Maybe Next Year

When I saw this last year, and when I found out that some kind person had uploaded this video of the moment to You Tube, I swore I would post it to my blog.

So here it is: Patti Smith singing "O Holy Night," from her Dec 31, 2007, concert at the Bowery Ballroom.

To those of you who are familiar with Ms Smith, but have not heard her sing this, you are in for a treat. As you are all aware, Ms Smith is not a "singer," per se... not like a Luciano Pavoratti, or ever (shudder) a Celine Dion, or any performer blessed with an outstanding singing voice. But imagine being at one of her concerts, that thunderous rock, the poetic wordsmanship, that in-your-face brazen rebellious spirit, crashing down all around you, and then she slows everything down to a whisper and surprises the audience with something so traditional -- in fact, maybe the most traditional of all, if one could compare such a thing -- and so precious. And that New-Years-Eve-Bowery-Ballroom-New-York-City audience became silent, and hardly breathed for four-ish minutes. Because, while Patti is not a singer in the traditional American Idol sense (and thank God for that), no one puts over a lyric like Patti.

Now if the tall guy in front of our videographer would just remove his head!



I am sad to report that I am not going to see her this year, because the tickets sold out faster than I could get any of my silly friends to make a decision about going. Oh, well. There's always Sirius Radio!

UPDATE: I am posting this version from Dec 29th that same year, because, while the video was shot from farther away, it's from the beginning and includes her spoken intro. I also think she sings it better. I saw her sing this on the 30th, and have yet to find a clip from that night.



Notice in this version some idiot starts yammering on to her (I think it's a her) friend. I mean really, you can't shut up for 5 minutes?

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Some random thoughts

I thought it was time to take a break from political discussion, and turn to things that people really care about: commercials, food, music, you know, the important things. So here it goes:

1) Anyone have ANY idea what the heck "The fit is go" means on that Honda commercial? Even if it actually means something, I find it truly irritating.

2) It's National Novel Writing Month. It's no longer national, however, because people as far as Kazakhstan (literally) and Bangla Desh are involved in this writing madness. Although I have a respectable 24, 040 words right now, I am about a day and a half behind my word count. (oh, and BTW, in case you are wondering what the heck I am talking about, here's the link: nanowrimo.org

3) Saw a snarky post on a commercial news blog about the overuse of certain words and expressions, and the overall misuse of the English language. While I myself cringe at certain usage (especially the ubiquitous "It's my bad," and all of its bastard spawns), I have to say: from a linguistic standpoint, a living, breathing language is subject to change. No one says "groovy" that much any more, except maybe facetiously, but everywhere people are saying "Awesome." A few years ago it was "Phat" and (shudder) "fantabulous," and next year it might be "cheeky" or "gruesome." And yes, in 20 years, everyone may indeed be spelling the word "through" as "thru," and "night" as "nite," and it might be considered not only acceptable, but the preferred spelling. Get over it. There's nothing you can do about it. (but to the writer of that particular rant: Duly noted!)

4) Saw the B52s a couple of weeks ago here at the Hammerstein Ballroom. They seriously kicked ass. Wait, that's such an overused expression. they were awesome. No, can't say that either. They were fabtabulous. No, someone will kick me. (Or should kick me.) Okay, let's just say I can't remember being that happy at a non-Bruce concert in recent memory, and leave it at that.

5) Hmm, I did promise to say something about food. Okay. Went to the Thalia restaurant last Friday night (after going to Town Hall to see Craig Ferguson), and I'm sorry, there's no way around using an overused expression here: Holy crap.

There. No politics. Happy, everyone?

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Myself. I'm really partial to purple

Last night, people in New York were literally dancing in the streets.

There are a lot of reasons why people supported president-elect Barack Obama, but after watching all the analysts talking endlessly last night aout the economy, that economy is the factor, economy economy economy, I think they've missed the big picture.

Not that the economy wasn't a factor, and certainly its collapse brought over some undecided voters, and may very well have been the final blow to the McCain campaign. But most people are smart enough to know that Mr Obama does not have an easy answer to the woes of this country, because there's no such thing. The big difference with Obama is the feeling of inclusion.

