Occupy Karaoke: 25 Days of Drunken Lyrical Lunacy (No 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' Please)

Paul T. Bradley Jenn and Ti and the delicious Occupy Karaoke calendar.
Karaoke maxim: There's more to life than karaoke, you know, but not much more. --Occupy Karaoke participant Ti, with help from Morrissey
"So, have you heard of these kids who are doing karaoke for 25 days in a row? Occupy Karaoke?" we ask a fellow bar patron.
We're in the Atwater Village watering hole Bigfoot Lodge last month, on the hunt for a cabal of karaoke partisans.
"No. That sounds lame," replies the beefy patron.
"You think so? I'm kind of hoping they've got some singing chops," we rebut, taking exception with his negativity.
"If there's karaoke here tonight, my wife and I are leaving -- I can't stand that shit." He retorts, after ordering two double whiskeys on the rocks. Oof. We hope they're not driving.
Karaoke is a polarizing enterprise, apparently, and we still have yet to find the crew responsible for taking that polarity to the next level -- they haven't responded to our emails, phone calls or smoke signals and we're scanning the crowded digs looking at faces and checking them against O.K.'s tumblr photos. No luck.
They tweeted they'd be here, and so far no one knows what the heck we're talking about -- we're even scanning for their signature advent calendar. Have we been duped?
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