Max Koch Uncorked

Wine-soaked adventures through a twisted life…


So this past weekend was “Wiener Weekend” at the Condo in the Sky.  Now mind you, I didn’t come up with that, my wife did.  What began as me excitedly exclaiming, “honey! The new film by Todd Solondz has come to Amazon Prime!”, soon turned into a 3-day party involving brats, beers, wiener-dogs, roasts, and, well…failed candidate for NYC mayor, Anthony Weiner, and his wiener.

See, sometimes ya gotta get creative in a marriage.  Especially if you’ve been together for almost a quarter of a century like we have.  Things can get stagnant.  And so if you attach a weekend of fun activities to a really inspired premise and through-line, well…it can only help remind you that you chose your partner wisely.

Friday night was Comedy Central’s Roast of Rob Lowe, who, let’s face it, has a fairly well-documented reputation for being a real weenie.  I love these roasts because they can be downright brutal, some say mean-spirited, but that doesn’t bother me when it comes to soft targets like Ann Coulter, who, for some CRAZY reason, was one of the members of the dais.  Turns out she was just there to shill her new book about why Trump should be our next president.  Ann took so many hits, I almost started to feel sorry for her.  But when it was over, I treated myself to a crash course in Coulter’s controversies (Google search) and no longer felt sorry but sad.  How anyone can think and speak the way she does is beyond my comprehension.  But it was truly fascinating to skim the countless verbal offenses she’s guilty of. Man, I hope that woman finds peace.  Hate must take a LOT of energy. That said,


As for the roast itself, it was a riot and we were howling all the way through. I gotta say, I think that Pete Davidson kid from SNL is pretty damn hilarious and I look forward to seeing his new show on Comedy Central.  I also couldn’t be happier watching Ralph “Johnny Cade” Macchio sufficiently crunch the nuts of his longtime “greaser” pal compatriot, Rob “Sodapop Curtis” Lowe (these are all character references from Francis Ford Coppola’s “The Outsiders”, in case you’re confused).

Saturday morning found us going from a Pilates class to – WAIT A MINUTE, WHAT??? – a (very spontaneous) Pumpkin Beer tasting at our most favorite local liquor store, Vendome Wine & Spirits! Pumpkin Beer tasting?? I LOVE Pumpkin Beers and tasting them!!


Yes, I am most definitely one of these idiots who loves that time of year when pumpkin shows up in every damn thing. And MOST of these beers, ales, and ciders were absolutely delicious. I stuck my nose so deep in my glass and just INHALED the scents of falling leaves, candy corn, rubber masks, Michael Myers, scarecrows, hayrides, corn mazes, my own Dark Harvest drawings…you name it.  We had SO much fun. Wound up talking to some very eccentric beer nerds, too.  It was cool to bust out of our comfort zone. Wine tastings? ALL the time. Pumpkin BEER ones??  Hardly ever. 

Saturday supper was the newly-opened Dog Haus, just up the street from us. Described as a Southern California “craft casual hot dog concept”, the joint is just to die for.  I mean, I start to salivate the second I step through the doors to survey my options.  As it turns out, I’ve grown to be most fond of The Fonz: spicy Italian sausage, pastrami, melted mozzarella.  I KNOW.  SO decadent. But it was Wiener Weekend, man, what’d you expect I was gonna order?

Believe me, ain’t easy having a Dog Haus within walking distance.  That sure as hell ain’t gonna support the work I’ve been doing in Pilates these days. No, no, Dog Haus ALWAYS has to wind up being a special occasion-type deal. Or I may as well just give it all up and become a professional butt of fat jokes.  No thank you.

So with our wieners in tow, we made our way back home to quickly visit with some dear ones who dropped by for a quick visit. Then we busted open a bunch of our newly-acquired pumpkin beers (utilizing our frosted mugs) and ambitiously took in Todd Solondz’s latest cinematic masterpiece of pain, Wiener-Dog, currently streaming on Amazon Prime. You remember his 1995 film Welcome to the Dollhouse with Heather Matarazzo in the role of Wiener-Dog?  Well, this time she is embodied by one of my very favorite “newer” actresses, Greta Gerwig. 


