The House of Hunt

In the on-going effort to celebrate both the highs and lows of humanity’s untapped potential, the House of Hunt proudly presents the the second in a series of Celebrity Revues. Granted, I can call it a series now simply because this second one exists, though I make no promises about any future installments.

At any rate, the story of Nevin Norton is one that will echo down through the decades. Or at least the next couple of years…maybe. Nevin Horton, or “Nevin” as his friends called him, is a young man full of vim, vigor, and vinegar (though not as often as vim and/or vigor). A lover of music and women (in that order), Nevin is often seen frequenting what the youth of these days are calling “shows” where “rock” is played. Whether it’s the melodious strains of mewithoutYou or the odious croons of Bright Eyes, Nevin can be found rocking out until the break of dawn.

Nevin is also a little too fond of the jawbreaker, that scourge of the 21st century. Years and years of Super Sours and Atomic Fireballs have wreaked their sugary havoc on his tooths. Despite the warnings of all his friends (and some of his enemies), Nevin’s jawbreaking ways continued until all that remained in his mouth are the six teeth you see in the above photo. When he’s not rocking out, Nevin can be found panhandling for the funds to purchase new chompers.

His search for dental replacements once led Nevin to our nation’s capital, where he tried to break into the Smithsonian after dark to try George Washington’s dentures on for size. Naturally, he set off the alarms before getting within spittin’ distance of the famed wooden mandibles (due to the fact that he failed out of all his college-level ninja classes). He fled before security was able to apprehend him…but since he had used all of his panhandling money to get to D.C., he found himself stranded with no funds and no skills.

Nevin came close to despair and complete anguish that fateful night, when it suddenly dawned on him that he was in the perfect location for someone whose only talent in life is asking others for money. At last report, Congressman Horton can be found telling the youths of this generation to stand up and Rock the Vote.

The title says it all.

It offers golden nuggets of wisdom like this warning:

“Spit” as used in the context of this article is a synonym for rapping, not the forcible expulsion of saliva from the mouth. Please do not practice the latter kind of spitting; it does not make you look nearly as cool.

Sadly it doesn’t give any advice about what to do after you’ve sold your soul for TV and completely obliterated any respect you might have had left in the hip-hop community.

Thank you for rocking so utterly.

Those of you who know me know that I’m a freelance writer, offering my services of wordsmithery to any and all who can pay my exorbitant fees. And by “exorbitant,” I mean “any pay whatsoever.” And for the purposes of this post, those current employers would be Relevant and HM magazines.

I’ve been working on some different projects over the past few months and they’re finally coming to fruition. First off, I wrote a Stavesacre feature for HM Magazine’s May/June issue. The feature gave me the opportunity to talk to Stavesacre’s lead singer, Mark Salomon. Mark and the other guys in Stavesacre (Dirk, Sam, and Ryan) have been a big influence on me, musically and artistically, so it was a great privilege to chat with Mark…not once, but twice!! (More on that in a bit.) At any rate, my conversation with Mark was a lot longer than the feature in the print mag allowed, so HM recently posted the full interview transcript. It’s a really interesting read, due more to Mark’s candor and openness, rather than my incredibly probing and perceptive questions.

HM also posted a much shorter email interview that I did with Far-Less for a small piece in the July/August issue

In addition to all of this, my projects for Relevant are finally seeing the light of day. I wrote the cover story on The Fray for the latest issue of Relevant Magazine…and at some point the full interview transcript for that article will be up on this page. And last but not least, I contributed five profiles to the new Relevant Book, The Relevant Nation. I got the chance to talk to Scott Derrickson (The Exorcism of Emily Rose), Jay Bakker, and yes, good old Mark Salomon again (along with two other innovative individuals). It was a lot fun and I’m excited to see what people think of the final product.

And with that, today’s full dose of ME is complete. You may now return to your regularly scheduled lives.

HEY! I’ve got a great idea! Let’s slow down and gaze at the eye-catching-shiny-object-flashy-lights stuff happening over on the shoulder of the highway.

YEAH! That’s a terrific idea! I’ll put on my brakes and cause another accident by turning into a freakin’ rubbernecker and staring mindlessly at the accident currently being processed by our cities finest. Oh wait, he’s been on the force for years, but he might need my help…yes? no? wait, did he just look at me? No, nevermind, it was just the sunlight glinting off his glasses. Oh look, I’ve stopped traffic behind me for 5 miles. Silly me!

