M O O Y

A little story about books, New York, bookstores, purchases, being criticised, freeloaders, etc

2008-02-21T11:02:00.001-08:00

This story is actually a rerun of something I posted on another site, which I forgot to post here. The plot isn't tied to any given point in time, therefore I figure it can still be enjoyed today.
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The carpet is plush, the wood dark, the whites are a bit off, and gold trimmings abound in all obvious places, yet these ingredients combine into something quite common. After all this is only a book store, a four story one at that, but a nationwide chain purveyor of books (plus cd's, pastries, writing tools, coffee goods, and various types of knick knacks).

The crowd of shoppers ambling about seem divided into two groups, one dead set on making a purchase, and another consisting of quieter folks who have a lot of time on their hands but little cash. Fortunately for them, chairs are provided, uncomfortable chairs, but ass perches nonetheless. The more courageous (and tenured) of the strapped for cash group lie about lazily on the floor, staking claim to columns and shelf space, as if they received an exclusive memo announcing that certain authors or genres would pique no interest on this day. The one thing unifying these two groups is the desire to avoid talking to one another, resulting in mumbled "um excuse me" and sass-filled eyes, as the brave floormongerer is surprised to learn that their section had not been closed for the day.

Fortunately for me, the author I want is on the top shelf. Unfortunately for the reader on the floor this section is not closed to the public today, but if it is any consolation prize there is a nice view for him to enjoy as my crotch saunters about at his (i.e. the reader on the floor) eye level. Although reading in the bookstore may seem like a very affordable activity, this squatter is learning that sometimes the price is paid in different ways. Sure, the words 'excuse me' are uttered, but I make sure to take my time deciding whether the predetermined title is what is best for me. Time probably drags for the person sitting at my feet, but my mind can not help but wonder if this whole situation is awkward, and that it could be much worse if I had worn shorts or not washed as 14% of the city's inhabitants tend to do.

Down towards the cash register, through the multiple escalators, past the magazine minions and the macchiato multitude, I make my way, doing my best to overhear conversations without being critical. At the end of the line my education and common knowledge meets the end of commercial America on the tip of an epiphany that this chain of bookstores must have paid some good money to an idea extortioner (i.e. consultant), who in turn suggested that wait times would decrease, and customer satisfaction thus increase, if all consumers were made to wait in one line for the multiple cashiers. But, as with many cattle tactics applied to humans, this advice does not completely translate to the real world due to good old fashioned human incompetence.

What seems as another mildly interesting conversation, that is not including me (once again), going on, off to my right, turns out to actually be two cashiers doing their best to prove that a certain range of work ethic (i.e. none to low) qualifies adults for low waged retail jobs. One of the more motivated cashiers points them out to me and the other customers, leading to my interaction with the reluctant book hawker. Thankfully the need for him to press his fingers against an object, wave a book in front of a screen, and swipe a card (in a preset order) does not cramp his mood, and a small conversation breaks out. The exchange goes along the lines of him saying "David Foster Wallace? Are you serious?" while cycling through various eyebrow contortions. As thoughts about the high level of pretentiousness present in the New York retail population run through my head, the cashier attempts to atone for his berate by suggesting other titles from the same author (also proving his memory is fully functional). Perhaps the cashiers do not ever exchange responsibilities with the other workers who stock the shelves, yet the fact that books by the same author are grouped together has always seemed common knowledge to me. I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt (I've always imagined there are people who just grab anything off the shelf because they just love reading that much, and maybe, just maybe, this cashier makes sure to cater to those types). After hearing about how much he dislikes books by the author I have, now shamefully, chosen to purchase I am allowed to take my receipt and leave. At least now I know not to tell anyone which author I am reading nowadays.

Music Relay

2008-02-21T05:18:00.000-08:00

Here's a fun new song I've been enjoying:

Tapes 'n Tapes - Hang Them All

T'nT is a young band from Minneapolis, Minnesota. Their sound fluctuates from country tinged pop to instrumental techno tainted rock. If I had to give a crude comparison of styles I would say that most of the time they sound like a Northern industrialized version of My Morning Jacket, but don't do the down tempo anywhere near as often. There is also plenty of instances where they veer from this comparison, therefore you can consider the past 3 sentences worthless (including this one). They haven't really broken through the top of the indie music scene, but have bumped up right against it. Their last album featured the semi-popular "Cowbell," which is actually how I found out about them. That song doesn't reveal their twangy roots, (or their large vocab) but I'm not one to say a band needs to stick with one style. You can listen to, and even download with their blessing, a few of their other songs here.

These dudes have a new album dropping some time later this year, probably late spring/early summer. They will be performing at the SXSW festival next month so there could be a chance that some record exec will try to pick them up and eventually force them down our collective throats (i.e. ear canal).

More later, off to work for now.

Paprika and other words that start with P

2008-02-20T19:37:00.000-08:00

Such as perseverance, persistence, patience, passion, priority, and promotion. Each one as relevant as the first 'p' word, and just as important in the grand scheme of things concerning yours truly. This post didn't really start with a theme, (and I'm not one to proofread things that aren't tied to pay) but rather the ideas began with the name of a spice then flowed from there. It makes me question the interconnectivity of my cognitive paths but I fear I lose you (the reader) two words down that direction.

Thus another question will suffice at a time like this- Why am I writing again? (or rather why am I writing again here of all places, and to no one in particular- actually that one can probably be easily interpreted by the end of this passage). The answer isn't because I haven't been delving back into David Foster Wallace, although the hacking of parenthesis proliferation would beg otherwise. My best guess as to what the best answer is two fold- I was reminded that I enjoyed writing and I found a bit of time.

On the surface this idea of writing, once again, through a medium that is more knee jerk than any other associated with digital diction seems like a bad idea. To be honest I am only saying "on the surface" because I am hoping somewhere in the sum of the surrounding words there will be some greater benefit realized. Either way I know there is at least a negative aspect to it because I made the mistake of revealing this repository's existence to someone who's opinion is running high in value (in my mind, not in some marketplace, but if you (the reader) know of anywhere that is compensating people for their opinions regarding amateur writing please let me know immediately).

It would probably have been easier to say "No, actually it's probably better for this relationship if you never knew of my aspirations as a wordsmith" to the request to "Read something of yours (i.e. mine)." Yet somewhere I got the idea that leaving oneself (e.g. me) as open as possible to judgment would lead to more fruitful relationships, non-platonic or otherwise. I also read the wrong books on writing, ones intended for people who knew all the rules and therefore be capable of holding interest while still breaking said rules. I think I just try to break the few rules I know so it looks like I'm in charge of what my fingers are pressing together (this is a poor reference to keyboard typing).

But I'll start trying to hold interest right now. That lead set of paragraphs has to be ridiculously boring. This is what is going on right now for me.

Today marked the one year anniversary of my time at my current job. Sticking to the topic of a job I was promoted today. This was the most unceremonious promotion I have heard of during my short span in the force (i.e. work force). Apparently the biggest news for me in a while was reserved to an undiscussed bullet point present on a slide which was used at a meeting I chose to not attend. I am not sure what this promotion means. Sure, I've achieved promotions before but usually the announcement is tied to some increase in salary, which is what I care about. It was obvious to me that I could move up if I worked hard, and this title change (i.e. promotion) is basically an opportunity to do more challenging work. The thing about challenges is that they are taken for the reward. Hopefully there's a financial reward at some point, but I work in a weird place. The most analogous entity would be a family of famous authors that are all blind, deaf, and mute. They can all express moving prose, yet not to each other. That comparison probably only makes sense to me.

Another thing that is currently going on is the retirement of Nicholas Gurewitch, creator of PBF Comics, and one of the living humorists I hold in high regards. I won't get into his work since it's linked in the sidebar, but I will admit that I am sad about the news. He recently published a hardcover collection of his strips, which I purchased. The popularity of the book seems to have been a catalyst for his semi-retirement, and I feel partly responsible, but mostly empathetic. When I work hard it's for the sole reason of making more money so that I won't have to work so hard. I am not sure where this cycle ends, but I can see how it takes a break when a book one has authored does unexpectedly well. Good for Nicholas, I applaud his decision to move on, if only partly, to other desires and not exploit his fame at a time when it would be most profitable.

This whole passage seems overly melancholic and I am not sure what that is a function of but I'll take a stab since I am supposed to be the expert on the 'why' and 'how' regarding myself. I've been thinking lately about burning bridges, and I probably mean burnt bridges, but I am holding out from calling it that for the sake of not admitting that the bridges are burnt or that I am not continuing to burn them. There isn't a clear reason for if or why I participate in such relational pyromania, but this is probably all born from the fact that most everyone who congratulated me on my promotion made some mention of 'celebrating it with your (i.e. my) friends." I guess I've done a good job of perpetuating myself as some social person who has friends ready and waiting for me to call the time on happy hour. That isn't the case. I definitely have friends but not those types of friends, the type that is around all the time. I think I forgot to make the friend thing a priority for a while and am now dealing with it.

Either way, I have many good and a few great things happening in my life, therefore none of this should be seen as a complaint. More like an airing of recent past, which I'll try to pick more cohesive episodes to delve into. Consider this post a stretching of a writing muscle that is in obvious need of rehab.

Movie Machete: No Country for Old Men

2007-11-13T09:10:00.000-08:00

This past weekend, for the first time in a long time, I made a concerted effort to go watch a certain movie. The whole theatre experience was more of a backup, nothing-to-do, kind of deal that I had (justifiably) neglected for months if not years. The thing is that I had caught some trailers for the Coen brothers’ new movie No Country for Old Men and I wanted to get a 2 hour dose of what that snippet had made me feel. Any movie that can play off the greater society’s cynicism in subtle and startling tones is going to inevitably pique my interest, but the “made by the Coen brothers” stamp was enough for me to forsake patience and $11.50.

I’ll be forthcoming and elaborate a little on my admitted admiration of the Coen brothers. Not everything they’ve done ranks high on my lists, but the greater body of work is undeniably superb. This would usually be where I the other Coen brother movies I’ve enjoy, but instead I’ll just say there are about 3 or 4 of them. Those other movies have nothing to do with No Country for Old Men other than being projects that helped Joel and Ethan grow to the point where they could helm the adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s neo-western novel into a stunning masterpiece.

The muted colors that populate backwoods Texan expanses and the warm tones in ubiquitous hotel rooms typify the attention to detail evident throughout the movie. This heightened awareness by the filmmakers goes a long in way in creating a cohesive world that reminds you of the world you live in fear of. Years of perusing tragic story after epic catastrophe over a plate of eggs and toast is a common scenario that begins to tell the complex story behind the inherent Western notion that we are simultaneously well removed yet well aware of that which is most dangerous.

Overall the movie is meant to be enlightening experience at best where emotions and questions were mentally raised, then verbally qualified. The movie has something to say about the materialistic culture in America but I am not able to put my finger quite on it. The most prevalent point to me is that from each generation further corrupts the American dream for the following generation, leading to a point where one’s ideals are extinct or bastardized once old age has been reached.

This type of gritty drama wrapped in home cooking is something the Coen brothers have done well with in the past, and some of the same setups used in those movies are evident here (you’ll have to trust me and look for them). By the end you will swear that Javier Bardem went to Hell to research Satan for his role as Anton Cigurh. Josh Brolin’s turn as Llewelyn Moss, a cowboy with the biggest balls this side of the Mississippi, will leave you forgiving him for all his prior celluloid sins (see: Hollow Man, or Thrashin’). From end to end the movie is packed with suspense, thrilling action, and enthralling characters. Submitting oneself to the drama that unfolds in No Country for Old Men is anything but a waste a time.

2007-10-25T23:27:00.000-07:00

Play in a row:

05 TO COME OF AGE.mp3

10 No Complaints.mp3

No More Cafeteria

2007-10-25T22:52:00.000-07:00

The pockets of heat spread throughout the innards of the corn tortilla in an array similar to the Iroquois League of Peace and Power. Neither self contained or independent of each other to form a slick coating. The cheese, for which this meal was ethnically named, vacillated between various coagulated states of melted and congealed. With tomato sauce and peppers applied with the same technical skill utilized at the Boyardee factory line it would be difficult to convince anyone that the dish served deserved any association with gourmet fair. The back door swung open, offering a peek into the operations of the greater culinary facility, but, more importantly, heralding the arrival of thickly chopped poultry. In accordance with his disdain for all meat red, he petitions the culinary artist to place the chicken boulders in the ensemble piece that will soon come to be shilled as a quesadilla.

Back at his desk he surveys the south of the border sandwich before him and begins to realize that any hopes this meal had of being consumed while handheld was long gone. Permutations of scenarios were calculated resulting in the conclusion that the attraction between his shirt and the sauce could be too great for both parties to resist. Three suspiciously chewy bites following the mindless application of fork and knife it occurs to him to look down to reveal the source of chewiness (that perfectly fit with the rest of the pattern of culinary excellence on display in the cafeteria this thing came from). Encased in within a thin core of white meat was a center more pink than the summer tea parties on Hilfiger's lawn.

As salmonella begins to set in only one question seems to take priority- "How can I tell?"

T&E is always good

2007-10-25T22:36:00.000-07:00

Music Machete #80085: Radiohead, In Rainbows

2007-10-17T21:53:00.000-07:00

In this episode of Mooy Music Minute I defend Radiohead's latest release In Rainbows against invisible attackers. Unintentionally I brought up slights the band has earned over their career. Perhaps this is some poor way of conveying context. Either way I'm self indulgently commenting on my review within my own.

People want to comment on the way Radiohead is selling the new album, although distributing, not selling, would be a more accurate way of talking about it. Either way I don't want to talk about it. Music is art to be shared not to be shilled, and that's all I have to say about the state of the business of selling music. On to the music review!

Complete. Smooth. Fine-tuned. Ambitious. Masterful. Those are some of the words I would use to describe Radiohead when they are at their best. On In Rainbows the boys from Oxfordshire provide 10 reasons why those words are still applicable today. After 20+ years in business it is clear that Radiohead has a sublime vision of what their sounds is and where it fits best. While plenty of time has been spent expanding said sound and pouring conviction into unexplored electronic frontiers In Rainbows is a solid gift for fans that have yearned to old hits for nearly 3 years.

