Finally a Finale

Seven years ago today, Typing Monkey International launched a subsidiary publishing effort known as Typing Monkey Industries. Thus The Typing Monkey began with a music review and all was right with the world.

In the years that followed, we went through four interns, coped with the death of two animals dearly loved by all at TMI, and this blog gradually degraded from critical voice on corners of the pop culture world both bright and dark, to a YouTube video re-posting machine.

The time has come for The Typing Monkey to turn off the lights (except for the one above the stove), draw the shades and cancel our subscription to Highlights.

As far as we know, former publisher and editor-at-large, S.L. Kreighton has taken a job as a docent in the Chasing Rainbows museum. He didn't even say good-bye. [Curiously, the petty cash box is missing. -- ed.]

Custodian and sometime-contributor, Kris Kendall, has volunteered to auction off the furniture. And should he decide to post anything here, reader, you'll be the only one who cares.

All inquiries may be directed to typingmonkeyATlive.com. Thanks for reading. You've been great. G'night!

Parkland Spawned a Monster

Aw yiss!




Shameless? Yes. Proud? Damn straight. Even some upstart music blog is pretending like they knew about this.

A Note To Our Reader

We have heard you. You'd like to get some sort of alert when new content is posted on The Typing Monkey. And while we don't and won't have a Facebook or Twitter presence, TMI is now offering an e-mail alert system.

Want us to send you a message to let you know there's fresh stuff to see here? Send an e-mail to typingmonkeyATlive.com with the subject line: Touched by a monkey.

After we laugh at you for actually doing that, we'll add you to the distribution list and you'll start receiving alerts for as long as you like. If the alerts bother you, simply reply to the alerts with the subject line "Unsubscribe."

And yes, "AT" in that e-mail address indicates the @ sign, but keeping TMI's e-mail address out of the text helps us avoid spam via bots and crawlers.

Now, for your troubles, please enjoy this fake album cover. If we could track down the original source of this, we'd give that person credit because it still makes us laugh.

Look!

Andrew Monko has a camera. He uses it to take pictures of people, places and things. Some of these photographs are pure documentary, some are staged, others get experimental. See what he does with his camera on Flickr.

"Tombstone Row" by Andrew Monko, from the series Airstream Junkyard; Jun 2011.

Not Just Clean, '80s Retro Clean

Look!

TMI VIP The Amazing Mrs. Kendall sent us this photo and claims she found the soap that way one afternoon. Lies, damnned lies and soap art.

"Listen; there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go."

If you meet them at the right point in your life, certain people retain a sort of permanent cool. Reality be damned, a strong first impression can forever shade the way you think of another person.

For me, Scott Burroughs will always be one of those characters. He was, literally, my big brother’s cool friend -- a scarecrow of a teen, months away from daring the 1979-era Tacoma, Washington population to not stare at his mohawk. Scott was a triple threat: black, punk and disarmingly sweet.

Wig Out! magazine would run a tiny cartoon of “Reverend” Scott Burroughs sometime around 1984, with text reading, “often imitated, never duplicated.” They were referring to his skateboarding skills, but those words could just as easily apply to the man himself. Even with the ‘80s in full swing, daring to be different along the Seattle-Tacoma corridor still had shock value, and Scott seemed ahead of the curve in that regard.

In the mid-‘90s I saw him in person again for the first time in years. We were crowded on the floor of a now-defunct music venue watching the first “reunion” performance of The Specials. (Still no Terry Hall, but nobody was taking any chances.) With his giant dreadlocks, colorful clothes and wide grin, it made perfect sense to see Scott there. That first Specials album can’t be separated from my appraisal of Scott Burroughs and other things that remain unimpeachably hip.

His life was not without troubles, though I know little of those. To me, Scott remained a sort of superhuman presence thanks to the power of memory. Of course, he performed in numerous bands, most recently playing bass and singing in Thankless Dogs.

The last time I talked to Scott was at a wake, oddly enough. He genially tolerated my aging father’s bad jokes and loud conversation. He was nothing if not a gentleman, and I’m sure, entirely human, no matter what I think. But I still think Scott Burroughs is one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.

Good-bye, Scott.

Kris Kendall didn't know Mr. Burroughs would be going so soon, or he might have told him this in person. Well, you never know.