Journalist, Author & Syndicated Columnist
The Diceman cometh again, and nothing is safe from his vitriol — not even parsley. The maligned herb is nothing compared to his take on obese people, shoplifting and keeping up with the Joneses. How much of this is shtick vs. reality? You be the judge. He performs tonight at the Rosemont Theatre.
Craig Nicholls, the diminutive frontman of the Vines, set the stage for Q101’s annual Twisted 9 megaconcert Sunday at the Allstate Arena when he lost his footing and fell into the photo pit early in the Vines’ half-hour set. Crawling back onstage, Nicholls threw his guitar around enough to show that while he was p.o.’d and embarrassed, he wasn’t hurt.
A downtown office worker was so offended by the smell of a colleague’s spicy lunch, she called security. Now that’s passive aggressive.
Just before Blink-182 stepped on stage to headline the Q101 Twisted 8 Ball Thursday night at the United Center, Barry Williams–best known to pop culture fans as the eldest son on “The Brady Bunch”–weaved through the audience making like Eminem. “Will the real Greg Brady please stand up?” Williams chanted as he hopped around on stage. It was a funny moment, but what followed next was weird in the context of a holiday rock show. Q101 personality Mancow Muller appeared onstage to introduce the Portage, Ind., honor guard. The men stood at attention as Wayne Messmer sang a searing rendition of the “Star Spangled Banner.” And then one of Muller’s cohorts led the crowd in a chant of “USA!”
If you can’t find something fun to do on a Chicago weekend, then you’re an idiot. So says Mancow Muller, the popular, outspoken morning drive radio personality at WRCX-FM (103.5). For the uninitiated, Muller, 30, is a man who doesn’t weather boredom well either on his radio show or his live rock ‘n’ roll extravaganzas. For instance, at his “Hell-O-Ween Spectacular” last month at the United Center, his sideshow included dozens of lap dancers who took their acts to audience members. Then there was the little matter of feeding time for the 600-pound snake and a little donkey named Danny, but we won’t go there for a bit. So it was with curiosity that the Sun-Times set out to chronicle a typical night out with the popular shock jock.