While many people perceive Radiohead as an 'album' band, meaning that one would need to listen to the entire album in order to cultivate a taste for their music, (this label refers more to the post-Kid A version of the band) it would be hard to find a believer of that premise amongst those who have heard multiple Radiohead albums. Sure, some styles appear on multiple songs, but there are always songs that break away. In Rainbows maintains this trend by holding on to a mellow medium-to-slow pace on a few songs (that are clinics in audio engineering), and also kicks it up on a couple.

A case could be argued that this new album takes the band no where new, that these all sound like something that has been done before. My response would be that these latest released songs are comparable, if not better, takes on previously visited styles.

The essence of a band's ability to compel audiences is found in what they share with each other. What is evident amid the 10 songs is that Radiohead has built a self confidence that allows the group to arrange themselves in creative and audibly pleasing ways. They have found a happy spot where they are able to mix their jazz with electronics and alternative sensibilities to effectively write new material. Although it could be that I have no idea what I am talking about.

I love the windchime guitars on Arpeggi and undulating bass rhythms, with weird fishes. Actually that song is a great example of how much is packed into some of these songs. Somehow they fit three songs into one. The idea that started with the Beatles "Happines Is A Warm Gun," and explored in "Paranoid Android," is worked to perfection.

I think 15 Step is a holdover from Yorke's solo effort. Who knows, maybe he wants you to play the discography in sequence.

Notes are longer. Feedback and reverb are feudal lords over vast planes The electronic is pulled back and laid thickly underneath. This is the step skipped between OK Computer and Kid A.

Music Machete - The Start of a New Era

2007-09-23T19:53:00.000-07:00

I could have written about the lack of roller skating cops in this country, the pervasiveness of cheating outside of American athletics, or just waxed poetically about how the shape known as 'diamond' proves that the world is willing to look at the accepted through a different perspective. Instead I chose to go the route a any have taken before me, and I have chosen to offer you free music for your continued page viewership. This will be an unceremonious debut of sorts. I've finally decided to use free file sharing site and will from here on out dedicate my blogs to distributing mp3's. You can think of this as another little virtual pirate ship or just forgo all the metaphors and partake in my better taste in music. The possibilities are endless, up to a point, but you get the idea.

So here are a couple songs I've been jamming to recently. I'm not going to describe them because in my mind they are so last week.

Into The Galaxy.mp3

B.O.O.T.A.Y.mp3

I went to the Chemical Brother's show at McCarren Pool yesterday and had an absolute blast. Outside of the douche bag next to me who was trying to prove to his current girlfriend that he didn't know why his ex-gf was standing right next to them I really had nothing to complain about. Actually, the fact that an acquaintance's fiancee happened to ask me, out of the blue, if I knew where to get speed or x made up for all that nonsense. Cindy Lauper's song doesn't do showing one's true color's justice. Its actually quite exciting, or disturbing. Even though I've seen quite a few bands in my time I don't usually go to electronic music concerts, relatively speaking, but this was a definite gem. The Chem Bros are all around pros and have few deadspots in their show. Visuals, bass, crowd pleasing gestures, and atmosphere all combined to make for a good time. Definitely worth the price of admission if you make sure to get there late and miss Ladytron open. It is difficult to not consider one's mind blown once that guy in the image to the right shows up to the party. Here's a free remix of one song that made the got everyone jumping.

Do It Again (Elektric Cowboy Remix).mp3

Hopefully the new gifts are enjoyable. They won't be up forever and have a limited amount of downloads so make sure to get on it fast if you want to take a listen. Just right click and save as... if you want to keep the file for yourself.

Have a great week.

Music Machete #00 - Apparently With No Surprise by Dissever

2007-09-13T22:17:00.000-07:00

Editors Note: This is an album review I was asked (and honored) to do for the Miami rock band Dissever. I will be candid and admit that I am not a huge fan of the genres they vacillate among, but I am a fan of Dissever. I know them as people, friends and not figurines on a stage. While I had experienced previous incarnations of the band live I had not given their music a deep listen until after being asked to do this review. I, honestly, came away surprised at the production level and dedication to creating compelling music the album displayed. These guys are obviously focused on honing their craft and propelling themselves to new heights, which are two characteristics I always will admire. Hopefully one day they'll get a real one on a fancy website or music rag because for a skeptic like me they have definitely earned it. Here is the review I did for their press kit. Feel free to vote for them here in their latest Battle of the Bands.

By opening the album with hazy guitars, a driving rhythm section, and lyrics of a mysteriously distant land Dissever makes clear that an intense journey awaits the listener. Surprisingly enough, this journey turns out to be equal parts vindictive and altruistic. Make no mistake about it, Dissever does not lend itself to being easily labeled. At times raucous and at other times subtle Apparently With No Surprise proves to be an expertly produced and technically sound album that belies Dissevers youth and budget. As a whole, the album coveys a deep musical knowledge, talent, and skill through use of well timed tempo shifts and complex arrangements that make it impossible to peg Dissever as a one trick pony.

Leading songs through severe dips and turns, sometimes at breakneck speeds, is an incredibly difficult task that Brian Jenkins accomplishes masterfully on his guitar. At times sounding akin to a Paul Bunyan sized chainsaw and at other times imitating an intergalactic robot with reverb capabilities, there is an impressive arsenal of riffs on display throughout Apparently With No Surprise.

Adding to the repeat listen factor is the underlying current of Anthony Beaulieu's percolating bass. Functioning as a double edged weapon the bass line is skillfully used to both smooth out the pervasive harsh attitude and drive a beat that becomes the pulse of the pit.

Texture arrives through Billy Jenkins percussive persuasion as he picks and chooses moments to switch between avalanche and bombastic modes. Not letting a drum head go to waste, the entire kit is put to use in a way that infuses energy into the rhythm and lyrics. The, at times jazzy and other times apocalyptic, cymbal syncopation, fast flicking kicks, and brain bashing tom combinations make bobbing one's head irresistible.

The equally compelling and intelligent lyrics by Eddie Torres weave an epic tale that twists and turns through moments of love, inspiration, oppression, revolution, and confinement, to name a few. Each song is intended to be taken as part of a greater story that spans the entire album and says a lot about the current state of the world. The lyrics accomplish the difficult task of retaining a level of authenticity as moments of joy and undying love are peppered within a hopeless world that is rapidly collapsing on the protagonist. The fluctuation across tones in the singing is done in a way that matches the band and keeps the listener engaged.

By assuming the role of narrator, and employing some old fashioned musical storytelling, Dissever convey a chain of events rather than issue monologues. This technique creates songs that are accessible and ultimately invite the audience to empathize with the emotions expressed through sound.

Overall Dissever shows a musical unison that tightens and enhances their sound. This cohesion goes a long way in making the music work, because as most know when it comes to any band it is the chemistry of the ingredients that makes the music enjoyable. Apparently With No Surprise delivers on the promise of Dissever's live shows and displays an understanding of the subtle aspects of studio recording that make an album worth listening through again and again.

Photo Hunt

2007-08-19T21:14:00.000-07:00

I make no issues about it. I enjoy 10eastern.com. Is it a site to buy rebate jeans worn by Bollywood stars? Nope. Just instant visual gratification.

Here is my idea of a proper narration through my faves:

Photo 1:

"Yo no creeo que el poodle luce como Jesus"

Photo 2:

"People say I have my dad's smile"

Photo 3:

Girl: "I don't think I can hold it in"
Guy: "Oh yeah, this is my kind of scarf."

Photo #4

This guy reminds me of an otter for some reason. I think it might be his dirty fingernails. Either way go bandit collars!

Photo #5

This looks like a 'temporary' living situation

Photo #6

Hair product + leather + (stubble x trouble)+ ham radio = rock o'clock

Photo #7

"Who you callin' baldie nips?"

Photo #8

"You don't think I'll do it?"

Photo 9:

Monstrosity only had 3 band rules.
1. Never stop rocking
2. Keep on rippin' it!
3. If you cut your hair, you lose your shirt.

Photo 10:

"Can you guess which one I am?"

Photo 11:

"As for first my first act as leader I will be firing whoever made this floral arrangement"

Photo 12:

Through all the years of sitting next to Gary, Sam never understood why the cube partitions had to be transparent.

Music Machete #49 - The Black Angels "Passover"

2007-08-04T17:09:00.000-07:00

To put things in context I'll start off by informing you that I no longer drive. My main modes of transpo rely on walking or standing. There is great lack of sitting involved in my routine travels. To be completely honest, my ass has never been so aware of where we're headed as it consistently has during the past six months. Before making the move up to Millionaire Island there was a time, actually it was all the time, when I got around by plopping down between four wheels (in all honesty I think I've been a one of those six wheeled pickups twice in my life) and shutting the door behind me. Sure there were tapping of feet and palms placed upon the circular persuader, but you get the point that I rode in a car. After spending enough time I became privy to the notion that there was music that was most suitable for motoring around. To this day I'm not sure what qualifies a song to participate in this category but I'm sure it involves one part "shut you up" factor, one part "sing along-ness," and a complete lack of violins, woodwinds, or mopey lyrics.

Now that I'm walking a lot more I am finding that there is music that finds a home somewhere amongst my gait. One album that does well in this category is "Passover" by The Black Angels. Their complete devotion to the tom and tambourine propels me down the street at brisk and even pace.

But plantar pressing action isn't the only thing encouraged by The Black Angels. Their guitars usually have the fuzz-factor turned up way past the stubble realm to somewhere resembling the five day weekend beard territory. The resonance the vibrates of their strings allows for some sitar-like sounds when the right pitch bend is applied. Add in that a backing guitar is usually mimicing a well tuned motorcycle muffler and you begin to get the picture that there if there is a light at the end of the tunnel that is The Black Angels' style they have purposefully chosen to turn their backs to it.

The dark nature of their tone and hovering bass inspires scenes out of a dimly hued indie film where one man has decided to take on the entire world on his own. Many times there are songs that beg a visual scene be created for it, but the grungy, venomous attitude evoked from the instruments on "Passover" could supply more emotion to action than any well groomed dialogue and delivery ever could.

Subtlety is a difficult achievement at lower octaves yet The Black Angels find ways to grab the golden ring by putting a driving force behind the rhythm section that allows the lead guitar to wander along with an almost twangy spirit that will transport your ears below the Mason Dixon line regardless where you stand.

As you would imagine, the lyrics do not try to carve their own path. Melodies that had a heyday back when your parents thought they knew what good music was accompany messages that intertwine circumstances of despair and approaching chaos. But do not take the dire vocal tones as a harbinger of negativity. Rather see the whole picture and realize that theirs is a message of self confidence in the face of dismay.

In the end my main point is that the Black Angels latest album conjures a badass sound that puts a kick in your step. Listen to songs like "Black Grease," "The Sniper at the Gates of Heaven," and "The Prodigal Son" to get a good read of how indie music can still have a hell bent attitude. "Better off Alone" and "The First Vietnam War" are good time machines that pull the curtains on the bands influences and roots.

How To Be An Asshole; Lesson #31

2007-08-04T12:16:00.000-07:00

Since the majority of my alone time takes place while I am walking around the city (be it to the train, from the train, or in spite of the train) I tend to turn use those moments to observe others. Some people only learn from their own mistakes, but I make the extra effort to also learn from the mistakes others commit in front of me. Given the pedestrian nature of my cohabitants it would be a shame, wasteful even, to let a transient travesty go unchecked.

One common scenario where this judgmental behavior manifests itself is when a couple of lovebirds swoop past. I, like most people, (unfortunately, yet reassuringly) think about whether the relationship is doomed because their respective physical features don't plot adjacent points on the beauty spectrum. In my mind the need for mass adoption of the attractiveness compatibility rating system is the sole reason we are taught at a small age that a round peg goes in a round hole and not in the pentagram shaped one. The people who love you just want to make sure that you understand there is a properly shaped orifice for the square that you are.

From time to time a complete mismatch will cross my path and I'll drop some qualifier on how sparks ever flew. Common ones are "he makes a lot of money," "she has self confidence issues," and "he/she must have a fantastic/horrendous personality." But every once in a while, when I'm in complete dick mode, a couple will flood my scope and trigger the thought that they must have terrible sex, and not even know it.

This isn't something I reserve for people that most would find unattractive. There doesn't seem to be a distinct criteria that leads me to this conclusion. But one conclusion that can be made is that I seriously have a problem when it comes to objectivity.

Make New Self

2007-07-21T23:26:00.000-07:00

One of the reasons I love living in New York is because people feel free to be themselves here. Live here long enough and the most exaggerated version of yourself will also become the most common. The vast permutations of personalities and backgrounds helps people feel at ease in their own thoughts. The carefree nature that inhabits New York's youth is impossible to deny.

Wait, what the fuck am I talking about? There is no way I could believe that crock of shit I was writing.

Just like the majority of streets here in Manhattan, the inhabitants of this city are highly gentrified. You see most of us showed up as someone else. We closed our eyes the night after we arrived with dreams and fears of what awaited us. At the end of those thoughts there was always a different version of the person those ideas originated from. Like a weird game of telephone played in solitaire the reverberations eventually shake out a picture of what we want to be perceived by the other actors on this stage.

This whole internal combustion that generates a new person isn't something that is unique to New York. It happens to everyone when they leave the place they called home. Just so happens that are a lot of those chums floating around these waters.

As a disclaimer I like to say that I find little joy in judging other people. Those criticisms usually tend to be wrong, and I usually dislike being wrong. The game I do enjoy playing is where I imagine how the object of my attention came to wind up in the situation I found them in.

Obviously the average looking girl in a business suit is not a type that will evoke a cranking of my creative juices. I do get excited when I come upon the guy with long greasy hair, bushy beard, disco tight jeans, cowboy boots, and eyes engrossed in the pages of "Lonesome Dove." I find myself postulating how this Grunge Eastwood I have been presented with found the inspiration to be a cowboy amongst the skyscrapers of New York.

