If you are driving westbound on Sunrise Highway through Rockville Center, it’s a rather unspectacular piece of road. The LIRR runs along the north side and the south side has the usual donut shop, storage facility and empty store front that litters the south shore. However, on the corner of South Long Beach Road, sits a blue and white shack adorned with the name Bigelow’s Fried Clams.

It’s interior is as inauspicious as it’s menu is simple; a u-shaped low counter with stools, that encircles an open kitchen, consisting of a middle island service station and 4 fryers and a grill that line the back wall. Bigelow’s has been on this corner since 1939, when Russ Bigelow decided to open a New England style clam shack on Long Island. I know, sounds a little strange, considering LI is known for it’s own seafood specialties, particularly soft shelled clams, or what we Knickerbockers call steamers.

While these delectable mollusks are also known by another less flattering name, they are called Ipswich Clams at Bigelow’s and they are served lightly battered and fried. The menu has other fried fare, such as huge Deep Sea Scallops, Smelts (which I admit I’ve never tried) and Soft-Shelled Crabs when in season, but I almost always go for the Ipswich on a bun with some coleslaw and a splash of Frank’s hot sauce. One point of advice I like to give, order “on a bun”. If you order a platter, there is just too much food! Sure, you can split a platter, or be a gavone like Dave Batley, but without the bun you can’t slap some slaw on your eats!

I also highly recommend you start off your meal with a cup of soup, New England & Manhattan Clam Chowder or Lobster Bisque are available. The Manhattan is my fave, but all of the selections are outstanding.

There are grilled items on the menu, too. Salmon, Swordfish and Tuna steaks are available, as is grilled chicken and a burger, which I am sure are excellent, but why bother? The clams and scallops are the way to go. When I was trying to figure out how much oil they go though each week, Anthony (the owner/manager) informed me that they use 1,200 lbs a week. They change the oil every day! 1,200 lbs a week! Damn!

The place does a ton of business for a reason, they are simply the best at what they do! And what they do, unlike what Wolverine does, is very pretty indeed!

As Ms. Crowder’s site states, “The stars have aligned. Join us as we explore the writing of H. P. Lovecraft and work inspired by the mythos he created. We will post one assignment per day for 13 unholy days, beginning 26 July 2010. These short projects will encompass many topics, including literary criticism, personal reflection, pop culture, and arts and crafts. We shall conclude our exercise on 7 August 2010 in an orgy of compositional abandon, as we each finish our own eldritch tale of horror and delirium. Think of it as a doomed expedition to an eerie land of madness and decay, an exercise in pseudo-intellectual discourse, or just day camp for your twisted inner child. We are all doomed. Cthulhu fthagn.”

Well, that sounds right up my non-Euclidean alley! If you aren’t familiar with HPL’s stuff, here is a chance to really wrap your oozing tendrils around some of the most groundbreaking Horror of the early 20th century! Cthulhu fthagn, my brothers & sisters!

One of the symptoms of Crohn’s, a lot of people are unaware of, is it’s potential to cause ulcers on the extremities, usually the legs. Mike has long suffered with such an ulcer on his ankle, and while several Doctors that have actually seen Mike’s condition think he’s disabled, Cigna’s staff for some reason don’t agree. Shocking, isn’t it? If you are on Facebook, you can join Kim’s group here.

You should also check out United Patients of America, a 501 (c)(3) not for profit organization. The goal of United Patients of America is to give a voice to people and families who feel they have been abused by insurers. And it would seem to me that there is a lot of that going around.

I know quite often I can have the whole, “that shit wouldn’t happen if I was managing this place” attitude, but I have worked in and around the restaurant biz for the better part of twenty years. And that shit wouldn’t fly if I was running the show! You got a crowd that is hungry and wants to get drunk, they’re pretty damn congenial for a freak-show AND they’re hemorrhaging cash! Get them fed and drunk, in Shub-Niggurath’s name!

