icepack

by A.D. Amorosi

Depression. It's like Fat Actress. You know Kirstie Alley's a flabalanche. Why televise it? (Then again, who watches Showtime?)Hearing we're the second-fattest city, that we're murder central numero uno — that's OK. I'm not fat and you can't find where my bodies are buried. But to read from Men's Health that Philadelphia is the most-depressed city in the U.S. stings. Not just because it hits home personally. Not just because I read Men's Health. Not just because fucking Jersey City, N.J., is reportedly happier than we. (Pause. Jersey City is happier than us! What possible hellish karma must be ours?) But because Philly has so many good reasons to be so depressed. Like? Well, there's Doc Johnson's sex joint closing. (Bad couple of weeks for Docs, what with the Doc Watson's fiasco. Watch your back, Doctor J.) Now where can you get nitrous and dildos after midnight? Or how about this? Despite getting hauled off The Apprentice, Erin Elmore — the doughy-faced Philly model who should have, by all rights, been doomed to a life of MacDade Mall Orange Julius demonstrations and blowjobs in back of Putt-Putt courses — got to shoot a pilot called Inside Philadelphia. Or maybe because between Hollertronix on Palm Sunday and Interpol on Easter, God could not smote the skinny, skanky wealth of dancing badly, dressed-cheaply white folk. These ash can fashionistas — an alarming trend that neither the Post nor the Times can make me get with — left me to question all faith. Or maybe it's that Gervase Peterson roams free among us, despite his sins, hosting TV Quizzos and appearing in films (White Men Can't Rap) that actually get shown (April 17, Philadelphia Film Festival). But mostly I'm sick because for the next 200-plus days before it actually arrives, Philly will cram Ben Franklin's 300th birthday down our throats. There'll be more Bens than there are scars on my psyche. Only my scars won't come in pantaloons and knee socks. … Sometimes, even ghostly studio mavens come up for air. That's surely why producers Pete Rydberg and Paul Smith — owners of South Philly's 1935 — host a two-day spree of its loudest recordees across two nights: the April 2 jaunt at Khyber with Three 4 Tens, Beretta76, Angus Khan and Jukebox Zeros, and an April 4 bash at Bar Noir with Kilroy and others doing a song-for-song take on The Stooges' Funhouse. Yummy and skuzzy. … Greasy rumors o' the week: Is the barely-there-to-begin-with Evening Bulletin having big money problems (a rumored demise?) or little money probs (slow cashflow). My Bulletin buds neither confirm nor deny. Either way, she's still printing. Are there really two Philadelphian shouters that Mark Burnett's casters liked for its INXS lead-singer search, Rock Star? And will they get all, umm, choked up if they don't win? Can anyone other than I name the local band who is — after putting over $100,000 of band expenses (replacement trombones? spit valves?) on their collective credit cards — filing for bankruptcy? … Again, boxing promoter Damon Feldman is raving. Oh, and mad too. The loopiest of local promoters claims that heavyweight Robert "Big Philly" Hawkins' TKO win over undefeated Chichester-ian John Poore at the Spectrum, March 24, was due to steroid use. "I insist Hawkins be tested for steroids after what I have heard by people close to him," says Feldman. "I will pay for the test. … Poore was in top shape. There is no way that Hawkins could have overpowered him." No word on whether Feldman lost a bet or something. … No sooner than wishing last week for a Shyamalan production (I was fucking around!) when M. Night announced his mermaidening Lady in the Water will begin its Philly shoot in August, giving me plenty of time to wax mah fins. … Jilline Ringle, the late, great mistress of Mondo Mangia (among countless other Philly theater totems), gets a teary, joyful tribute when friends from 1812 Productions, Big Mess and others perform Requiem for an Amazon, April 4 at the Troc. … WHOWHATWHERE: Jill Scott comes home, sells out the Tower, gets feted at North by Glamour magazine and WB-17 weather anchor Robyn Stevens, and some Glamour eds are the biggest names to come hang out? For shame, Philly. At least Billy Paul and a couple of Blue Notes have reserved tables for wedding singer-turned-smoky-chanteuse Erika Schiff's next gig: March 31 at Chris' Jazz Cafe. … Clothier Bela Shehu — who really does have the best shag-do since The Sweet — is dropping her spring 2005 line of Bshehu gear at 32°'s Scene bash with Saks March 31. Be it. … What does April Fools' at Continental Mid-town consist of? Acid Alice in Wonderland accoutrements like The Caterpillar as doorman and The Queen of Hearts hosting the roof-deck jam. This would've meant so much more when drugs were still part of my picture. Yet there's no fool like a Khyber fool when El Toro De Oro — Beau and Justin, Khyber doorman and bartender, respectively — slice open their home bar with Metroplex on April Fools'.