Monthly Archives: December 2011

Space Latkes and Christmas Trees


Happy Hanukkah!

It’s that time of the year, known by many names in different traditions. A time for gift-giving, turkey basting, bargain hunting, and family feuding. Nevermind your jacked up credit by the end of January – it’s the thought that counts! And don’t hate Uncle Karl for bestowing that re-gifted Paco Rabanne  upon you; it might come in handy for that distant relative of yours sometime in the near future.

As usual, that momentous occasion came and went in a flash. However, there was occasion for me to celebrate something besides the usual sorrel and sweetbread of a Caribbean expatriate Christmas. My Toronto Christmas was green. No snow on Christmas day with mild temperatures – hooray! Not only that, it was smoking green. This season, I am proud to say I became an honorary Jew. How the heck did that happen? On Boxing Day, I crashed a latke party thrown by a Jewish musician. I didn’t know latke from my left elbow, but all it took was the mention of food to get my wayward attention. We arrived fashionably early, just in time to pounce upon a delectable spread of lovingly prepared hors d’oeuvres. Sweet potato pie, crisp green salad and raw veggies with dip kicked things off with a promising start. Mmmm….Our Jewish host, JR, looked pretty hunky with floured hands and grease smeared apron, happily frying latkes with the aid of an assistant. I discovered latkes (pronounced lat-kas) are small, potato pancakes – a popular Hanukkah treat. These humble-looking lovelies were served with a guilt-inducing dollop of sour cream and homemade applesauce. I was a latke virgin ‘til the first bite of deep fried goodness sent me into hyperspace. After a generous slice of spiced pumpkin pie washed down with a glass of wine, I was overwhelmed by serious contentment vibes. Watching Tom Selleck’s  hot ass making waves across the screen on vintage episodes of Magnum P.I. certainly added to the festivity, while Dj Laptop’s selection of contemporary goodies replaced the dialogue. As the peace pipe got passed around, I reflected on my good fortune and thanked my friend for introducing me to a fresh new vibe.

Space latkes are outta this world

            “I smell latkes!” announced a jolly guest barging through the front door. In no time, the house was packed with an assortment of well wishers and honorary Jews like myself. I migrated to the spacious kitchen, where the party got cranked up a notch with convivial guests chatting up a storm and blazing tobacco outside. I heard through the grapevine that more latkes were on the way. Perched on a swivel chair, drink in hand, I eagerly awaited their arrival. “Anybody want space latkes?” inquired a cheerful woman, holding a plate of dark brown edibles. Really? Space latkes? How generous! I grabbed 2 and bit into one, looking for evidence of yuletide magnanimity. Tiny flecks of a dark green substance that was definitely not parsley were present. After the second helping, I had just enough room left for a brewsky. Meanwhile a crowd had gathered in the living room for the lighting of the Hanukkah candelabrum. In the background, I couldn’t help noticing how Tom Selleck’s junk had rolled up on one side of his blue jeans. I began to suspect that this oversight was deliberately engineered – either by Selleck himself or his crafty stylist. The whole thing reeked of Private Investigator porn… Eight, multi-coloured candles were lit  one by one, as Hanukkah stories were recited and songs sung in Yiddish. Wired out on jacked up latkes and peace pipes galore, I clapped along, providing a bit of elementary percussion. It was the least I could do as an honorary Jew.

The party continued in the chicly furnished basement. Some thoughtful individual provided air mattresses in what became known as the “plounge room.” Roughly a dozen peeps were chilling out down here. Now dis is where the real party’s at! A lone vaporizer sat sulkily in a corner, longing for some kind person to maximize its pleasure giving potential. Tom and I decided to rescue the poor thing from languishing in obscurity. Soon we were puffing along with other happy space cadets, gladly giving the vaporizer a much needed workout.

“This lady’s definitely mellowed out,” remarked a fellow plounger lying next to me as I stared at the ceiling, luxed out amidst a pile of cushions. As if it wasn’t enough that the space latkes had rendered me incapable of speech and doing anything besides smiling….I plounged right the fuck out, as the peace pipe got passed around. Ahhhh, Christmas never smelt so good! My shoulders got a goodly massage, while my foot received random reflexology from a Jewish dude who decided to make a headrest out of my shin. What could I say? I was spoilt rotten. Tom and I were the last to leave, sometime after 3 in the morning, after a brief excursion to a reggae party at Embassy – and back to the house, just in time for the Ploungefest Closing Ceremony which entailed yet another round of tree burning.

I woke up around noon the following day after crashing out solid. Rumor had it that a free dinner and dance was being held at the synagogue in Kensington later on. Seeing how free dinners were currently en vogue, we decided to check it out. A lively celebration was going on in the basement, with Jews in traditional dress clapping and dancing along to a live, 3 piece band performing traditional songs. A snack table had been set out, but the only thing that caught my eye were the twizzlers. We had arrived a little late so perhaps we had missed out on the real goodies. Lo and behold, within minutes, a smiling Jewish elder presented a plate with the instantly recognizable savouries, happily diffusing oil on a paper towel.