I can already see him learning to roll his own cigarettes. Forcing his bowels to an all chili diet over glasses of warm Knob Creek. And as I, elatedly, imagine him using his those few precious moments he has the apartment to himself to practice tricks with his lasso I realize that I know nothing about this guy.

The weird part is that I enjoy pretending I do. I think I get this from my mother.

I don't imagine myself being the only person who enjoys this sort of voyeur storytelling. Next time you and a friend are sitting in a car or park try filling in the dialogue for a conversation that is going on out of earshot. At least you can learn a little about how you and someone else interpret body language. At worst you can seem like a total weirdo who has too much time on his or her time.

Why Commando is the best action movie ever.

2007-07-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

Over the course of his career Arnold Schwarzenegger has done too many movies to keep track of. Heck, he's done too many bad movies to keep track of. Although, I don't think I'll ever forget Jingle All the Way. Yet, early on in his career, somewhere between being a cyborg, killing aliens, and teaching kindergarten Arnie gave us a treat with Commando. If you ask me, its the reason he won the California election.

Since Commando, aka "The Greatest Action Movie of All Time," was filmed during the golden age of action films, this movie is jam packed with non-stop violence. In fact I usually end up with a couple bruises or a sprain by the time the movie is over.

Do not be mistaken though because all the violence isn't gratuitous. Almost all of it serves the purpose of reminding us that John Matrix is a nonstop killing machine.

Something that is very surprising about this movie, other than the pulsating Irish-Calypso jazz score, is that the movie turns into a buddy comedy out of nowhere! The twist is that instead of the typical two guy pairing we are indulged with an opposite sex combo that is ripe with sexual tension and multi-gender camaraderie. The producers of this film obviously knew that women would flock to see this movie (hence the need to put Arnie in a speedo at completely unexpected moments) so they gave all those women who could represent their fantasies.

A lot of people underestimate the greatness of Commando, but those are the same people who think the theme song of Entourage would make a great ringtone. The lessons in this movie abound, from parenting to female career improvement. Children would be much more prepared to take on the world if they spent some time watching Commando.

Watching Alyssa Milano's turn as Jenny Matirx, John's daughter, just makes me think how fortunate Dakota Fanning is that Alyssa grew up like a normal human being. I doubt there was arole she was completely incapable of.

One of my favorite scenes is one of the more intimate action sequences when bad guy Cook arrives at the Hotel to meet another bad guy who John has just tossed down a cliff. After being fooled to come in John gets into a fight with the dapper Cook, who we soon find out is a Green Beret. You see, this is one of the reasons why Commando is top notch, there is always time for the back story, regardless if you are in a fight to the death. As John and Cook tussle around the room with Cook's gun going off (sounding like a bazooka over a megaphone) several times Cindy intersperses hilarious one liners at machine gun pace. John throws Cook through the wall into the room next door where we find a naked lovers caught in the middle of filming some sweet love making. In a nod to irony these lovers are in doggystyle mode but the girl is the one taking the man from the behind. Even crazier is that although they are clearly filming this exciting new technique they do this under the covers. I guess the backward facing doggystyle was meant to remain a mystery.

As John storms the island where his daughter is being held up the movie reaches a fever pitch. Taking on at least 17 boatloads of soldiers, who are armed with guns, knives, canons and moustaches John even takes time to go old school. Taking a page from Bob Vila's book Arnie uses common household tools (like a machete, an axe, and circular saw) to make mince meat of an entire platoon. John even scalps a guy to show how he cares about Native American heritage.

The final fight between John and his former friend Bennett is an all time classic. Using just knives and their mitts they show us how real men settle their arguments. Even though John is 8 times the size of Bennett the fight goes on for a good five minutes. We see the true evil of Bennett as soon as the tide turns in John's favor. Bennett pulls out an Uzi but is unable to make good of shooting John "between the balls" before John rips a a pipe off the wall and throws it, spear style, through Bennett and into the water heater he was standing in front off. As the heated water keeps Bennett's dying body warm and comes out the other end of the pipe John tops it all off with an all time classic line-"Let off some steam, Bennett"

Some of my favorite quotes from this movie are:
"Cutting a little girl's throat is like slicing through warm butter"
"What are you expecting Sargent Kirby?" "World War Three"
"Como esta?"

Cartoons Made Us Do The Drugs

2007-05-31T21:39:00.000-07:00

The Gummy Bears drank their gummy juice

The Centurions yelled "PowerXtreme"

At the conclusion of each of those actions the result was the same. They were better off. The formula never changed- (Protagonist + Substance) > Adversity. Be it mechanical or an elixir that little thing they added to their bodies solved all their problems.

Even He Man and Lionel relied on a sword and a power chant to get them through.

One of the most consistent lessons of my generation's fables is that you weren't born with whatever it is that will get you through the toughest of times.

The real world it is frowns upon, if not prohibits through law, any dependance on equipment or substance. No one admires an iron lung. It makes sense to me that a lot of people my age binge drink, pierce their everything, get tattoos, and find new ways to enjoy drugs. And we could get into a whole other conversation about previous generations' proclivity for substances producing a creating a chemically improved state of adulthood, but that is a whole other topic. The point here is that the same values that led us all to think we could just add, drop, swallow, sniff, snort, pop, or ingest a little something to smooth all of the rough edges are reflected in the stories we pass down.

In a world so different than the ones I was raised on how am I not supposed to end up feeling like Denver the Last Dinosaur?

Of course like anything else this all unravels into a big grey ball as we fail to find a place to meet and agree on which substances are good and which are bad. Aspirin is OK, and heroin is not. After that it all gets pretty hazy. For instance I have no problem with athletes taking steroids, but mainly b/c I hope they aren't crazy enough to care about my opinion.

Perhaps this is all another symptom of the need we all have for a quick fix, but we'd be naive if we didn't think the we all give w/e it is we take the benefit of the doubt due to the first lessons we were taught.

Don't get me wrong about this though. I am not trying to say that all substance abuse is due to cartoons. My point is that the pharmaceutical vernacular is very evident in the fantasy we spin for children. And I wasn't even around for H.R. Pufnstuf.

If that was boring to read then I have a video that will make this all worth your while

Music Machete Making Up For Lost Time

2007-03-28T15:04:00.000-07:00

A new album titled “Because of the Times” by the Kings of Leon is set to release next week, on April 3rd so I feel compelled to provide my two cents on the matter. At the time of this post the entire album is available for preview on their myspace page.

Full disclosure- I own the previous Kings of Leon album, but hate the first release. You may know this band from by their song “Molly’s Chambers” which is an ok song if you don’t care much for music. I think it was in a VW commercial where white people dance, which I think doesn’t narrow it down by much. Fortunately the Kings have gotten much better, and there are no ads featuring them in case you are a snob like that.

The Kings’ last album made me feel they were tapping into some of what the strokes were doing. I will go as far as to call them anoint them the Southern Strokes, which given the quality of “First Impressions of Earth” is definite praise. There are stark differences between what the NYC rich kids are doing and what the Nashville Leons are up to. They both just like the same things about the Velvet Underground and it shows. The consistent, bouncing backbeat and guitar interplay are always welcome in my book.

KoL carve their niche by being extra smooth though. And I think this is attributed to their southern roots. They and My Morning Jacket are living proof of how “American” a band can sound while still being progressive. If country music had stuck with Cash instead of following Brooks and not gone pop the Kings of Leon would be Nashville Royalty.

OK, enough set up. The album is bouncy-smooth for the first 3rd, then gets raunchy, until completely mellowing out for the last few songs. The songs seem to be grouped in this fashion purposefully as certain instruments are contained to the aforementioned sections.

You can see this band playing at a dive bar where shirt & shoes are not required. I don’t mean in the same sense as a beach bar but more like a bar in a town that is still building up to its first stop light.

The lead singer’s twangy voice will sound completely out of place, much like you don’t expect Ian Anderson’s over Jethro Tull. But it’s there and once you drop your hang-up you understand how it fits perfectly. It doesn’t distract the way Geddy Lee’s always will.

Kings of Leon have always been good at throwing down an upbeat track that begs to have some bourbon poured over it but on this album they seem to make an effort to show they can be so much more. The first few songs seem to be come first just to prove a point. There is also a lot more Stones influence here.

The slower songs are a tad dull, if I have to say something bad about the album. Yet there are still some good noise/fuzz rocking moments, if you enjoy that. Then again there is a reason Sonic Youth’s following is relatively small given their fervor.

“Because of the Times” isn’t going to change the world. It is the first Kings of Leon I can listen through completely with no problem, which suits me just fine since I’m too old to buy my songs piecemeal on iTunes. This is another anti-teeniemobop album that won’t inspire a phone full of ringtones.

Key Tracks:
On Call
Knocked Up
Ragoo
Trunk
Fans
Black Thumbnail

Next 5 albums I want to buy/illegally download:
Because of the Times – Kings of Leon
We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank – Modest Mouse
Friend Opportunity – Deerhoof
Sound of Silver – LCD Soundsystem
New Magnetic Wonder – The Apples In Stereo

Mucho Music Machete- Midlake

2007-03-26T15:28:00.000-07:00

It’s Monday so I’ll review another album. On the plate for today- “The Trials of Van Occupanther” by Midlake

Who is Midlake? That is a question I asked myself sometime back after listening to their song “Roscoe.” I still don’t have an answer, but I do have their whole album now so I will elaborate on that.

Almost the entire album is understated, soft, and swooning. There is no climax. There is no ‘pump up the jam’ moment. The most up-tempo you are going to get is the song “Young Bride.” That is not to say that the whole album is not upbeat. While some songs deal with a tragic topic, there is a positive outlook intertwined in the lyrics. Well, at least there is a matter-of-fact attitude when things turn for the worse.

To put Midlake’s musical contribution in context for you I’ll do the ubiquitous comparisons. There are some songs that resemble Radiohead when they are doing songs like “Motion Picture Soundtrack.” The singer actually pulls off an American Thom Yorke post-falsetto removal.

By the way what happened to Radiohead’s new album? I saw them perform a few new songs almost a year ago.

The piano, backing vocals and drums are more like Fleetwood Mac at times, but there is no delving into the ultra melancholic here. I would venture to say that Steely Dan is oft-channeled but if only to avoid driving into alt-country territory.

The songs seem to be written by some long gone relative that enjoyed the challenges of living on the frontier. That might seem weird, but the opener “Roscoe” does more than just epitomize this idea, it sets the tone for the entire album. Songs about bandits, farmers, leaky roofs, and carrying buckets take you to a different time. Plain and simple the lyrics are do a great job of creating a world that is separate from the one listening to it.

Many of the songs stay away from cyclical choruses, at least lyrically, but use those parts of the song to convey the most emotions. “Branches” is a good example of this in how it sets the tone and summarizes the story with the chorus and uses the verse to tell you how it got their in the first place.

“The Trials of Vanoccupanther” is masterful soft, easy music that Wings would probably be influenced by if time were reversed. This album is the type your girlfriend is happy you introduced her too. It is definitely music for the fall and maybe early spring. You wouldn’t go to an art museum expecting to be thrilled but you would listen to Midlake to hear something gently beautiful.

Any suggestions?

Music Machete: Party Into the Future

2007-03-22T06:46:00.000-07:00

After reviewing two albums that were farther down the somber scale than you’d care for on a Friday night, or any night where drinks were involved for that matter, I finally have a suggestion to get you up.

No, it isn’t Dr. Dog. I know what I said about reviewing the Philly neo-hippies latest release, and I’ll get to it, but I doubt anyone is clamoring to know my opinion on the matter either way.

“Myths of the Near Future” by the Klaxons is the new standard for party rock or, as NME is inclined to put it, rave rock. That genre name sounded a bit peculiar to me, but I don’t really care for naming sub-sub-sub-genres. I think HMV has better description of the Klaxons, calling their music "acid-rave sci-fi punk-funk.” I had an idea what was meant since I had heard the single “Gravity’s Rainbow” a couple months back. That song seemed interesting to me, but grew old on me quickly, which probably just a by product of being into bands like Ratatat and the Rapture at the time. Thankfully I gave them another chance, which was actually a by product of be able to pirate an internet connection and download more music this week.

As some would say, it’s all about the by product.

Throughout the first listen the album seems exciting akin to being 10 years old and finding a porn magazine left beneath the bleachers. On one hand I am thrilled with my discovery, and at the same time I am so exhilarated to find out what comes next that I am probably glossing over the details. But that’s just fine because I’m taking it home with me.

Before the end of the album all I can hope for is a live performance in my near future.

While it would be hard for some of the songs to be considered astounding on their own merits, as was my issue with "Gravity’s Rainbow", the album as a whole is a great listen from beginning to end.

To be condescending and use another band to put things into context, the Kalxons are deserving of the hype that was bestowed on the Arctic Monkeys. While the Monkeys still have a lot of room to grow, and are tremendous fun b/c of their simplicity, the Klaxons have begun their journey from a much more complex and musically knowledgeable place. The U.K. puts out a lot of famous bands, but no where near the same number of good bands. Don’t let the misses mask the hits.

Flat out “Myths of the Near Future” is upbeat party music that you can listen to after the lights come on.

Like:
Rapture with more rock
Arctic Monkeys with more practice and instruments
Muse without self pity and a need to show off
Kasabian with a genie’s lamp
The Bravery without a need to do coke to be cool

Women's College Basketball is a Huge Waste of Television

2007-03-21T08:13:00.000-07:00

Why is women’s college basketball on television? Does anyone have an answer that doesn’t involve the words “Title IX” or “corporate sponsorships” in them? The only reason that women’s basketball games should be televised is because everything else has already been televised. Which, by the way, is a better reason to stop televising things altogether.

This is not a chauvinistic conclusion. This feeling is more a kin to my questioning the need for Krispy Kreme to produce a donut flavored smoothie. If you need to consume glazed flavored products sans chewing or if you are spending time watching women’s basketball on television then you should stop and find something else to do.

