B. Fleischmann’s oddly titled THE HUMBUCKING COIL is a nice album of midtempo, electronic-based numbers, mostly instrumental. Indie artists utilizing bleeps and bloops often can leave jaded listeners cold, but throw in a clarinet and crisp percussion as Fleischmann does, and the result is toasty warm. I’d put it on the same melodic plane as Japancakes, minus the epic sprawl. The arrangements are a bit tighter, but the emotions are rich just the same, so this Fleischmann really cuts the mustard. Give it a spin on any day this winter; it’s as good as a space heater.

Usually record labels wait years or even decades to issue a self-congratulatory retrospective, but we may have a new record with 20 NIGHTS OF WINE AND SONG, Greyday Productions’ new compilation, celebrating not 20 years, but their 20th release. What you get are unreleased, lost, remixed or otherwise rare tracks from 14 Greyday artists, from Mayday to Minmae. There’s some happy-go-lucky pop (PIney Girl), country-tinged y’alternative (Consafos), DIY electronica (Books on Tape) and everything in between. My favorites are The Old Ground’s heartfelt, melancholy, alcohol-pickled ballad “Somewhere Between Here and There” and The Empty’s catchy little groove number, “Drawing a Blank and Framing It.” With the schizophrenic variety of styles on display, it was impossible for everything to click with me, but for those who scarf up indie music like it were Apple Jacks, 20 NIGHTS will be most welcome.

If I could spend money with reckless abandon, I’d be out there right now hunting down the new DVD two-pack of KING KONG VS. GODZILLA and KING KONG ESCAPES, out today.

KING KONG VS. GODZILLA is crazy enough, with the big monkey duking it out with the big lizard in a giant monster free-for-all, but KING KONG ESCAPES is even crazier with a can’t-miss premise: King Kong is awakened to do battle with MechaKong, a metallic robot gorilla created by Dr. Who (not that one), whose dubbed voice sounds like Boris Badenov. From there, it’s every ape for himself, concluding in a fight atop a tower. God bless the Japanese!

Parents, beware. The Berenstain Bears are not the cuddly, wholesome characters you make them out to be. In fact, this well-known, popular series of children’s books comprises some of the most sexist American literature around.

In the Berenstain Bear family, the underlying message is simple: Women good, men bad. Women smart, men stupid.

Mama Bear is always depicted as the voice of reason, the rulemaker, the thinker and the doer, whereas Papa Bear is a blithering idiot who is forever reduced to making crude furniture (such as pegboards, in 1983’s THE MESSY ROOM) and hauling heavy loads at Mama’s every command (“Papa! Would you bring up the portable TV?” she demands, in 1986’s TROUBLE AT SCHOOL).

Throughout the books – and the titles are many – Mama Bear relentlessly perpetuates these evil, ultra-feminist views, oh-so-blatantly exploited in NO GIRLS ALLOWED (1986). In this taut, politically charged tale, Sister Bear beats Brother Bear and the other cubs at baseball and what the text refers to as “other ‘boy’ type activities.” Thus, they try to exclude her from their new, boys-only club.

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Mmm, I think I’m finding a new label to watch out for. Times Beach puts out the super-rockin’ Muggs and SINCE I FELL IN LOVE WITH THE MUSIC, this soft, lush, Euro-feeling folk vocal performance by Detroit artist Audra Kubat. Her performances are close, intimate, as if she were singing and strumming to herself in a dusty corner of some bustling coffeehouse. The jaded clientele talk on their cell phones, sip and laugh, but by the third song, they sneak a look at her and furtively turn off their phones. Another track or two and they now boldly face their chairs to the music, ignore their cooling coffee, and simply let Kubat’s guitar take them into the storyline. Kubat follows down the path of the great folk goddesses of the past but there’s something sweeter, more pleasant, less strident in some of her songs, like the relentlessly encouraging “Rise Up.” Or she can tone it down in the more traditional “I’m Not Coming Home” which brilliantly mixes simple drum and flute to add power to her already sparkling voice. Or she can sing a yearning love song like “One Day.” Very special indeed. –Mark Rose

Stan Berenstain, co-creator of The Berenstain Bears, has died at the age of 81 or 82 (I’ve since both numbers given, so let’s just call it “up there”). As a kid, I read a ton of Berenstain Bears books, and it makes me smile on the inside that my own kids have read several, too.

