Gather ’round the campfire, younglings, and let Ole Blazer recount some of the most horrifying, blood-curdling, bone-chilling stories that I’ve been told of that most dreadful slice of the musician’s pie—the recording studio! What follows are completely true, one-hundred-percent accurate anecdotes that are unsourced and unverified. While the events that transpired in these tales did happen, I will not name names. Not to protect the privacy of badly behaved musicians but to protect the engineers and producers who told me these stories in confidence so they’ll keep giving me the goods. Just know that these stories involve more than a little famous pop stars. Don’t believe me? I couldn’t care less! I don’t even know who you are! You probably think the stripper in front of you actually likes you, so your bullshit detector is clearly broken...

All right, kids, class is back in session. Last month, I began this philosophy crash course with a selection of teachings from Socrates. Among the students who sat and learned from Socrates, aside from Bill and Ted, was Plato, whose name has become synonymous with republics and friends who don’t fuck. But I’m not here to teach you about republics or platonic friendships—I’m sure you can figure that stuff out on your own. I’m teaching you about philosophy, which it just so happens is another thing Plato is known for. Let’s dig in, shall we?...

If you make your way around Portland’s strip club scene, Richie Stratton is sure to be a familiar face. You can find him hosting Sinferno Cabaret at Dante’s on Sunday nights, Kit Kat Showclub on Wednesdays and Fridays, and co-hosting alongside the lovely Axel at the Polerotica and Miss Exotic Oregon finals. Beyond his gift for hosting events with a fun and entertaining stage presence, Richie is a creative multi-hyphenate with talents that include screenwriting, a 20-year-and-running career in stand-up comedy, and most recently, creating and self-publishing a comic book alongside co-writer Aaron Wagner and illustrator Marcus Lake...

This month, I’m focusing on celebrity-branded products. While one might be quick to think of Martha Stewart, Gordon Ramsay, or possibly even Rachael Ray, those do not count. They are cooks by trade, so it only makes sense for them to have their own food brands for humans and animals. I’m talking about celebrities who have no business endorsing certain things. Why is Lynda Carter’s face on a fire extinguisher? That sort of thing. This was inspired by a recent trip to the supermarket, wherein I saw one of the oddest product/celebrity endorsements I’ve seen in recent history. On with the list...