Preaching to the Choir
UPDATE: This is where you can obtain this button (for a donation):
http://www.buzzflash.com/store/items/1278
9.22.2008
9.16.2008
Trolls, and Other Political Creatures
Below are responses to an article about Willaim Ross, a biliionaire discussing the fate of America's banks and general economic health (which, yes, is bad at the moment.) It was not a political article. Did not mention any political party, did not mention the president, did not mention congress, did not mention any political candidate.
These responses totally sickened me this morning. I was told by a friend who is an experienced blooger that these people are probably "trolling," (and let's hope to God these people are "trolling" and not this stupid and hateful!). So they probably just want to get a rise out of people. They're bottom feeders... but OMG. Get a life.
No one that writes crap like this loves America. And, they aren't even smart enough to be embarassed.
I was even tempted to comment here about how stupid it is to blame the Democrats for this financial insanity, especially in response to an article that had NOTHING to do with which political party did what, but then I realized none of this bullshit deserves to be rebutted, even for a second.
9.13.2008
Spam Spam Spam Spam Spam, etc.
Anti-spam experts tell us that one tell-tale sign of a scam (phishing) email is typos. Hopefully we all know by now that any email that tells you that your account needs to be verified, updated, etc etc. is blatant crap, but I just had to share the one I got this morning:
Hmmm... find the typo....
9.12.2008
Those Lights
These are great photos taken by my friend Cesar. If you like them and want to download them, just be cool and keep any use noncommercial.
9.04.2008
I'm Just Saying ...
It's always more interesting when they don't know the microphone is still on.
8.11.2008
Affirmations for the Overly Entitled
Say each of these affirmations ten times upon waking, before sleeping, and before entering any kind of public space.
1. I am not the only person on the planet.
2. I am not Carrie Bradshaw.
3. I have to wait my turn.
4. Strangers do not have a great need to hear my cell phone conversations.
5. When I get drunk and can no longer stand properly, it is interesting and humorous only to me.
6. I am no more important than the guy behind the deli counter. In fact, I'm probably less important.
7. I am not on a reality TV show. Cameras are not following me at all times, and people do not care what I think, or whether or not I'm a tough competitor.
8. Even if I am on a reality TV show, people don't care what I think.
9. My bad manners are ugly, no matter how much I spend on my clothes.
10. I have the right to be as pushy and arrogant as the next guy. And that makes me no better than the next guy.
UPDATE: Number 11 has been deleted due to popular demand.
8.07.2008
Television is the New Radio, 2
Someone sent in the You Tube link to LS3 on Craig Ferguson! (thank you, thank you!)
8.05.2008
The sound of 110,000 hands clapping
A long day, then a long line and a long wait for the bus to New Jersey. There was trouble on the Jersey Turnpike. Probably a tractor-trailor truck jack-knifed across the highway. It’s always a tractor truck.
It was after 8 o’clock when we finally got on a bus. I joked to my friend V, “I hope Bruce waits for us.”
Nothing to worry about, of course, because almost half of Giant’s Stadium was still empty as we took our seats. Bruce did indeed “wait for us.” He started after 9:30. I wondered if that meant he would cut the concert short as a result.
There was a woman below us, hanging over the railing of the stadium’s mezzanine, dancing awkwardly to music that hadn’t started yet. She was drunk, so drunk that a stadium usher eventually had to escort her off somewhere. So much for her 100-plus-dollar ticket.
V and I had arrived as disembodied spirits, exhausted from our respective jobs and other life fatigue, Our bodies were sitting at the last row of the mezzanine, but our spirits were in our apartments gathering laundry, at the office finishing some redundant tasks, riding the bus home wondering how long it would take. The lights went out and the crowd started screaming, and V and I sat there, secretly hoping Bruce WOULD cut it short.
And then the music started.
The fans always do their homework, always know every word, every chorus, for every song, from the oldest to the newest. Bruce conducted everyone who was not already standing to get to their feet. And we obeyed.
It was the musical equivalent of fireworks. How do you describe fireworks? You can't. A person has to be there to witness it first-hand.
Incredibly, Bruce is always incredible.
It took exactly two songs to become re-embodied, brains and body in one place.
Summertime Blues. Okay, I’ll stand for that. Wait, is that “Prove it All Night”? Ack! I can’t sing in this key! Wait, he’s going into the audience! He’s singing to a girl in the first row! She just kissed him! Talk about up close and personal...wow, this guy can’t get any sexier...Did he just do a somersault in the middle of that guitar rant?...Oh, yeah, Born to Run, with the house lights on, and everybody singing.