Listen, no joke. I can barely bring myself to recommend this film, it’s so depressing. Of course, that’s what I LOVED about it. Oh, I’m just crazy about Solondz. But if you think a movie about a little wiener dog bouncing from situation to circumstance and the effect she has on the lives of varying broken souls and misfits is going to warm your hearts and make you wanna rush out to the pound to rescue one? You must be thinking of another movie. And don’t get me STARTED on Danny DeVito as a washed-up former screenwriter turned disrespected college film professor named – brace yourself – Dave Schmerz.  

Yeesh.  One of his greatest, glum-iest performances of all.


The film ends in a shocking and profoundly upsetting way.  One which we weren’t expecting. Uh, like, at ALL. But it worked…for me.

Just do this: heed caution if you choose to proceed with Wiener-Dog.  Especially if you’re an animal freak like me. The spoiler-abundant customer reviews on Amazon are hilarious.  Like, WHAT were this people thinking showing this movie to their KIDS?!  It’s Todd Solondz!  Not Beethoven Poops A Buncha Legos He Ate, Part 2!  Maybe they were expecting THIS type of wiener dog movie…?


No idea.

Sunday, I man-scaped the region of my body containing my own personal wiener and we closed the frank-centric festivities with Josh Kriegman and Elyse Sternberg’s 2016 documentary, Weiner, a very provocative peek inside Anthony Weiner’s 2013 failed campaign to become the new mayor of New York City.  I’ve lost count of how many times the former congressman has sexted his sin-pipe out to the world, causing all kinds of problems for not only him but his family, but I will say that he came across to me as a very passionate guy who truly cares about making healthy, beneficial changes in the world. He just can’t seem to get a grip on this very odd compulsion he has to ruinously flirt with gross gals he never even winds up copulating with, much to the detriment of his marriage.  Evidently, he and his wife, Hillary Clinton’s vice chairwoman, Huma Abedin, are officially on the outs.  I hope they find peace, too.



WINE PAIRING: In honor of all the fantastic pumpkin beers I sampled, I’m going to go with the Avery Brewing Company’s Rumpkin Ale Brew with Pumpkin and Spices. Aged in RUM barrels!  At 17.5% Alc by Vol, his stuff’s so good, you’ll wanna whip out your wiener and dance a jig ‘neath the next Harvest Moon! (Which, uh, just so happens to be September 16th, the opening day of Blair Witch, wahoo!)

Another Winter in a Summer Town

Something happened last night that made no sense. Something that is going to take me a while to figure out.

I’ve done a ton of theater in my life but I’ve never enjoyed GOING to theater. Especially musicals. It just never works out. EVER!

My wife, however, lives for the theater. She was a professional musical theatre performer who still takes dancing, singing, and improv lessons when she’s not leading 10 people in her corporate job. So, for respite, she will buy Pantages season tickets and go see shows alone because she feels bad dragging me to them. I mean, SO selfless of her, yes, but I do feel guilty sometimes.

Which is why I really had no problem with her coming to me about AHMANSON Theatre season tickets. She very politely asked if I would be interested in joining her for a run of productions and I agreed to do so. One ONE condition: That there would be MUCH wine.



WIFE: One of the shows is the musical based on Grey Gardens.

ME: Grey Gardens?? I love that documentary! I own that one on Criterion.

WIFE: I know and that’s great, but this is a musical based on the Bouvier-Beales.

ME: Huh…? But I HATE musicals.

WIFE: Well…not Jesus Christ Superstar. You like that one. West Side Story?

ME: Honey…

WIFE: Fine. I’ll just cancel the subscription. 

ME: No, no! I’m – grrrrr – I’m in. Let’s do it. What else we got?

WIFE: Well, there’s an Arthur Miller play…there’s Fun Home, which I know you own the graphic novel of and were curious about–

ME: Musical, too, right?

WIFE: Yes.

ME: Kill me. EVERYTHING has to become a musical now, I guess. Go on.

WIFE: Another musical based on…uh…


WIFE: A musical based on Amélie, that annoying French film you hated. 



Grey Gardens, in case you don’t know, and according to Wikipedia, “is a 1975 American documentary film by Albert and David Maysles. The film depicts the everyday lives of two reclusive, formerly upper class women, a mother and daughter both named Edith Beale, who lived in poverty at Grey Gardens, a derelict mansion at 3 West End Road in the wealthy Georgica Pond neighborhood of East Hampton, New York.” 