In Stan’s honor, I’ll be posting my infamous essay “A Furry Fistful of Feminism: Sex and the Berenstain Bears” later today, from HITCH 19. Stan probably would’ve hated it, but I’m going to do it anyway.

Last night’s PRISON BREAK was awesome. Any show in which your lead character uses a razor blade to cut a pill out of his arm that he smuggled into jail is bound to be. It ended on full, all-out cliffhanger status, which would be just fine except Fox isn’t airing any new episodes until March.

WTF? This is ridiculous – it’s the TV equivalent of freezing Han Solo and making you wait three years to find out what’s what.

Last week on THE APPRENTICE, The Donald fired The Jewish Virgin to whittle his pool of schmos down to four. They are The Russian Stripper, The Gimp, Sorority Girl and Squidward. Personally, I’m rooting for The Russian Stripper. She’s awesome, plus if your mere presence causes guys to kill people, you would make a great fit in Trump’s cutthroat organization and work in his phallic building.

Meanwhile, in celebration of the final four, here are four phrases I’d love to see banned from THE APPRENTICE. Week in, week out, season in, season out, they all spout the same damn unoriginal sports analogies they picked up from business school and thought made them sound Really Smart:
1. At the end of the day
2. Step up to the plate
3. Bring to the table (and its abbreviation, “Bring it”)
4. I have what it takes

Had I been allowed to watch KING KONG like I wanted, the long holiday weekend would have left a more positive taste in my mouth. But it’s not like it was bad.

THURSDAY: While the rest of the family watched the parade (I hate parades), I finishing reading Ed McBain’s THE GUTTER AND THE GRAVE and started reading (and loving) IT’S SUPERMAN! by Tom De Haven. Late in the morning, I sat down with the kids to watch LEMONY SNICKET’S A SERIES OF UNFORTUNATE EVENTS. It was the second time I had seen it, and I think I loved it even more than the first. I stand by my statement that it’s one of the most overlooked and underappreciated films of the last 10 years. Hell, the end-credit sequence alone is a masterful work of art. Then it was off to my parents’ house to eat good food and drink good wine. Wanted to watch WAR OF THE WORLDS when we got home, but it was too late.

FRIDAY: While my wife was off shopping starting at 4:45 a.m. – crazy woman that she is – my morning was all about kid wrangling. I was relieved of duty that afternoon. I tried to watch MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS, having read the book last week, but found it too slow. So I read some more. That night, we caught WALK THE LINE, the Johnny Cash biopic/Oscar bait. Great performances and great music. Since Reese Witherspoon became a household name, my wife is always told she looks like Reese Witherspoon. And she does. It’s all the more eerie since Reese sports dark hair in the movie; there were moments when I could look at the screen and then turn to my right, and the resemblance was strictly uncanny. (For the record, I am much too handsome to be mistaken for Ryan Phillipe.) Wanted to watch WAR OF THE WORLDS when we got home, but it was too late.

SATURDAY: I do not remember Saturday morning, but I think it involved a trip to Home Depot, so it’s probably for the best. But I do remember my afternoon was spent hanging Christmas lights and installing window blinds. My shoulders racked with pain, we went back to my parents’ house that night for my dad’s 65th birthday party. He did a good job of disguising the fact that he’d rather be watching the History Channel or SpeedVision. It was a night of pizza, beer and the obligatory, predictable stream of “you’re old” jokes. Wanted to watch WAR OF THE WORLDS when we got home, but it was too late.

SUNDAY: Most of the day was spent prepping the house for a family dinner. I made chili and it was awesome. You should’ve come over. But then I wouldn’t have enough left over for today’s lunch, so I’m glad that you didn’t. Wanted to watch WAR OF THE WORLDS once everyone left, but it was too late.