Am I justifying the act of actually attending a game? No, but I’m not against it either. I figure there is some excitement involved in being present for any athletic feat. I don’t judge people who go watch mud wrestling, eating contests, curling, or those fabled ‘lumberjack’ games for that matter. The difference here is that neither of those events is as intrusive. I am required by gender law to watch 10 minutes of women’s college basketball highlights in order to find out if an NBA team won or not. An analogous example of this would be if you had to endure the story of how the person behind the cash register ended up at that job every time you bought something. You don’t care, you don’t want to care, and would feel ridiculous for caring.

My annoyance seems to have some objective support though as my anguish has led me to research how many people are actually interested in watching people only do 75% (super generous estimate here) of what other people can do, and are doing, and are as available to watch.

Finding attendance numbers for women college basketball games is as easy as baking a cake without the use of your extremities. In case you don’t retain information the way I do let me first inform you that Duke, Temple, Pittsburgh, and Tennessee have some of the most praised women basketball programs in the country. The first and latter especially have a recent history almost all other schools would trade for at the drop of the hat. Yet when you look up the attendance it is reported as N/A. Mind you that Duke played Temple in Raleigh, NC and Duke University is located within 25 miles of downtown Raleigh. Tennessee played Pittsburgh at the University of Pittsburgh. You would think that the attendance would be phenomenal to either one of these, worth taking note of at least.

Perhaps you are saying that I can’t come to a conclusion by means of an N/A. Well click on this link and watch the highlights in the right sidebar for yourself. What explanation is there for all those empty seats? Did everyone go buy hotdogs at the same exact time every time they chose to include a shot of the (anti-)crowd in the frame?

Here are some attendance numbers from last night’s games:
N.C. State vs Baylor – 5,225 (Played in Raleigh where N.C. State is located)
Connecticut vs. Baylor – 7,250 (Played in Hartford, CT; 30 miles from Univ of Conn)
Michigan State vs. Rutgers – 8,000 (Played in Michigan State’s own gym)

The only sporting event you can equate those numbers to is professional bowling, and that is televised at the same time as NFL games to tell you that you should not be watching this channel, football is on, what is wrong with you?

Since I try to contribute as well as destroy I will suggest an alternative, because I am sure someone reading this is asking, “Well, what should they put on instead then?” This is a very easy answer- Hockey. There were 8 games last night that could have been televised. Only two of which had attendance below 18,000 (15,000+ and 13,100).

Before you go nuts and claim that no one wants to watch hockey let me put the 1.3 Nielsen rating the average NCAA women’s basketball tournament game receives in perspective for you. That is 500,000 people lees than what watched a rerun of “The War At Home” on Fox this past Sunday.

Breaking Story

2007-03-04T11:04:00.000-08:00

People who come up with the titles for news segments have to be some of the most passive aggressive people out there.

If you do not know what I mean by news title I am referring to the graphic you'll see while an anchor person is "reading the news." Some examples are "Neglected New Orleans," "Britney Gone Bald," "K-Fed Up."

The reason I think the authors of those blurbs are such scoundrels is because they create powerful negative stigmas without any consequences. We never know who these people are, and for the most part it could be some computer software running an algorithm. Regardless of their origins it would be incredibly naive to dismiss the persuasive power those few words have.

One that stood out to me this morning was "Al Qaeda 3.0," which was provided by the bastion of integrity headquartered in Atlanta- CNN.

CNN, CNBC, and ESPN have to be the most popular channels played on mute. You can find them being played at bars, gyms, offices, and bathrooms. The people running these channels obviously know this, which is why every single one provides a ticker on the bottom. And in most cases they will use graphical bullet points to emphasize the premise of the piece. They are also aware that the largest/brightest thing on the screen will receive the most attention therefore making it ever more important that the segment's title be extremely captivating.

So Al Qaeda 3.0, which I saw on mute, most likely referred to the annual resurgence of the Afghani based jihad every spring. Apparently the promise of 72 virgins isn't quite as persuasive when its fucking freezing outside. Shrinkage could be terrorism's greatest enemy.

I find it appalling that one would equate the resurgence of a nationalistic militia which seeks to oppress all individuality and difference among its people to the rolling out of new computer software. As if Al Qaeda leaders have been investing their funds in the R&D department instead of building up weapons and forces. No doubt they all sat around a table and garnered insight from charts and graphs on how the 'casualty experience' turned out the past few quarters.

Yet to the person in a cube/office/ivory tower in Atlanta that is what it seemed most like. The analogy was evident to them. I would suppose the troops on the ground have a different perspective and other choice words for those who take the coming onslaught as a glib matter.

I don't know what I was expecting though. The news doesn't hope to inform us about anything anymore. The main goal at the end of the day is to entertain and achieve high ratings. Whether that is done by shocking us with imagery or always reffering to the decibel meter to judge who wins the argument is irrelevant.

No doubt freedom of expression is good thing and I in no way am trying to say that the people should not be tolerated. What I am trying to convey is that the words put forth by these people should not be accepted and that perhaps they need to reexamine their values in regard to gravity of war and the sacrifices of others.

Snake Won't Save You Now

2007-02-28T13:40:00.000-08:00

If you went by conventional wisdom, you would think that visiting the Middle East is tantamount to spelunking through the eighth ring of hell. The kidnappings, beheadings, riots, suicide bombery, and pervasive fatwa ways would come to other people’s minds. Instantly they would fear that there is higher possibility of a sandworm swallowing you whole than you having a peaceful vacation.

Let us step outside the 24 hour news networks, away from the evening news, and even further away from Hollywood. Take a moment to refresh your thoughts with a dose of reality. Now realize that there are 200 million people living in the Middle East. The vast majority of who are living their lives with nay a militant in sight.

While it is still slightly more dangerous for American tourists in Middle Eastern countries than it was for Germans in Florida during the early nineties the area still is far from being somewhere our government is going to drop Kurt Russell into.

Things To Google

2007-02-20T16:39:00.000-08:00

(I'm going to try to make this an ongoing series of things I'm trying to learn about that I can't find in the mainstream media. Hint: Google the bold)

DMT
I've been thinking about DMT a lot. A friend of mine mentioned it in a conversation we were having about Joe Rogan, I think. (DMT is a naturally produced chemical in the brain, believed to induce dreams) I joked at the time that of course it was extremely hard to come across since they probably had to squeeze baby brains to get it. Little did I know that it exists in most mammals and many plants. It is very available, but very hidden, unintentionally, at the same time if that makes any sense.

Taking DMT seems to be a life changing experience. Oddly enough it takes everyone to the same place and introduces them to same set of characters. That fact alone is startling in of itself given that it is a psychedelic and not a (proper) space shuttle.

Reading up on DMT led me back to Terrence McKenna. He was one of the biggest advocated of DMT (among other things). His description of its effects seem to be the best. If any of this piques your interest you should look into a book titled DMT: The Spirit Molecule by Rick Strassman. That dude, a professor at the University of New Mexico, conducted government funded studies on the effects of DMT.

Timewave Zero & The Novelty Theory
Reading further into Dr McKenna introduced me to his Novelty Theory and its startling predictions. The fact that innovations are continuously discovered and the rate at which they are discovered is constantly increasing is a given. Given this fact an algorithm was created that predicted when the rate at which innovations are discovered reached infinity. The exact date is December 11, 2012. Actually 11:10 pm that night. I feel bad for my mom and my friend Danny b/c it seems if all goes to plan their birthdays (the following day) will see irrelevant.

No, that date is not the end of the world. It is supposed to be when the world as we know it will change. Innovation, inventions and all that will ever be discovered will be come present at that time is a better way to put in layman terms. The only way this is possible is if a time machine is created. Sounds crazy right?

Well, you should look up time machines b/c the thing holding us back isn't a way to travel through time but rather sufficient energy to do it. If a time machine exists than any discovery made from that point on will become available. You would also be able to only travel back to the point a time machine was created, in case you are starting to dream of your own pet stegosaurs.

Mayan Calendar
There is also a big coincidence with the date McKenna's algorithm landed on. It is the exact date that the Mayan's predicted we would access the Sacred Tree. "Now this is getting really crazy," you are saying, no doubt. Unfortunately it is true, and both were created autonomously of each other. What does that Sacred Tree bullshit mean?

It is the exact date that the Sun will be in the middle of the Milky Way band that runs between the constellations Sagittarius and Polaris. It seems that back in those days you could see the band of the milky way, and just b/c the European names for constellations stuck doesn't mean they were the only ones to see them. Especially one as important as Polaris. Too bad we are only taught white mythology and history. There is little doubt that the Meso-Americans figured out some pretty complicated things about space on their own.

I suggest looking into all those things, b/c they are more real than Evolution, the Trade Deficit, Global Warming and Class Warfare. Yet you will not find much information about any of them in mainstream culture.

Signs

2007-02-18T10:45:00.000-08:00

You want to know how you've had a bad night. Well, if you wake up in the morning to find that the last thing you did before passing out was check out Shaggy's myspace page then you know. That is a dead give away. And I mean Mr Lova-lova, you know Mr. Boombastic. Not Scooby-doo Shaggy b/c then at least you could claim that you were high and curious.

I think the only way it could get worse is if I woke up to Maxi Priest and found myself clicking the virtual button so the gorilla wont get me before I reach the ladder dangling from the copter. Where did that big Gorilla come from anyways? I guess I'll do anything for a free ringtone.

Another way to know that you are having a bad night is to find yourself in a hotel room where the only entertainment is a short guy imitating a pirate while dancing on a table. Throw in the fact that the only chicks in the room are big enough to challenge you in an arm wrestling competition and you have a night that was missing a "NO OUTLET" sign when you entered it.

Why I Shouldn't Drink or How I Forgot to Remember the Drive of a Lifetime

2007-02-17T10:21:00.000-08:00

(DISCLAIMER: Non-linear Storytelling Ahead!)

Waking up is always a good thing. There may be situations where you may want to stay asleep, but there is no denying that you will want to wake up at some point. When I awoke on Friday morning I had no doubt it was a good thing. The main reason being that I had no idea how I ended up waking up in my house. I didn't know that the Spam All Stars were even done playing yet.

As I began to retrace my steps through the path of discarded clothes and the thrown about remnants of what once occupied my pockets I realized I had some 'splaining to do. My license would not be found until two days later, and the clothes would need to be washed imediatley. Thankfully, not due to any fluid spillage but rather b/c of the vast unknown I had just awoken from.

---- 4 hours earlier ----

The main question I have right now is "Where the fuck is the road?" Questions regarding my general location, my motivation for off-roading right before dawn, or how I ended up here would need to wait.

Grass, trees, and a tall fence to my left are all I can make out. Somehow that's all I needed b/c I seem to have come into the situation already going over 50 mph and in the driver's seat.

I need to get the fuck out of here and back home

---- 5 hours earlier ----

It's Thursday night, which means the Spam All Stars will be playing at Hoy Como Ayer. I love that place. So much character. Love the Spam too. I really can't get enough, and I'm a bit insecure that I am not having as good as a time as they deserve when they play.

Either way its ladies night, and ladies love dancing to le Spam's grooves. This is all working together nicely. I think I am going to see if a couple of friends want to help me polish of a bottle of Bombay blue before heading out.

The ladies can go ahead and get there for free, but I'm going to take my time getting sauced up before I even step out.

---- 2 Hours later ----

The bar is blowing up. I can't really ask for anything more, just that this doesn't stop soon. Oh, someone is ordering some Black on the rocks, sweet! This will help keep the good times rolling.

---- 3 hours later ----

Why the hell doesn't this fence end? Is this a park or someone's house that I am driving through? Perhaps a school?

Fuck it I'm going to make my way out. That fence can't stop me at this speed.

---- 4 hours later ----

After waking up and stumbling about my room for a few I thought there might be a chance that I left my license in my car and I went out to take a look. As soon as I got to my car I knew I had done something stupid last night. My hood, front bumper, windshield, roof, and back of my car have scratches on them. I am, at this point, wondering who or what I hit last night.

Did I give that person or thing my license? I really hope not. I really don't need this right now. My head is pounding and I think I'm still a little bit buzzed.

I subsequently called my father to see what he had to say. He had to have seen it. He doesn't miss things like that. Shit he might have been the person who drove that car home from all I can remember. Just 2 days until I wouldn't be staying at my parents house any longer and I couldn't wait until then to wreck my car. Once again timing is everything.

My father's reaction - "It looks like you drove through a fence."

At that point my memory is triggered into displaying images of me behind the wheel of an SUV as it barrels through a park-like setting eventually swerving to the left and blowing through a fence. There are only two thoughts in my head and they are best paraphrased by the following questions:
- How did he know?
- What the hell is wrong with me?

Apparently I had way too much to drink the night before. When I am only drinking liquor and no mixer all night it is very easy to predict what is going to happen. I will black out hours before I pass out. This usually leads to the people around me assuming that I am not "that drunk" or am just having a good time. I have no idea what I say or do at those times, but usually end up having a couple things to deal with in the morning because of it. While it is emboldening in a frat-boy sense to know that your subconscious can continue drinking for you its even more so disheartening to know that control is so easily lost.

I wasted at least 3 gallons of gas driving around in that stupor. Where I drove I don't know. I would like to say I just drove around, but when all I can remember is the part where I was careening through, what looked like, a park I don't feel confident assuming it was an easy drive. Somehow I did not get pulled over. God protected me, and more so whoever else was out there.

I am still kind of scared that I did something else that night which will come back to bite me in the ass. I have never gone driving through a park late at night. I do not know how I would even get my car into the park that I think it might have been. Even worse, I can not think what circumstance would lead me to believe that busting my car through a fence would be a good idea. If anyone can help me fill in the gaps please let me know.

Time

2007-01-12T12:39:00.000-08:00

As I awoke today it just felt like a great day to hit the road. To spend it in between here and the next place. You know what I mean? The excitement of uncharted destinations had a place in my mind today but I doubt I will make time for it. These feelings usually preclude any logical answers to questions such as, “where to?” “for how long?” or even, “with who?”

But why should I have an explanation? If a thousand birds can die mid flight and fall out of the sky in Australia and in Austin without anyone itching for an explanation how can I be so audacious to think my whimsies need reason?

