The Madison-Felix Awards- Miscellaneous Hogwash

The Madison-Felix Awards was an awards show in Buffalo New York, which ran from 1995-2005. It was put together by my friend Big Brian and I. In reality it was a parody of an awards show mixed with an open bar drinking contest. Still it was fun and irreverent and some of the best parties I've ever had. But like all good times, they eventually drifted off to the land of nostalgia. The next four blogs are dedicated to their memory.

Location

          The first year Big Brian and I had the Madison-Felix awards it was in a rented back room of a bar in North Tonawanda (those who know the city, recognize it to be the least of the Tonawandas), which was also being used by another party. We were separated by a partition, but that didn’t prevent them from continuously sticking their mullets in to make a stupid remark or just gawp at us. The only means of we had to show clips was a borrowed 24” TV and a VCR. Hardly satisfactory, but then we didn’t put too much effort into it.

         When we made the decision to do a second year, we had to find something more suitable. One day, I went to the DMV to get my license renewed, it being located then in the Northtown Plaza in Buffalo, and I happened to notice a place, called The Screening Room, tucked away in a corner of the plaza, completely unobtrusive. It was primarily a place that rented itself out for private parties and business seminars, though occasionally showed films on the weekends.

          I walked in and was overjoyed. A large screen filled an entire wall. Seating was done with café style table, adorned with a candle, and could handle up to 60 people. We could have the place to ourselves, no uninvited jerks. It was perfect. I talked to the owner and we reached an agreement.

          The Madison’s had found its home for the next nine years. On the day of the last show, we presented the owner (he was a great sport) with a plaque commemorating the show, which hangs on the Screening Room wall to this day. 

                                                             Ode to Knockers

One of the traditions at the Madison-Felix Awards was the reading of Jeff Death’s (RIP) epic poem Ode to Knockers. Jeff’s greatest passion in life was large women, specifically large women with large breasts. And he immortalized his love in verse.

          I hope I shall never see

    A bra size smaller than double D

          Hazel Court running down the stairs.

          Knockers are best because they come in pairs.

          I like knockers (said with a wolfish grin)

          Oh Kitten, oh Tiffany, oh Chastity

          Come away with me

          We’ll go to my farm

          And live high on the hog

          And have big-titted daughters

          That’ll take turns on my log.

                                                        Lisa’s Story

          Every year Lisa P. would entertain the crowd with a soft core pornographic short story, often involving her pet, Tucks the Masturbating Cat- a beast which spent way too much time rubbing its genitals. My mother, of all people, delighted in these tales more than anyone else.

          Her stories were great because they transcended the genre which they were lampooning. By themselves they were lonely housewife romance fodder, littered with the standard cliché’s of “his staff sprang free” and “she grew moist with anticipation”. And yet they revolved around some of the most ridiculous situations I have ever heard. She really was a pioneer of the comedy porno niche- which if it isn’t a thing should be one.

          My favorite one was a story she wrote about Matt Schultz, a frequent guest who habitually had a fight with his on-again off-again girlfriend at the Madisons. In it Lisa described a sexual encounter that Matt had in the bathroom of The Screening Room. Most of the details escape me, but it involved much soap spilling and the roll of toilet paper spinning with every thrust. They were truly unique works.

          BTW Schultz has since declined to add his voice to the menagerie assembled for the guest blog position which will be in two weeks’ time. As to the Schultz fights with his girlfriend, they became an expected part of the festivities. They were so anticipated that one show his girlfriend accidentally knocked a glass on the floor and the entire audience dropped to silence, thinking it was finally going to go off. Then a slow chant began to rise up from the crowd “Fight fight fight fight!” The crowd kept at it until the girlfriend stormed out of the place, Matt chasing after her. A self-fulfilling prophecy.

Benny Hill

          We started the tradition of slipping a Benny Hill clip into every show during the 6^th Madison-Felix awards. We were tallying up votes and discovered that everyone had unaccountably voted for Jessica Tandy in Fried Green Tomatoes for the Best Supporting Actress Award, rather than Mink Stole in Pink Flamingos – which is what we wanted to show. Brain and I grumbled and moaned at the thought of having to dredge a clip up from the turgidly sappy flick. It went on until I said,

          “Fuck it. Let’s not do it.”