They were also two women related to Jackie Kennedy-Onassis, who were, by the time the doc was made, living in squalor, in a total mess of a mansion with no plumbing and lots of fleas and cats, as American Royalty exiles. 

Grey Gardens: The Musical stars veteran actress Betty Buckley as old Edith Bouvier-Beale and Rachel York – a performer I know nothing about – as BOTH young Edith and, in the second act, her outrageously-eccentric daughter (and virtually-imprisoned mad woman) Edie. This performance…blew…my…face off. Talk about CHANNELING. I don’t understand how someone could be this spot on, not only in mannerisms, voice, and body, but…spirit. I was astounded. It WAS Little Edie from the documentary right up there on stage!


It wasn’t a very large ensemble at all. Mainly the two lead ladies and the rest of the actors in multiple roles. Act 1 takes place in the glorious, hopeful, well-provided for past, while Act 2 takes place in the inevitably bleak and ruinous future. I was so unsure how they were going to pull off the actual Hoarders-like FILTH of Grey Gardens on stage, but the set and art and prop design people did an absolutely extraordinary job. There’s SO much to look at onstage BESIDES the humans.

Best of all…I didn’t mind the songs. Did you read that?? It’s a musical and I didn’t mind the musical numbers! They made sense to me because the two Ediths fancied themselves singer/performers, even though they were total amateurs. So when they broke out in song, I understood WHY. Not to mention the fact that the writers of this thing paid VERY close attention to the source material, the documentary. Like, there’s a whole number based on the elder Edith wooing Jerry the Dimbulb Delivery Boy with her cobs of corn that she boils near her bedside. It’s called “Jerry Likes My Corn” and it’s both super-hilarious and SUPER-sad. Buckley killed that one.

However, NOTHING prepared me for Little Edie’s “Another Winter in a Summer Town” at the end. (It’s so funny. These reference clips from YouTube I’m using here from the original Broadway cast album don’t seem or sound NEARLY as powerful and profound or dark as they did last night with the cast I saw. In fact, they actually sound REALLY musical theatre-y. Which just goes to show, this stuff is meant to be seen live? The emotions tend to range? Different productions just sound…different? I dunno.)

The point is, both my wife and I were blubbering wrecks during the song. Trust me, we both have a coupla pretty crazy-in-their-own-way mothers that we wish we could be more in sync with, so we deeply related. As it is, I also just “celebrated” my 46th birthday this past Monday and it has been a slew of very introspective, where-am-I-going, time-is-running-out, I’ve-got-to-DO-something-with-my-life types of days. Hence the whole theme of “well, here it is, winter again and everyone’s gone and I’m stuck here, rotting away and losing my mind in a town that’s only alive in the summer.” It’s a pretty debilitating metaphor for age and creativity, I think.


WINE PAIRING: The GOOD news is: YOU CAN DRINK INSIDE THE AHMANSON NOW! Oh, yeah, they give you little cups with lids and straws so you can take your wine inside the space while you watch the shows. PERFECT for my deal with Nic on this season subscription. And if you go down to the first-level bar and see Scott, tell him Max sent ya. He’s really cool and wears an EYEPATCH. A legit one, too! He totally set me up with pre-paid beverages that I collected during intermission. Look, he even put a little sign out for me, which I saved!


Hey, I LIKE going to the theatre now!

Happy Anniversary, YouTube!

Ten years today, YouTube, baby!

You n’ me?

Ten long, short, up, down, happy, sad, crazy, mad years.

Why it only seems like yesterday – July 21, 2006, to be exact – that a female friend of mine told me I should “sign up for YouTube” (“for what, like, online classes?”) and film myself doing my impressions. “Hey, hey, what’m I, some low-rent Rich Little wannabe? These ain’t impressions that I do here, lady. There are channelings.  I’m an ARTIST.  Me, I try to BECOME these guys.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get it done”, she’d say.

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My channel, Bowlerhat – or Bowler Hat Productions, named in honor of Alex’s derby in Stanley Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange” – became my wonderland. My most favorite form of creative expression.  I took risks. And once the Tony Soprano stuff hit, I took even MORE risks. And hits.  It got to the point that if I wanted to make something totally different over there…say, a video of a puppet trying to talk Gary Busey into taking a shit because he was constipated, while Nick Nolte is banging on the bathroom door outside…well, then, damn it, I was gonna do it.