I have been expanding myself, though. Not in the “gain weight for a role to be considered a serious actor” sense but in an intellectual sense. And, by the way, why do we praise the Tom Hanks’ or the Robert De Niro’s of the world when they are stealing roles from already-fat actors? Who is outraged on their behalf?

But like I said, I’ve been expanding myself in a mental capacity. I have been feeding my affinity to dive into the subversive, picking my spots to humble a crowd and other spots to act self righteous.

I no longer am bothered by people talking about God. This might lead you to believe I’ve come to terms with my spirituality, but if you ask me I think the devil has given up on me. This wasn’t an easy conclusion to reach, mind you. Yet when you find yourself crashing women empowerment meetings conducted on the top of parking garages at two in the morning it is hard to start making linear connections between what you feel and what has happened.

The world is a tricky, sticky place but no one is about to start wiping the floors when you can lay down a new soft shag. I say this because I do not like dealing in the past. I prefer living in the future. Because in the future is where I plan to spend a lot of times.

I Need Your Help

2006-07-21T10:57:00.000-07:00

I used to come up with ads. Not for fun, but as a job. Or at least it was part of my job. There was always part of me that wanted to continue down that career path. Yet now after seeing the Head On campaign I doubt I will ever be able to match its quality, let alone ever surpass it. As someone once said If you cant be the best, then give it a rest (Im not sure if I made that up or if JJ Walker said it)

After seeing this revolutionary ad I know that the marketing industry will never be the same. Apparently it has now become acceptable to leave people wondering what the hell is going on once the ad is over.

This ad has left me with following questions
What does Head On do?
How does it work?
Will it make my brow shiny?
Can I spread it on an English muffin?

I would really appreciate it if people could use the comment section of this post to leave your ideas of what the answers are to the above questions.

__________________________________________________
One other thing before I go. If people find it so easy to blame video games for any spike in violence how come no one ever blames increases in reckless driving on racing video games?

"Computer games don't affect kids, I mean if Pac Man affected us as kids, we'd all run around in a darkened room munching pills and listening to repetitive music..." - Kristian Wilson, CEO, Nintendo

News Tour - 7/20/06

2006-07-20T19:13:00.000-07:00

Since my good friend Captain Canler doesn’t do this anymore I’m going to go through today’s headlines to let you know what’s up with your world and possibly other people’s worlds also.

Marines land in Lebanon to aid evacuees
Whoa! There are Marines left? Why is everyone clamoring to bring the soldiers home from Iraq and Afghanistan if there are enough left to escort you out of Lebanon if need be? I do not see the point of having soldiers if they are just going to sit around at home. The last thing we would want is a war on U.S. soil or concrete. Soldiers are uncomfortable away from the battlefield anyways. Didn’t anyone see Major Payne?

One more thing on that – Does anyone else see this evacuation as a sign that Israel called up the U.S. and said “Hey, we are going to bomb the shit out of Lebanon so why don’t you get all your people out of there by the weekend.”

Heat blamed for at least 16 deaths in seven states
As much as I wouldn’t want to die, I can’t think of a better way of dying than by heat exhaustion. This is has to be more pain-free than even drowning. Out of all the times I’ve been near a heat stroke I can honestly claim that pain was the last thing on my mind. I just felt sweaty and thirsty. It definitely beats dying in your sleep because the last thing you want is to be asleep during one of the biggest moments of your life. No one wants to sleep through the grand finale, right?

First Bush Veto Maintains Limits on Stem Cell Use
I think this quote best sums up what I believe is the main conflict of this issue:
“Mr. Bush said the bill violated his principles on the sanctity of human life by encouraging the destruction of embryos left over from fertilization procedures. Proponents of the measure have argued that such embryos would be destroyed anyway.”
The argument that “it is going to be thrown away anyways so why not use it” reminds me of a documentary called “The Yes Men.” There is a part where a speech given in front of a college class where one of the Yes Men explains how McDonalds will end world hunger by converting American’s poo into food for impoverished countries (You can read their telling of the story here). Sure there are still useful parts in your shit but do you think it should be fed to someone else instead of thrown away?

'None of the Above' sues to have name on November ballot
Someone once said “polotics is 80% ingenuity.” Actually I don’t know if anyone ever said that, but you have to give it up for the guy who figured out how to use voter apathy to put him in office.

Underwater Bubble Rings
Not really news just kind of cool.

New Car - The Tesla Roadster
If you have 7,000 batteries lying around you could be driving this. I think it was easier to buy the jet with Pepsi points than it is to which battery is causing engine failure.

That's it for now. I'll try to be a bit more creative for next time.

If you like this kind of stuff you should probably check out Dave Barry's blog. It's phenomenally better

It Estops Rye Here

2006-07-19T13:59:00.000-07:00

I just had an epiphany. My entire life I’ve had nothing but disdain for the Hispanic accent. I cringed with every “E” that feloniously preceded every “S.” When “T” and “D” melted together phonetically I felt it blemish the dignity of the Hispanic culture in this country. As the sound of “I” jumped up an octave I took note and vowed to never let that happen to me.

Obviously I had a different background, being born in America after all. But Miami isn’t made up of a typical American culture and the danger of letting my tongue slip into the accent abyss was always imminent. I studied my speech and paid attention to differences between the way people around me spoke and the way the heads on the TV pronounced their words. I put a lot of effort in losing the accent. I didn’t want anyone to hear me speak and say “oh, that guy must have grown up in ‘el barrio.’”

I let the stereotype Americans had of us chip away at the respect I had for my own culture. Sadly I can confess that I believed that people who spoke with that accent (and were born in this country) came off as dumb.

Fortunately, as I mentioned before, I had an epiphany.

Americans can not pronounce my dad’s name the way his parents intended it to be pronounced. My mother gained a middle name because two Spanish language first names was too much for New Jersey to handle. Rodriguez became Rahdreeges. Perez turned into Peres. Jose transformed into Joe. The second “L” somehow became irrelevant as soon as it crossed the border. Now my eyes are open and I have nothing but respect for the Hispanic accent.

Americans can’t pronounce your words correctly so why should you ever be expected to pronounce their correctly? The answer can not be because they were here when we got here, because then the argument turns towards Americans being unable to pronounce the Native’s words correctly either.

I feel like a fool for falling in to that trap that someone who can not pronounce words correctly because of their accents is any dumber than someone who can.

If they have to call you Alex because they can’t say Alejandro then don’t estop talking dee way ju know how to.

Adulterous Advice

2006-07-18T18:09:00.000-07:00

As a friend it is your duty to let those you care about know that their significant other is most likely going to cheat on them. Letting you know that you are being cheated on is what friends are for. As appalling as that might sound to you just take a moment to listen in on these two friends’ conversation and then think about whether or not it sounds familiar to you.

friend 1: so next week we should get together and catch up.

friend 2: oh so you’re are finally going to have some free time from that full time job you call a relationship?

friend 1: I don’t know what you are talking about I’ve just been really busy

friend 2: yeah, getting busy

friend 1: wow, don’t be so jealous

friend 2: yeah, because I don’t get mine. So your boyfriend is leaving town i take it.

friend 1: yeah, he’s like going on vacation with his family and a couple friends

friend 2: couple friends? what the fuck, how come you aren’t going?

friend 1: because it is pretty expensive and his parents would only pay for him

friend 2: how long is he gone for?

friend 1: ten days

friend 2: and you trust that he wont do anything?

friend 1: what do you mean?

friend 2: you know, like he might meet someone there who gets him going, and he might do something he doesn’t want to tell you about

friend 1: thanks, now i feel much better about the whole thing

friend 2: well, you know its what happened to Lindsey

friend 1: do you think he would do that

friend 2: you did say he was going with a couple friends right? and he is planning on taking his penis with him right?

friend 1: buh-but he wouldn’t be so stupid. he wouldn’t do that to me

friend 2: how would you know?

And just like that the pieces start falling apart. Trust begins to crumble b/c one person you trust brings up the chance that you might be wrong about someone else you trust.

You may be saying to yourself “friend number two is such an asshole” or “why don’t these people have name” or “where does she getting off saying that.”

Fortunately I can not only ask questions for you i can also answer them.

First of all, they do not need names b/c they do not exist. You are right in calling the accuser an asshole, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t right. We all have thought about it. Well, all of us who have been in a relationship. I understand there are losers who are eternally single, but do not worry there are plenty of blogs for them (to write). Lastly, in today’s day in age you should learn not to assume those two were women. in other words it doesn’t take ovaries to have that conversation.

But this is your duty as a friend. You need to bring up the tough topics. It is imperative that you provide those you care about with some perspective. This is why your friend’s significant others are never good enough. They just want what is best for you. And you should probably heed their advice as cheating has become more prevalent than ever, even affecting the beautiful people. An article from the Shaadi times explains the upswing well.

Some even believe it is in our nature to succumb to infidelity.

Evern postulating that it may be better for the human species as a whole

Your love needs to be tested though, so relish the moment. If you make it through unscathed you might have something special.

Don’t be fooled though you might just be going out with someone who is unable to attract the opposite sex but would love the chance to.
__________________________________________________________________
Some random stuff to end on:

I do not know about you but I can’t get “21st century” by the Chili Peppers out of my head

I wish more people would write more blogs. I definitely like reading them more than writing.

When did trying become uncool? Who chose that it was weird to care?

People think President Bush is ruthless for his administration’s handling of guantanmo and abu gharib. Yet these same people have no problem praising Che Guevara even though he executed 156 Cubans who were already imprisoned. If someone killed 156 Americans they were holding as prisoners by shooting them in the back of the head as they proclaimed their freedom would you wear their image around town. I’m sure there is someone waiting for that chance so just let them know. Maybe I’m just forgetting that 156 Cubans doesn’t equal 156 Americans in most people’s eyes. I see his face on your shirt and think about how he would have wanted me dead if we lived in the same era and area.

Keep on rockin’ in the free world!

A Quick One While He's Away

2006-07-17T17:29:00.000-07:00

In case anyone was wondering “grundel.com” is not being used. It only has the word “grundel.com” linked to the webmaster’s e-mail address.

If you are wondering what a grundel is choose a door:

door 1

door 2

door 3

Yes, that was a gratuitous ass shot.

Hey ohh!

Pollution Propoganda

2006-07-16T20:23:00.000-07:00

You better get that littering out of the way. Remember the toxic waste you’ve been meaning to throw out now for a few months? Well, get cracking. Time is wasting. Before you know it you won’t be able to.

All of a sudden everyone cares about the environment. No longer are we discussing how the environment is deteriorating. Now everyone is trying to figure out what they can do.

I’m sure Captain Planet will get some sort of credit for all this.

Perhaps we should be asking what we need to save the earth from? The answer everyone gives is "ourselves," referring to the human race but actually meaning "rich white people." Think about it, if you needed to be saved from me wouldn't I be the last person you ask?

Has the earth ever thought it might be part of the problem? Plus, what is it going to do if we don't save it. I think we should be showing the earth who is boss instead of appeasing its moody ways. Once you give in a little you have already lost. Look what happened with Hitler and Austria.

Either way what I am getting at is that it will soon become increasingly difficult to harm the environment. That littering fine will soon have some jail time attached to it. As people pump up their clamoring ways they will relish the opportunity to have tougher laws that will ensure people will have the environments best interest in mind.

Sure, presently there are various laws that already do this, but the difference is that many are not enforced. In addition it is only the big “crimes” that end up receiving a strong verdict. Once politicians take note that making the environment a top priority will no longer prevent you from being elected the tougher laws will shortly follow.

How can I be so certain of the future? Because dumb laws are made up all the time when the public yells loud enough. It is the same thing that happened with tobacco, drugs, immigration, welfare, child labor, women’s rights, etc.

Someone is going to save the environment somehow, and they most likely will lock up anyone in their way. The last thing you would is to be in jail cell 4 years from now wondering why you didn't contaminate the Everglades when you first thought about doing it, 5 years ago.

So go on. Throw trash out the car window. Don’t prevent forest fires. Begin using hairspray again. Make cows extra gassy. The last thing you want is regret. Stick it to the environment before you miss your chance.

What Louie Doesn't Know On A Thursday

2006-07-13T22:04:00.000-07:00

A death in a traffic accident will cost over 2 million dollars when all is said and done. The cost of speeding is calculated, by the federal governement, to cost 28 billion dollars per year in tax payer dollars.

Think about that

Do you think every person that dies from aids will has 2 million dollars from the government waiting for them?

In case you are wondering, the correct answer is no.

So then why wonder about why the gov’t spends more money of highway safety than on aids treatment/education?

More kids die (“per year) drowning in pools than by swallowing small parts of toys, murder, or any illness. I am confident most people have seen the disclaimers saying “small pieces could be swallowed” on the packages of toys, but who has seen the warning “Children may drown” sign next to the pools they dive into?

Are you signing up for the CPR class? Are you going to drive better?

Perhaps we are more aware of the dangers we can blame someone for (and we pay someone to clean up) than we are of the dangers we have no one to blame for.

Sure it makes you think, but what are you doing to make a difference?

Life is sticky like that.

How to #1 - Be A Newscaster

2006-07-13T07:56:00.000-07:00

I’ve decided to start letting people know what’s up with the world they live in. Everyone wants to know “how to.” Being that I know it all it is my responsibility as a responsibility hoarding American to impart my knowledge. The things you once considered impossible to accomplish will be oversimplified to the point where they will hardly seem worthwhile.

For the first installment I want to let you all know how to become a news anchor. Out of all the low rungs on the ladder to becoming a celebrity, being on the news is one the most respectable. While in most cases familiarity breeds contempt most would agree that local news anchors have a place in everyone’s (within the broadcast area) heart.

When my life finally flashes before my eyes I know the memories will be narrated, or at least segued in between, by some of the anchor people I have grown fond of. Growing up in Miami, FL I came to revere the great Rick Sanchez, at a very early age. The venerable Ann Bishop taught me that lesbians were people just like me. Heck, if it weren’t for her favorite co-anchor, Dwight Lauderdale, I doubt I would have ever believed the fountain of youth existed.

