Given the daily volatility of the roller-coaster financial markets and the increasingly heated campaign-trail polemics, it would appear, looking back, that the events of October 16th, 2006 exhibit a level of painful dullness and ennui unseen since Al Gore’s 2000 presidential campaign.

That particular pre-Halloween day in history is a global meh. The two most intriguing events I could find, in fact, were: “American and Russian scientists announce the discovery of a new chemical element with the atomic number 118, temporarily designated as Ununoctium” and “The government of Hong Kong will not appeal a court ruling striking down the territory’s sodomy law.” Huzzah for inter-territorial chemistry and South Chinese sodomy. Otherwise, nuthin’ doin’.
But on that nondescript morning, this superfluous exercise in inanity called Hidden Track first plastered its guttural verbiage on the world wide web. Someday, “The HT Inception” will make it onto Wikipedia. Exactly two years later, its dead-weight founder having jumped ship for fear of a stress-induced psychotic break, Elton John’s got a song about this here rag, and it involves “still” and “standing.” Only this blog isn’t just standing still — it’s flourishing beyond my loftiest expectations and wettest dreams. I started it as a farce; it’s now become a force.
When the Glide Folk and I conceived this project in a West Village bar (not a leather daddy establishment), we had agreed to something along the lines of two or three posts per week. The Prolific-As-Fuck Scotty B wouldn’t hear of it when I asked him to come along for the ride; no, he wanted us to go all in, throw the kitchen sink at everyone. We did, and soon enough this site featured four-post days and tons of copy. Scotty had always been the true driver, and under his leadership over the last nine months, he’s taken it to new heights. The redesign, the columns, the features, the music: It’s Evander Holyfield here — I’m talkin’ the real deal.
So “happy anniversary” to this inanimate creation, and “job well done” to Mr. Scotty Bizzle. Like your old neighborhood, you love to see things get better in your absence; I’m truly proud to watch HT transform into a legit source of news, debate and opinion.
And now I present you with my re-run of choice. Of all my favorite posts, I like this one best strictly because I’m trying to spread the phrase “Mariachi Metal.” That’ll be my Pat Riley “Threepeat.” Shit, now I owe Riley four cents.
READ ON for thoughts and pics and videos from an amazing night at Webster Hall with Mexico’s Rodrigo Y Gabriela…