The Billiken's Bluff

Five Steps to Save Your Candidacy (Part One)

2008-04-25T18:05:00.006-04:00

“It coulda been so sweet, too,” Joe Pesci laments in Casino, looking back on how divided loyalties and rampant ambitions finally tore down the Mafia’s boldly-imagined Las Vegas kingdom. Right now, Democrats might relate. 2008 was supposed to be their chance at building a shiny empire in the desert, where after eight years in the political wilderness they could finally break away from all the bad blood of an older politics and seize power before their bosses knew what was going on.

Months ago, they had their kingdom locked up. The opposition incumbent was widely detested and sinking deeper in the polls. A costly and unpopular war was dragging on, with No End in Sight and no progress on the front pages. The economy was slipping, markets bearish. And rising from the American ashes, a captivating new icon was stirring the hopeless with promises of change, unity, and Hope You Can Believe In.

This victory could be felt, tasted. It was as if all they had to do to seal the win was avoid some outlandish blunder. With plenty of experienced Democrats in the race, they were free to nominate anyone other than, oh, maybe some extreme character like an elite-seeming far-left radical on a friendship level with terrorists and racist fanatics or something. But ha, avoid something like that and it would be theirs, theirs at last!

Oops.

This week’s Pennsylvania primary demographic breakdown pretty much tells the tale of how that leap of faith is working for them. Turns out, Barack Obama is having some huge problems charming those Democrats he would need to win the White House. Pretty much every Democra-graphic except blacks, adoring college kids and wealthy ex-hippies bolted to Hill-dog like they were under Bosnian sniper fire.

The fact that even the Philly suburbanites voted Pantsuit in this one indicates that key fish in larger Democratic pond are more than a little sketched out by the reality of those shiny promises the Promised One is dangling on the line. Take a look at the image behind him during his concession speech. One needs more than Abercrombie-clad frat boy clones and Larry David look-a-likes to emerge from the American landscape as President.

So what now? In the end, the mysterious Superdelegates aren’t going to risk social and political suicide among the O-bombians that dominate that make up their networks by suddenly handing it to her. It’s like being the OJ Simpson juror who stops everyone at the door and says, but fellas, shouldn’t we think about all that DNA evidence?

Sure, nominating Hill-dog somehow is the smarter Strategery if you break this thing down into a game-theoretic decision-making model with probability-weighted utilities of an O-bomb vs. Hill-dog candidacy. A lot of people –O-bomb most of all – want O-bomb to set up shop in the Oval. But if John Nash was on O-bomb’s crew, he’d tell him that the Nash Equilibrium here would be to take the 2 Spot on the ticket so they could both take John McCain down - which they could do in a landslide (and he could always run in eight years).

But in this theoretic game tree, their dilemma is that both actors are ego-driven prisoners of their own ambitions; as long as both imagine themselves as the #1 Stunner, they will tear each other down for it and block each other’s chances for greater utility. In the end, the bruised primary victor will roll into the battle with J McC like a kicked peach.

So the weaker O-bomb will get the nomination, and – without some image help – lose. Then we’d have to listen to John Stewart replace his hilarious eight-year “Bush is dumb” routine with “McCain is old” jokes. And make that little face he does when even his diehards can't muster a laugh. No one wants this.

So now N Dot has to pick up all the pieces. After a long absence, I’m back on Billiken to offer Senator Obama some frank advice and a roadmap to success before it’s too late. You may recall that I’ve offered you lefties advice before after the ‘04 election (which, by the way, I predicted almost exactly, missing one state). Note that my advice in 2004 could have prevented Democrats from making the same mistakes in 2008: back then I said that Democrats should listen to those arguing that they "support some of the cultural values most of the country seems to find important." If there was an N Dot on O-Bomb's team to begin with, this whole "bitter clinging" fiasco would never have happened.

Why do I do it? All for fun; no liberal in the history of the United States has ever actually listened to a conservative. (If they did, they wouldn’t be liberals!)

The fact is, this race is far from over for O-Bomb. The man is an extraordinary political talent and a genuinely likeable guy facing a good political climate. His oratory skill and locked-in base could be huge. While he is “out of touch” with some key people, he has proven an ability to “touch in” on emotions that turn the open-minded into committed followers. In politics, style is everything - and this man has style. He just needs … adjustment.

So here it is, Senator. My five part series (I'll post the next four steps in following weeks): Five Steps to Save Your Candidacy.

Step I. Act as if.

This is the Ben Affleck from Boiler Room rule. If you want it, first act like you own it.

It’s not that Obama doesn’t know how to do this- he’s a master at it. For instance, he acted early on like his candidacy was equal to Hill-dog's and was able to make that unlikely perception work.
And when revelations came out about Rev. Wright, he acted - successfully at the time - that he was so above normal political vetting that is was ridiculous and insulting to Americans and the discussion before them to broach the subject. This makes sense - why should people care now about his past and the people who influenced his career and shaped his ideas? After all, Obama is a man whose many years of public service, extreme sacrifices for country, and extensive congressional record debating and voting on issues provide so much accessible information to the public about his overriding vision, judgment and character that these kind of relationships become more of a “manufactured” distraction for voters. Oh, wait - that’s John McCain.

Anyway, the point is that O-bomb now needs to apply this principle to his ultimate, plausible goal. He needs to act as if he is what he could be, rather than things he can’t. For instance, he needs to first stop acting like the guy who is going to magically unite people of different races or transcend the country’s historically-ingrained divisions. It’s not going to happen.

True, he has spoken eloquently at times about the need to begin a “real” discussion about race and race-related problems in America. Lofty, admirable. But in practice, O-bomb has proven particularly deft at mentioning the issue where politically expedient while avoiding this issue when a “real discussion” might otherwise have emerged.

