Wednesday, April 4th, Noon — Wake up, hell yee-uh. /IceCube
1:30pm — The weather in Philly is so dope! This is the only time of year the weather in Portland gets to me. Everything is so dark and miserable. The whole world feels like an 1880's tuberculosis ward. Sometimes I sit in an unlit room and listen to the same music box over and over and over again for hours as I stare directly into the face of a furious and vindictive God. But not today! It's like 70! Spring Break! We're gonna live forever!
2:30pm — Philadelphia is full of statues and sculptures, like, really full of them. Whatever you picture when I say “full of statues and sculptures” it's easily, like, three or four more statues than that. You need to reconnect with your imagination—I feel sorry for you. There are so many statues here that if some kind of Bed Knobs and Broomsticks-esqe situation went down, the Nazis would be fucked. Here's some stand-out pieces!
- Ian Karmel
- Until 1936 everyone in Philly had to stand on a box, this statue commemorates the first person to say “No sir, not me!”
More after the jump!
- Ian Karmel
- I'm the first person to take a picture of this, ever.
- Ian Karmel
- Pretty scathing satire of the fashion industry's tendency to animalize and commodify women.
Philly is full of museums, too. Today, I visited the fabled and horrific Mutter Museum. Officially, it's part of The College of Physicians of Philadelphia, but I'm pretty sure this place was conjured from the trapper-keeper of a teenaged Glen Danzig by a time traveling Warlock. It's got a wall full of skulls, books with human skin binding, dead babies in jars, a 9-foot colon that once held 40 pounds of shit, a charming gift shop, a woman who turned into soap, a famous conjoined twin liver, an herbal garden, a dwarf skeleton and a wall full of syphilitic bones. I know! An herbal garden! Pretentious fucks.
They don't allow photography inside the Mutter, but Google that shit. Here's a picture of me right after I left the museum. I looked like this for the rest of the day.
- Ian Karmel
- Haunted beauty or haunting beauty? BOTH.
8pm — I'm at Helium, sister club to our own Helium back in Portland. It looks eerily similar to the Portland club, but still distinct, like when Armageddon and Deep Impact came out around the same time. If pressed, I'd say Portland was Armageddon because it's more expensive and flashy, Philly is Deep Impact because Ben Franklin and Leelee Sobieski have similar foreheads.
My set goes okay, not great. I try to keep my act pretty universal, but there were a couple references that didn't hit with the citizens of Philadelphia. The first was Carl's Jr., they don't have that joint out here. I don't know where the fuck they go for gross onion rings, poor sweet fools. The other reference is how kombucha smells like a bottle-return machine. A few people knew what kombucha was, and I wept for them, but nobody knew about bottle return machines... apparently people in Philadelphia just throw their bottles at under-performing professional athletes. You're on notice, Raymond Felton.