          “Then what are we gonna show?”

A man of subtle variations

          It hit me. Benny Hill had been dead a few years by then, but I still loved his material. I had grown up watching him on late night television, sneaking downstairs to see the show when I was supposed to be sleeping. Most males of my generation who grew up in Buffalo had an appreciation of him. To many he was the English guy who had lots of ribald sexual jokes, in-between songs and slapping an old guy on the head. But I have to say that Benny Hill was one of the best physical comedians that ever graced the screen. A latter day Charlie Chaplin.

          Brian agreed, loving the idea. We inserted the clip which began with several women dancing- the audience being a little confused since it obviously wasn’t Jessica Tandy- then moving onto the back of Hill’s head wearing one of his patented fuzzy blonde afro wigs. When he turned around and revealed his face, the audience went wild, surprised and overjoyed at this inclusion of an old friend. How could they not be?

          After this it became a Madison’s tradition to slip a clip of his in unannounced. He always appeared to applause.

Threatened by Faye Dunaway’s Lawyers

          One of Big Brian’s assumed duties (he assumed them since I didn’t bother) was to attempt the monotonous task of attracting someone famous to the show. In the days before email was commonplace just finding where to send the letters to was a long and arduous task. As with many things with Big Brian I was never quite sure whether he was serious or not, and it was probably both. Brian’s main goal in life was to be amused and it amused him to write letters year after year, only to gather deafening silence in return. Until we didn’t.

          It wasn’t an acceptance letter, but a cease and desist from the lawyers representing Faye Dunaway. Brian has always had a red head fetish and his greatest lust in life was the notable actress (her and Wilma Flintstone). Every year he invited her and every year the letters got weirder and weirder, to the point where he was offering to “let her stay at his place as long as she wanted” (understand this was just Brian’s sense of humor) and describing the delights of Buffalo in such a way as to sound like it was the worst place in the world this side of Beirut. Hence the threatening letter. I’m just glad my name wasn’t attached to any of them- at least I think they weren’t.

          And this leads us to…

Threatened by the Academy Awards

          Apparently not all of the letters sent out ended up directly in the trash. Around the time Brain and I were putting together the 6^th show, he received a letter from the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences (the Oscars). Someone had gotten wind of our “rogue” awards show and for a completely inexplicable reason were demanding that we place a disclaimer in the ceremony stating the Madison-Felix Awards were in no way associated with their little show. We complied. Why not, we thought it was funny. From then on we opened the show with this denial and a picture of an Oscar crossed out.

The Award was Stolen Once

          The Madison-Felix Award, a plastic VHS tape spray painted gold, and glued to a faux marble base- symbol of our renegade status- was once kidnapped. After the 7^th show, Brain called me up to ask if I had the award. I replied negative.

          “Someone’s stolen the damn thing.” He roared.

          “No way. Who the hell would want that?”

          He hung up unhappy. About a week later a letter was dropped in my mailbox. In it was a Polaroid of the award tied to a chair and a ransom note made from cut up advertisements.

          “Bring one million dollars to the Amherst Theater at midnight this Friday or else the award dies!”

          Well we couldn’t have that! That Friday I stuffed an envelope with 10 $100,000 bills from my old Game of Life set and placed it in the designated spot. We received no reply. Like the Lindbergh baby villains, the kidnappers took the cash and absconded away never returning the prize.

          We never found what happened to it- apparently it was lost. But the next year when giving away the Most Annoying Use of a Child Award, Matt Schultz admitted to being the culprit. Very good.

Buffet

          This is where my obsession for every little detail comes in handy. Part of the package of the Madison-Felix’s was a buffet to stabilize your body after all of that beer (We assumed that they got drunk and if they didn’t, they weren’t doing their job damn it!). It was standard Buffalo buffet fodder consisting of pizza and wings and a slathering of celery and carrot sticks- which are traditional with wings in Buffalo for some reason. It wasn’t great, but then no one was there for the food.