What I’m getting at is that these people were, and continue to be, an integral part of my life. Fortunately for you, obtaining this social status has never been easier. Just follow my “how to” below and you’ll be misinforming the public in no time.

How to become a newscaster:
1. Look good
- If you do not have enough money for plastic surgery you must be willing to go to hazardous locales to spew rhetoric.
- Combine a disregard for your own health with good looks for a ticket to the fast lane.
2. Don’t be allergic to makeup (or spackle)
3. Believe that every opinion is a fact
4. Don’t understand math or any type of science, or at least pretend not to.
5. Emphasize every pronoun when speaking to a non-newscaster on air.
- Example (yell the bold words): What YOU do not understand Mr. Senator is that HE lied to all of US.
6. When another news person brings up any nuance of her/his life, find it hilarious.
- It is always good to throw something in after your are done laughing like “Oh, you are just too much!” or something like that
7. Lose whatever accent you have. No one should be able to identify where you were raised.
8. Get a hairstyle that is 10 yrs older than you are.

There you have it. You should be well on your way by now, all thanks to me. No doubt I missed a couple things, but my instructions should take you far enough where you can just copy the rest from someone around you.

Passing Thoughts

2006-07-11T13:25:00.000-07:00

I’ll admit it. I farted.

No doubt a million and one judgments can be constructed from that above information. I’m not going to try to defend myself against either one of them. Would you blame me for not wanting to defend farting?

Before this delves deeper into the juvenile I want to reveal that there is a story behind these opening thoughts. Passing gas is not a regular passenger on my train of thought (not even in the caboose, for those seeking a pun). Unfortunately, the story that leads me to all of this has the possibility to dive way deeper into childish behavior.

Not that I am especially proud of it, but I let one pass while I was at the gym. It wasn’t a grunt gas, or a pressure pinch (Melissa please trademark these two phrases for me). I wasn’t mid rep. I was actually watching the television in between sets when whatever part of my body that governs my pipes decided to blow off some steam. As my anus alarm went off, signaling the imminent pressure leak, I realized it was almost half past ten, I was at the gym, and the only person in a 30-foot proximity of me was some dude a good ways away. Now rather than allowing you to believe that I have pioneered some sort of fart faux pas-o-meter let me admit that the 10 yard rule has been in use by men across the globe for centuries.

OK so why is that guy now looking at me. You heard a small fart while at the gym. So what? Who cares? Do you want to make fun of it and giggle together?

Upon the release the guy 20 feet away looks at me like if I’m trying to start a fight. I know I did not grow up around this area I live in now, but I can not imagine there is any part of this country that fashions its belligerence signals after the bombardier beetle.

I turned away in hopes of not laughing at the absurdity of the situation, and resumed whatever I was doing. In the following minutes I noticed the lone man in audible range of my fart had now found someone to relay his eyewitness account to. Sure, I had headphones on and was listening to loud music, but that does not prohibit me in any way from imagining what the people around me are talking about.

In all honesty I had no idea what they were talking about, and didn’t care to know until what happened next. On my way back from getting water I had to cross next to the guy who heard my fart. I saw him smiling at his friend as I approached. One split second whiff was enough to shut down my olfactory, and tell me that I was walking through a fart cloud. For some reason unknown to yours truly, the guy who heard me fart felt compelled to fart in my area.

Perhaps I encroached on his manhood by passing audible gas in his vicinity. That is the only explanation I can come up with- that he was convicted to take it up a step. My headphones would never have allowed me to hear his weak Anglo-farts so he, using his cunning and wily wit, waited until I walked by to fart. Apparently giving one’s ass scent away is a form of retaliation for having to hear another person’s fart.

The guy immediately walked away giggling. His friend was asking what was going on. I never smelled enough to know if his was a worthy effort. That pungent odor is no stranger to me and I always do my best to stop breathing as soon as a fart is detected in my vicinity.

I thought I was a weirdo for letting one slip in public. Obviously my only mistake was to not give someone else the chance to appreciate the aroma. It makes me think about what he was saying as I walked by.
“Wait until he gets a load of this”
“This douche bag is going to throw up”
“I’ve been waiting so long to force someone to smell my farts”
“Thank god I didn’t get that enema yesterday!”

Certainly the options are endless. The absurdity of it all lends itself to infinite possibilities.

Based on this experience I believe its best that any man who is old enough to have a receding hairline should want another grown man to smell his farts.

Yeah, that's right, I came back after all this time to talk about farts

2 Ways Lou Helped Me Today

2006-06-02T17:21:00.000-07:00

- My alarm didn't go off. Lou woke me up at the same time that I had set my alarm.

- I came home from work to walk him. I felt compelled to make some conversation with my neighbor as my dog shat by his car. I asked him where I could buy guitar strings nearby, He answered by telling me how he worked at a Buddy Rogers teaching guitar and he could just give me strings for free.

Nothing breaks the ice like some dog shit. Thanks, Lou.

Three Things I Heard Recently

2006-06-01T17:33:00.000-07:00

- 5/25 7:45 am - "Next thing you know you don't know what you've gotten yourself into. A haircut is a whole other thing, eh"

- 5/30 8:15pm - "That skeezah aint got shit on me. I tell that skeezah 'You got nothing on me, skeezah.' You think I give a shit about that skeezah?"

- 5/22 12:20 pm - "This aint no $10 hose. Look at this. You think this is a $10 hose? You think I got ripped off, don't you."

**(update: a few days later he told me the hose saved him a trip to the mechanic and was worth the $10)**

Three Lies I've Told Recently

2006-05-31T17:31:00.000-07:00

"All you need is a poncho, don't even pack a bra"

"Wow that sounds really cool"

"If you have been drinking all night, take a vitamin before you go to bed and you won't wake up with a hangover"

Just Divorced!

2006-05-29T17:26:00.000-07:00

"Today would be big," he told himself. It would be a day best described by how he felt. Not an easy thing to do given that he is a male and was never supposed to be able to get a grip on his emotions. The "new age man," unsurprisingly, was not a man at all in Northern Kentucky. This social trait was not lost on his little brother when he stopped by that morning to lend the first born a window marker.

"I know you don't have the heart to sell that piece of shit you've been driving around since you had teeth, so you wanna tell me what you want this thing for?"

"What you are talking about? I've got teeth! Paid an arm and a leg for them too!"

"Just make sure you glue 'em on tight so that money don't go to waste. Here, take this thing so I can get going. Jimbo's gonna have a shitfit if I'm late again this week."

"I'll come by your place later to show you what I wanted it for. Now stop trying to ruin the surprise and get the hell outta here."

"You're sure acting weird today."

"I'll tell you, it's one of those days that I feel like I just don't know what to do with myself."

Discussing their schedules as they walked out the door they figured out when they would see each other again, but that wouldn't be until much later. The day had too much in store before it would even consider succumbing to the sun's exhaustion. If the day held any regard for the sun at all was still a topic of debate as it was nowhere in sight. Like every other morning throughout March most of the area was held under a thick veil of clouds. Some will claim that many of the cultural traits of a given region are said to be rooted in that area's climate. Perhaps those same people would blame this easing into sunlight from late winter until mid-spring for the lack of an impulsive blade among the sea of bluegrass.

Today was a decisive day for him. A point of no return that even Bridget Fonda could make no more dramatic. Maybe he should have made this choice a long time ago but there was no denying that some benefit lay in the conviction he had nurtured over the years. From his present vantage point he could see where his marriage had ended, some time long ago in the past, but today was the day the rest of the world would be served notice. OK maybe not the entire geo/demo/porno/topographic expanse of the globe but what is the world considered if not the part you know and live in. The sense of satisfaction the accompanied his epiphany was sufficiently beneficial to outweigh the price he had paid to file for divorce.

Outside in the driveway he shook the window marker as if it were a Yoo-hoo plucked from the back of the shelf. The convulsive jolts were enough to stir his curiosity into wondering why more people didn't celebrate divorce. Maybe it had something to do with people's preference to not want to admit they were wrong. Either way you'd think they would be happy to be rid of it. No doubt wells of sympathy would overflow from his friends if he ever brought it up, so he thought it would better to keep this piece of news to himself; at least until the papers were filed.

Before pressing the wet applicator to the glass hesitation forced its hand by restraining his. He never had used a window marker before and by no means wanted to mess it up. He had always imagined he would be writing some unjustifiable price on this slice of melted sand, but he never had the heart to part ways with his wheels. Like most men he was unable to let any piece of clutter escape his hoarding grasps. He cherished this piece of junk mainly because it was his, but today he loved it because of what he was about to use it for.

After mapping out a game plan and choosing a font size as delicately as an editor strapped for ad dollars would he pressed the marker against the glass. He wished more words could fit. Perhaps a "finally" could have fit, but "just" would do fine since there wasn't a doubt which word would be the star of the makeshift marquee.

Finished, he took a few steps back to judge his masterpiece.

"JUST DIVORCED"

He examined his creation, and it was good. Yet as the declaration stared back at him he could not help but notice that there was definitely something missing. The seconds moved begrudgingly on his train of thought. Suddenly overcome with some sense of enlightenment he moved towards the back window of his car to finish the job.

"JUST DIVORCED!"

Perhaps it wasn't much but the emotion he channeled through it was more than most would believe was contained in this multi-appendeged beer keg he called his body. Never one to be boisterous, he knew these two economy sized words would cause quite a stir among his friends and family. It was still a mystery to him as to whether he anticipated his wedding day with as much fervor. He knew exactly who would remember.

"Hey! Where are you?"

"Over here"

"Well, when you are done on the toilet come outside so I can show you something."

"How do you know I don't have something in here to show you?"

"I'm sure its nothing I haven't seen before. I'll be out on the porch. And bring me a shirt too!"

(tbc...)

These Three Things I know

2006-05-26T17:30:00.000-07:00

"Crocodile Rock" will be playing sometime between 12 p.m. and 12:15 p.m., every day, in the lobby of the Marriot in Covington, KY

The best spellers in the world are not as confident in their abilities as chess players are of their own skills. If they were they'd play against computers too.

Everyone knows that when you get older you get to tell people what is right or wrong, but no one knows at what age you get to speak more than listen.

When you are feeling

2006-05-08T16:17:00.000-07:00

Perhaps life moves in cycles, and I just don't have the timing down. Although the whole root of this thought is probably a stubborn trajectory holding me on a circular course. I am attempting to take an objective view to it all but perhaps I am too willing to empathize. In the center of all this ambivilance I am still sure something is changing. I could add some qualifier here in order to signal that thing's weren't going bad, but in the end I can't care whether anhything is going well or poorly. It goes on regardless.

So why all the declarations? Do I need to keep a record of the change? Could it be a new person, job, place, event, action, or state of being that I will experience?

Here's the part that gets me- I'm excited to run and find out. I have no idea what is at the end of that path, but that is why I will reach the end of it. Call it greener pastures, maturity, fear, or indicator of bipolar disorder.

It could be better to do nothing. Or better yet I could decorate this hole or mound I've made. Run until you find it or change what you have found into what you want? I fear I might be loading it one way over the other, but perhaps that is b/c there is only one that "feels" right to me.

The observer and the driver within me have yet to come to an agreement. They do know they want to get a better look at what both choices have to offer.

Yeah, I think I'm getting out of here.

The Brow Burden

2006-03-19T21:09:00.000-08:00

I’ve got some heavy brows to lift.

This isn’t a new way of saying that a burden is weighing down my shoulder’s. I’m not trying to avoid the cliché of the primate attempting to gain squatters rights on my posterior.

I mean that if you were drawing a picture of my face my brows would eat away at w/e type of utensil you were trying to be funny with.

The eyebrows dictate the settings your facial mannerisms will work best in. If you like to make a little perch with the end of one of them people will perceive it as being something. Hang them as wet rug you need to dry before your eyes and everyone will doubt that you’ll make it out of adolescence alive.

I would be lying if I didn’t say that my brows force me to commit to an expression before I make it.

A girl once told me my face is a blank slate, expressionless, or something else. I remembered she was thirteen and I was asleep in the sun.

Show me a picture you took of me. I’ll imagine which and how many ornaments I can hang off the bold underscores that demarcate the place eyes end and forehead begins while you wax on how bad you came out.

Dr. Feelbad

2006-03-18T21:09:00.000-08:00

In early 2004 Michael Lorenzo interviewed a man who claimed to not only be Tom Cruise’s doctor but also his assitant in elevating Tom Cruise’s status within the Church of Scientology. The following is his side of a conversation he had with Mr. Lorenzo over the aforementioned topic.

Yes, I guess you’re right. Explaining how I’m a doctor is as good a place to start as any.

My name is Walter Pruet and I am originaly from Kenosha, Wisconsin. I have been practicing internal medicine for 19 years now and out of the Los Angeles area since 1994. After a few years in practice there a friend reffered me to an insurance company which specialized in insuring motion pictures. They hired me pretty much to conduct physical exams for actors. This is how I met Mr. Cruise.

No, he didn’t insist that I call him that, but I’m figuring a preface will precede this that’ll explain who this is all about. Honestly, I wasn’t awestruck to be talking to him at the time b/c I had already met more than my share of celebrities. Plus, I don’t really get to meet them in the most glamorous of scenarios.

Both of my parents were Scientologist, therefore I am well versed in their beliefs even though I don’t practice it myself. Eventually w/e we were talking about led to an in-depth duscussion about the mind’s healing powers.We spoke about Tom’s experiences in healing himself for a while but only after revealing my military background did the conversation took an unexpected turn when Tom asked if I would be willing to be his personal physician.

Mr Cruise’s Scientologist convictions made his intentions quite different than the average person who suffers from heightend paranoia. You see, he wanted to hire me to get him sick when he wasn’t expecting it. This was just part of his plan to raise his mind to a level of focus no Thetan had ever reached, even LRH. Needles to say, he had me at hello.

After a rigorous screening process I would rather not elaborate on I was directed to deal directly with Tom’s security manager. He gave me access to all of Tom’s properties and his constantly updating schedule. I reviewed Tom’s medical history and made a timeline of how soon and often I should attempt to weaken his health. I have to admit finding ways to get him sick became an appealing challange.