And then there was the literal case of Joe Unger’s still missing luggage! For those of you that don’t know, the esteemed Mr. Unger returned from the con floor to his room earlier that day for a nap. When looking for a clean undershirt, Mr. Unger discovered that housekeeping, under the impression that Mr. Unger had checked out, took all of Mr. Unger’s stuff and no one on staff had any idea where Mr. Unger’s stuff was!

This was a point of conversation amongst us at the booth, and Tony Todd was consoling Joe over at the bar. As I have mentioned earlier, Tony is one gregarious mofo and pretty much declared himself Master of Afterhours Ceremonies! He was holding court and really showing everyone a good time, particularly Joe, who was rapidly forgetting his lost underwear. Tony was also trying to convince Joe and Damian that they should head off to the local cabaret and take in some of Indianapolis’ female entertainers. Joe had gone the night before with Tony, and had his fill, while Damian was just being his usual bashful self. I had no idea the subject of supporting Mid-Western undergrad single moms had come up!

This was okay, though. I didn’t have the kind of money I like to have when I go out to a gentlemen’s club, and I don’t even drink anymore! But, f’real, the girls that work in those joints really earn their keep and if you aren’t prepared to throw down major coin, you got no bidness being there. Dig? I have a feeling that Tony would’ve been buying dances for folks left and right, but I believe you if you gonna hang with Tony Todd, you better represent! And if I had gone, I might not have hung out with Bob Schreck!

Some folks might get a giggle out of that. Yes, Bob is a very charming man, but I am STRAIGHT and Bob isn’t single. Bob is a bit of a legend in the comics biz, having worked at Comico, DC, Dark Horse and now, IDW. He also co-founded Oni Press and was an editor on the late, great Dave Stevens’ THE ROCKETEER, amongst other books. That night, we had the pleasure of Bob telling stories about Dave and a myriad of other folks that are considered the best of the best! One such tale concerned Alex Toth and Doug Wildley, squaring off in the Hanna-Barbera parking lot over who was going to get Stevens as an assistant!

Bob is just one of those guys that can spin yarns you want to listen to all night. And we did! He had everyone in our circle of chairs, and the folks that were popping in and out of the conversation, in stitches. Simply one of the funniest, most gregarious folks I’ve met, and if you know me, this is truly high praise indeed. I am, after all, Larry Kennedy’s son, I know great barroom bullshitters when I see them!

Eventually, we found ourselves outside the lobby, while people smoked. Maffei was ecstatic about $3 a pack and Noeland just couldn’t get his head around the idea that smokes were $13 bucks in NYC. I personally, could give a crap less about the price of cigs. Poison is taxed while big tobacco lobbies against decriminalization of marijuana. Ridiculous. That is a completely different topic from what we are talking about here; however, I actually did meet a veteran at the con that is fighting for her right to use medical marijuana. She was kind enough to take a picture of me with Basil Gogos and J. David Spurlock. Perhaps I will ask her for an interview, and I can cover this properly in another column.

Anyway, there was a big crowd of folks in various states of inebriation hanging in the front of the hotel when a taxi van pulled up. People that were much more inebriated than any of our crew began to spill out of the cab. Then, stepping out, like he should have had entrance music, was Mr. Tony Todd, bellowing “SINNERS!” and gesticulating with a half-eaten slider in one hand and a bag of White Castle, it’s contents unknown to me, in the other. From the grease stains, I would make an educated guess that it contained fries. Guess the neighborhood we visited the night before had more to offer than just White Castle and scary Chinese Restaurants.

It wasn’t long before Tony had Unger and Maffei in headlocks, and I think Damian might have actually taken a bite out of Tony’s slider. Tony was berating their manhood and referring to them as mofos, while the cab driver desperately tried to return a cd of music to Tony. Damian properly introduced me and Tony asked, “Why didn’t you come to the tittie bar, mofo?’

I said, “I din’t know you was going!”

Tony looked me in the eye and said, “You slide on it , then. Want some White Castle?”

I felt honored by this offer of late-night munchies, but I just can’t handle the White Castle anymore. I am ashamed.

