August 27th, 2013
August 24th, 2013
I recently went back in time to the 1980s, not literally of course, but it sure did feel like it.
It all started the previous week when some friends and I went back in time to the 1880’s, attending the annual Kutztown Folk Festival (Kutztown, PA), a gala that celebrates, among other things: quilting, glass-blowing, candle-making and shoo-fly pie baking.
On our way there we passed a water park that looked straight out of a Meatballs movie (which could have also looked straight out of a Friday The 13th movie, minus the daylight).
When we met up with some friends, originally from the area, they told us they used to visit the park as youngsters. Our friend Katie said that part of the park’s excitement was its danger. I guess barreling down a cobbled-together waterslide—not knowing if you’d make it to the bottom—has the same thrill of jumping off a bridge with a bungee attached to your ankle.
While my friend Ian and I gave each other we-gotta-go looks, Katie interrupted by telling us that the park was closed. Though it looked like it hadn’t been touched since 1983, I swore I saw some people there when we passed it. A quick search on Ian’s iPhone confirmed my hunch: Terry Hill Water Park was still in business!
Keep reading →
August 20th, 2013
August 13th, 2013
July 20th, 2013
A mix designed to ease into a morning run. Stretchy, stretch and enjoy!
July 18th, 2013
Ah yes, the August 1, 2013 front cover of Rolling Stone.
Is it provocative?
People are texting, tweeting tumbl’ing, and talking about it; and look here, I’m currently blogging about it. It has provoked an abundance of thought and opinion.
Here’s why I’m upset:
Whether they admit it or not, every musical act’s dream is to grace the cover of Rolling Stone. Despite wearing a “CORPORATE MAGAZINES STILL SUCK” t-shirt, Kurt Cobain and his Nirvana band-mates willing appeared on its cover in 1992. They dressed more appropriately for the occasion when they were featured on the front two years later.
When the Beastie Boys graced their first cover in 1994, I felt validated that my favorite band now shared the same honor as the musical greats that came before them.
It was always a joyous moment when a band you rallied behind made the cover of Rolling Stone:
Eleven years after releasing their seminal, self-titled debut album, Weezer finally made it on in 2005; the lil’ ol’ Black Keys from Akron, Ohio triumphantly mugged for the cover in leather jackets early last year; and even my favorite TV show—Breaking Bad—got the cover treatment last summer.
I should point out that Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul only play bad guys on television. The crystal meth they cook is made from cotton candy crystals, while the “bomb” used at the end of Season 4 was a special effects stunt in which no one was actually injured—or killed.
Rolling Stone hasn’t always catered to my likes.
Amidst boy-band fervor during the TRL era, *NSYNC became cover boys in 2000. I was equally outraged when the Jonas Brothers got their cover nearly a decade later. And how could Jersey Shore party legend Snooki get a cover before Jersey Shore punk legends The Bouncing Souls?
For every pop-tart and boy-band that makes the front of Rolling Stone, there also seems to be an eye-rolling abundance of issues bearing the images of Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix and The Rolling Stones.
From the same carefree era as the names mentioned above, in 1970 Rolling Stone put killer and cult leader Charles Manson on its cover. Some will say the precedent was set here, but I don’t agree. We live in an age where instantaneous and perpetual media coverage gives young people the impression that committing a horrific act is an option to their desperation. When I was a kid “school shooting” wasn’t a ubiquitous media term.
It just sucks that while public enemy #1 gets the cover of Rolling Stone, hip-hop legends, Public Enemy, are still waiting for their first.
May 1st, 2013
We here at Milkit Entertainment have been making running mix-tapes for years. We understand the rhythm and flow of a well-paced outdoors run, knowing that you simply can't craft a mix by cramming an hour's worth of balls-to-the-wall AC/DC singles back to back to back.
This mix was especially made for a 6-7 mile run (for those able to run an impressive, but not Olympic worthy, 7-8 minute miles).
Run, Run is intended for the open road only. Please do not listen to this mix indoors or in a car.
If you haven't consulted your physician yet, what are you waiting for?
Like the title suggests: run, run!
April 25th, 2013
On Thursday, May 16, the final episode of The Office will air on NBC, bringing to a close my favorite sitcom of the last decade.
After it stepped out of the shadows from its UK predecessor, The Office became the most clever, edgy, heartwarming, and hilarious show on network television. Dare I say its second and third campaigns still stand up as two of the greatest sitcom seasons of all-time? Seinfeld made us laugh, but never made us cry. Are you telling me you didn't reach for a Kleenex when Jim finally asked Pam out on a date?
(above: Some of the following moments are worthy of a classic Jim Halpert smirk.)
Many will tell you the show has slipped over its nine seasons, but episode for episode The Office is still thoroughly entertaining. And in fairness, where do you go after you create two of the best televisions seasons ever?
Because I hold The Office in such high regard, it always stung me—much like Roy probably felt after getting a face full of pepper spray from Dwight in Season 3—when the show would veer from its tight production, direction, and writing. Keep reading →
April 10th, 2013
My brother Matt and I break down Wrestlemania NY/NJ (aka XXIX) from the vantage point of section 131 at MetLife Stadium.
March 12th, 2013
If you were a teenager in the early '90s, you undoubtedly are familiar with the work of Bruce Stark. He is the artist responsible for crafting those memorable sports caricature shirts that everyone seemed to own when cruising the halls of their respective high school.
(above: Stark's caricature of hockey great Mario Lemieux)
And when your favorite sports team won a championship, you'd hope that Bruce Stark would pen a team drawing with every player holding their pointy index fingers high in the sky.