In a speech following the Rev. Wright revelations, O-bomb himself turned the discussion into one about race and its persisting impact on people’s attitudes, when all along it should have been about his judgment and his propensity to be a leader. But after an eloquent and stunningly honest acknowledgment about the variety of ways in which racial attitudes are hurtful to the country, O-bomb hastily equated Wright’s despicable public rants to his grandmother’s privately held prejudices, and seemingly left a more nuanced discussion of race for a later time and place. Have we heard anything about race from the candidate since? And should we?

O-bomb can’t be blamed for avoiding the political minefield surrounding the race issue. Simply, it shouldn’t fall on him to tackle race any more than it fell on the old white guys who preceded him. O-bomb is essentially right when he says that Americans are more interested in hearing from their candidate about those issues affecting their lives that a president might actually impact. While O-bomb’s unique background makes his candidacy an exciting milestone, the voters he needs now are rightfully skeptical about whether he is either interested in or capable of addressing the nation’s damaging racial divisions by sparking some grand national dialogue. Those who believe in O-Bomb’s divine powers as racial healer won’t change their minds - for everyone else, the act should be dropped.

Similarly, it’s silly for O-bomb to put so much effort into acting like “the regular guy.” He’s not a regular guy - he’s a particularly impressive guy with a fascinating story. And Americans aren’t necessarily looking for the regular guy anyway; having that aura only helps to the degree that it convinces people that the candidate shares their values and isn’t an insufferable snob (see Step Three in upcoming post). Unlike G-Dubb, O-bomb can better address this challenge by relying his skills as a communicator. If you're not good at bowling, don’t go bowling.

Instead of all this, O-bomb needs to start acting as if he is the President. It’s a familiar icon to Americans, with recognizable features. To embody this role, Obama would welcome and directly answer tough questions and attacks, instead of appearing blindsided, annoyed and frightened in a debate when issues come up that should have been expected. The POTUS doesn’t get special treatment, he gets special scrutiny. So he needs to stop playing the role of popular-kid media darling who whines when things go south, and start playing the guy who is ready and willing to take the hits without buckling. Referencing Jay-Z or comparing your grandmother to a rabid racist is neither a politically sufficient nor particularly presidential response to the problem.

Similarly, the tough questions Obama faces about his past connections cannot be answered by saying, “well that’s just politics.” Because, we know that. What did you think you were playing - croquet? Get in the game, playa! And act as if you already won.

Return soon for Step Two.

next up

2008-03-09T06:52:00.000-04:00

I have to lose my idols
to find my voice

and write something of my own

so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain

2008-03-09T05:02:00.003-04:00

How I filled my weekend, verbatim:

You start telling the story thinking you're the hero and when u get done talking you realize...

I left a trail of fire behind me

How do you get from here to the rest of the world?

Look him in the eye - it don't matter who he is or what he's done - you look him in the eye

Can u see these two riding tame?

A hun a visogath a barbian at the gate

Man u act like u on the trail of polpot or something

You got your rice-a-roni profits

Gotta respect the depths

Things change one moment the ice cream truck be the only thing u wanna hear
And the next thing cops calling and the heron be the only thing u can hear

U want it to be one way whens its the other

I ain't no suit-wearing' businessman like you... you know I'm just a gangsta I suppose...

You're name going to ring out

I had such fucking hopes for us

This is the other part of the game.

Analyze stocks, we'll be buying lion heads and Clarks

If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for the Creator, there is no poverty.

"I feel it now: there's a power in me to grasp and give shape to my world I know that nothing has ever been real without my beholding it. All becoming has need me.."

I do not expect old heads on young shoulders

One of our best weapons, contented worldliness.

We want cattle that can become food. He wants servants who can become sons.

An increasing craving for an ever diminishing pleasure is the formula.

Everyone tends to turn into the thing they are pretending to be.

He can be made to take a positive pleasure in the perception that the two sides of his life are inconsistent.

I now see I spent most of my life in doing neither what I ought nor what I liked.

Have you heard about me in your travels?

2008-03-03T23:03:00.006-05:00

The Wire or its absence.

The business end of a shotgun

OH, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet,
Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God’s great Judgment Seat;
But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor Birth,
When two strong men stand face to face, tho’ they come from the ends of the earth!

If I had known that when you grew up, you would be a grown up....

2008-03-02T13:22:00.003-05:00

The LORD SAID to Samuel:

"Fill your horn with oil, and be on your way.

I am sending you to Jesse of Bethlehem, for I have chosen my king from among his sons."

As Jesse and his sons came to the sacrifice, Samuel looked at Eliab and thought, "Surely the LORD's anointed is here before him."

But the LORD said to Samuel: "Do not judge from his appearance or from his lofty stature, because I have rejected him.

Not as man sees does God see, because man sees the appearance but the LORD looks into the heart." In the same way Jesse presented seven sons before Samuel,

but Samuel said to Jesse, "The LORD has not chosen any one of these."

Then Samuel asked Jesse, "Are these all the sons you have?" Jesse replied,

"There is still the youngest, who is tending the sheep." Samuel said to Jesse, "Send for him; we will not begin the sacrificial banquet until he arrives here."Jesse sent and had the young man brought to them.

He was ruddy, a youth handsome to behold and making a splendid appearance.

The LORD said,

" There - annoit him, for this is the one!"

Then Samuel, with the horn of oil in hand, anointed David in the presence of his brothers; and from that day on, the spirit of the LORD rushed upon David.

The word of the LORD.

Obama #1 Stunner

2007-12-21T22:17:00.000-05:00

Why I want to vote for Barack Obama for president and Charlie Wilson, Congressman (D. Texas) for an MTV Movie Award or whatever.

