Again, my friend Cesar has taken some amazing pics. And yes, I know, I've been neglecting this blog terribly these last couple of weeks. Mea culpa. But these photos more than make up for my absence, no? (to all three of you that read this blog!) Click on the images to see them larger and in their full glory.
My favorite Lennon song. Or at least, one of my favorites.
(unfortunate freeze-frame, however...)
I had a whole new ranty blog post started last weekend, and then I lost my DSL for three days, and with that, my momentum. On top of that, I've been losing my CBS channel again, 12:38am, on the dot (someone REALLY doesn't want me watching Ferguson.)
But in the meantime, I will post this very funny graphic about the vp debate. NOTE: I had never planned on making this a political blog, but I'm sorry, Sarah Palin, or rather, the media circus around her, is just insulting on all levels. The other night, The Insider, on anticipating the VP debate, listed "fashion sense" as one of the key things everyone would be watching for. Excuse me? Would anyone be saying that if Gov Palin was a man? Would the media be obsessed with her hair or her glasses?Serously ticks me off, even more than her stupidity or "ah, shucks" delivery.
UPDATE: This is where you can obtain this button (for a donation):
http://www.buzzflash.com/store/items/1278
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.
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....
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.
It's always more interesting when they don't know the microphone is still on.
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.
Someone sent in the You Tube link to LS3 on Craig Ferguson! (thank you, thank you!)
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.
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.
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.
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...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.
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.")
Played hookie on Wednesday to go to the opening of the new IKEA in Red Hook.
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.
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