Over time, making all those videos almost plunged me into madness. I got so method actor-y about them. I’ll never forget walking over to 7-11 and buying 15 types of bubble gum Al Pacino could sample for “Tony Soprano Stages an INTERVENTION.”

YouTube gave me an instant audience. It always brought me a lotta haters, which I wasn’t at ALL ready for. And soon I was even making $$$ from YouTube once they came at me about being a partner. But I think I’m making much less with them these days as I’ve gone from hundreds of thousands of views on stuff…to maybe a few hundred even.

And there’s where you start do wonder:  Is it over? Do I suck? Or am I just TOO out there, too experimental? Does nobody even CARE anymore? Maybe it’s that I’m too old? Or is it because I don’t do Tony Soprano enough. But even when I do do Tony Soprano, the views just aren’t what they’ve been in the past. 


Listen. Just know that YouTube’s been good to me. It has brought me TONS of work. And most of it legitimate. I got to work with Sopranos cast members on various projects.  I got to play Mickey Rourke on a late-night talk show.  I even got flown to Long Island once for a weekend of shooting videos and they put me up in this super-fancy corporate hotel that I never wanted to leave.  The gig? Channel Pacino, Nicholson, and De Niro in an office setting. How much fun was THAT? I still thank Pete Sussi, the guy who found me on YouTube and put all that together, to this day.  They even scored me a SAG contract, that’s how much it meant that we work together.


I’m proud of my little YouTube legacy. It will all be good fodder and footage for the Max Koch documentary someone makes when I die. (Oh, I totally believe that my true fame will be posthumous!)

When I started this blog, I opened a second channel for videos more related to wine and travel. I get a lot of very kind comments over there. All in all…I have enjoyed this run very much. And I most definitely plan to keep going.

Oh! Almost forgot. I made a quick, little new video in honor of the anni. Just click this pic below of the YouTube logo and GO:


WINE PAIRING: A.J. Soprano would be proud! I’m bustin’ out the Cristal!  Hey!!! Happy Anniversary!!! (Aw, crap, half the bottle fizzled out…this stuff’s expensive…)

“Chuck Duck Goes to WASHINGTON” (New Video)

Just got back from Washington, DC!  The wife had to attend an HR conference out there, and, as usual, we wound up turning the trip into a golden opportunity to travel and explore.

Let me tell you something, anybody born and raised in this country is doing themselves a grave disservice by not visiting our nation’s capitol.  Where else can you get a historic river, an eternal flame, a SPY museum, the steps from “The Exorcist”, ALL the monuments and memorials you could ask for…and something called Amish Chicken?!  It was one of the greatest trips of my life. And it sincerely made me reflect on my heritage, my patriotism, and my PRIORITIES.  In the wake of those terrible shootings in Orlando, I am realizing more and more than our days might be numbered as a species and that we SERIOUSLY need to come together as a country.

But best of all, this trip to Washington gave me a good reason to return to my puppetry.  No, really, blame my wife for this.  It was Nic who wholeheartedly encouraged me to pick out a puppet from my vast collection and bring it along with us.  So I could present the adventure through HIS eyes on my Facebook and Instagram.

I had so much fun with this project.  And I think I wisely chose the best candidate for the job: A little bath mitten I used to make other videos with called Chuck Duck. 

So here is a “highlights” video for you to enjoy from my…er…Chuck Duck’s visit to Washington.  Just click the pic below and GO.  

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WINE PAIRING: Our friend Tracy, who lives in Virginia, hooked up with us for supper one night at Graffiato in DC’s Chinatown and told us all about Louden County’s Stone Tower Winery, where she is a club member. I can’t even tell you how desperate I am now to hit Virginia wine country now. I anxiously await the 2013 Estate Wind Swept Hill, a blend of Merlot and Cab Franc. 

That was the ONLY real frustrating aspect of our trip. You couldn’t find any local wines anywhere. So I was stuck sticking to lagers and cider. Oh, the things I endure…!

Black Celebration: The Cure LIVE at the Bowl

I finally saw The Cure Tuesday night at the Hollywood Bowl! 

