphia, thank you very much. Caputo — I mean, Mr. Gay Philadelphia — is a bartender at the Joe Pesce restaurant and likes Herb Ritts, Madonna, Tom Ford and Carrie Bradshow A LOT, which we found out by digging up his MySpace page. So it seems he would fit the bill. John — DAMMIT, Mr. Gay Philadelphia, sorry — also seems like he can and will perform his duties admirably, but we still can’t say we’re not disappointed. Where are thou, Chinese Roulette? In the meantime, though, all is not lost: Philly Gay Calendar’s “Boys Of Summer” is just around the corner…
[Photo credit: PhillyChitChat]
what’s to come of Gyro without its big tobacco money…will they survive?
CEO Steve Grasse was supposedly quoted on friday, “I may have lost my kool but I didn’t lose my tool”
Shit. We would have fired you on the basis of atrocious capitalization alone. Sir, we’re becoming masters of Recession Chic and trust us, this is not it. Grace under pressure, bro. Send a resume to Red Tettemer, turn on the Olympics and make yourself a little espresso. It’s August.
FRIDAY:
>>> OLYMPIC FEVER: CATCH IT! Or at the very least, entertain yourself by keeping a tab on just how weird the vibes in Beijing are going to get over the next couple of weeks. So hit up Chinatown after work, load up on snacks on the way home and OH MY GOD THIS OLYMPICS TRACKER IS SOOOO COOL! I’m sorry, I just get really excited about Women’s Badminton is all. Consider this the first of MANY Olympic posts over the next two weeks.
>>> And now to the usual soul-sucking weekend nonsense: Someone just wrote in wondering where the Bob Dylan afterparty was. (He’s playing at the Electric Factory.) I would humbly submit, kind sir, that we are all living one long, dreamlike Bob Dylan Afterparty in every day, in every way. If that doesn’t work, then let’s just all meet at my house at midnight with a couple of 30 packs of Miller Lite, because I have Biograph on vinyl. Jimmy, you better be reading this.
>>> Actual show, that is actually happening: Live/Collective Soul/Blues Traveler at Festival Pier. I am obviously not saying that you should go, I’m just saying that time travel is very fucking real and that we may be through with the past, but the past is not yet through with us. I love you. Hold me.
>>> As noted yesterday, Making Time at Transit. Likewise, there’s a Vice/Colt 45 thing at the Barbary with that band Cheeseburger that only Chromeo fans will think is entertaining, and Yah Mos Def, and Psydde Delicous, whom we are way long overdue to link up with. Noted.
SATURDAY:
>>> I have to tell you: This weather has completely energized my brain and is like a whisper from God that everything is going to be alright and that this fall is going to be more magical than a weekend-long threesome in Paris in the late 1960s. Beach House/Cass McCombs/Tickley Feather at Johnny Brenda’s, a bunch of people are kind of counting on you to not drop the ball on this vibe.
>>> Hustle Simmons is opening for Little Brother at the Troc!
>>> Oh, you saw Pineapple Express already? Then try this:
World Cafe Live: Midnight Movies presents Dazed and Confused. 12am. Free.
Good news for folks following the ongoing saga to keep the Boyd Theater on Chestnut Street from the dustbin of history. At a hearing earlier this morning, the Philadelphia Historical Commission voted to grant the Boyd that all-important status. According to Boyd activist/noted film dude Jay Schwartz, all are pretty elated right now. “Things went well,” he says. “It seems there’s a new and very different Historic Commission in town (as appointed by the new mayor).” Presumably, this new historic status would prevent any evildoers from tearing the building down — this was a huge worry in the past — and paves the way towards the Boyd’s eventual restoration. So, yay! After the jump, a message that Friends of The Boyd just sent out to supporters, proclaiming/explaining the good news. (more…)
All repairs are done and Tritone is open for business as usual at 5pm tonight, Friday, Aug. 8.
Stop in, say hi, stick around for the show. Don’t expect to see the product of our labors; as Rick A says, “Electricity is invisible.”
Tonight’s show: Positively Sick on South Street:: (B-day show ~ Peter from Jukebox Zeros) Jukebox Zeros, The Victims (from NYC, original ‘77 punk rock!), The Flyswatters (NJ), Mean Streets. Congrats, guys! We knew ya’d be back. No word on Bob & Barbara’s yet. Paging Victor Fiorillo…
It would seem that the newly Comcast-ownedDaily Candy is wasting no time in towing its parent company’s arch-conservative line, if only subconsciously. From this morning’s, erm, “people-watching” guide:
North Philadelphia Norris & Frankford: Looking for a different kind of Pride Parade? Spend ten weekend minutes at this intersection and watch straight men riding tandem bicycles together, giving out smiles and honks for anyone brave enough to yell the obvious.