          The placement of a meal was initially a problem for us. Originally we served the meal at the beginning of the show, everyone got their fill except for a few stragglers, but by the end a lot of people were still hungry. So we decided to move the buffet until the end of the show- that lasted a year. Half way through the show there was a mutiny and most of the crowd charged into the room where the food was kept, whereupon they gorged themselves. Then they relaxed and started chatting. As the years went on and people moved in different directions they lost touch and would only see each other at the Madison-Felix awards. So they decided to catch up and the babble of their voices drowned out the show. Never let it be said that we didn’t learn from our mistakes. Thus ever afterwards we stopped the show half way through and opened the trough for all.

The Madison-Felix Awards- Guess Who's Coming to the Madisons?

The Madison-Felix Awards was an awards show in Buffalo New York, which ran from 1995-2005. It was put together by my friend Big Brian and I. In reality it was a parody of an awards show mixed with an open bar drinking contest. Still it was fun and irreverent and some of the best parties I've ever had. But like all good times, they eventually drifted off to the land of nostalgia. The next four blogs are dedicated to their memory.

     An ordinary evening, or was it?

     Big Brian called me up excited, “Rex get over here. You’re not going to believe this shit!”

     Getting ready not to believe this shit, I sped on over to Brian’s. I had no idea what to expect, but I was sure it would be hilarious. All I knew was that it had something to do with the Madison-Felixes.

     It had always been our practice with the Madisons to send invitations to anyone that was going to receive our award. Those whom we could locate. I mean how do you find Alan Ormsby from “Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things,” or Eric Stern from “The Love Butcher?” For the first couple of years we actually held out hope that someone might condescend to reply, but by the 10^th year all of those ideas were gone. We only sent them out as a joke, and sat around snickering when the “I regret to inform you that we cannot attend” letter (when they even bothered to do so) rolled in.

     This was the end of the Madison-Felixes. The last show. I actually lived in North Carolina, so most of the burden was on Brian, and he was getting tired of handling everything himself.

     The old days of it being just fun fun fun were over, and now it was more of a hassle. We worked harder at it, and the shows improved, while our enjoyment waned.  Gone were the days of creating our master tape, by hooking two VCRs together, the night before the show. I asked Brian how this happened, and we remembered back in time we would show up drunk to the show and go from there. Remember when I inaugurated the 3^rd Madisons by drinking a 21 shot salute. The last being a flaming shot of Rumple Mintz? I kind of do.

     When we first started the show, our intentions were to pay tribute to the less known and forgotten masterpieces with a few jokes tossed in. That lasted a year. We quickly followed suit and descended into clips of llama fucking, Divine eating dog shit, unspeakable horrors from Salo, men getting their dicks chopped off, old women playing Russian roulette, boy in the Nazi uniform getting a blow job from his sister, an accident clip were a man gets hit by a car and flying 20 feet (met with uproarious applause) and the unforgettable girl-masturbating-with a-severed-arm clip from “Entrails of a Virgin.”

Classics like this!

     Our normal stable consisted of films like: Night of the Bloody Apes, Make ‘Em Die Slowly, I Spit on Your Grave, Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things, Brutes and Savages, and our ultimate award winner (7 Madison-Felixes) The Love Butcher. A film I could see win over and over and over again with out getting tired of it.

        One thing we always had each year, was our Lifetime Achievement Award, with accompanying song. It was called the Mike Horner award, after the first winner, a porno star that we enjoyed watching. Other noteworthy recipients were Don Knotts, George Peppard, Jabba the Hutt, Christopher Reeve, Alan Hale Jr., Bob Newhart etc. The purpose was to give an award to a person that everyone knew, but that was never honored. No one ever honored us back by showing up. Except for now.

     I arrived at Brian’s and bounded up to his apartment “WHAT‘S UP?” I yelled. He stood there massively, smoking a cigarette, and handed me a piece of paper.

    “Remember who we're giving the Lifetime Achievement Award to this year?” He asked with nervous excitement. Somewhere between hysterical laughter and panic.

    “Yeah, Charles Bronson.”

    “Well read the letter.”