I will be honest. It’s kind of been a lifelong dream of mine to see them live. I have all their records – my favorite being Bloodflowers – and have been listening (brooding) to them since high school. I hung out with the drama geeks back then, sure…but I also rolled with a coupla goth kids who turned me onto them. Namely, Marco and Brenda. It was Marco who introduced me to clove cigarettes and TUK Creepers, which I continue to wear to this day. And Brenda, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Siouxsie Sioux, shamelessly shared my love and appreciation of darkness, death, and cemeteries. We took a modern dance class together and once or twice went to pout about Oakwood Memorial Park Cemetery in Chatsworth, after dark. The Cure, Bauhaus, Depeche Mode, The Smiths, Joy Division, Black Flag, Violent Femmes, Soft Cell, and Echo & The Bunnymen always provided the score, albeit on our shitty Walkmans.


Funny thing about the wife, me, and live concerts. We’d all but given up on them. Especially after the Roger Waters Pink Floyd: The Wall show at Memorial Coliseum, where I almost murdered each and every drunk, stoned, and screaming sing-alonger within a 12-foot radius. Oh, I’ve almost gotten in fights at shows, taking on the rude, selfish and inconsiderate like a burdened, battered, balls-out BEAST. A bucking black bull, if you will…the arrows of ill-manneredness pierced in my neck, hell-bent on justice against people who only go to shows to shoot them with their smartphones and steal seats. I mean, this is also why I barely get out to movies in theaters anymore. Unless it’s some “event” film I’m interested in. Which is rare. But I did enjoy Spectre, Creed, and Star Wars: The Force Awakens in public very much.

So we made a rule: LESS concerts. But exceptions were made. The Cure was a whole different deal. They NEVER come to town. And they were playing the Bowl, a venue we are willing to hit at least once a year. Best of all, the show was a very special gift to me from my wife, who splurged for box seats. MUCH better than rubbing shoulders with members of the rabble who are only there to vape, jibber-jabber, and shout “Lovecats!!!” all night long.


I never know the Bowl’s policy about bringing in your own bottle(s) of wine anymore, so I just sat back all night, nursing 32 oz. Dos Equis beers, which Nichole was kind enough to keep bringing me. WITHOUT ASKING.

The opening act was the Scottish post-punk band, The Twilight Sad, and they were fantastic. The PERFECT mood setters for The Cure. So we just chilled and enjoyed them, watching all the vampires, death rockers, and Hot Topic rejects slowly creep in. Oh, I was having so much fun. In the words of Cure frontman Robert Smith, it was Just Like Heaven. My people!

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Another colorful character who actually joined us in our box was a chick I wound up referring to as “Baked Potato Lady.” She was from Texas and told us this was her NINTH time seeing just this particular tour alone! And then she also ordered up a giant cup of suds and simply sat silently for the entire 3-hour show! Didn’t ONCE get up to pee! How perfect is THAT? No trouble at all. Even when I asked her if she courted a “dark sensibility”, she smiled and replied with a gentle “yes.”

BP Lady

This was one of the greatest concert experiences of my life. The Cure played perfectly, gave us three hours, including three ENCORES, and I never wanted them to leave the stage. I was transfixed. And Robert Smith is a startling performer. He is SO about playing the songs. I think he’s almost AFRAID of his audience. His rare, between song banter was downright unintelligible. I think at one point he mumbled something about only being “half-way up the hill”, which gloriously got lost in the purply glow of despair. There were also zero close-ups of Smith on the monitors. I think he might be a little self-conscious about his appearance these days? Or not. It didn’t MATTER. He was beautiful to all of us. And his voice was as strong and passionate and iconically Robert Smith-ian as ever. And, WOW, can the dude play guitar.


Recent pic I found of Smith on the web.

And the visuals! At one point, a gorgeous, colorful scene of a tree, surrounded by vibrant green grass and flowers slowly (bleakly) turned to a deathly, haunted black and white. And then during another song, the walls began to bleed. BLEED! For such a moody, misery-drenched night, I was the happiest I’d been in ages! Even my wife was into it, and she was no fan of the group by any stretch. Think she might be now.


I’ll admit. I got a little weepy sitting in that box, drinking beer, just enjoying The Cure and the NIGHT. I felt so LUCKY to be there. So grateful for the experience. I seriously hope to see them again someday. In the meantime, check out this acoustic “perfect version” performance of A Forest I found on YouTube the next morning. It gut me good.


