The theft of the Century...
... ended last week, when the cops told Buzz our stolen Buick Century had been found and we could go get it. One thing is clear: The culprit was not a Buffalonian. We know, because we did our own detective work when we went to get the car, which was parked at East North street and Lemon. (Lemon Street. The nerve! What were the thieves implying?) Shrewdly, Buzz noticed a Subway wrapper that was not there before crumpled on the floor. And our Entertainment Book lay on the passenger seat. And the coupon for Subway was still in there! No Buffalonian would resist the opportunity to use a coupon. This was an out-of-town job. Police, take note.
The mean streets
The wheels haven't come off, as Van Miller would put it, in our search for a replacement car. But they turn slowly. A Tonawanda guy, when Buzz caught him in a lie about the car he was selling, kept our $100 deposit and told us, "Get off my property." Then he told his son: "That's what happens when you try to give someone a good deal." Next we visited dealers. On the first stop, the sales guy took the opportunity to bash other car brands. "Read the warranty's fine print," he barked. At another dealer, one guy sent us, generously, to another salesman. But the second guy ungraciously said the first was full of bull. Finally Buzz, our head reeling, consulted a friend's husband who sells cars out on Transit Road. "Don't buy a car," he sighed. "Buy a house instead."
Last weekend, when the old Motown group the Contours played Kleinhans Music Hall, the keyboard player did the talking. He referred to Niagara-Wheatfield -- kids from that school district were present -- as "Niagara Wheatstone." Peddling CDs, he said, "We don't need the money, but the people we owe money to need the money." Ha, ha! Contrast that charming yakker with Son Volt at Lafayette Square. Sour front man Jay Farrar said only one thing we can recall, and that was one measly "Thanks, folks." No wonder a guy from the audience leapt on stage and jumped around in front of the lead guitarist. Someone had to remind the band the crowd was there.
How shall we tell the dancer from the dance? It's not hard. Sunday, Buzz saw Configuration Dance at Studio Arena. One number showed a quarreling couple who gave long, hilarious monologues. The earthy "High-Heeled Shoes Blues" was about a woman who loved stilettos. In contrast, a harrowing story of cancer set to Wagner's smoldering "Tristan und Isolde" made everyone weep. Well. Fast-forward to later at the Bijou Grill. Caitlin Mundth, half of the prattling couple, was quiet. The stilettos princess protested when friends tried to take her picture. And Buzz got to sit next to Michael Shannon, who choreographed the cancer dance, and he never stopped cracking jokes. What a weird species dancers are! At least one thing made sense. True to stereotype, they all kept going outside to smoke.
Thrilling to see the Maumee, a huge Great Lakes freighter, unloading coal at a waterfront cement plant. Who needs theme parks and Bass Pro? We'd rather see good old commerce. ... Happy ending: Toby, the basset hound whose "resource guarding" we giggled about last week, has been adopted. His owners say: "He is a nice dog and not so aggressive about food as the Web site stated." Clearly not a Buffalo dog.
"Thank you for being part of our history."
-- Recording at the Pearl Street Grill and Brewery, played to patrons in the restrooms