     I looked at it. “Dear sir, I am delighted to inform you that Mr. Bronson will be honored to accept your very prestigious award…”

    I glanced over at the “prestigious” award, sitting on a dusty shelf above Brian’s TV, wedged in between his Bob and Doug MacKenzie Action Figures, and some George Orwell books. A plastic tape glued to a fake marble base. I looked at Brian.

    “What the hell are we gonna do?”

     The only other time something like this had happened was when we received a threatening letter from Faye Dunaway’s lawyers. It stated that criminal prosecution would take place if we did not cease and desist our correspondence. I say “our” correspondence, but it was really Brian’s last letter that had spawned this response. I never read it, but it went along the line of him getting upset with her ignoring us, how it wasn’t nice of her, and if she needed a place to stay then she could stay at his. Brian states that this was a joke, like when he sent out Christmas Cards full of Bible-beating “Praise Jesus” material to every Jewish name he could find in the phone book, and I believe him. Everyone who knows Brian could believe this. Still, he always had a thing for redheads.

     Charles Bronson coming to the show? THE Charles Bronson, of The Dirty Dozen and Death Wish fame. Christ? What’s he expecting? I supposed a lot of fancy big star treatment, like a place to stay or food. How cheap were the Motel 6 rates again? I suppose we could pick him up in my Mom’s Honda Civic hatchback. Does he like Cheetos? Because I could get a lot of them cheap from the corner gas station. Oh God. I’ve seen his movies. If he doesn’t like the show, he might machine-gun our entire families.

     Now it might be pointed out that he had been deceptive in offering him the award in the first place. It was a Lifetime Achievement Award, and may be flattering for someone who hadn’t received attention for some time. I believe his last film had been Death Wish 4, and for a man who had a lot of staring roles in good films, it might be a bit of disappointment to have been almost forgotten. If indeed he was. Still in your declining years and all that comes along is a pack of lunatics from Buffalo, putting on a mockery of a show, simply to have a good laugh. Is it better than nothing? Perhaps.

     Then I thought of the collection of clips we had prepared in Mr. Bronson’s honor. It consisted of lots of scenes with him killing, stabbing, shooting and garroting people, all to the tune of The Partridge Family’s “I Think I Love You.” What was he going to make of that? 

     We’ll never know. Those who attended the final outing of the Madison-Felix Award will note that there was no celebrity present. We went out as we went in. Completely ignored by the film industry at large. Bastards. While it might have been a disaster, we would have at least tried to handle it, but Charles Bronson did something to make the entire potential-fiasco go away. He died.

Hopefully doing what he loved!

     Perhaps it was the knowledge that at least someone somewhere remembered his work and that felt it was deserving of recognition, and at last he could die in peace, content that he was not forgotten. Perhaps it was the heart attack. It will be a mystery lost to the ages.

      Still to the end the Madison-Felix Awards always remained a place where those of dubious credentials and past glory could, for one night, remain among the stars.

Charles Bronson 1921 - 2003. RIP!

Origin of The Madison-Felix Awards

           The Madison-Felix Awards was an awards show in Buffalo New York, which ran from 1995-2005. It was put together by my friend Big Brian and I. In reality it was a parody of an awards show mixed with an open bar drinking contest. Still it was fun and irreverent and  some of the best parties I've ever had. But like all good times, they eventually drifted off to the land of nostalgia. The next six blogs are dedicated to their memory. 

             Many moons ago. White Men come to Dennys…

            It was the halcyon days of youth. We were 23 and spending too much time at Dennys and other unreputable spots: smoking, laughing, drinking coffee, and talking lots and lots of shit. An entire nights entertainment for only $1.25 plus tip.

            Those were the days when we were passionate and argued loudly about shit that: 

              A. Didn’t matter, and

             B. Was completely out of our control.

            Still the energy was there. The pumping explosion of adrenaline that coursed through you and gave a souring high. As we spoke and yelled and laughed, the elation was sustained by every drop of coffee and puff of smoke. The mind was razor tight, and words tumbled from the lips without thought or hesitation. You became a vehicle for the divine, an inspired object, and it was beautiful. It was so euphoric that you could barely remember what was said. Later some person would come up and remind you,

            “Hey Rex. Remember last week when you pissed off that Southern Girl, when you asked if her parents met through mail order?”