WINE PAIRING: It’s Memorial Day weekend! Raise many glasses to those who fought and died for us! Wine! Beer! Shots! 

(Okay, specifically, I suggest you pair the 2015 Gothic TellTale Rosé from Oregon’s Willamette Valley with a coupla choice Cure songs of my choosing. Namely, The Hanging Garden, Charlotte Sometimes, and Icing Sugar…all the while dressed in black from head to toe…)



Schnebly Redland’s Winery

I just HAD to quickly tell you about Schnebly Redland’s Winery. This place was extra special and we managed to hit it on our way down to Key West.


On the Schnebly website, they instruct you to “Uncork. Unplug. Unwind.” And that is EXACTLY what we did. And what’s SO exciting about Schnebly is all of their wines are made from…are you ready? Tropical fruit! I’m talkin’ mangos and lychee, guava, avocados, and – my most favorite, by far – PASSION fruit. Liquid sex, sister!

Here. You gotta check out our visit to Schnebly in Part ONE of the newly-posted “Max Koch Goes to Florida” video. Oh, and wait’ll you see the big ol’ brown iguana they got runnin’ around down there. Click the pic below of the winery’s breathtakingly-stunning fountain and GO:


WINE PAIRING: Most definitely give the Schnebly Sparkling Passion a splash. We bought a couple bottles with us down to Key West when we stayed at the Parrot Key Hotel & Resort and they most perfectly punctuated our sunsets.

And special thanks to Ernesto and George at Schnebly for being so cool to us and letting us film!

Max Koch Goes to Florida (New Videos)

Listen, the very LAST thing you wanna fall down with when you’re forced to make a not-so-triumphant return to the Sunshine State is DEBILITATING ILLNESS. I’d MUCH rather collapse from too many rummy cocktails. But that’s just what happened to me by Day 3 of the Key West portion of our trip to Florida a week and a half ago. I woke up that Friday morning, fearful that I couldn’t, like, BREATHE…and the next thing you know, I was being hooked up to a Nebulizer at the Urgent Care facility on N. Roosevelt Blvd.! 

Is THIS what I need???


As it turns out, no one knew what the hell was wrong with me. First I was told I having a heart attack, then it was a Pulmonary embolism, then it was asthma, then it was an allergy attack. Allergies to “new pollen” I had not yet been introduced to. So after a chest X-ray and some drawn blood, I was told I’m an ox and just needed an inhaler and some steroid pills. Well, sure enough, I was horrendously sick the ENTIRE rest of the trip. And I was doing ALL the driving, too. I also had to be a major support system for the wife, as we were driving up to Central Florida next to visit her parents, my in-laws.

Oh, you wouldn’t BELIEVE how hard I rallied for the woman I share a life with. She was disappointed, sure. Only because she actually cares about my health and was worried I wasn’t having any fun. But it wasn’t about me at that point. This was about endurance, survival, and SALVATION. So I spent the majority of the trip stifling my physical miseries and rising to the occasion. When we got back to L.A., my wife praised me for being such badass about the whole thing. “I mean, you REALLY stood up, Koch! Like a REAL man would! I was so impressed.”

Whoa! What? REAL man?? Really??? Now THAT’S something I’ve been needing to hear for the past coupla years!!! Validation, validation, valiDATION!

Anyway, more about Florida and in-laws later. I just wanted to quickly tell you about Schnebly Redland’s Winery. This place was extra special and we managed to hit it on our way down to Key West.

Here. You gotta check out our visit to Schnebly in Part ONE of the newly-posted “Max Koch Goes to Florida” video. Oh, and wait’ll you see the big ol’ brown iguana they got runnin’ around down there. Click the pic of the winery’s fountain here and GO:


As it turns out, I went and saw a doctor again once I got back into town and was told I’m suffering a pretty bad bout of bronchitis. So now I’ve just been hiding out, reading, being creative, and watching movies. But it’s a DRAG, man. I am RUN DOWN. Plus I’ve had to bail on all these amazing social engagements I’d placed on the calendar.  But I suppose it’s better than dropping dead in Florida, where I would’ve KILL MYSELF if I’d died there. (What?)