A short four hours later, the show ended.
Stuck in the parking lot on the way out, we were in line with a woman and her 12-year-old son. They were here from Vegas, and the kid had never seen Springsteen and his mom is a big fan who doesn't get to see him any more.
"They won't invite him to Vegas, He played there once, but they won't invite him back. They didn't like the fact he played so long. They want the people to get back to the casinos."
Bus home, drunk young republicans standing over us. (One of them makes a comment about a song not being patriotic, not sure if he meant bruuuuce’s.) One voice is particularly loud, incredibly crude. ““She wants me, Bro, I’m going to spread her cheeks!” He is apparently referring to someone in the group’s sister, who is no, not on the bus with us. Yikes, dude, have you looked in the mirror lately? Pasty and chubby, sweaty and stupid. I make the comment to V that he’ll be a lot less boisterous when he’s not a virgin anymore. Then there’s an awful smell, and it’s obvious who it came from. When someone comments on it, our loudmouth says things like “I WISH that were me!”. What the heck does THAT mean? I wondered how that nice mother and son from Las Vegas were feeling about this idiot. Of course, the jerk had to stand right next to ME.
But I am bruuuuuucified, mood altered, feeling fine and at one with myself, and that is what I am left with when I wake up late the next morning, not the ugly memories of that Stupid Farting Young Repulbican with entitlement issues.
7.31.2008
Television is the New Radio
Back when 102.7 FM in New York was WNEW, back when Vin Skelsa and Tony Morrera did the overnight and back when WNEW had no play list, leaving DJs to play pretty much whatever they wanted when they wanted (as long as it was some kind of "rock," I guess), it was not uncommon for someone like the aforementioned Vin Skelsa to hear a record, like it, and put it on the air, maybe even just ten minutes later.
Craig Ferguson just pulled a Vin Skelsa.
Heard a group singing out in the corridor earlier in the day (or the equivalent of a corridor -- he wasn't clear on this, really), liked them, and had them on his show tonight.
They were three singers who called themselves LS3. They sang acapella, and were terrific.
This was just so extraordinarily cool, hopefully someone will post it on YouTube so I can link it here.
7.20.2008
UFOs On a Coffee Break?
It's mysterious.
At 12:38am every weeknight, and a little after 1 am on weekends, my CBS channel 2 turns to white static, leaving me only a hint of audio telling me that the station is still there, just to taunt me. Sometimes it takes out other stations as well, but it always starts with CBS. And then by morning, everything is back on.
Months can go by and everything is fine. In fact, it hadn't happened since maybe last February or so. Then, the other night, in the middle of Craig Ferguson's monologue, BAM! Static. I was able to listen to the rest of the monologue, but I'd prefer to have the visuals as well. It is teleVISION, after all.
Is there something odd going on at the Empire State Building every night after midnight that we should know about? A thousand pigeons having a rooftop party? A giant gorilla up there playing around with the broadcast antennas? UFOs landing on the tower so their inhabitants can have a quick rest stop before going home? Sunspots? Conan O'Brien sneaking into the transmitter rooms to disconnect CBS so we can't watch Craig? Cable and satellite companies, conspiring to get more customers, mucking around with the antennas?
Definitely mysterious.
7.09.2008
More Flags, More...
Does anyone else want to slap the holy crap out of that guy that does the TV ads for Six Flags Great Adventure?
Read more...7.03.2008
Things That Make You Go, "Yikes!"
A used car dealer in Missouri offered buyers a choice of two sales incentives: $250 worth of gas, or a free semi-automatic handgun. 80% of the buyers chose the handgun. My negative reaction to this story has a lot to do with the fact that I live in New York. Imagine, if you will, if New Yorkers — let's say all New Yorkers — were armed. Think about the frustrated New Yorkers on the subways, the line at the Whole Foods, the traffic on the LIE, the Macy's fireworks, trying to walk down St Marks Place on a Saturday night. And now picture how often a frustrated New Yorker loses his or her cool and has a meltdown. Now imagine that person having a firearm.
Yikes, indeed.