“Would you like some latkes?” Oh yes please! I grabbed the greasy tiding of gastronomic joy and proceeded to christen it with sour cream. I was getting the hang of this Hanukkah thing pretty fast – the eating part, that is. Oh my God…this one was even tastier than what I had last night! Tom’s Jewish lesbian friend who’d also attended last night’s latkefest came to the same conclusion. These babes tasted like they were craftily seasoned with secret recipe expertise by a Jewish granny. Mmmm mmm! Although these didn’t come from space, they were every bit as mind-blowing, bite for bite. It was equally gratifying to watch the drummer rocking it out on the kit. Too bad I couldn’t understand what the lead guitarist and frontman were singing about but there were kids here too, so I’m sure the setlist must have been kosher.

    After experiencing Christmas, X-mas and Kwanzaa, I can now add Hanukkah to the list. I must admit I didn’t learn much about the tradition itself, but I discovered that Jewish people sure know how to throw kick ass dinner parties. Does that make me a Jew lover? You bet.

Copyright © 2011 Frankie Diamond. All rights reserved. This article may not be copied in part or whole and posted to another site or reproduced without the express permission of the author

Frankenräver’s Up and Coming Book



Frankenräver doesn’t believe in Santa Claus but I sure do believe in The Joy of Ecstasy!  As a child, I never bothered to question the logistics of how a fat white man in a polyester suit could fly all the way to the Caribbean in a sled pulled by reindeer, in a land where chimneys don’t exist. And those reindeer are sure to set off a shitstorm of barking in the yard, subsequently waking everyone’s asses up. Screw that glass of milk – that bottle of punch a creme cooling off on the counter might go missing…

Anyways, I digress. Here’s a sneak preview of Frankenräver’s latest literary creation; a book about Toronto’s rave scene in the ’90’s, soon to be released on an e-reader near you! Get the exclusive scoop here b4 the damn thing goes viral. Time to break out that bubble chair that’s been dry-rotting in the attic and get a taste of something savoury while quantities last (See posting below).

Excerpt from Frankenräver’s Book about ’90’s Rave Scene


More than an hour’s passed since I dosed & I don’t feel a damn thing. I started thinking I wasted $20 of my hard earned money on what could’ve been aspirin when suddenly I feel a tingly sensation in my legs. Then as quickly as it came it went. I told Griff about it. “You’re gonna start rushing soon,” he reassures me. By now the place is rammed to capacity and it’s fucking HOT. Over to my right, a group of ravers are sitting on the floor, each giving the person in front of them a massage. A bunch of guys blowing whistles and horns snake their way through the crowd. One of them shouts, “CAN YOU FEEL THE LUVVV!!!.” People hi-5 them as they go past. One of them’s dressed up as the white rabbit. I wish I could kill a friggin jabberwocky just so I could have something to do, when this seriously weird character emerges from the crowd just in front of me. He’s decked out in crimson from head to foot. Even his skin’s painted red. A ruffle made of red feathers adorns his neck and he’s clad in pantaloons, red tights & pointy shoes. That’s fucking rich! He must be the Red King. As he comes closer, I notice he’s sporting red n yellow contacts with double irises and black pupils. The Red King never took his eyes off me, not even for a second. He finally stops a few inches in front of me and looks straight into my eyes. In a deep, rumbly voice he uttered, “Pu-kaw…Pu-kaw.” Then he backed off slowly, eyes ferociously locked into mine. The crowd closed over him like a wave and he disappeared from sight. What the hell does pu-kaw mean? What the fuck was that all about?

Suddenly, this queer sensation begins to creep up on me. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin like miniscule pebbles. I felt those tingles return but this time they invaded my body like a possessive lover. They kissed my face and neck, licked my breasts, raced up and down my arms like tiny insects. After conquering my torso, they spread down to my groin. I felt my clit come to life & was galvanized on the spot. My eyes began to twitch & roll up in my head. Fuucckkk….oh my Gawwdd I’M RUSSHHIINNG!!! It was the most fucking incredible sensation. I lifted my hands to the sky while Griff, Deb & Pete cheered me on. Griffin picked me up & gave me a hug. It felt so good that my body melted like ice-cream on a hot summer sidewalk. And when he swung me around, I felt like a blue star blazing in outer space. He put me down & I almost fell to the floor, for I’d gone limp with pleasure. For some odd reason, I keep thinking gum is stuck under my shoes so I’m constantly lifting my feet up. Tonya kept reassuring me that there wasn’t anything there. “You’re tripping!” she giggled. And the music…the music’s taken on 3-dimensional properties, the likes of which I’d never experienced before. Suddenly everything made sense now. It was as if someone had flicked a hi-voltage switch on in my brain. Techno was speaking to me, revealing all its cunning little secrets it kept carefully hidden from the uninitiated. As of this moment, I was officially inducted into The Hall of Rave. No turning back – ever. It was the most perfect music in the world. That driving bass pounded like a ruthless mercenary through my flesh and bone body, charging up my friggin atoms, smashing anti-rave illusions while effectively pulverizing my narrow musical expectations with sonic impunity. No other sound on Earth could ever be so right for Planet Ecstasy & her E’d out inhabitants.

Copyright © 2011 Frankie Diamond. All rights reserved. Excerpts of less than 200 words may be published to another site, including a link back to the original article. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety and posted to another site without the express permission of the author.

Prince removes vids from Youtube


Well well…Prince’s lawyers seem to think that my low res, minute long video clips constitute copyright infringement so they’ve been disabled on my ytube but strangely enough, still seem to work here.

I personally think His Royal Badness is going over the top, as I posted these clips to share with fans. So there’s no profit motive behind this, but I guess his legal team would beg to differ. Sign o’ the times folks!