Hey, whaddo ya know.  It’s movin’ n’ shakin’ over here as I’ve just now uploaded Part TWO of “Max Koch Goes to Florida”, which predominantly takes place in Key West. So click the pic here of the wife at I at the very southernmost Southernmost point of the USA and go look at that one, too:


WINE PAIRING: Most definitely give the Schnebly Sparkling Passion a splash. We bought a couple bottles with us down to Key West when we stayed at the Parrot Key Hotel & Resort and they most perfectly punctuated our sunsets.

And special thanks to Ernesto and George at Schnebly for being so cool to us and letting us film!

“Purple Rain” and Me

Purple Rain was my favorite flick and soundtrack when I was 14.  I remember seeing it over and over and over again at the theaters over on Parthenia street in Northridge. I musta seen that thing 11 or 12 times. Of course, I never went for popcorn or a pee during the scene where The Kid feels up Apollonia Kotero’s pussy from behind. In fact, it was that very moment in the movie that got me into seriously scalding water with my rather conservative grandmother, Betty Koch.

(Wait, Max, what…?  What does your GRANDMA have to do with Purple Rain???) 

Well, I’ll tell you:  When Grandma Koch flew into town for a visit that year – all the way from Lansing, Michigan – I wanted to give her a real wild, L.A.-type “experience.”  So I took her to see Prince’s big-screen debut.  ONE of the most wretched ideas I’ve ever had.

This was a diminutive woman.  In fact, she might have even been taller than Prince.  And she was appalled.  So much so that she got up and STORMED OUT during the above-mentioned scene of tawdriness.

I think I was entering a very rebellious stage in my development and so I wanted to show this poor, dear woman I loved and adored so deeply what I was getting into.  What meant something to ME.  Well, it was a jerk move and I regret it to this day.

Or do I…?

The fact is, the following Christmas, Grandma Koch sent me a brand-new, VHS copy of Purple Rain and a letter of apology for being so close-minded and not being appreciative enough of my “developing tastes in cinema.”  SHE was saying sorry to ME!!  And this was back when, like, buying movies on VHS was REALLY expensive!

I couldn’t believe it.  I instantly broke down and called her to thank her and beg forgiveness.

That was my Grandma Koch. And my most fondest memory of Prince art.


WINE PAIRING: The 2013 Purple Paradise from Chronic Cellars.

Don’t care where you go.

Don’t care what you do.

Don’t care, pretty baby.

Just take it with you…

Waiting Tables (New Video)

Holy crap, was I a lousy waiter. I did NOT fare well in food service. And it’s so crazy, because I just read a story about how Restaurant Workers haven’t gotten a min. wage hike in 25 years. NOT COOL, MAN.

Anyhow. The point is: I’ve just uploaded a new video about how much I sucked at waiting tables. It’s the last clip I’m going to post from the one-man show I did back in 2000. Looking back on this segment, I was most taken aback by how accurate I was channeling all the grotesque patrons I waited on. I mean, there is LITTLE to NO exaggeration going on.

Here, see for yourself. Click the pic I drew of these horrific creatures below and GO!


WINE PAIRING: Y’know, people often ask me what kind of wine opener they should buy. I always used to open bottles at my tables, and, to this day, I can’t recommend the Ebony Wood Waiters Corkscrew by HiCoup enough. It’s a colossally kickass tool.

I Was a TEENAGE Max Koch (New Video)

You ever look back at yourself during your teen years and scream, “WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING?!?!?!”

Oh, wait. We’ve ALL done that. Only some of us don’t have the balls to share that once zitty, smelly, gangly, goofy, awkward, embarrassing, oversexed version of ourselves. Well, not your ol’ buddy, Max! Oh, no, I am DESTINED to exploit old footage I found of a young, shirtless me from 1986, talking to himself in a mirror, all the while wielding his first-ever video camera.

Screw it, why don’t I just shut up and let you see for yourself. The vid’s only been up for a few minutes and it already has 9 likes on YouTube, 1 like on Twitter (hate Twitter), and 12 likes on Facebook. So click the pic of teenage me below and GO!

Young Max with Video Camera

WINE PAIRING: This Sunday is Easter, so…when Jesus rises, have Him over to your house for supper before he disappears again. He’ll be pretty famished, believe me. And best of all, He can turn your glass of water into a glass of Beaulieu Vineyard 2011 Cabernet Sauvignon! Everyone loves BV and you can find it everywhere