GARRRR!!!!!!!!!

This post was brought to you by the letter “subtlety” and the number “anger.”

What the heck has happened here? Pluto is no longer a planet???!?!?!?! What kind of upside down-face world am I living in? Visions of my childhood meeting with Pluto discoverer Clyde Tombaugh are whizzing by in my mind…suddenly they have no meaning, no frame of reference. Curse you NASA!!! Curse you International Astronomical Union!!! Curse you FDA!!! How long will you rob me of my youth!!??

And now, without any further ado, I present to you: The Basil Rathbone Celebrity Revue!!

Yes dear readers, thanks to your kind letters, even kinder mailed-in gifts, and not-so-kind email proddings, I have finally taken the time to highlight just why this unsung hero of the silver screen is deserving of your admiration, jubilation, and perhaps even humiliation. More on that later.

Philip St. John Basil Rathbone is perhaps most well known for his portrayal of Sherlock Holmes, that master violinist (and part-time detective) of 221B Baker Street (which, by the way, is a pretty cool song by Gerry Rafferty…made even cooler by the Foo Fighters, but I digress). What remains a great mystery to us all is why Rathy (as his friends and confidantes were wont to call him) dropped the “Philip St. John” bit from his moniker and merely went as Basil. Matter of fact, “Philip St. John Basil Rathbone” sounds like a pretty kickass name for a band. Or at least the name of Fallout Boy’s latest hot single.

A master swordsman, Rathy’s films often featured his swashbuckling ways, from The Adventures of Robin Hood to The Court Jester. And that part I mentioned earlier about humiliation? This would be the moment of truth. What other actor of our day and age could possibly come close to Rathy’s skills with a blade? Antonio Banderas? Wesley Snipes? Inigo Montoya? I think not.

And so, here’s to you, Sir Basil Rathbone. Your sword-handling, case-sleuthing, and British accent were not for naught. We here at the House of Hunt raise a glass of sherry to you and dream of fonder days gone by.

All right. That’s it. I’m calling for a Moratorium on Stupid right here and now.

No more idiots who can’t drive.

No more Wal-Mart bakery employees who simply tell you “I neeeeeed a nameeee!” and offer no help when picking up a cake.

No more celebrities who have no good reason on God’s green earth for being famous (Paris Hilton and Kevin Federline, I’m looking squarely at you down the barrel of a fully loaded marmot).

No more drunken neighbors who bang on your door on a Sunday afternoon, reeking of smoke and telling you that it’s illegal for you to park your own car on your own curb.

No more gaining weight from eating tasty foods like cookie dough and baked cookie dough (also known simply as: cookies).

WHO’S WITH ME?!?!??

In my final post of the day (unless I get yet another burst of motivationality), I simply want to highlight two incredible movies that I saw last week.

The first, Little Miss Sunshine, is a fantastic and refreshing comedy centered around family dynamics. My beloved and I got to see it last Thursday at a free screening and we absolutely loved it. It was genuinely funny and heart-warming, without the usual Hollywood schlock and smarminess to make it nice and pretty. Did I mention that it has the best dance scene since Napoleon Dynamite?

The other film was the undoubtedly the biggest movie of the year: SNAKES ON A PLANE!!! I went with some buddies, including Blaine, Steve K, Steve M, and Steve K’s brother Matt. Steve K bought wooden snakes, his SoaP hat and baseball cap, I brought my SoaP baseball hat, and Blaine brought his trademark venomous wit and biting sarcasm. It was awesome. We had a blast watching various people’s bodyparts get bitten by various species of snakes. And of course, Mr. Samuel L. Jackson. A man’s man if I ever saw one. A smashingly good time was had by all.

And by “death”, I mean “awesomeness.”

I must confess a personal dearth of knowledge concerning the pictured band, OK Go. I am ashamed to admit this because their vociferiously creative video, Here It Goes Again, demands that I know and own everything this band has ever put out. With eight pieces of workout equipment and some well-choreographed walking, these four fine gentleman have singled-handedly (or would that be eighted-handedly) put every other music video of this year to shame.

I applaud you, OK Go, and I stand in wonder.

PS: Many thanks to my cohorts Blaine and Jonathan for bringing this video’s existence to my attention. And Blaine, fear not…the Basil Rathbone Celebrity Revue is forthcoming.