            And all that remained was the dimmest of recollections. Still the longing for the next night of bullshit and laughter never ceased. This was all done without the use of drugs or alcohol.

            There were many circling through our cabal then. Many who were only half seen at Comstock, many who weren’t. The Dashwood Society was in full swing, and we were legion: Myself “The Reverend”, Big Brian, Jeff Death, Mahatma Nick, Dr. I, Gay Bill, Dr. Harkey, Ensign Raiff “Flying Armadillo Boy“, Nurse Pam, Eric the Martyr, Lint, Withy, Counter Frank, Big Chief Strait-Jacket, Mr. Craik, The Mystery Man, Beldar Boy, Furher Frank, Crazy Lisa, Porno Lisa, Monkey Head, Some Pregnant Blonde, Ranji, Mattress Boy, Loudmouth Dan, Fat Frank, Shark Man, Disco Dan “The Dancing Man”, The Greatful Head, Coffee John, Saigon, Crazy Cooney (Whose ex-wife apparently started Sesame Street), Psycho Carrie, Amy, etc.. (This is excluding Comstock regulars, Rocky members, gaming guys, and the Frank Clan.)

            And out of all of them, I know the whereabouts of, perhaps, 5. I’ve got anecdotes and stories of what happened to them, but nothing within the last 5 years.

            With all of this talent, we had very little achieved to our credit. The Burroughs Show, which I wasn’t involved in, Big Brian put together, and used many Dashwood regulars, the possession of some animal pornography tapes, plus piss and shit eating films, (This was in the days before you could find it so easily on the internet) and that was all. The Madison-Felix Awards were our longest lasting and crowning achievement, and it came by accident.

            The year was 1994. The Academy Awards were over, and we were pissed. The Best Actor category was of particular interest to us. We were rooting for Nigel Hawthorne in “The Madness of King George.” We loved the movie, every second of it. “If there’s any justice in the world. He should win!” He lost.

            Best Actor went to Tom Hanks for “Forest Gump.” A film about a retard who sits on a bench and harasses strangers. We were shocked, appalled, livid, and carried on like, in the long run, it really mattered, or would affect our lives. Which it did.

            The night was waxing on, as we were, occupying a booth at Dennys. Three that night: Myself, Big Brian, and Saigon. Big Brian (for those outside the know) looks like a big hippy Woody Allen. He perpetually wears black on black over his massive frame, a tilted beret on his head, full of curling locks. The smell of nicotine and stale tar constantly wafts about him. A consummate smoke hound. He used to keep a metal bowl full of his butts and when he was low on cash, with no smokes to puff on, he would root through it looking for any scrap of unburnt tobacco, and assemble a makeshift cigarette. One of those bizarre geniuses that bottomed out in High School, and only his natural Irish perverseness kept him from achieving later academic success. He’s the only person that I’ve met that actually learned to speak French in a High School French class, yet he failed the class. 6’4” with a size 15 shoe, and a boxing trainer, he was definitely a person who could intimidate. Yet short skinny guys with toothpick arms always seemed confident that they could beat him. 

            Saigon was a mad scientist in the making. A walking encyclopedia and had a natural intelligence that could give Louis a run for his money. He was studying genetic engineering at the time, and in his odd reserved-yet-gleeful manner, showed off his strain of flies-without-wings that he had developed. He was extremely skinny with a shaved head, and an intense emaciated look with large eyes that just stared. He looked like a death camp survivor who had fattened himself up to 92 pounds a few weeks after Auschwitz.

            The diner was packed that night. Pat Travers had been playing the town, and the place was full of every drunken mullet in North Tonawanda. We ignored this, concentrating on our bitching and whining. Oh the humanity!

            We reached a crescendo, when finally an illiterate from the next booth turned his boil laden neck and yelled, “Shut the fuck up. You don’t like it, do your own fucking show.” Then erupted into laughter with the rest of the car wash attendants with whom he was sharing his dining experience.