Someone from Fox News or Georgetown Law asked me to justify, to flesh out, flush out, my support for Barack over Hillary, to translate superficial groupie love into issue-based Lincoln Douglas factoids.

The problem with presidential statistics here in the U.S. of A. is that there are more facts presented on NPR re: Pakistan's Bhuttos and Mushareffs and a Mighty Heart than on our presidential hopefuls, veritably Ishmael. So in our country (as opposed to Pakistan where I can draw on facts and character, if I were allowed to vote in the general election next month) I will draw on gut feelings, rap lyrics, references, and the sound of a man or woman's name.

I, Gotim, want to vote for Barack Hussein Obama and am trying to get my 92 year old Grandma to vote the same way. She's old school in all the right ways. She understands what life was like before the internet and before WWII.

From what I can gather we both appreciate Obama's college basketball prodigy, Indonesian worldliness/schooling, Harvard Law school education, and ability to speak in well-constructed paragraphs. All of those facts translate from NY Times print to NPR radio to blogs. But there is something we can't agree on because of Hillary and his age.

This late age of the world’s experience had bred in them all, all men and women, a well of tears. Tears and sorrows; courage and endurance; a perfectly upright and stoical bearing.

I like the fact that my elder still whispers that Obama is "black". But she is wise enough to know that she likes that she can potentially elect someone that she whispers is "black". That our options now are a 1st Lady or a negro with, what feels like, hundreds of North African Arab names. Ultimately this is a beautiful thing for a 2nd generation Syrian Country Club Catholic who has always been told that she is so much alike everyone else that you'd never know she was Syrian or Arab to begin with.

What choices!

She remembers when Kennedy wowed crowds with his best Brad Pitt before anyone tried to be a movie star besides the president.

She had a perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day.

So when I'm asked why Barack over Hillary or Obama over Clinton I respond Pitt over Stone. Right? who wouldn't? Barack could potentially be Denzel and George (Clooney) and some new actor with all of the Middle East and Africa in his surname. Or a Gabriel Garcia Bernal. All billikened into one parcel, perfectly.

He made dog fighting indie cool before Michael Vick made it main stream not so cool.

Cannes believed in this before CNN and CSPAN didn't.

Barack more eloquent than the current incarnation. He's as eloquent as the previous incarnation. Bill Clinton was almost black, Barack Obama is black enough. Bill was flying along with too little turbulence so he was corralled for marital indiscretions. Barack Obama, due to blogs and DVR HD cable has already been uncovered. He's human in that he has written his biopic. He's mentioned that he's snorted. He's had mild property issues. He's tangoed with Oprah. He's born of reality and doesn't need to reference earlier generations. Bill Clinton was ordained before America went Online. Barack Hussein Obama has already been discussed in chat rooms, blogs, and photoshopped on Perez Hilton with coke in his nostril. He can campaign and be president without scandal because like Gotim or N. Dot he has a Facebook profile.

Heros warts and all.

If he had a tattoo we'd have seen it already.

Someone the liberals and the youth will always be fascinated with. Like Darren McFadden or LaDaian Tomlinson playing QB. Some unorthodox shit the crowds love.

He is Hussein unhanged, he's almost Osama. He can't be blamed. He is our antidote. Born with the surname Alexander the Great. Not George or Bob. His parents didn't quite understand how this would work, but somehow they did. His name would solve problems, not create them.

A president like the last scene from Shawshank. That is absolutely all we need. One scene like that. One quotable line like a true author. One crystal blue sea from the president even though we've seen this all in HD previously, remastered.

The audacity to be inspired. He or she must inspire this time around. My father didn't understand why Reagan won or why things like Arnold winning California could happen.

We grew up on this shit. This is what we are, who the world is actually. Hollywood isn't American it's global, English speaking.

This is what cultured persons speak about in Mumbai or Bombay, Manhattan or my house. My uncle and grandma bought a LCD TV with HD quality and rented Unfaithful. I saw Richard Gere in Central Park introduce the Dhali Lama before traveling to Bangkok and before taking up power yoga in my living room.

A human like bill and jfk and matt damon. We need a superhero who can inspire greatness - walking on the moon and moonwalking, micro waves, rhymed couplets and iambic verses. And we need their alter ego someone who has sinned, or more importantly someone who has lived and knows better than to apologize for that.

This is why Barack Hussein Obama, the most spectacular of the candidates, unafraid to tell the auto union that they need to be dismantled, eloquently, must be elected.

I'm reading Charlie Wilson's War and then I’ll seen the movie, but from what I've heard already, Charlie is pissed that Tom Hanks isn't cut out of a more debonair fabric, the Greeks hate a Hoffman - too pasty and paunchy, the Saudis need an Obama; and we have him. Charlie is better looking than Tom Hanks. Gust is more shadowy than Phillip Seymour Hoffman could ever be; even in an Oscar worthy performance. But Barack Obama is better than imagined. He is what the directors and the producers dreamed about for this scene, race mixing and mixing until you have a perfect blend of everything.

Now pull your straws and cross your caucuses.

Out kick the coverage!!

2007-12-11T00:54:00.000-05:00

Sometimes rap and politics intersect on the way to work. Flipping between sports radio, Imus (returned), NPR and Power 105.1.

Kanye's latest:

If somebody would've told me a year ago
it'd go, get this difficult
Feeling like Katrina with no fema
Like Martin with no Gina
Like a flight with no visa

Later at the gym, DJ Clue and Ghostface repping Desert Storm, the record label, not the early 90s military operation, on my ipod.

Later leaving gym, back in the car, on N to the P to the R (you know who you are):

Oprah endorses Obama and I think this makes sense for everyone involved.