Not a cup of the greatest coffee in the world, mind you, but the Maitre ‘d was kind enough to provide me with free refills. At least, I knew there would be proper fuel for the weekend. I got behind the wheel of the Impala and threw on The Best of Taj Mahal. I’d like to say that “Chevrolet” was the selection that played, but it was actually “Leaving Trunk”, which is a fine traveling song.

I zipped around the neighborhood, which was actually damned hilly, and found a CVS so I could get the Antarctic Sleestak some contact solution. I also grabbed some granola and fruit bars, just in case the talent at the RAW & CFTS tables wanted a snack. The tables were placed next to each other and I was worried that if Tim Bradstreet got peckish he might eat Joe Unger.

Joe and I really hit it off when we met at Monster Mania, 3 months ago, and I have long admired his work. Joe has probably the coolest cutting room floor credit of all time, he robbed the federal reserve with Snake Plissken! He thanked me for the grub, decided to take a break from the table and went upstairs to enjoy a power-nap. I thought that was an outstanding idea. Little did I realize that I would have a much more pleasant experience than Mr. Unger!

What is it about a hotel room in the afternoon that inspires long naps? I knew the con was a swirl of spectacle, but I just wanted to crawl under the blankets take a snooze. Why not? Turned out there was a green room for the talent with a buffet and they were even allowing Maffei in to have an eat! There was a very lovely, if not a little high-strung, young lady attending to the boys, and if anyone really needed me, they had my cell phone number. So I drifted off into a dreamless slumber while trouble began to stir on the floor below me.

This time I awoke to a hotel room that was pleasantly cool and the sun was low in the Western sky. Our room actually faced that way, otherwise I’d have had no idea how high or low the sun was! Realizing that it was after 7pm, I hurried down the hallway (which seemed to stretch out like the corridor that tormented JoBeth Williams in POLTERGEIST because our room was so far out of the way) towards the elevator, encountering Damian as he came around the corner. He informed me that Joe, Tim, Noeland and Tim’s homeboy who went by the handle “Detroit Jones”, were all going to grab chow on premise. This seemed like a good idea to me, since I had only scarfed down a granola bar that day.

When I got to the lobby, there were several burly examples of hotel security standing at strategic points of coverage throughout, and the local boys in blue were helping someone into a prowler outside. I saw Joe Unger perusing the going-ons and asked him what was going on. He informed me that when the showroom closed, one of the attendees took umbrage at being asked to leave the con floor. He took such umbrage that he dropped the “N-bomb”, which did not go over well with security.

“Looks like security is really taking care of business,” I commented, while a particularly mean looking square-badge gave me the stink-eye.

Joe retorted, “Well, be nice if the found my luggage!”

“What?!”, I blurted out incredulously.

“When I went back up to my room to take a break, I noticed that housekeeping had cleaned up the place. I went to get a clean undershirt from the closet and my stuff was gone!”

“What?!”, I blurted out incredulously.

“Seems housekeeping thought I’d checked out and left my luggage behind. Good thing that I had my laptop, but all my damn clothes are gone!”

“What?!”, I blurted out incredulously. (Boy, I like that, huh?)

“They are searching top-to-bottom, they say.  But, they probably won’t get any real results till the head of housekeeping comes in tomorrow morning.”

Still unable to accept this ridiculous turn of events, I queried “Why wouldn’t housekeeping contact the front desk and make sure that you were actually gone? They have your phone number! I mean, your not just a guest of the hotel’s, your picture is on the convention’s web-site! You are certainly handling this better than I would be, Joe.”

And he certainly was handling it better than I would have. Joe was actually being civil with these folks, which is not the way I handle people who take my stuff and then have no idea where it went. Steal my crap, fine. Take my crap and then don’t know where you put it, not fine. Not. Fine. At. All.

Joe and I eventually strolled into the bar. I found Timmy B, Noeland and Detroit Jones, chilling in a booth. All with iceless colas, the straws bobbing in the liquid, nothing keeping them upright in the glass. Evidently the bar was running low on ice. The place was packed and the staff were running themselves ragged. I had conversation with a member of the wait staff while grabbing coffee, and she informed me that people were upset by how long service was taking at breakfast. Really, now?

