Rider's Block Productions: Currently in Development, Part 1

Now that I took 20 whole minutes to put together a logo, I can officially announce the creation of Rider's Block Productions, Inc.

I tossed a few text messages back and forth with Dean Xene this morning, and we have the makings of a mid-season replacement show for Kath & Kim, which will be canceled by NBC brass 13 minutes into its first episode on October 9.

Our first production will be a sitcom featuring M. Emmet Walsh as a washed-up male prostitute who mentors his young gigolo roommate played by Jason Mewes. The working title is Flaccid Heights.

Each episode opens with Walsh preparing to bed a different elderly client, but--and here's the hook--he always fails to achieve an erection! Celebrity guests slated to appear as clients: Bea Arthur, Rue McClanahan, Cloris Leachman, and Kim Cattrall. Walsh will then deliver his trademark catchphrase: "Jay, get me my Viagra!"

If he agrees to the in-joke, Mewes will enter the room with a rubber tube tied around one bicep and call Walsh a different name each week. Example: "Get it yourself, you tubby bitch!" Cue the laugh track, roll the titles featuring Walsh and Mewes dancing together like the Cosby family to "Start the Commotion" by The Wiseguys.

Jason Mewes will play himself, but I'm soliciting names for Walsh's character in the comments.

Canadian Kids, Cabs and a Clooney Clone

I highly recommend checking out The Kids in the Hall's tour "Live As We'll Ever Be."

My Significant Other and I journeyed to the Windy City to meet up with best pal and (occasional) blogger Dean Xene on Thursday. We agreed the aging Kids didn't disappoint.


Their sketches included why the other four needed to rape Kevin, hateful babies, gut spigots, Buddy Cole on Jesus, last-call-defying time machines, Jehovah's Witnesses actually being let into a house, a three-quarters-completed song, a drunken superhero, phone sex with a fowl, a retrospective on how we danced in grades 8 through 12, and why each of the Kids deserved to have their heads crushed. (To Dave Foley: "Two words: poker show.")

They haven't lost their edge. It made me wish for a new TV series. Again.

After the show, Dean brought us to a favorite watering hole on State Street. Along the way, we were approached by a gentleman requesting cash. He fixated on my buddy, walking with him for an uncomfortable 50 feet and trying flattery to loosen his purse strings. "Say, man, anyone ever tell you you look like George Clooney?"

Which is preposterous. Anyone who has ever met Dean will tell you he's the spitting image of Zach Braff. Here's photographic evidence taken outside the bar.


We hoisted a few, caught up on old times, and went our separate ways. Good ol' Braffy.

In the cab ride back to our car, I noticed some hidden-taxicab-service-fee chicanery. As we rolled to a stop, the fare meter mysteriously jumped from $4.65 to $5.85. I was about to call the dude on it, but I remembered something Xene mentioned earlier. These gas prices are hitting hard.

Although, this being Chicago, I'm betting that extra fee wouldn't go away even if gas dropped to $1 a barrel tomorrow.

New Diversions on the Block

I may not have posted my unanswered questions to last week's Lost yet, but I've still got my finger on the pulse of pop culture. Here's what I was up to today, beginning at 6:00 AM.

• Finished the first four episodes of Battlestar Galactica's third season. After the jarring (and clumsy) new status quo of the previous season's finale, it now looks like the producers have patched some holes, teased upcoming conflicts, and sent Adama's ship back on its journey to ultimate hardcore-ness.* I should finish the entire season just in time for new episodes to begin airing on Sci Fi. Then I'll have to wait from week to week like any other schmuck.
• Marvel Comics has its very own fly-in-the-ointment/John McClane running around the office, dishing dirt on lame editorial decisions. His name is Marvel_B0y, and while there's a possibility he's the fictional creation of the marketing department designed to generate some buzz, I prefer to believe a punk kid has the brass balls to pull aside the curtain and reveal the soft underbelly of the Marvel offices. Unfortunately, this guy thinks he's Teflon and can't possibly be fired--which, speaking from experience, is a dangerous mindset for any blogger to adopt. It's a riveting read, especially for me. But the longer it goes on, the more I'll believe I've been had.
• I started watching Top Chef on Bravo earlier this month, but not because I wanted to see contestants with faux-hawks and tattoos crying on camera. I watched to see my buddy Dean in the block party episode. Tonight he appeared onscreen about three times. He shares his journal from the day it was filmed over here.

* Hardcore-osity?

I Can Neither Confirm Nor Deny

As regular readers of my blog know, I have a wooden block for a head. It gives the title an excellent double meaning and it puts a little steam in my stride for thinking of it. New readers either accept it or they don't and move on with their Google searches for "Beowulf" or "Hot Rod." *

If I had a human head, though, it would look much like the handsome one sitting atop the South Park-generated avatar to the left.

I can't confirm the human head, however, since I see a block with drawn-on glasses and a smirk when I look in the mirror.

The keen eyes of regular readers will also notice a new addition to my blogroll. Just as Lennon had McCartney; and just as McGone has two pink, hairless friends named Slinger and Bakonstein; I've got Dean Xene.

I encourage you to check out the exploits of my gifted pal since the 8th grade in his new blog. He's a family man, a master of kung fu, and one hell of an architect. Check out his sketchbook/journal on Flickr and see the kind of impressive stuff he's been showing me since college.

Oh, and Dean has a tendency to refer to me as "Al Damage." I'm not sure where he gets that. It sounds like some weak, pre-blogosphere attempt at a cyber nom de plume, circa 2000.

Remember: my actual name, as far as you know, is "Eric Rider." I'm an unemployed writer with a wooden block for a head. I'm not a real boy.

* Which are both, inexplicably, drawing a daily visitor total of 30 hits a day.

It's Quiet...Too Quiet

I've been busy with non-blogging stuff lately, and I apologize for the sorry state of the Block lately.

I texted regular reader Dean Xene the other night, because AMC was showing The Karate Kid again.* Xene texted back a short reply, which also happens to be our favorite quote.

Then there's this link for Valerie.

* Which, it turns out, they're required to do fortnightly by the FCC to keep their license.