All reach the same conclusion - DESERT STORM sounds imposing, street strong, good way to body an opponent and attract a constituency to post yellow ribbons on their doorways.

Oprah sells.
Oprah hates rap music, she does not endorse it.
She does endorse Obama.
Obama played basketball in college.
Basketball is intertwined with hip hop, clearly.
David Stern does not endorse hip hop.
Stern does however endorse Outkast who he enlisted to perform at halftime of the 2004NBA All Star game.
Andre 3000 at times has embraced hip hop.
He is certainly responsible for the only song that I have ever encountered that has caused multiple tables of diners at a restaurant in NYC to burst into spontaneous gyrations during their meals.
2004 Democratic candidate General Wesley Clark referenced Hey Ya during campaign stops in 2004.

There is a thread somewhere here. Pop culture, maybe, or American culture, rather, (dan). All from the same tradition, translated differently, reinterpreted maybe and reused for varying purposes but all born out of comic book nuclear fallout. Satellites and kaleidoscopes. Chaos, watermelons, clocks, everything.

Kevin Garnett's I Got Seven Mack 11’s, About Eight 38’s Nine 9’s, Ten Mack Tens reported here years back.

Rap music and military missions the same target in their infrared - shock and awe.

This line from Jay-Z's American Gangster inspired from a movie screening (not directly from the Blue Magic of Frank Lucas) of Denzel's Frank Lucas, rings true and false just the same.

[not an optical illusion my man, verily, that is a Window's Vista styled pocket square in Jigga's left breast pocket]

So do we care if Oprah tells us to vote for Obama if we might have anyway? Why not get your news from Jon Stewart? [writer's strike and outdated reruns not withstanding.] Do we care if the American government borrows pop culture, employs comic largesse in the naming (and dreaming) of its military operations? Is it insulting to those who are killed in those operations (specifically those not from the American pop culture tradition), or is it to be expected - as American as Apple Pie (fight power with power, cliches with cliches, you shake what yo' mamma gave you so to speak - curse US political leaders while wearing an I Love NY baseball hat and applying for exit visas from Morocco)? Do we care if Jay-Z borrows screenwritten crime from the silver screen, which in turn borrowed from real crime, drugs, misery, poverty and Vietnam?

"Actually believe half of what you see/ None of what you hear, even if it's spit by me/ And with that being said, I will kill niggas dead."

Talk more.

The reason the Cold War works

2007-10-31T10:29:00.000-04:00

Detente.

There is peace at the gym despite hormones that would seem to argue otherwise. Testosterone fueled weight lifters don't jump one another when they brush past one another. Two women training and working away their second child might tussle over the nuance between a set and a rep and if you leave for the water fountain what does that mean in terms of ownership of the vacated thigh machine? I have seen this.

Our fearless leaders understand Pervez Musharraf. Military man, wears a suit, keeps a neat mustache, glasses and an orderly haircut without any headdress. They can do business with a man dressed like this. He doesn't crawl on all fours, he sits upright, he keeps his prayer mat stashed at home, wears shoes indoors and can converse with Tim Russert on Sunday mornings, Eastern Standard Time.

Between you, me and this isolateral machine everyone is transparent at the gym. Genetics trumps energy and effort. The biggest of the regulars dress subdued and requires less maintenance at the gym. Those who want to talk about high twitch muscles wear back braces and headbands, sleeveless shirts, and bluetooth headsets from 2005.

I don't do sets I go until I can't move my muscles anymore

I'm trying to rebuild, or just build myself one morning at the gym at a time. No militaristic regime here. I'm going at it haphazard-like. Nothing systematic like eating a tub of ice cream to put some tangible weight on your depression. A little too much office chair sitting and a few too many pizza lunches consumed while walking from kitchen back to the desk. So like the appearance of love handles, some small muscles are peaking through. Woody Allen wisdom - 90% of life is just showing up is turning out to be true.

I'm also gaining respect from the mosly older men there for coming day in and day out before work, in order to do more work. The Boy's Club. These are the new rich, the Porsche and Bentley. These are Local 131 iron workers union dressed in the brotherhood sweatshirt. discreet muscles, big foremans though used to wield rivet guns and haul scrap. These are some old folks too trying to train and sip gatorade with their Lipitor. There are also the infirmed - physically and psychologically - like the guy who needs two canes to walk into the building and presumably same two canes to hoist his way into his two work out outfits. A Bear Sterns Under-Armour style mesh track shirt - "Bulls Run on Wall Street" and a long sleeve cotton number that is a more generic Bear Sterns offering. He can't breathe. His back is bent. He mumbles something like Google while Sportcenter plays on the TVs above the treadmill.

But it's not all bumps on a log, or men - there are the Benazir Bhuttos - serious women ready to dodge landmines and nouveau-fangled I.E.D.s. Witness one ipod commercial of a woman working out. She dances through the gym taunting stationary machines and bikes, pied pipering through the aisles keeping her ample ass respectable in leotards.

There are bodies who have it partially right - who you want to like but are too focused on building isolated strength while ignoring growing masses, tumors - looming. Like this guy stomach pregnant with possibility, but can't see past his cut off shirt and the end of his arm. You fall in routines, sometimes they are the wrong ones.

Familiarity does not breed contempt, it breeds respect. Better the Devil you know. The old immigrant rather than the new.

The familiar war rather than the invisible one. We used to have a phone direct from Washington to the Kremlin to avert crisis.

Trying to piece together the feeling, the need, that landed me in this routine. My tooth was stung by the sugar and the cold in the iced coffee on the way to work - late Spring - and i'm trying to understand how much goes into something like this. I brushed and flossed more vigorously that night and the weeks after, switched from soft bristle to medium and the gums receded. I was told I needed minor surgery and felt like i was falling apart a bit too quickly and joined the gym in June to take care of everything physical that was within my reach to shape.