Even though Miguel Mendez attended school with rap artist Snoop Dogg, their music shares no similarities other than Mendez’s subliminal marijuana references and Snoop’s more vocal approach. On MY GIRLFRIEND IS MELTING, Mendez’s stoner-songwriting style will put you in a trance with his sleepy lyrics and deep, laid-back voice. With an easy-listening quality and a voice that resembles those of Beck and Morphine, I don’t see him going mainstream. His music requires a patient audience that doesn’t mind his slow, sometimes mumbling, sound. He diversifies his tracks with the addition of a piano and a change in slow-moving beats, but the songs are difficult to catch on to unless you’re in the mood, or state, to just chill. I hope that his unique sound doesn’t lead all of his interviews in the direction of, “So, what was Snoop like in high school?” –Andrea Aycock

Now out in stores is GRAPHIC CLASSICS: ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE – SECOND EDITION. With 100 new pages from the previous edition, DOYLE features adaptations of two Holmes stories (”The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb” and “The Adventure of the Copper Beeches”), a Brigadier Gerard adventure (”The Castle of Gloom”) and the pirate tale “Captain Sharkey,” plus four other tales of ghosts and mysteries, all brought to life through the art of such talents as Rick Geary, Simon Gane, Roger Langridge, J.B. Bonivert, Milton Knight, Richard Sala and others.

I scripted the adaptation for “Engineer’s Thumb.” You can preview it and three other illustrated stories here.

Beside eat and sleep late, all I wanted to do over the Thanksgiving weekend was watch the new KING KONG COLLECTION on DVD, which came out Tuesday. This simple pleasure was denied me by the idiots responsible for stocking all the mass-merchant retail outlets in the greater Oklahoma City area. Best Buy didn’t have it. Circuit City didn’t have it. Target didn’t have it. Sam’s didn’t have it. Even Wal-Mart – that last resort for anything – didn’t have it.

They all had the higher-priced collectible tin version that’s full of postcards and knick-knacks and paddywhacks and other useless miscellanea. Plus, I hate all DVD boxes that aren’t shaped like DVD boxes, and this one looked like it contains sardines.

So, after a wasted day, I came home and ordered it from Amazon. For four discs and three movies, it’s quite the bargain at $25.99. It’ll arrive at my welcoming home sometime this week, but it doesn’t look like I’ll have the free time to get to it until Christmas.

Pat Morita, star of HAPPY DAYS and THE KARATE KID, died this weekend at the age of 73. Unless you’re a racist, you can’t help but like Pat Morita. Recently his name came up among my friends and I corrected, “You mean Academy Award nominee Pat Morita,” and they looked at me like I was crazy. But it’s easy to forget that yes, Mr. Morita was indeed nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar in 1984 for his immortal role as Mr. Miyagi in THE KARATE KID, a character he went on to revive in all three sequels, the last of which starred Hilary Swank and was the butt of a perfectly awesome joke a few weeks ago on THE OFFICE.

However, my favorite of role of his was as the mystical Asian overlord Kane in Andy Sidaris’ T&A action classic DO OR DIE. I’m sure he was equally great in AMERICAN NINJA V or LAMB CHOP’S SPECIAL CHANUKAH, but I haven’t seen either of those. Yet.

Wax on, wax off, Mr. Miyagi. You did it all for the glory of love.

After months of rumors and subsequent denials, Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey are calling its quits as a married couple. Can’t say I’m surprised. Jessica got what she needed out of it: loads of publicity and chart hits. Nick also got what he needed: another notch on his belt and name recognition outside of being associated with a boy band. I guess we can’t count on ABC rerunning the NICK & JESSICA CHRISTMAS SPECIAL this year, huh? Look for Jessica’s star to continue rising as she increasingly whores herself out. Likewise, look for Nick at a UPN sitcom or strip club near you.