Hadn’t they realized that they might need extra staff and that additional prep work might need to be done? Considering that you had a convention loaded with people that are not known for their restraint; but the rather bacchanalian attitude to which they approached film, literature, art and music, much less food and drink? Might have been a good idea. They certainly had enough security and housekeeping, it seemed. And how in Cthulhu’s name do you run out of ice when there are several machines on each floor?! You’ve got 6 floors! Have a busboy get a couple of buckets! Jeeez!

It was of particular interest for me, as the voice of BellMojo, to attend this convention since CLOSED FOR THE SEASON starring Damian Maffei and Joe Unger (the man that robbed the federal reserve with Snake Plissken) was having a screening on Saturday. Our pals Tom Jane and Tim Bradstreet were also screening DARK COUNTRY, Raw Entertainment’s debut film.

Directed by and starring Tom with Lauren German, this wonderful little exploration in noir  showcases Timmy B’s amazing production design and features Hellboy himself, Mr. Ron Perlman, as one of the best on-screen Officer Dillagafs of all-time!

Unfortunately, Tom was not able to attend, as a close friend of his passed on suddenly, and our hearts go out to him for his loss. However, the incomparable Timmy B was present, as gregarious and lovable as ever, like a burly Renaissance Man. If you are unfamiliar with Tim’s name, there’s very little chance you are unfamiliar with his art! Having started out in the mid-80’s illustrating such groundbreaking role-playing games as TWILIGHT 2000 and the still popular SHADOWRUN franchise. Continuing to be on the cutting-edge, Tim influenced a generation with his contributions to VAMPIRE:The Masquerade and then went on to illustrate arguably the greatest anti-heroes of both the DC and Marvel universes, John Constantine and The Punisher!

I’m getting ahead of myself. Damian and I arrived at Indianapolis International and grabbed our ride (Thank you for the upgrade, Hertz. The Impala was nice!) and headed to the Wyndham Indy West. Upon arrival, as I dropped Damian off to check-in, a familiar face was exiting a cab. It was none other than Basil Gogos, the legendary artist that is most closely associated with Famous Monsters of Filmland, about to carry his own bags into the lobby! Meanwhile, there was a crowd of red-shirted volunteers, oblivious as a bunch Trek security officers about to be disintegrated! I grabbed the Maestro’s bags, found the nearest head of staff and said, “This is one of your guests of honor. Maybe you’d like to find a volunteer to carry his bags to his room?”

I was then dispatched to pick up Mr. Unger at the airport, a trip that actually found me missing the hotel’s exit and looping back to the Hertz drop-off, thanks to me hitting the wrong choice on the GPS. Joe broke my chops the whole weekend about it, but he would have been lucky if that was the only screw-up to which Joe was victim. Once again, I’m getting ahead of myself and we’ll return to Joe’s adventure later.

The first person I sought out at the con was veteran character actor Terry Alexander. We have a mutual friend and Terry was very gracious. He also hasn’t aged a day since being cooped up in an abandoned missile silo with bunch of the living dead! Truly a credit to his craft. Terry was only one of many very fine actors and artists in attendance, including Billy Drago, William Forsythe, Kerry Gamill, Mick Garris, Danielle Harris, Kane Hodder, Tom Savini, J. David Spurlock, William Stout, Tony Todd and Winston Zeddemore himself, Mr. Ernie Hudson! Even Harry Knowles was tooling around in his wheelchair.

That evening, Damian and I joined Tim Bradstreet and some friends, including artist/filmmaker and fellow Lobster Johnson enthusiast, Noeland Collins. Our plan was to caravan in several cars to a local Chinese Buffet that had received 4 stars in a local review. After much deliberation and coordination we set off to this supposed Mid-Western Shangri-La of culinary delights. After a solid twenty minute drive, we found ourselves in what would seem to be the only dicey neighborhood in Indianapolis. We parked in a vast vacant lot, across the street from a White Castle, always an omen of civic charm and fine locale cuisine, and perused a Chinese Restaurant which could easily be used for interior shots of Mama Wong’s! With some quick discussion and the skills with the gps I had acquired after my earlier debacle, we headed to downtown Indy and had some damn fine nachos and great conversation at some brew-pub.