What causes all of this? The amount of ankle showing through a garment?

A hair dresser by trade, personal trainer by choice (and gym-officially-issued-shirt), wears back brace, cancer and breast cancer rubber bracelets - he is a fighter. He squares off against weight bearing support columns and trusses. Shadow boxes against empty gym equipment, practices a brand of ultra flexible Kama sutra karate - part missionary thrust against the floor or an unsuspecting under-inflated exercise ball. He stands at impossible angles keeping balance like a flamingo holding a 25 lb weight plate. Alfredo (born Alfred - 3rd generation always assimilates in reverse and reverts, reclaims ethnicity - namely in the name) has no children. His exercise regime is so unique it appears learned deep in the jungles of Laos at the mouth of a river a dawn and dusk via a guru who never encountered a coca cola can. It is not a mystery though why he has no customers as a personal trainer.

Personal trainer wearing Oakley sunglasses, the reflecting kind does have customers - at least one. He dons a razor shaved head, chews gum constantly even while drinking coffee and is not muscular. He speaks of highly-technical aerobic video theses like negative weight produces high twitch muscle. He, himself tells a large man lifting three 45 plates per side on the bench that while he (himself) he can replicate that amount of weight and owes this strength to negative weight.

The gym is located adjacent to a house cleaning service and a nail salon. This results in a number of latin and asian women at the gym between shifts. This results in me feeling cheap having cringed at the $35 per month fee at the gym - considering, comparing wages.

A regular - tall asian with clearly a different races build is accosted by a small older italian who is built like a terrier. And wants to talk about back when Tawain was called Formosa and Asians always had to explain themselves.

The dude who cleans the toilets and cringes when someone takes a shit or changes in the locker room without covering with a towel says "it's not supposed to be fun it's work". Hoping he is a recovering addict, some explanation to frame this job, this man.

Sometimes the Squeeze isn't worth the Juice.

The reason that LL Cool J goes to a local gym in Queens, NY when he can afford to build one or ten in his house.

The power of crowds. Drawing on the energy of the guy on the bench press. Taking that and pushing through 7 extra crunches. Or the girl on the treadmill next to you who is pretty and still running so you aren't about to stop running even though you're inhaling slight razor blades with every breathe.

And the warm sun as you exit the gym.

Bin Laden is not hiding in the gym. I am sure of this.

Yes this is a war, much like the one we've been waiting for - boys versus girls.

2007-09-13T22:53:00.000-04:00

November Rain, Acid Rain, September 11 there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

Here's the dilemma, Craig's List [seeking: a poignant photograph to invoke how it all felt, how things happened], I was evacuated from my building in flip flops, a sleeveless shirt and basketball shorts, keys in hand, nothing else. 10 yards from my entrance I was charitably handed a sock and quickly understood this was to be used to cover my mouth or eyes or nose or whatever I could shelter if I got creative enough - from the ash and smoke flowing north and east up the street. This was dramatic and I was dressed comically.

I wanted my wallet and some real shoes and my digital camera and to be better prepared for what was quickly becoming not a fire drill evacuation. I want to draw it and picture it and make myself look like the least effectively constructed hazmat suit complete with a nose/sock that extended like an elephant nose.

But it was folded, balled like a cloth and just covered my mouth, boring, and I moved fast, uptown even in my sandals. So no photos of the events, the exodus away, and no google image proof that there were serious rumors swirling that day.

I heard there are 6 more planes in the air circling in New Jersey, yea it's them TOO.

We thought this movie was still on an upward trajectory and we might not have even seen the piece d'resistance yet, in other words there was still time to get everyone's digital camera, time to call Spielberg for directorial advice, and time to make aluminum foil antennas hats to facilitate them taking me to their leader.

There was no clear indication which direction was safer. Upwards, northwards seemed like the general trend.

There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

There was a lot that was less than clear, but I can tell you this - I wasn't nervous I was excited. Three hours into this someone had already posted a 11" x 17" hand-drawn poster for an "END OF THE WORLD PARTY ... STARTING NOW!!! <--> ENDING???"

I bought some Olde English 40s but never made it upstairs to the party.

I walked and walked I wanted to be out there seeing this.

Thomas Mann wrote that he would rather participate in life...
than write a hundred stories.
Giacometti was once run down by a car,
and he recalled falling into a lucid faint,
a sudden exhilaration,
as he realized at last something was happening to him.

Later, the subways reopened and I slept at my mom's apartment. A lot of head shaking and watery eyes, chills, goosebumps, and Tom Brokaw in the background narrating the scene in my living room between my mom and I. Things felt important. There were offers of hot tea and something to eat, I'll make you eggs, some scrambled eggs and an english muffin, sit, sit. Everything was backwards and meals were served with no concern for time of day or night. In my room with radio on, flipping between dreams and talk radio; I woke at 5:30AM hearing Don Imus for maybe the first time, talking seriously. This was before we knew how many had died and before the bravado and threats began from those who would waive any flag.

The tune you'll be humming forever, all the words are replaced and wrong.

her heart was in the right place

an extraordinary <---> rendition

6 years later listening to the morning spot vacated by Imus after his impeachment, making my drive to work, fighting the near daily battle not to spill any ice coffee on my khakis.

A moment of radio silence to remember, broken by blowing bagpipes and trumpets that seemed ready to morph into an Arabic call to afternoon mosque wail but abruptly turned into a more Knights of Columbus donny boy O donny boy styling.