6.23.2008
Rosie Comes to Town
Rosie Flores and "Men" sing Truck Drivers Blues at the Rodeo Bar, 6/19/08. Arthur Neilson on guitar with Rosie. As soon as I remember who everybody else is, I'll let you know. (to see this in high quality, click on the picture to go to the YouTube page and select "watch in high quality.")
6.20.2008
An IKEA Grows in Brooklyn
Played hookie on Wednesday to go to the opening of the new IKEA in Red Hook.
6.12.2008
Future Blog Topics
Why is Logic Never Even Tried?
Duly Noted
Sanity in an Insane World
Reasons to be Cheerful, Part 3
Must Get Satan Out of Big White House
Too Free, Some Might Say
Perhaps I Should Have Read the Directions
I don't have anything to say on these topics -- yet -- but I'm sure I will.
6.02.2008
5.26.2008
Ah... Spring?
I was asked out this afternoon.
His pick-up line was, for the record, "Do you like Mexican food?"
And then he said, "You must let me paint your apartment for you. I can make it nice."
Paint my apartment. Is that what they're calling it now?
Another sign of spring: Last week, most shows had their finales, and are gone until September. I am posting at 9:35 pm, and the only station that has had anything on that's scripted is CBS, and right now it's a pretty bad sitcom. I guess what's on the CW is scripted as well, but it's their usual twenty-somethings angst soapy opera stuff, One Tree Felicity Gossipy Hill. I thought, maybe, I might watch the dancers on Fox. So I tuned in, and there was this blonde bimbo doing interpretive dance -- badly, badly, oh lord, so very very badly, klutzy and she didn't complete her lines (can you tell I used to dance? throwing in that $40 comment there? cool, huh?) and there were these bizarre jumps for no reason and then these cheesy "reach for the stars, I'm emoting" kind of moves --and I thought sure the judges were going to trash her, but they loved it. Capital L loved it. Gushed about how much energy she had in her...get this..eyes, and they all agreed "She's got 'it.'" "Yes, you do, you've really got 'it.'" and I had to turn it off.
We all know people dance with their eyes, don't we? Yuck. By the way, apparently the guy just before her did a stepping dance of some sort, which I did not see... but I did see the part where they said no to him, even though they all said HE had "energy" -- He was wearing a mask, though, so they couldn't see if any energy was in his eyes, I guess. Next time he'll know to lose the mask.
Which brings me to wondering: What did we do to deserve Reality TV? That's rhetorical, I know the answer. We watched Cops and Real World too much and encouraged it, that's what we did. Well, not me, I didn't watch those shows, but enough of us did, or at least, enough of the Nielsen Families did and it has ruined television forever. It doesn't even matter if people stop watching these stupid shows...they are cheaper to produce, so as long as some people are still watching them who cares if most of the viewing public has turned off the set and are reading books?
Okay, I admit it, I'm in a mood.
On the other stations, we have the Bachelorette and an awards show for Movie Trailers (!!!!!) and a news magazine about a murder. At least that one involves a dead body.
5.24.2008
Ah, Spring
Another sign of Spring in New York is the arrival of critters. Not the year-round apartment invaders like roaches and mice, or the outside-your-window fire-escape regulars like pigeons or squirrels. This morning, there was a centipede in my tub.
And yes, I killed it.
Here is what Wikipedia says about the house centipede:
"Unlike its shorter-legged but much larger tropical cousins, the house centipede can live its entire life inside a building. Because they eat household pests, house centipedes are considered among the most beneficial creatures that inhabit human dwellings, but because of their alarming appearance, frightening speed, and painful bite, few homeowners are willing to share a home with them."
There was a moment, as I was dousing it with hot water, that I felt bad. Fact is, humans are the only animals that will kill something just because they don't want it crawling around in their bathtubs. I've now decided that the proper thing to do is simply keep the stopper over the drain. Voilá, no more centipedes in the bathtub; they can live on to eat cockroaches and ants and spiders and (shudder) bedbugs the way nature intended.
And a note to Mike: The air kiss was definitely NOT "one of those light and fluffy Latin lover air kisses." Not light and fluffy at all. Wet and sloppy, in fact.
5.15.2008
Please Be Patient
How many times a day does a New Yorker hear that from the MTA: "Please Be Patient"? It always makes me wonder what else, exactly, do they expect us to do? Scream and jump up and down? And what if we do loose our cool and make a scene? Does that disembodied voice on the intercom REALLY care if some of us go ahead and have a tantrum?
That being said, I had One of Those Commutes this morning on the 6 train.