The reason that everyone was dancing in the streets in New York last night was because it's the first time in a long time that we felt that we belong to this country. So no, I do not expect our new president to make everything right over night, or even in the first four years, or God willing, eight years. But I'm breathing a sigh of relief, like most of my fellow New Yorkers. No we are not traitors because we are not Republicans, or because we don't think we should be in Iraq, or because we don't think deregulating everything is sound economic practice, or good for the environment, for that matter. No we are not traitors because we disagree, and we are not bad Americans because we don't live in a small town. And hello, Wall Street is not a metaphor, it's an actual street, here in New York City. We are part of this country, too.

So our president-elect will have his hands full. Thank God (and excuse me for invoking the "G" word) they are his hands, not the hands of someone representing a party that thinks America is, or in any case should be, all one color: red.

UPDATE: I didn't have the Obama quote quite right when I first posted this. But it's fixed now., and there was greart rejoicing

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Election Fever

I am feeling excited, like I used to get when I was a kid, watching the elections results and being highly aware that something very cool was going on.

Every four years, Americans have the opportunity to have a revolution. An orderly, quiet, walk-in-and-vote-'em-out revolution.

I know I am not alone, feeling that I'd just like to hear people discussing issues instead of someone's hair, or age, or race, or level of patriotism -- seriously, so tired of that one.

My intention never was to have a political blog. When I started this blog, I had no focus at all, just general snarky observations, posted some photos, that was it. Yes, I know I recently posted samples of anti-Democrat comments from trollers, and then in a fit of laziness I posted that jpeg of an anti-Palin button. But it’s because I have been feeling a political rant coming on for weeks, ever since I read someone’s comment that said, “Barack Obama is a Marxist.”

Why have our political discussions devolved into name-calling? More importantly, why is everyone okay with it? It’s like being in a household with parents who are constantly bickering. You want to say to them, “Would you guys just get a divorce already? Don’t stay together for us!”

In 1972, during the Nixon-McGovern race, I was on a school bus with 60 or so fellow middle-schoolers, and for some reason I mentioned that I was for McGovern. This was a stupid thing to admit in any crowd, but I grew up in a town that had no registered Democrats until my parents moved there in 1950, so I was admitting this on a bus full of young Republicans, and was basically asking for trouble, just yelling “fire!” in a crowded theater.

So this kid I had known since grade school, this girl Wendy – never a friend, she was an annoying little shit, a brat and a bully who is probably raising a brood of brats and bullies -- turns around and, with real venom, fires at me, “McGovern is a Communist.”

Now, everybody knows that when you are 13, most of your views about life are still heavily influenced by your parents. You’re not quite at full-rebellion age yet, and there are some things, like politics, you may never rebel against. So clearly Wendy heard that in her house from her Republican parents, who may or may not have been exaggerating to prove a point. In any event, like an idiot, I tried to reason with her:

“If McGovern is a Communist, then Nixon is a Fascist.”

To my surprise, she did not see the correlation I was trying to illustrate. I imagine this was a section of the SATs that would totally stump her, if she indeed ever took the SATs.

“No he’s not!” she yelled at me. Really yelled, like I had insulted her father or kicked her dog.

But this is our two-party system. It’s not politics, it’s sports teams. I’m a Mets fan. Do I stop being a Mets fan when they start playing like the 1962 Mets? Sure, if they keep it up long enough. I’ll stop going to Shea, I’ll stop watching televised games. I might even consider rooting for the Cardinals, or the Red Sox, or the Phillies. I do not, however, become a Yankees fan. Yes, I am like a lot of Americans.

On this election day, it is my sincere hope that one day Americans will learn to stop hating each other for the color of their state.

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New York Waterfalls

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.

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Learning From Our Mistakes

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Happy Birthday John

My favorite Lennon song. Or at least, one of my favorites.


(unfortunate freeze-frame, however...)

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I know, I've been lazy

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.

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Preaching to the Choir

UPDATE: This is where you can obtain this button (for a donation):

http://www.buzzflash.com/store/items/1278

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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.

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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....

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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.

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I'm Just Saying ...

It's always more interesting when they don't know the microphone is still on.

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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.

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Television is the New Radio, 2

Someone sent in the You Tube link to LS3 on Craig Ferguson! (thank you, thank you!)

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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