There was an interesting part, in both their proto-careers when Michael Keaton & James Belushi almost starred in the same sit-com about roommates, perhaps in the industrial brown-stone civic beer-hall of Pittsburgh. Or maybe “it was Cincinnati”.
But that sort of blue-collar/ethnic comedy? Speak to me about the run-down, Democratic cities and you wouldn’t have to tunnel “too deep into the netherworld” to find yourself in good ole’ south St. Louis.
Lots of beer breweries, mesh baseball caps, handle-bar mustaches, and gonzo Jim Henson Children’s Television Workshop value “this side of Cheech n’ Chong….. Ted Nugent’s “Cat Scratch Fever” wailing on the record player as they knock back dark-brown Busch bottles.
Furniture? Thy name is a milk-crate and a big-bellied, droop-earlobed plaster Buddha statue like an altar to pot and “DEATH TO DISCO”, if not an amateur herpatologist’s snake-cage humming in the corner under a pink light as simple house-plants beat in the pungent breeze by the sun-dappled window and smell of BBQ’d pork steaks.
Call it “the crash pad”…… eeking out a hole-in-the-wall existence amid the tumbled, jutting-up sidewalk where weeds grow in-between the cracks like Popsicle juice and New Left murals of peace & togetherness, ecumenical Cathedral mass and the bleeding thorns of Italian-Roman Jesus and hokey parochial school by the scratching quill of St. Aquinas.
You’d better believe it…… your day-job at ole’ “Channderson Electric” like something out of DANTE’S INFERNO with trenches of molten-metal and flying-sparks. Your roommate, in mustard-yellow and green coveralls smelling of fried wires and arc-welded ozone.
And Friday? A good ole’ party. Beetlejuice will see you there as he crashes on someone’s couch like some foul, work-shy scheme by which a dream floats like armpit stench and dark circles under his eyes. It’s the night-shift in the morgue, if you working-stiff’s didn’t know enough to gather your beer-bottles close “from free-loader’s” and faster, ingratiating talk.
Does anybody know this guy? He just “sort of showed-up” and no one knows for sure…..
And this is for all you animals, INFERNO-ROOM style at the ole’ Delta House. Don’t be “that guy”…..