FBI agents investigating U.S. Rep. Curt Weldon (R., Pa.) conducted six raids this morning – including at the homes of his daughter and a longtime friend. In all, agents executed four search warrants in Philadelphia and two in Jacksonville, Fla., officials said. In Center City, agents searched the law office of John Gallagher, a Weldon friend who has done extensive business in Russia and former Soviet Republics. In Media, Pa., agents searched the offices of public relations firm formed by Weldon’s longtime friend Charles P. Sexton Jr., and the congressman’s daughter, Karen. Sexton and Karen Weldon formed Solutions North America, […]
PBR: The Lonesome Death Of The Lonesome Organist
PBR is our regular sports column, wherein our man in the Jersey ‘Burbs calls Philly sports and sports-media as he sees ’em. His name is Patrick Berkery and he plays drums for the Pernice Brothers and, get this, he actually gives a shit about sports. Weird, huh? Born & raised on a steady diet of Birds, Phils, Flyers and boiled potatoes. Phillies season ticket holder since 1978. Longs for the days of Jim Barniak & Spectrum Wrestling on Prism. Thinks all sportwriters dress funny and should stay off TV. Except Phil Sheridan. His feelings on the Philadelphia Eagles are not […]
Who Loves Show Tunes? Fat Kids, Skinny Kids, Even Kids With Chicken Pox…
Ladies and Gentlemen, we are proud to present, The Asylum Street Spankers! And God Bless America and all who sail with her!
Now It Can Be Told: Don’t Look Back In Anger
Backstage Thursday night at Philebrity’s Second Anniversary Party at Johnny Brendas.
The Banality of Evil: Two Pickets To Tittsburg, Please
Why do you people give a shit about celebrities? Maybe it’s because we’ve met a few, but we could NOT care less. Unless it has to do with Lindsay Lohan. But that’s different. Anyway, the blog consultant we hired was very clear: if we have any prayer of ever getting women and gay men to read this thing, we better have some celeb shit. Christ, the things we do for you people. Okay, I don’t know if everybody else has already weighed in on this but it’s all we got today. Besides, who covers Pittsburgh? Well, we do. Have you […]
215 Fest Leftovers: Phawker Tawks With Get Your War On Creator David Rees
Makin’ Bacon With The War Pigs Somebody important once said that irony is the only rational response to an irrational world. Maybe we did. Who can tell in this crazy, mixed-up Internet world where nothing is true and everything is permitted. As you may recall, in the days after of 9/11 Vanity Fair poobah Graydon Carter famously declared the sudden “death of irony,” as if they kept it in the World Trade Center or something. Well, assuming for a moment that was even remotely true or possible, David Rees CPR’d that fucker back to life and gave it a job: […]
Ordinarily We Say Halloween Is Amateur Night (Paging Amorosi! Paging Count Amorosi!)
But these people strike us as pros. Invite Phawker to your Halloween jawn at feed@phawker.com. Unless it’s gonna suck. Then nevermind.
215 Fest Leftovers: Phawker Tawks With Amy Sedaris
Pretty girls aren’t funny for the same reason that pretty boys aren’t funny: they don’t have to be. Form fits function, and function answers to need. Pretty people rarely need for much, least of all the ability to win friends and disarm foes with a few well-placed yuks. It’s basic Darwin. Lucille Ball? Phyllis Diller? Roseanne Barr? Funny fuckin’ ladies. Pretty? Not so much. Amy Sedaris knows this. Her career puts the lie to that premise, by the way, but to do so she has to put on a fat suit and give herself an overbite, problem hair and a […]
Deep Thoughts: About New Beck, Old Wars, John Prine And How To Give A Dirty Santorum
As a boy I wanted to be Sherlock Holmes when I grew up, but now I’m thinking I wanna be Nigel Godrich. Seriously, the “it” boy producer’s life is most people’s idea of a rock ’n’ roll fantasy camp. Just take a look at his day planner for the last couple of years. Monday: Give Paul McCartney edge. Tuesday: Dial back Thom Yorke’s edge. Wednesday: Make Beck a man. Ironically, it’s the latter who suffers the greatest cred deficit these days. Some say Beck jumped the shark back at Midnite Vultures. Others lost faith when they found out he was a […]
Gitmo Jukebox
Just Like War, Torture Is Over If You Want It Like STDs or race relations, torture is the great unspeakable. Nobody will talk about it. Not your friends or your family, not your congressman or Fox News and certainly not our president. He won’t even use the T-word—he calls it “alternative interrogation” like it’s something you’d see on the midway at Lollapalooza. Well, you can call rape “a forced backrub with benefits,” but it’s still rape. Perhaps the least heinous of all reported U.S. torture techniques was the blasting of Eminem and Dr. Dre at teeth-rattling volume into the virgin […]
Mystery Tramps
New Morning For Dylan Or I Hate Paris In The Fall Hi, kids. Welcome back! You can leave your summer book reports on The Stranger and the cruel meaninglessness of existence so-why-even-bother? — in 800 words or less — on my desk after class. And be forewarned, anyone still pronouncing the author’s name like “anus” is simply not going to pass this class. On a happier note, I have a fun assignment for you today: Compare and contrast the new Bob Dylan album Modern Times with the new Paris Hilton album, which is called … wait for it … Paris. Why all those frowns? What’s […]
Salty Dogs: M. Ward And The Pirates Of Doom
Blood, Sweat And Come: Folk Music Takes No Prisoners Folk music gets a bad rap, having long ago been relegated to the leafy retreats of crunchy granola ninnies in white socks and Birkenstocks, where its rough-hewn hymnals were gutted by time and the ’60s, and reduced to politically correct acoustica, liberal bromides and impotent protest. What’s missing from most people’s assumptions about folk music is the blood, sweat and come, not to mention the staggering body counts, laments for lost limbs, dead wives, drowned babies and hard rains. And that’s just the happy songs.Velveteen folk-rocker M. Ward is self-schooled in […]