When we were departing, 3 lovely women who were in town touring local vineyards (didn’t know Indiana had vineyards) asked if we’d be so kind as to take there picture. As the conversation progressed, it turns out that they were fans of Tom Jane and had met him recently. Small world, indeed!

The bar was still packed when we returned to the hotel, so we sat in the lobby shooting the breeze while the freaks partied through the night, lovable mutants that they are! Then the self-appointed King of the Ball, Tony Todd returned from the topless bar with Joe Unger in tow! Both of them feeling no pain! Let me tell you something about Tony, I have always been a fan and he is exactly what a celebrity should be when hanging with his fan base! Damn, was he cool! Taking pics, hugging folks, actually treating Damian Maffei like a fellow professional! I mean that’s class! All kidding aside, Tony was a sweetheart to everybody, and it was great watching him hold court the whole weekend.

Eventually, just about everyone slipped off to their rooms, and I think I hit the sack around 5 am. A very full first day was had and more was awaiting everyone in the morning, particularly Mr. Joe Unger!

First off, I am currently listening to Ron Bennington interview Colin Quinn. If you’ve never heard Ronnie Bennington, he is simply the best interviewer on the planet. Period. Tune in Sunday nights on Sirius/XM to hear this interview with Colin, which is one of the best I’ve heard and I have been in the audience for several.

Well, I figure I may as well comment on last week’s LOST and the penultimate episode which aired last night.

Last night’s was actually very good, but it seems that they have really been doing things either arbitrarily or through Deus ex Machina. I am in terrible fear that they may just be a season late and a few bills of Dharma Initiative scrip short. As for last week, we now know where Adam & Eve came from, but it wasn’t the greatest of origins for Hawk & Dove. I mean Jacob and his Nemesis.

Just before the finale, we have been told who will take Jacob’s place, the alternate survivors are starting to figure it out and there will be some event when they are brought together at Faraday’s concert but I am having problems caring!

The Light must always be protected! Really?! Then why is it there? Things turned out alright when Prometheus stole fire from the Gods the first time around. And who appointed the crazy bitch anyway? It’s a reverse Oedipus situation. And that’s something else that bothers me, the Greek concept of fate used in modern fiction. “You have to have faith in something.”

No. No, you don’t, and it’s pandering when a show as intelligently written as LOST relies on this particular sophistry. Yeah, Locke had faith, because he was witness to a genuine miracle. And I mean genuine! That guy couldn’t walk and then he’s traipsing about hunting boar and building trebuchets! That’s not acting on faith, it’s acting upon evidence! Would have helped if Locke had told everyone that he had been confined to a wheelchair right off the bat, of course.

It just bothers me from my Athio-Agnostic point of view. I don’t mind when stuff seems mysterious or magical, but I like it when the magic has some rules and an explanation greater than “It’s the purest, brightest light in the world!” C’mon, you can do better than that. Is it an electromagnetic primordial ooze or even some kind of Quantum “stem-cell” that can be manipulated by the telepathically gifted? Gimme something! Roger Zelazny would’ve given me something.

PJK 5/19/10

Recently CLOSED FOR THE SEASON, a film in which Damian stars, had a very well received premier at Monster-Mania. The film is a surreal foray into the Limbo of an abandoned amusement park directed by Jay Woelful. CFTS, which also features Aimee Brooks and Joe Unger; the man that robbed the Federal Reserve with Snake Plisskin, is going to premier at Cannes this week!

All very cool stuff indeed, but the really amazing news is that you can see Damian performing live in a new play written and directed by Tom Sime, MIRACLE DAY.  The show stars Adam Smith with Kristina Olson and Marcella Goheen, with music by The Epicures at 45 BLEEKER ,every Monday & Tuesday through June at 8:15 pm. You should really take the opportunity to see this exhilarating Off-Broadway show starring an incredible and dynamic cast. Good chance I will be in the audience.

Patrick J. Kennedy