I’ll keep this brief, because we are celebrating our non-human friends this week, and not my doggerel. Here’s a little edited Walt Whitman: “I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained… Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things… Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.”
Thursday
How’s about a comedy night? Things have been rough enough all over, so we could all use a laugh, and not the maniacal kind which precedes a nervous breakdown. Two choices tonight: A free open mic in the basement of the Arcata Veterans Hall, doors at 7 p.m., sign up a half an hour later, and a hot mic by 8 p.m. At 9 p.m. at Savage Henry Comedy Club, you will find Buffalo, New York, headliner and festival regular Brian Netzel, along with local yuk yuks Jessica Grant, Shannon Foster and Chris Campaneri ($10).
Friday
Having been living with and taking care of an elderly relative with mild dementia for some time this year, I have been overexposed to certain tunes played on repeat by said fellow, bless him, which has had the effect of souring me to a lot of songs made famous by the Baby Boomer generation. The Beatles are among the repeat offenders, yet, despite this mild torture, I still have an overall positive opinion of the Fab Four, something just south of Scottish psychedelic comics Grant Morrison’s writer’s assessment of the lads from Liverpool being interdimensional angelic beings imbued with the Sound needed to further human spiritual evolution. I’m not suggesting you will or won’t have a transcendental experience tonight at 8 p.m. at the Carlo Theatre, where tribute act Ticket to Ride will be playing the masters’ songs, but who knows? And $20 is a reasonable price to find out for yourself.
Saturday
Few artists from my exact age cohort made much of an impression on me when I was a young man, snob that I was. However, the late, great Amy Winehouse definitely burned the celluloid reels of my eardrums at the time and, in a way that is very rare for a musician I admired but didn’t know personally, caused me genuine distress and mourning over her death. She simply had IT and few ever have, or will, hold the flame. And while you can’t experience her up close without a one-way trip through the Bardo, you can swing by Humbrews tonight at 8:30 p.m. to enjoy Valerie: A Tribute to Amy Winehouse, fronted by one Elsa Cedeno, who I am told has the goods on tap to pull this off. Royal Propolis opens ($40, $35 advance).
Sunday
It’s your last chance to enjoy Fernadale Repertory’s production of A Gentleman’s Guide to Love & Murder, which will end its run with a 2 p.m. matinee today. If you want some live theater, the location’s a fine spot for it and $22 is hardly highway robbery, with $2 off if you are a student or a senior.
Monday
The ’90s were a wild time for raucous rock and roll, and The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion put in its work to dig out a fairly expansive sonic crater. The titular frontman is in town tonight with a new backing band made up of members from Woodstock, New York’s punk blasters The Bobby Lees to pop the hinges off the doors at the Miniplex. If you love this good electric shit, don’t be a bozo — get your tickets early for this 7:30 p.m. show ($20).
Tuesday
More comedy on tap tonight, with former Cash Cab host Ben Bailey treading the boards and cupping the mic at the Arcata Theatre Lounge at 6 p.m. ($30). Opener Jeffrey B is also available to quiz the depth of your funny bone(s).
Wednesday
If you are ever presented with the opportunity to hear Tuvan throat singing live, take it. Trust me, a fella who caught Kongar-ool Ondar, one half of the subjects of the excellent documentary Genghis Blues, at San Francisco’s Amoeba Records when I was just a teen. Life-changing stuff. May he and Paul Pena rest in peace. Moving past my remembrances of things, well, past, the Old Steeple is hosting the Alash Ensemble, a monster group filled with masters of the form. Roll in at 7:30 p.m. with your $36.50 ticket on hand and, after catching a gander at the lovely clothes of these stately gents, close your eyes and get as near to visiting Heaven as one can without checking in at the cemetery next door. Trust me.
Collin Yeo (he/him) is writing this with a cat in his lap, covering half his notebook, and being a proper stinker in every which way. He loves her (and her sister) with all his heart and soul.
This article appears in 2025 NCJ Pet Photo Contest Winners.