It all ended up being dust not asbestos, hangovers rather than anxiety-induced migraines, sweat replaced watery eyes, sophmore, junior, senior years passed, invisible ink and erasers that remove pen - video footage that disappeared from network TVs despite begging, pleading to be aired with all of it's shock and awe content. Indivisible.

my Mea Culpa. I sketched this while driving to my office on Tuesday and meant to post it immediately upon landing. But instead - like America when David Letterman told us it was ok to laugh again and Bud Selig when he told his MLB to play ball, same as when Londoners displayed their trademark stiff upper lip and went to work the day of the Tube bombings - I went about my normal routine, business as usual. Creating worlds within worlds - in work email distributions, in fantasy football leagues, in a booth full of friends with pitchers of beer - waiting impatiently, foot tapping, nails bitten, pacing around the room cellphone on ear, waiting for something to wake me the fuck up.

Men and Work

2007-09-10T22:34:00.000-04:00

The film is about a lot of different things, about how Los Angeles lights up at night, how cars become prostheses of ourselves and how driving with the radio on can be bliss. But as with all of Mr. Mann's movies, "Collateral" is finally about men and work, and about how being a man is itself a kind of job.

The Serious Business of Eating

2007-08-19T02:13:00.000-04:00

Marvin, Asian American 2nd generation barely, but his first name all like baggy shorts, Cross Colours, 80s baby, Tribe Called Qwest and hanging out at the bus stop, it was Queens proper as if his parents had predicted where they would settle and what it would look like for junior high students a baker's dozen years paid forward when they left Qingdao or wherever. Marvin went to the corner store, veritably on a corner otherwise they would have called it something else entirely, and got them drinks, quarter waters red, green, blue bright like pixels on a tube TV. Called by their color not their flavor - blue, not berry. This is not unimportant. This is a litmus test of sort when applied to Gatorade. It's not where you're from it's where you're at. Lemon-Lime and Yellow. Are you from the city extended or Western Pennslyvania? Let's talk as pointedly, as specifically as possible, only talk in pixels - red, blue, green.

4 on 4 plus those who had next and those who where there to watch. Maybe $4 bucks in total when it was all said and done. He returned to the court, slanted on hill, hoop at the summit - all angles and bank shots. He distributed the cache and attempted to recoup that $4 - one coin at a time. Nobody's fool. Cheap yes, petty maybe, but he didn't want to be that guy tasked with buying and paying for things.

Basketball shorts without pockets, I got nothing yo. I got nothing dude. Argued as a matter of principal and logic. No pockets, no coin. They kept their money in your shoe, sweaty, crumpled bills.

I take quarter water sold it in bottles for 2 bucks,
Coca-Cola came and bought it;
for billions, what the fuck?

New and improved - it doesn't burn the back of your throat going down, maybe it's the vitamins or the additional volume. The colors are too nuanced to be called anything other that guava and pomegranate. Whitestone Queens, from your corner store to ours.

Marvin went to Stuyvesant, studied piano and Calculus AB or BC. M.I.T, beaver class ring the whole thing here we come. Unique, special, a minority, you know? He was in, fo' sure. He bought the Air Max 95s off me, despite their size being too big - this didn't see to be indicative of good decision making outside of the classroom, too eager. Marvin had a kid 2 months into Senior year of high school.

have a baby by me; baby
be a millionaire
i write the check before the baby comes,
who the fuck cares

Wisdom like if you don't have to turn off your cellphone on the plane it won't crash

2007-08-11T02:19:00.000-04:00

Falling Man:

Someone told Rumsey one night, it was Dockery the waggish adman, that everything in his life would be different, Rumsey's if one letter in his name was different. An a for the u. Making him, effectively, Ramsey. It was the u, the rum, that had shaped his life and mind. The way he walks and talks, his slouchings, his very size and shape, the slowness and thickness that pour off him, the way he puts his hand down his shirt to scratch an itch. This would all be different if he'd been born a Ramsey.

Bill Lawton is Bin Laden on a cell phone with static. Anthony Fernandes is working out of a call center in Mumbai, minus the nom de plume. Barack's middle name is Hussein and his last name is not Ramsey.

Holiday shopping season 1998. He sat shotgun outside Short Hills mall,

newly-purchased Tupac Shakur Greatest Hits double CD in bag. His dad's CD player, he wanted to hear IT. A patriarch who opted not to curse, ever, casually or seriously, above it all. Son opted for Changes because it stood for something cause both Black and White smoking crack tonight, gave him a goose bump when the climate control was right. Different versions of heaven, albeit. They agreed to disagree.

When new of Biggie's death was broadcasted on NY1 he was seated in front of his Grandma's wood framed television.

The shot heard round the world, this was not. He remembers this living room with thick carpet and a parakeet suspended in cage above the television when he heard that Biggie was not going to be alive for the release of his second album presciently title Life After Death. Why? And why did he only have one verse on Notorious Thugs. This wasn't enough, neither. His grandmother remembers where she was when JFK was gunned down or so they tell her. Plates did not leave her and crash to the floor in appreciation of gravity framed on the wood TV.

Sublime's Date Rape a jaded warning with a beat. An aunt, a feminist ready to attack, does not appreciate any nuisance when they talk her through it. But Santeria, yea there is all types of chauvinism and gun play but listen to it on the way back from Jones Beach and then write your book report, savvy?

What we care about, this type of shit, does not transfer by touch, time is not on our side yes it is.

You can't talk anyone through it. It's like liking a presidential candidate just because maybe he reminds you of a would be member of your family, just because.

You know?

A young woman in an old man's world

2007-07-18T23:03:00.000-04:00

I was a terror since the public school era
Bathroom passes, cuttin classes, squeezing asses
Smoking blunts was a daily routine

Hugs from the honeys, Pounds from the roughnecks
Seen my man Sei that I knew from the projects
Said he had beef, asked me if I had my peice
Sure do, two .22's in my shoes
Holler if you need me love i'm in the house

If he were a teacher rather than a pitcher he would make learning fun, the type to turn defense into offense, and cook brussel sprouts into cheese fries.