The problem with being late EVERY morning is that when you finally have a legitimate excuse for it, it doesn't matter. You are late because you are Not a Morning Person: your 15-pound cat made herself comfortable on your chest just before your alarm went off and you can't bear to move her; you are having a bad case of adult ADD and you can't seem to focus enough to get yourself out the door; you've waited too long to take a shower and now there is no hot water and you have to wait for the boiler to catch up with the demand; you can't figure out what to wear so you change clothes five times; you can't find your keys/wallet/ID; because you are now running late the construction crew who are renovating the apartment next door has parked a Giant Thing outside of your door and you can't get down the stairs; or all of the above. And then, you have One of Those Commutes.
So I made it down my stairs, my cat fed and purring, my clothes Weather Appropriate, my hair smelling of Fructis Garnier conditioner, keys, wallet and ID present and accounted for, and a man sidles up to me and says, "Excuse me, Do you have any spare change?"
I said "no" and shook him off, but he kept smiling at me and then said, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Okay. Well, have a nice day." And then he leans in. "Have a nice night."
Springtime in New York. (see previous post)
He was grinning at me, and kept walking with me, so I crossed the street. Every time I looked over, there he was, smiling at me.
Okay, yes, I shouldn't have looked over. I stopped doing that.
I looped around out of my way until I saw him veer off in the other direction, and headed to my train. When I got down the stairs, there were a hundred people on the platform. This is never a good sign. Then there was an announcement:
"There is a southbound 6 train at 42nd Street." Six stops away. Why do they bother telling us?
There were policemen everywhere, and it occurred to me that Something must have Happened. Then came another announcement:
"Attention passengers. Due to a police action on Bleecker Street, there are train delays on the 4, 5 and 6 lines. Please be patient."
A group of twenty or so tourists picked that moment to enter the station. They huddled together in the center of the platform, right across from the turnstiles. (insert the snarky anti-tourist comment of your choice here.)
Twenty minutes later, a train arrived. The twenty tourists all filed into the same car of an already crowded train. (insert another snarky anti-tourist comment of your choice here as well.)
When the train finally left the station, it went about 6 feet, and stopped.
"Attention passengers. Due to a police action on Bleecker Street, there are train delays on the 4, 5 and 6 lines. Please be patient."
I suppose it was important for someone to say that at this juncture, because I'm pretty sure the riders in the next car were going to start sacrificing tourists.
5.13.2008
Springtime in New York
Okay, I have been chastised by my loyal fans (both of you) for failing to post anything new recently, so here I am, back again.
I was on a train to Connecticut and instead of taking my usual single don't-you-dare-sit-near-me seat, I thought I'd take a chance and spread out in one of those group of fivers that has a window, with the hope that not too many people would sit next to me.
By 125th Street, another woman sat down across from me, and by Stanford, there were three other people in this cluster of seats.
The first woman to invade my space, at least a decade or two younger than me, put on her iPod and opened a book. It wasn't until two more twenty-something women got on at Stamford and made us shift all the way over to the window that I became curious about the book she was reading. It was a thick paperback, and from the looks of the back cover it seemed it was not a novel: There was a photo of a man in a business suit, and although I never saw the exact title of the book, the back cover shouted "Find the perfect man online!"
Now I'm thinking... am I missing something here? This woman was not model pretty, but she was definitely pretty nonetheless, and not model-thin but who the hell wants to be model thin? So this woman who was maybe 33 at the oldest, is having trouble finding a boyfriend? Yikes! What the heck am I going to do, being dangerously close to completing my fifth decade?
As it often happens, New York City provided me with a tiny glimmer of hope as I was coming home late afternoon on Sunday on the subway. As we were approaching my stop, I stood to get ready to exit, and I felt somebody's eyes on me. I looked elsewhere, figuring that he was either a) looking at my blinged-out Grammy-Awards-50-years tee-shirt, or reading some ad behind my head. But as I was stepping off the train, he caught my eye and air-kissed me.
I haven't been air-kissed by a stranger in I don't know how long. Does that mean I still "got it"? (assuming, of course, I ever had it.) Not sure, but he wasn't a homeless person. He was Hispanic, possibly around my age, dark curly hair, gold chain, yellow and white tee shirt. It was absolutely inappropriate behavior and not actual flirting. But I haven't gotten inappropriate behavior of any kind thrown my way in quite a while.
Ah, Springtime in New York.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