Penn Treaty Park: Come nightfall, Kensington couples whisper sweet nothings in each others’ ears as crack dealers and clients lovingly do the same.
Liberty Lands Park: Whether pushing a stroller holding an unnervingly attractive child or walking a freakishly ugly dog, hot moms gather here. Watch dudes flirt as husbands spy with one eye from a nearby McCondo (and do graphic design with the other).
I’m kind of thinking that Daily Candy and Comcast should bet each other one dollar at the Union League to see if they could take a NoLibs homo drug addict off the street (good luck finding one, trust us, we’ve looked) and see if he could trade places with Meredith Lindemon and see if we could settle this nature/nurture debate once and for all. Daily Candy: You Love The Smell Of Homophobia In The Morning
You know, we’d been sitting on a bunch of Philadelphia Media Holdings links for like a week now — primarily because we are still wholly unconvinced that anyone cares at all and increasingly, we are loathe to bore you with this shit — but another memo leaked this morning, the tea kettle whistled, and suddenly, it’s B.T.P.O.D. time, baby! SO LET’S DO THIS. First, as always, there are the money woes — as time goes on, the bank note that the loan to buy the Inquirer, the Daily News and Philly.com was written on is gradually getting even more fucked up than your student loan. There’s missed payments, forbearance agreements (think of a more genteel, polite version of a “vig”) and a general, very loud, sense of uh-ohhhhhh. Then Boscov’swent out of business. Since you’re not your weird aunt who buys you fugly sweaters there once a year, you’re probably thinking, “So what?” Well, Boscov’s owed PMH close to a cool million, which could have probably come in handy right about now. (Q: How does a big Old Lady Department Store go out of business? A: By taking out a million dollars’ worth of ads in an Old Lady Newspaper. Groan.) And at this point, it’s like fuck buyer’s remorse, because Tierney and the gang could not even sell this mess if they wanted to. And always, the Inky staff continues to inspire. Back to that leaked memo:
Colleagues – Beginning today, we are adopting an Inquirer first policy for our signature investigative reporting, enterprise, trend stories, news features, and reviews of all sorts. What that means is that we won’t post those stories online until they’re in print. We’ll cooperate with philly.com, as we do now, in preparing extensive online packages to accompany our enterprising work. But we’ll make the decision to press the button on the online packages only when readers are able to pick up The Inquirer on their doorstep or on the newsstand.
Now, it’s not so much that this is a bad decision — it’s just that it SHOULD HAVE BEEN MADE IN FUCKING 1996. Or, not at all. And maybe, just maybe, not at a time when the Inky knows damn well that more eyeballs see it online — which should also be translatable to advertisers if anybody at this fucking rag had a goddamned clue about what is going on — and that this is where they should be throwing their weight, instead of some desperate nickel and dime bullshit. On the other hand, I guess nickels probably come in handy, too.
>>> Hot bill of the night has to go to CSS/The Go Team/Matt & Kim at the Troc, which we mentioned earlier this week. Go to that. Sweat it out. Start the weekend early. August is the loooooooongest month.
>>> But Neil Hamburger and Secret Pants are also worth checking out at Johnny Brenda’s for those into the alt-comedy-NOT-corny-improv thing.
Philebrity is a cityblog covering the arts, gossip and media in Philadelphia. We've been here since October 2004, and we'll be here long after you move back to New York. Got a tip? Send it to tips[at]philebrity.com.
NOTICE:Interns wanted.
Hey, everybody, this is 
Do you remember that episode of The Real World from a few seasons back where the seven strangers, like, had to take some retards to the zoo or something and that one girl, when presented with her ‘tard, ran away screaming as if the lil’ guy was going to claw at her flesh and tear her appendages off? This is no doubt the kind of reaction I would have if, say, I ever found myself across the room from U.S. Olympic Team swimmer/
I know we need to stop harping on it, what’s done is done, but we are really disappointed in Our Gays that we weren’t able to 
Good news for folks following the 
It would seem that the 
You know, we’d been sitting on a bunch of Philadelphia Media Holdings links for like a week now — primarily because 