What I was hired to do for Tom wasn’t original or unique; that should have been obvious given the subject matter. Other elite Scientologists had attempted to fine tune their mental prowess by having to constantly battle sickness. For Tom this made sense since he was already facing enough battles with all the tabloid press following him and questioning his sexuality and sanity. In short there is a lot of third-party perspective he neglects to let bother him.

I was hired by other Scientologists on occasion. They’d come in say that they were ready and I wouldn’t tell them what I gave them. There could have been times I gave them nothing. I was well known among this niche market.

Gary Busey sometimes just uses me for kicks. It’s hard to imagine a hypochondriac worse than Busey. I am positive some of the credit goes to gaining all that weight to get on Celebrity Fit Camp, but he has personally thanked me for turning his career around.

Mr. Cruise was by far the most clever of all my clients. He would always be aware of germs and all those small details no one pays attention to that might keep them from getting sick.

For instance while he was in Costa Rica vacationing he became so sure that there was something in his Gallo Pinto that he ate iguana eggs instead. The worst part was that he had to hunt down the iguana. If you have ever been to Costa Rica you know that locating an iguana, monkey, sloth or neon tarantula isn’t particularly difficult. Fortunatley for the iguana Tom sewed her back up and sent her on her way.

Unfortunately for me I had my wife’s cousin’s wedding that weekend. We’ll see where he goes this year. Maybe I’ll luck out and score some ebola before the summer.

Thanks from the "Porn @ Work Guy"

2006-03-17T22:17:00.000-08:00

What I’m learning is that if you don’t pay attention you can find yourself in the most cliché’ of situations. All of a sudden I’m the guy who, while at work, opens porn e-mails from his friends.

Per chance you find yourself in my office and a loud moan or an emphatic grunt happens to startle you, assume it is originating from my area

I’ve come to the conclusion that I must avoid all links and attachments from my friends. It never occurred to me that upon opening their e-mails I would be presented with something inappropriate let alone that I would watch some of the most vulgar things I’ve ever seen.

Thanks, guys. I couldn’t have done it without you, so don’t think your efforts went by unnoticed.

Hopefully I’ll soon be able to pick out the people who walk by my desk b/c they have to and the weirdoes who pass by for the occasional screen shot of a boob, penis, vagina borne projectiles, dingleberries, the fattest black woman ever photographed in a thong, or even a loud screaming voice that incessantly repeats “Hey, I’m watching gay porn over here.”

For those keeping count at home, I now have Myspace, my friends’ e-mails, phone calls, and any messenger thing crossed off my “do at work” list.

I’m glad I was able to hear about this situation, or watch it played out on television at least 65 times before experiencing it. I should have known better.

Today it was “A New Lizard” which was really a cross between a small dinosaur, a cock, and balls. I now wonder who is wasting more of their time, the creator of that image or me for writing this.

Something About Politics:

2006-03-16T20:47:00.000-08:00

This country was founded on the idea that man should be able to make his money how ever the hell he felt like.

There’s money to be made in Afghanistan and Iraq. Well, at least more than New Orleans.

(From Reuters)

The U.S. House of Representatives on Thursday easily approved $91.9 billion that President George W. Bush sought for the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and for Gulf Coast hurricane relief, even as lawmakers voiced doubts about the efforts.

The bill included $67 billion for military operations, bringing the wars' costs so far to nearly $400 billion; $19 billion for the Gulf Coast, bringing that to about $90 billion, and $4.1 billion in emergency foreign aid.

This isn’t the President’s or Congress’ fault. It’s yours. The choices they make for you are the ones you couldn’t make on your own. You’ve already affirmed that these people are capable of making this decision for you.

(From Reuters)

"Human tragedy is not an unlimited check drawn upon the checkbook of the federal taxpayer," said Rep. Jeb Hensarling, a Texas Republican.

Let me clear something up for you. Economic tragedy does have privilege to that unlimited check. In other words humans mean less than money. Why do we kid ourselves otherwise?

Think about how often you have done what is best for everyone in your world. Now think about the trust you have for someone else to do what is best for you when you are part of the “everyone.”

After contemplating the doubt all that casts explain to yourself why you hold different consequences for people who affect the money you make than the people who make the rules your world plays with.

An employee, superior, decision maker, representative, executive who expresses poor judgment meets a swift end. A politician who makes choices that aren’t in his employers (constituents) best interest is never employed for less than he was originally promised. A promise made upon the conviction that he would make the best choices.

Job Searchitis

2006-03-03T11:57:00.000-08:00

Chillicothe, OH --- The symptoms of job sickness are well known, the slacking, the tardiness, the misplaced attention- the list could go on and on with things we all know too well. Large private enterprises, in all industries, are not only giving notice to these signs of unproductivity, some even fund further research into the pandemic. This factor tossed in with the common employee’s facility to scour the job market fuels the ebb and flow that is today’s constantly transitioning workforce.

The reality the individual worker inhabits is pockmarked by a complex maze of incentives and expectations. The West’s perception of a person’s status and worth are intertwined to said person’s occupation. Very few live in denial over that fact and this is why Emily Bronson is not afraid to admit her motivation behind the high standards she is has for her next job.

A comptroller at a medium sized payroll office, Emily weighs her option methodically in hopes of hooking a big one. “The only thing I want out of the next [job] is to make all these losers jealous,” elaborates Ms. Bronson. “I look around and, you know, wonder if they really think I am like them. I’m definitely holding out for something that will make them more jealous than when Rich Heberson, from over in Client Management, got that job handing out those big Publisher Clearinghouse checks.”

With most job searches there is a plethora of information to sift through and Emily is no different. What Emily doesn’t know is that her former coworker, Rich, had some help.

“My cousin, Linda, was going out with the dude who used to take the pictures and he let me know that they were hiring. He made sure to put in a good word for b/c he knows he’s got to look good in front of Linda,” confesses Heberson. “Either way tell her Emily she’s S.O.L. b/c sweet rides like mine don’t get put up on Monster.“

Hilda Difanagass, a professor at Ohio University - Chillicothe who specializes in researching occupational stress management hazard awareness, provided further insight as to why so many people share Emily Bronson’s source of motivation.

“We indoctrinate our children with this idea that they must leave a social setting on a high note from the instant the zygote of comprehension is concieved in their minds. We tell them ‘to come, see, and conquer.’ They are heavily bombarded with comedians who save their best joke for last, and traumatized with an incessant onslaught of dramatic climaxes that are preceded by long lengths of meaningless build up. By adolescence it is near impossible to not want to ‘go out on a high note’ or ‘ride into the sunset.’ This blanket of aspiration is inescapable.”

While not denying that her feelings are not unique Emily does not allow her motivational unoriginality to discourage her. “I made it past a phone screening a few weeks ago for the Mrs. Planters job, then I realized that, like, I needed something that would,you know, blow their feet off.”

Whereas the chance Emily Bronson ever finds a job that will satisfy her desire to be the envy of all is uncertain, your correspondent can vouch for their being no shortage of socks in this small town situated on the western outskirts of the middle of nowhere.

My 5 Year Letter

2006-03-02T15:21:00.000-08:00

In early 2006 Michael Lorenzo received a letter he had written to himself 5 years earlier as part of an english class project. Weeks later, much to his surprise, Michael received another correspondence that also was from 5 years away, except this time from 5 years in the future. Fortunately he has chosen to share this rare experience and has allowed MOOY to reprint the e-mail from the future.

MOOY presents: The Future

The sky is falling, its the end of the world! Grow gills! No, I’m just kidding. Do you think you would be writing letter if the world were ending?

It’s a little weird calling you “you,” I have to admit. I suppose pronouns are pointless when you are talking to yourself.

Just by receiving this letter and what has been written so far you should be able to correctly predict the following things:
1. You still write in lists
2. You are actually less funny. Some how you found a way
3. You have a lot of free time

Actually you don’t have a ton of free time, but that’s mostly due to bills. I thought it would be nice to send you a five year letter since you got the one from high school a little while ago.

Let me clear some things up before you get the wrong idea by getting this e-mail. No, we do not have time machines and we don’t do things to change the past here in the future. The short of it is that someone figured out there isn’t really a time dimension to the internet and we could as easily send e-mails to the past as we already could to the future. The end of this was just a big commercial marketing industry that you call “spam mail.” That’s right spam is from the future.

So why haven’t I written before, well, like i said I’ve been busy and, to be honest, didn’t really have too much to say. I wouldn’t want to change something I did and then all of a sudden be stuck in some bad Nick Cage or Jim Belushi movie. Yeeesh, no way. Who’d they end up with any ways? Tea Leoni and Linda Hamilton? No, thanks. Therefore don’t expect me to spell out what you should do for the next five years. God knows I would need more than two chances to get it right.

I do want to tell you that you’ve got no reason to start worrying, ever. You haven’t gone to jail, you didn’t lose you mind, and no one is trying to kill you. Actually it would be closer to the truth if I just said that at least no one is trying really hard to kill you. Sure you’ve encountered problems but nothing that would make you wish you were instead in Haiti. Yeah, that place is still pretty fucked up.

The main reason I sat down to send you this message was to be encouraging but I’ve probably gone on too many tangents for that to come across. Either way just play it cool and you’ll be fine. Nonetheless I do want to close with some tips that will save you some trouble.

- Don’t go to that Dianetics seminar. It’s not worth satisfying the curiosity
- The girl at the bar in San Bernardino isn’t looking at you, she has a lazy eye and a husband
- Keep eating pistachio nuts, you’ll understand eventually
- No one will get that your Halloween costume is supposed to be Epstine from “Welcome Back Kotter.”

I’ll know if you got the letter so don’t bother responding, the thought alone will get the message across. Oh, before I go let me tell you that you are going to love what a dick Walt Disney is when they bring him back. Wow, what an asshole. Disney the Douche!

I went to the museum.

2006-02-21T18:43:00.000-08:00

I had the day off thanks to the holiday. I intended to head over to the Cincinnati Art Museum to see some prints by Rembrandt that are on exhibit. Fortunately they are closed on Mondays and I was forced to switch my plans. I decided instead to venture over to the Contemporary Art Center in downtown. There were a few different exhibits going on at once and for the most part all were interesting and enjoyable.

The most compelling exhibit on hand was one by a photographer named Taryn Simon. The pictures in this post are her exhibition, named “The Innocents,” which examines the lives of men who had been wrongfully convicted, imprisoned, and subsequently freed from death row. You would imagine that what her subjects endured has to be one of the most extreme forms of suffering, as it is undeserved. One look at them in her photographs, which show the men at either their place of alibi or the scene of the crime (they did not commit), and the pain these men went through is incredibly obvious.

The exhibit gave me a weird feeling. At first I felt sympathy then even frustration for them, but in the end I went away with a huge sense of despair as I realized there was nothing anyone could do to help these men out. Their lives are permanently scarred, as much in the present and future as it was in the past. A video documenting interviews with many of the men she photographed was the most moving thing I have seen in a very long time. It is impossible to hear how their lives were torn apart by being wrongfully accused. Especially when a few of them talk about how much they wish their mother had lived to see them exonerated.

Some of these men spent over 15 years on death row. Every one of them lives with the fear that the authorities are right around the corner waiting to set them up once again. One describes how every time he spits on the sidewalk he thinks about how the cops might pick it up and put it in a crime scene. Another explains how he avoids any situation that leaves him alone with a woman, fearing that a rape charge will soon come.

Sadly only the book is being sold and not the video. You can read more about Ms. Simon’s work at http://www.tarynsimon.com/.

I posted some of the pictures I took of the other exhibits on my picture blog - www.cincypics.blogspot.com.

2006 Winter Olympics - The Mixtape

2006-02-19T16:50:00.000-08:00

Turin, Italy --- Early winners at this year’s winter Olympics are expressing their anger over the medals they received. Step on to any flight departing from Turin, Italy and there is no doubt your ears will be overwhelmed from the cacophony of angry athletes. These negative feelings are transcending language barriers as an international committee is already in the works to find a resolution.

The problem is that the gold, silver, and bronze medals do not play on any of the athlete’s CD players. Many of the athletes were thrilled when it was announced that the International Olympic Committee would be handing out medals with a new design. While athletes were focusing on the medals resemblance to a CD and praising the IOC for finally modernizing the award none of them read the fine print that details how the disk would feature no music on it.

The inner circles of winter sports have been debating, for weeks now, exactly what type of music would featured on the disk, and if it would be different for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place each. Many feared that the music on the silver and bronze discs would make them regret placing at all.

“I was just hoping to come home with a good mix CD, you know.” says U.S. athlete Joey Cheek who has earned multiple medals. “I didn’t find out that it wasn’t really CD until after I got my 2nd medal. I think I would have prepared a little different if I would have known that it wasn’t a CD. I feel hosed!”

The olympic village, which houses the athletes, could be best described as a sprinkler party with how many other athletes are sharing Mr. Cheek’s “hosed” feeling.

The Recording Industry Association of America has also joined the picture with concerns over piracy. The RIAA wants the IOC to guarantee that athletes will not go home and share their Medals over the internet.

The IOC has issued a statement explaining the situation and lack of music on the medals to all parties concerned. The furor has yet be calmed b/c the statement was issued in the IOC’s standard language - French. The lack of athletes from France who have any chance of competing for a medal in a sport that has more than 50 fans has kept word from trickling down to more relevant athletes.

A Knowledge Gap Grips The Nation

2006-02-16T12:01:00.000-08:00

Cincinnati, OH --- Most Americans here in the gateway to the Midwest, and across the nation alike, have grown up in a world where friends are constantly moving away only to be replaced by new friends, from other parts of the country. The idea that the country is split into regions culturally is slowly becoming antiquated as Americans find themselves far from the city they began the journey some call life. Along this flow of constant migration customs and values become intermingled until the amalgam is practically indistinguishable from coast to coast.

“I have to know at least 6 people who have moved away,” claims Jeremy Vaughn, a senior at Southern Kentucky University. Jeremy’s experience is not uncommon. Even in more backwoods areas like Arkansas and West Virginia people are branching out.