If he were Jewish he would be the Tzaddik Ha-Dor, the talent of his generation ready to assume the throne in the Promised Land if the world is ready and if the Giants have a setup man in the bullpen, God willing.

Lyceum, chrysanthemum, Lincecum, chromium

His name, confused like a Japanese import,

the type ghetto-ized into AAA obscurity except for one thing, he pitches like a young Martinez.

A name like the Roman Empire in all its expanse. His delivery to the plate, efficient, sharp, chiseled like a statue.

His failures are spectacularly unexpected. I watched him down 1-0 to the Cubs and all felt off-kilter.

Talent that needs mentoring. Forget pedigree, he should have burst on the scene from some island from the south, or a community college in Queens.

Like a force of nature in need of sober establishment tutelage.

He is as impressive as he will ever be. Speculation and hype and hope are ends in themselves - this post. Like... believe in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter- tomorrow we will run faster, stretch our arms farther… and one fine morning-

Griffey will pass Bonds as he was always supposed to.

For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.

Love Many

2007-07-12T11:15:00.000-04:00

Trust few

Paddle your own canoe.

The end of the world will go something like this

2007-06-17T23:24:00.000-04:00

An Israeli Army of Avatars using US Army virtual weapons against an Iranian Second Life guild armed with a virtual nuclear weapon purchased using funds channeled through a Chinese gold farm in Nanjing, breathe, something will happen in there, and everyone in the real world will follow suit.

I don't really have too much more to say, other than I don't know what to say. Read this article, The Life of a Chinese Gold Farmer.

Get Dirty, Get Clean

2007-05-13T05:39:00.000-04:00

Like a new bird cracked out of shell mouth open hungry ready to talk,
squawk.

Hitler as a youth, Elvis on the toilet, like spam mail messages
concealed. At some point you stop faking it and begin believing. Or
maybe you never believe.

But they do.

You are a fake, a charlatan.
Breaking out of middle class comfort
New ways of looking at same thing

Trading creature comforts for pictures of creatures.

poverty as a spectacle, a photo opportunity. Walk fast, click quickly, look through them keep moving.

Standing full blush in front of crowd.

Leaping that last 5 percent, realizing this IS IT you have already arrived.

This is that rainy day, the fine day in the future. This is what you spend
your nest egg on. This is what you are working towards.

I tipped my cab driver $10 USD on the ride to the airport.

Exclamate

2007-05-13T04:00:00.000-04:00

This should be posterized, framed, distorted with large pixels and bright colors, worn flashy on t-shirts from Bushwick to Tokyo to Moscow. It should be

spray painted and attached to canvas stretched across wide white walls,

displayed in halls of modern art

and natural history museum

for inspection and scrutiny, added to sociology curriculums this Fall

to define, to exclamate

the every day ordinary man swagger walking the street or to the water cooler; hip hop 1992 to 2007 over the top, gaudy, full of swagger; and NBA basketball born-from-Harold Miner taking the slam dunk contest portion of MJ – no more or less. Show-ey like my style of rhetoric and email responses in the office - all bold text, underlined and italicized for emphasis, because THIS is the point.

It had to happen after the fact, in a blow out or it wouldn't be representative or Baron wouldn't have pulled his jersey out. This isn't a game winner it isn't successful it's pure bravado - technical foul, after-the-fact apologies, propriety and all.

The Dance Club that used to be a Bank is now an Eckards on Manhattan Ave

2007-05-12T18:57:00.000-04:00

Crash

2007-04-14T00:46:00.000-04:00

I borrow liberally:

I remember an incident from prison. In that other world-within-a-world, back then, I moved into a new prison cell and discovered a tiny mouse there. The creature entered through a cracked air vent, and crept into the cell every night. Patience and obsessional focus are the gems we mine in the tunnels of prison solitude. Using them, and tiny morsels of food, I bribed the little mouse over several weeks and eventually trained it to eat from the edge of my hand. When the prison guards moved me from the cell in a routine rotation, I told the new tenant - a prisoner I thought I knew well - about the trained mouse. On the morning after the move, he invited me to see the mouse. He'd captured the trusting creature, and crucified it, face down, on a cross made from a broken ruler. He laughed as he told me how the mouse had struggled when he'd tied it by its neck to the cross with common thread.. He marveled at how long it had taken to drive the thumbtacks into its wriggling paws.

Are we ever justified in what we do? The question ruined my sleep for a long time after I saw the tortured mouse. When we act, even with the best of intentions, when we interfere with the world, we always risk a new disaster that mightn't be of our making, but that wouldn't occur without our action. Some of the worst wrongs were caused by people who tried to change things.

New Jersey Governor John Corzine has 12 broken ribs a cracked vertebrae and won't walk for 6 months. He was driving to attend a meeting between Don Imus and the Rutgers women's basketball team. Pressure from Al Sharpton applied to CBS and NBC raised the profile of the story to the point where the Governor of NJ felt obligated to attend.

Sharpton tried to change things and things happened.

In the privacy of your home, in the company of friends, in the republic of a public sporting event anything is fair game and nothing is the end of the world. The young girl working events and promotions who doesn't fire a t-shirt out of an air cannon in your general direction is a slut, or if you are in high spirits, a sloot.

Jose Reyes is the best player, your favorite player, on your favorite team, and you still mimic his ESL speech deficiencies during post-game interviews in for your friends.

