It was another rainy afternoon on Congress Street in Portland. From behind a large first-floor window, an eight foot tall model of Bigfoot watched the traffic roll by from behind a plastic shrub, trying to make sense of his new home – the International Cryptozoology Museum in Portland’s Parkside neighborhood.

My sister sent me a text this morning that read “You hanging with the golden girls?” I could see why – we were in West Palm Beach, Florida, a retirement town. It’s the last place you’d expect to find a punk show. We all half expected to roll up on a town of all senior citizens, complete with wheelchair ramps on every storefront.

Of course, that wasn’t the case. Even on the beach, which was our first stop, there were plenty of young people out and about. As I reported in my last dispatch, the water was anything but refreshing. The floating trash and jellyfish warning signs didn’t help anything. But the beach was still a nice stop before the show. As far as the show was concerned, we didn’t know what to expect. Would it be full of oldtimers hobbling around the mosh pit?

Reality shows all claim to present ordinary people in unscripted situations. But how real are they really? Does it matter?

To begin with, unscripted television is not that novel an idea.

Game shows have been around since before the United States entered the Second World War. But the current “reality show” idiom in which contestants are eliminated by their peers instead of by a system appeared nine years ago when “Survivor” contestants began getting “voted off the island.”

Much of what makes these shows exciting is that nobody knows what’s going to happen. It’s riveting to watch people double-cross each other as they compete in the wide variety of competitions throughout the season. If it were orchestrated, it’d lack suspense and just be boring. That’s what’s so upsetting about the longstanding allegations that “Survivor” may actually stage some of its events and possibly even, gasp, not take place in the wilderness that they portray. If the drama of the show was created by an off-screen writer, then the appeal is written off as well.

Yamato – The Drummers of Japan provided the people of Portland with a unique opportunity to feel the beat of authentic Japanese culture at their show in Merrill Auditorium last Tuesday, Nov. 10.

The group performed an intense combination of masterful drumming and synchronized dance. They swung the drums – which were almost as big as they were – around the stage and gracefully performed marshal arts moves without ever missing a beat. Throughout the entire show, the performers had massive smiles strewn across their faces, encouraging each other and radiating positive energy out into the audience.

I never thought I could be disappointed in a movie featuring George Clooney. “The Men Who Stare At Goats” has proven otherwise. It presents the dullest, most random series of disjointed events imaginable. It’s as boring as watching two people cross an endless desert. Scratch that: the film is actually about two guys walking across a desert.

The film follows and is narrated by Bob Wilton( Ewan Mcgregor), a reporter looking for a story amid the disasters of the Iraq War. He thinks he hit a gold mine when he meets Lyn Cassady ( George Clooney), a former member of a paranormal battalion from the Vietnam War. What ensues is a great plotless heap that leads the viewer into their own boring, endless desert of annoyance.

If you have ever been to a normal karaoke night at a bar, you know what it generally entails: awkward, drunk people singing off key to pre-recorded versions of the pop songs you hear everywhere. But a new Wednesday night concert series at Empire Dine and Dance in Portland offers a new contribution to this tired type of entertainment: highly skilled, live musicians.

Pizza and beer go together like ocean and sand, pumpkin and pie, bamboo and?zen! You get the “pitcher.” There are a few spots downtown that?showcase this comforting combination perfectly in a way that only Portland?can, but two places specifically come to mind: Joe’s Slice Bar on Fore?Street and Portland Pie Company on York Street.

Dozens of local artists displayed paintings, jewelry, handmade bags and even carved wooden pickle forks at the third annual Gorham Art Fair on Sunday. The event was held in the Shaw Gym in the back of the municipal center on South St. and lasted all day, running from 9a.