The old guard still remains in many places though. “When I was still young,” professes Claire Hankley, “the only people who had been around were the boys who’d enlisted; we didn’t even know what an area code was!” Although people like this long retired social worker from Manhattan, Kansas become rarer with every round Death makes, sociologists are paying more attention to them than ever.

A recent study completed by the Polytechnic University of Quad City (IA) claims a shift in “personal geography” as the root cause for the change in common interests among Americans. By tracing back what scholars are referring to as the population’s “fascination bundle,” a clear trend has been discerned. The study states, as many field level researchers had been claiming, that the amount of time Americans spend discussing the weather has been increasing at an alarming rate.

Professor Thaddeus Hargg of PUQC elaborates on this paradigm shift, “more and more people across this great, great nation are finding themselves describing the current weather conditions they are experiencing to their friends. In fact most people in the 38 - 19 age range have adopted the belief that inquiring about climactical circumstances predicates, what they call, ‘keeping in touch’.” Adding further intrigue to the findings is the seamless rise of “weather” to the top of the national discourse. “Industrialization, globalization, and communication technology have worked together to cross pollinate the American psyche with the idea that gathering information about the weather will help them relate to the denizens of other climate regions,” explains Prof. Hargg.

“Yeah, I always ask my buddy, who just moved to Seattle, if he’s freezing his [reproductive organs] off,” says Mr. Vaughn. He, like many his age, uses the internet to stay in touch with many of his fraternity brothers whom have taken jobs in other parts of the country. Disarming, though, is the fact that the difference in average temperatures between Louisville, KY and Seattle, WA is not as drastic as Jeremy would have you believe (it’s the humidity). This weather ignorance is actually common among most American who have yet to move far from their “birth” home.

The research, which compiles over 70 years of the American interestedness lexicon, has raised some cause for concern as many have used the findings to point out that the interest gap between weather and winter apparel has increased exponentially for many Southerners who hardly travel. Many have pointed at the lack of ever using things that combat against cold weather as the reason for this. Others blame the President.

Across states like Florida people have completely forgotten about things such as heating systems, coats, and scarves for instance. Many former Floridians are finding the high level of ignorance downright annoying if not embarrassing. Keith Halpern, who grew up in Pompano Beach and now lives in Green Bay, WI, details the struggle, “They are always asking ‘how’s the cold treating you?’ or if I’m sick of ‘freezing my [reproductive organs] off.’ Cheese and rice! Don’t they know what a jacket is? It’s like they think I moved to the Aleutian Islands and reply to their e-mails from the chilly comfort of my igloo.”

While studies have shown that 98% of Florida has no idea what islands Keith is referring to, there is little doubt that Southerners, for the most part, have lost touch with the existence of a winter wardrobe. The idea that the northern areas of the country are brimming with buildings and heating systems is completely foreign.

If Jeremy Vaughn is any indication, the nation has a long way to go in bridging this “knowledge trench.” Upon probing the soon to be graduate about his perception of the North, Mr. Vaughn elaborated on the climate-culture difference by rhetorically asking, “that’s why they call them the blue states, don't they?”

The Secret World of Teachers

2006-02-15T17:34:00.000-08:00

At some point in education's long history teachers earned the reputation of being destined to remain single forever. Everybody remembers having a teacher they thought would never get married or experience the joys of romance. Television programs play off this common misconception. Bart Simpson's teacher for instance, or the teacher from Van Halen's "Hot for Teacher' video (no way was she a one man, or little boy, woman). One could claim television employs this idea, that teachers will be single for the rest of their days, to portray teachers as oddballs. It makes sense that Hollywood thinks this way, since from up on top of the precipice that show business sits upon it must seem insane to choose to be a teacher.

Isn't there a saying that goes, "those who can't do, teach," or something like that, right? The education should find that down right insulting since it practically portrays them as having a high level of worthlessness. On the opposite end of that double edged insult is the fact that the rest of us must be idiots for letting a bunch of people who can't do something teach us how to do said thing.

Putting those last two paragraphs you come out with the impression that teachers are a failure and no one will ever want to marry them. If you did come to that conclusion you wouldn't be the first. Apparently someone molded their entire business plan off of the idea that teachers have "relationship" issues.

There is a growing trend among teachers to have get-togethers at a fellow teachers house and buy sex toys/products from a dealer. These functions are sometimes called passion parties, or girls night out (or in). The whole event isn't much different than those infamous Tupperware parties; in fact the main difference is usually just the shape the plastic was molded into.

On multiple occasions women teachers I have met or am acquainted with have mentioned how they felt obliged to go to these work functions their colleagues threw for the sole purpose of fitting in. In fact I have even brought this up with friends who are teachers and they become astonished that I knew they went to these types of parties. That's right, they weren't appalled that I was asking them if they bought tools to pleasure themselves with, which is what one would guess. Somehow, in this case, my audacity is hidden behind my knowledge of the sleazy education underworld. It must take a leap of faith to discuss, let alone purchase, sex toys alongside the people you work with.

Can you imagine your teachers at these parties? I'm not going to take that any further, just focus on the awkwardness of that before moving to the repulsion.

Obviously at some point someone thought about it and saw the dollar bills at the end of that tunnel. The visionary then decided to become a dildo dealer and exploit the plethora of women who would never be able to get a man, otherwise known as teachers. Who ever this person is they should get one of those "men of genius" beer ads made for them (even if it was a woman). I am sure that there are a lot more A's being given out thanks to that entrepreneurial spirit.

This whole passion party thing has actually become a big industry, and by no means is it exclusive to the teaching profession. It just seems to have found a niche by becoming way for female teachers to bond. As far as I can tell male teachers are not having glory hole or circle jerk parties all the time. I'm actually trying to avoid investigating that one just in case they do.

Overheard over a plastic replica of Goliath's 5th largest appendage:

Jennifer - You had Eric Perez last year didn't you?

Christy - Awww, is he one of yours now?

Jennifer - (nodding) You can tell can't you?

Christy - It's the eyes, hun. Can you believe Carina has one of these?

Jennifer - Actually yeah I can, she seems the type. I just could never get used to it being blue

Christy - It won't be like your eyes will be open anyways, will they! Haha

Jennifer - (laughs)

Christy - Oh yeah, getting back to that brat. You're just going to have to pick on him until he cries. That's what I did.

Jennifer - Hmmmmm, really? It's that easy?

Covering My Bases

2006-02-14T00:00:00.000-08:00

I’ve been leaving clues behind, dropping hints; you know, leaving a trail. You see, I’m trying to solidify my status as a paranoid so I have left signs of what I have been up to in case the authorities ever need to find me (or my body). From what I know about crime busting, clues are the only hope cops have in solving any sort of caper.

As you may have imagined most of my knowledge about solving crime comes from something I watched or read at some point. If anyone else knows how to catch a criminal w/o using clues than please let me know. Super hero powers do not count.

In hopes of ever having any hopes of being found I’ve intentionally left clues behind as to my activities and whereabouts. If you were to, say, murder me or, um, how can I put it, sequester me and use me to commit terrorist acts there’s a high likelihood that some gumshoe or other is going to put together the pieces.

Am I saying I’m now invulnerable to crime? No, I’m just saying that I’m doing my part in solving w/e crime I am a victim of. I don’t want to have any of that “the cop saved my life” bullshit hanging over my head forever. The last thing I want is to be in some douche bag’s back pocket b/c he saved me from certain death. I pay the bills that keep him crime fighting, and he’s just doing his job. Since I am doing my part I know that I won’t owe anyone anything.

“Oh thank heavens, you found me!” are not words I’ll be saying. It’ll be more like “What took you so long!”

To make interesting I have also left behind some dead ends. I know, you’re thinking that I’m just lowering the odds that I’ll be saved now, but a part of me wants to mess around a little with the detectives on the case.

Maybe I’ll leave behind some stranger’s phone number, address, and place of work written on a greasy scrap of paper laying around somewhere. Perhaps they’ll uncover a briefcase containing a pair of women’s shorts soaked in pigeon blood. Who knows?

I have no idea where those clues will lead the cops, but I have no doubt it will result in some interesting stories. The excitement of those stories will also help me bide time while waiting for the authorities to come save me.

Working against all this is that if I ever do commit a crime I’m going to will have left a lot of clues behind. I’ve realized this problem, but have also noticed that leaving behind intentional clues causes me to be more aware of my trail. I think when the time does come that I need, if ever, to commit a crime I’ll know where and how the cops will be looking for me.

How ever you look at it I come out on top.

Except that now anyone who is coming after me can just read this and know that they have to kill me quick to not get caught. Ay mama.

The 32 Flavors of Love

2006-02-12T17:18:00.000-08:00

Television shows are not a favorite topic of mine, yet the show soon to be mentioned has me excited. There is an underlying issue presented by the show that I think most people have yet to notice.

The Flavor of Love is a show airing on VH1 that features Flava Flav of Public Enemy fame and Surreal World disgrace. Like the show that featured the guy from the Brandy Bunch and a poster child for the ill effects of cocaine, it is a spin off that puts a celebrity in ridiculous situations. I am esepcially attracted to this show b/c my grandmother’s nickname is also Flava Flav.

Before you get any wild ideas let me tell you that is as far as the similarities go between those two.

Flava’s scenario of choice is to have the privilege of spending his days and nights with a bunch of women who are competing to split the salary he’s getting for being on the show. In other words, you get to watch a man at a brothel for a couple of weeks. These women parade themselves for him and do whatever he asks.

Flava had another show on VH1 before this one. I didn’t watch that one so I can’t compare it. After watching one episode of The Flavor of Love I am amazed at the stuff VH1 is allowed to put on the air. I’m not appalled nor offended. It is that I was under the assumption that television had gotten much stricter with its decency laws. In just one episode Flave did the following things (some were off camera where they cut away right before they need to start blur stuff out):

1. Tongue down a girl named New York
2. Fondle the breast of a girl named Smiley
3. Use his nose to become more acquainted with three women’s cleavage than Daniel Boone was with the cumberland gap.
4. Suck on the nipple of a girl named Pumpkin
5. Rub New York’s anus and vag through her panties

Unfortunately for all the contestants he chose only to have sex with Smiley that night.

For some reason he gave these girls nicknames. I guess he was using the Man’s Rule of Thumb #471- that you never need to learn a hoe’s name.

Somehow when no one was looking VH1 became the most vulgar channel on air. Perhaps the FCC is a fan of Flav and just let's this all slide.

To add a little context to that above list let me elaborate on what brought about all that fondling (except the first one). The competition of the moment was to see who could stimulate Flav’s senses the most. The girl’s let him smell them, taste them, touch them, listen to them, and watch them dance. The girls would compete using boner points. The impression I got was that the bigger the bulge the more points the contestants received.

Sure you don’t actually see him suck on a nipple, or see his hand on the breast. Instead you see the girl walk up to him and begin to take off her shirt and mount him during the tasting competition. For the tit touching the angle has the girl’s back facing the camera. Her shirt is also raised. It didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to understand what was going on.

The lesson to take away from this would be to never let anyone tell you that you can’t do that on television.

Gays Are Lonely Skaters

2006-02-11T12:23:00.000-08:00

As I, regrettably, watch the winter Olympics I can’t help but wonder how the homosexual lifestyle has permeated through all parts of life. No, the olympics don’t usually do this. Perhaps I should be more specific.

As I, regrettably, watch pairs figure skating I can’t help but wonder how the homosexual lifestyle has permeated through all parts of life. (Now we can move forward, right?)

This “integration” makes sense since homosexuals are humans living lives right alongside heterosexuals. Not in cages separated from the rest of society. Actually some do the whole cage thing alongside heterosexuals, but I digress.

While I’ll never understand why one’s sexual preference dictates the rest of one’s life there is, no doubt, a stereotypical way of life for homosexuals and heterosexuals each. I say stereotypical so it is clear that I am referring to a generalization containing a million exceptions. The part that is true- preferring to have intimate/sexual relationships with ones own sex, is what I’m going to focus on.

Homosexuals are humans just like the rest of us. (I know shocking isn’t it) No matter how you frame it we are all forced to live with everyone’s choice; meaning toleration is an unstoppable force that exposes one’s own ignorance if resisted. Slowly the sexuality of another person is increasingly irrelevant to the activities they participate in (other than sex of course) and people, eventually, are ok doing what they do alongside someone who doesn’t orient their gonads the same way they do.

The perpetually starving media lets us know of the first actor, athlete, military general, etc. that are openly gay. This forces people to talk about birds and the bees and how some times bees like stinging each other rather than sticking it those crazy birds. In addition, homosexuals challenge the establishments that are built on heterosexual tenets. These two movements end up bringing about a lot of change to all parts of life.

While athletics have lagged in this toleration movement it is amazing that out of all sports figure skating would still be stuck in the rigid rules imposed by the heterosexual way of life. I wouldn’t be saying anything you hadn’t thought yourself, or been told already, if I claimed that figure skating is a tremendously feminine sport. I guess people think this b/c of the costumes and dainty movements. The reality of the situation, though, is that having two XX chromosomes does not empower you to do a better triple sow cow.

Either way people assume the guy who figure skates is gay, or close to it, unless he’s competing alongside a woman. As if somehow the proximity of a vagina to a man's penis dictates that man’s sexuality. Actually I guess in a technical sense it does; doesn’t it?

What I want to know is why progressive homosexuals aren’t calling out the sport of figure skating for discriminating against them? Why aren’t they calling for women pairs and men pairs to be allowed to compete against mixed sex pairs?

It seems that while everyone was giving figure skating a free pass to homo town it is really as homophobic as a Reagan democrat in 1983. The international olympic committee has some explaining to do as to what the benefit of only allowing a man and woman to comprise a skating pair in competitions is. Don’t blame American family values for this one boys and girls b/c the IOC hates us Americans as much as an out of work Arab who receives his world news with his religious sermons.

The best part is that the IOC allows men and women who have had sex change operations to compete against the gender they just became. You’d think this progressive thinking would be consistent.

If anything, I guess, you can now rest assured that figure skating isn’t a gay sport after all (like it mattered). Although, it would be ok if it was.