Can you say I told you so? Witness this now outdated but incredibly omniscient Hitch Daily entry from Sept. 11, 2003:

There’s a reason Jessica’s last name is Simpson. Before the debut of her new MTV reality show, NEWLYWEDS: JESSICA AND NICK, I knew pop starlet Jessica Simpson only as a cute blonde with big boobs and presumably little talent. But now after digesting a couple of episodes, I know her as a cute, whiny, spoiled, jealous, lazy, useless, dumb blonde with big boobs, no talent and a gas problem. Why did 98 Degrees’ Nick Lachey marry her? The two don’t get along very well and aren’t convincingly affectionate; a shared love for money and her oft-referenced breasts is all I can muster. The girl can’t do anything for herself, as evidenced by the dirty clothes she’s thrown all over their otherwise beautiful home, and all she does is bitch, complain, burp and fart. One episode began with her letting one rip that cleared the room and required the opening of doors. “You love my stinky ass!” she cooed with no discernable hint of humor to Nick, who went to fetch her Pepto-Bismol. In the next 30 minutes, Jessica demonstrated how little she knows about … well, anything, wondering how “mouses” got into the pool and asking Nick, “Riga who?” when he talked about rigor mortis. “You learn something new every day,” she said when he explained. Indeed, Jess, and yesterday I learned how little fun Nick must have being your needled husband. At various points in the show, she implored to those around her, “Don’t make fun of me!” Oh, but it’s so much fun!

From all of us here at Hitch Magazine, a very Happy Thanksgiving holiday and weekend to you all.

What are you thankful for? I’m thankful that the movie RENT is opening this weekend, so that I don’t have to see or hear its TV commercials anymore. That “five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes” song burrows directly into the cerebellum and won’t. Get. Out!

Answer quick! Yeah, we would’ve said that, too.

But believe it or not, it didn’t make the list of the Top 20 Geek Novels Since 1923, a list assembled via survey (of authentic geeks, we assume) by Guardian Unlimited. The “honor” of first place is Douglas Adams’ THE HITCHHIKER’S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY, which we haven’t read and will never read. You can read more about it and get the whole list of 20 titles over at Bookgasm.

• Yesterday, disaster was averted when a Nike corporate jet carrying top executives made a safe landing after a problem with the landing gear. As the plane touched down without incident, our nation’s sweatshop workers let out a collective sigh, knowing tomorrow’s hard-earned 14-cents-an-hour will still be there.

• People magazine has named Matthew McConaughey as the “sexiest man alive.” When I heard this, I had to check the calendar to make sure we weren’t welcoming April. As a red-blooded heterosexual, I don’t often find myself passing judgment on the attractiveness of men, but even I have to call B.S. on this choice. Last time I checked, “hick accent doubling as speech impediment” and “hair that smells like pot” were not high on ladies’ lists of desirable qualities in a mate.

• Anti-socials from coast to coast lined up for hours in hopes of snatching up Microsoft’s new Xbox 360 gaming system. (And they can have it. Me? I long for the glory days of the Atari 2600, when the directions were as simple as up, down, left, right and shoot.) I don’t have time to play video games and I sure as hell don’t have time to wait in line for the “pleasure” of buying one at midnight. What’s so special about shunning sleep and playing it all morning long the day it comes out, when it could be ordered off the Internet and you could avoid all that human contact? Would you brave the crowds and wait in line if it were a girl? Didn’t think so.

THE WITCH’S DAGGER is a wild, nasty blast of pure hardcore postSatanpunk with horns, figuratively and literally. The band is clever and talented enough to not just depend on straight-out aural assault. Instead, they intersperse darkly beautiful moments emphasizing the occasional banality of evil. This is most apparent in “Strip Mall Glass,” which is included as a video on the enhanced CD. This is the kind of band that even your friends say you shouldn’t go see. With a suicide scene on the cover, fetish party photos and a bestiality drawing in the liner notes, you might see why. But they’re really quite the horizon-widener. Tracks like “Let Me See Your Eyes” and “Like Lead” are simply fantastic, catchy songs. Instead of comparing them to someone else, let’s just take the powerful vocals of Rhani Lee Remedes, the horns of James Brooks Caperton, the bass of Krispy and the drums of Andrey Netboy on their own merits. Strong. –Mark Rose

Page France’s happy hallucinogenic sound on HELLO, DEAR WIND is one that you would hear from singing flowers and rainbows as you ride past them on your unicorn – figuratively speaking, of course. Strictly mellow and simplistically stated, HELLO is a lucid and dreamy album, great for neo-hippies all over. While this band has mastered its uniquely earthy sound, they’re nothing to jump for joy about. Rather they are justly fitting when you want to lean back and drift off to your happy place. –Andrea Aycock