            Inspiration! That was it! We would do our own show. How hard could it be? We would show this person, whom we never saw again. And Toothless Jim, if you can read this, my hat is off to you sir! Without your wit and candor we may have wallowed in obscurity, until our nether days. Yea beyond even.

            We were The Eggmen! The world was our walrus! We descended on the task with fevered impulses. What would we call it? “The Felixes.” Our Felix Unger to Hollywood’s Oscar Madison. And we created categories that people actually cared about, like “Best Key grip”, “Best Best Boy”, “Best Gaffer”, “Most Annoying Use of a Child in a Film”, “The William Shatner Award for Acting Excellence”, “The Alan Ormsby Award for Over Acting Achievement”, “Best Unintentional Cameo”, “ Most Predictable Plot”, “Pretty Boy Actor You’d Most Like to Whack”, “Ditzy Actress you Most Like to Strangle”, “Best Comedic Performance in a Non-Comedic Role” (Which turned into our nastiest category. The Miracle Worker was our fist winner, specifically when Helen Keller learns to say “Waaaater“. Out of context it was hysterical), and the list goes on. Additionally we had our Lifetime Achievement Awards, given to people whom everyone knew, but were never recognized by the industry. You’re welcome, George Peppard.

            And we needed an award, a symbol for our step into the limelight. We always said that the Madisons had an operating budget of five dollars, but we went all out for the award. A faux marble base was obtained from some downtown shack. We took a Kodak VHS cassette (the fancy kind) and liberally decorated it with glittering golden spray paint. Using the finest store bought Krazy Glue, we affixed our golden symbol to it’s base, and viola; history was born.

            We assembled our tapes and, using the magic of two VCRs hooked up to each other, we created the master tape (which has since been lost to the ages). The first year was held in the back of a bar. I forget the name, but it had a TV arraigned around a few tables. Brian and myself presented it, but kept tripping over each other’s feet, so it was decided that Brian should handle it after that. The first show was a mild success. People came, ate and had a few chuckles. The highlight, to me, was Fat Frank, giving away the award for, “Best Plot for an Ernest Film”,  standing at the podium, waxing philosophical about how wonderful and inspiring the Ernest films were to him.

            To be honest, Big Brian and I had initially considered the show a one time joke. We would do it, have a few laughs, and then move on. Then something happened. I’m sure about Brian, but I was unsatisfied with the event. I wanted something bigger. Brian, I figured, thought that the joke could last as well. One day we looked at each other and said, “You know that awards show was fun. We should do it again.” And it turned from a one time joke into an annual event.

            We pressed on and found our home for the next decade, The Screening Room. A place of wonder and enjoyment. The screen filled an entire side of a wall. The tables were café style, with candles on them. Beer and wine was served. Smoking was aloud (Always a prerequisite for Brian). It could be had cheap, and the owner was a film buff. It was perfect. We rented it for a night, and made ourselves at home.

            Then disaster struck. I discovered that there was another awards show called The Felix's. Imagine the horror to know someone had ripped off your idea 5 years before you had even thought of it. Brian was informed and we deliberated. The natural solution was had. We changed the name.

            We were now The Madisons. A crisp alluring name, for the discriminating executive. All was right with the world, except for the bad taste in my mouth, I had really liked the name Felix. Another year passed and we discovered that the Felixes had folded. HA! Brian and I deliberated again, this time in confidence, and decided not to drop the name Madison. After all they were both the show. Flip sides of the same coin. So we created an amalgamation, so we were dubbed, and remained, “The Madison-Felix Awards.”

            There is no room here to describe all of the stories surrounding “The Madison-Felix Awards,” but I will tell some in the future. We lasted for 10 years (9 longer than we thought we would). We went through rejection letters from the stars, cease-and desist letters from lawyers, a potential lawsuit from the Academy Awards (how they found out about us, I don’t know), and almost had an honest-to-God celebrity show up.

            The show was more than a show. As we all grew and drifted apart, it was the one time when people who normally didn’t see each other would come together and enjoyed themselves. People I wouldn’t see for another year. I miss it. Good bye old friend, and rest in peace.