At the stadium or in your living room, with or without alcohol. You make fun of Asian drivers with your Asian friend in the passenger seat. You tell your Indian co-workers that the street food outside their flat is more likely to kill all of us than the motorcycle we just rode on, weaving through traffic, to the office.

They laugh and love it.

It is personal, in the best of ways.

Time discusses my paragraph of writing in this week's cover story about Imus and race and media. It goes in circles and does not touch on the conversations that take place in the living room.

'The prayers for the dead, what a ridiculous and redundant phrase! There are no other prayers. Every prayer is for the dead.'

2007-04-05T23:33:00.000-04:00

The danger was extreme.

Those dogs that were so cowed and obsequious in the daylight hours

formed themselves into vicious, feral packs at night. Their agression and ferocity was legendary in all slums throughout the city, and inspired great fear.

The bravest of the hounds inched closer and closer.

They came in groups of two and three.

They attacked from two sides at once.

The dogs were insane with the blood lust.

Abdullah swung it two-handed as if it was a sword. But it wasn't the superior weapon or even his uncanny agility that terrified the dogs and drove them back.

What routed them in panicked flight was that he'd taken the fight to them;

that he'd attacked,

where we'd defended; that he was sure of winning, where we'd merely struggled to survive.

It was over quickly.

There was silence, where so much sound had screamed.

[...]

Then they ... they said he took two guns from his jacket and begun to shoot at them.

They returned the fire all at once. He was shot so many times.

Let your shit bubble quietly and then you blow, keep your cool.

2007-03-27T19:34:00.000-04:00

As a rule of thumb you don't want to just advertise the ushering in of this type of new epoch/era of corporate irresponsibility

turned the machines have taken over and harvested humans as sources of energy in lieu of oil and in Matrix Trilogy style glass pods - publicly in the Dubai Airport. Keep it quiet.

Run some focus groups.

Test the water.

Gauge public support for people energy in pods.

first

The Standing Babas

2007-03-25T13:58:00.000-04:00

I'm back before you had a chance to miss me.

The Standing Babas were men who'd taken a vow never to sit down, or lie down, ever again, for the rest of their lives. They stood, day and night, forever. They ate their meals standing up, and made their toilet standing up. They prayed and worked and sang standing up.

For the first five to ten years of that constant standing, their legs began to swell. Blood moved sluggishly in exhausted veins, and muscles thickened. Their legs became huge, bloated out of recognisable shape.

During the following years, their legs gradually became thinner and thinner. Eventually only bones remained, with a paint-thin veneer of skin and the termite trails of withered veins.

The pain was unending and terrible. Spikes and spears of agony stabbed up through their feet with every downward pressure. Tormented, tortured, the Standing Babas were never still. They shifted constantly from foot to foot in a gentle, swaying dance that was mesmeriziing.

for everyone who saw it, as the sound-weaving hands of a flute player for his cobras.

Some of the Babas had made the vow when they were sixteen or seventeen years old.

They were compelled by something like the vocation that calls others, in other cultures, to become priests, rabbis, or imams. A larger number of much older men had renounced the world as preparation for death and the next level of incarnation.

The faces of the Babas were radiant with their excruciation. Sooner or later in the torment of endlessly ascending pain, every man of them assumed a luminous, transcendent beatitude.

Light, made from the agonies they suffered, streamed in their eyes, and I've never known a human source more briliant than their torured smiles. For a tiny moment in the infinitude of his suffering I alomst felt it, what the human will can drive the human body to endure and achieve. I almost understood it, that smile of his, driven insane by the will that forced it to shine.

He will not sit down.

No, no WE won't GO!

2007-02-17T16:53:00.000-05:00

I dreamed that the US Army hired Mexicans to fight a war against Iran. US military generals who were fluent in Spanish and Mexican mercenaries who were proficient in English were promoted and met in the middle as the Marine battalions, the berets, verde.

How about this? looking like a difficult 12 year old - WHATEVER!@#

How about that? looking like a smirk is about to peak through the security checkpoint. Hey, hey, hey this is serious business turn that smile upside down, SIR.

File this under "news, breaking" - these people that consume our front pages, our cable network crossfires, have a full palate of emotions, and real lives, verily - happy, miserable, silly, bald, poor, great.

Though we rehearsed IT, IT just ain't the same

2007-02-12T10:41:00.000-05:00

Weak minds keep tryin' follow the street signs.

A man cries near the site of twin car bomb attacks at Shorja market in Baghdad February 12, 2007.

And though the holes were small, they had to count them all

2007-02-08T12:05:00.000-05:00

I was thinking

I'm in it to win it!!!!

2007-01-22T09:45:00.000-05:00

Okay... my sound drenches, each of the five senses
And hold the shock value of electrified fences
It's truth or consequences, ride wit us or against us
Is you a dedicated soldier, or you a princess, dog?
I'm in it to win it and not for the wealth
Got a crib with a Grammy and a gat on the shelf
Nan nigga competition, gotta battle myself

I watched Prison Break and 24 last night and was under/overwhelmed with melodrama and cliche and I can't turn away.

But after hearing Hillary throw her hat in the ring,

I'm in it to win it.

the clichés are endemic, tremendous.

Pandemic, ubiquitous.

She sounds like a game show host, a band leader, an MC, a bar mitzvah DJ, a carnival kiosk employee. Not a presidential candidate or maybe precisely a presidential candidate. Either way i'm nonplussed.

Barack Hussein Obama

2007-01-17T22:46:00.000-05:00

On NPR tonight, One G.O.P. strategist, when asked about Barack Obama's chances to win the presidency in 2008 or even the Democratic party's nomination, referred to him as Barack "Hussein" Obama. I assumed this "Hussein" was in quotes and italics and that the strategist was insinuating that the American voting public would associate Obama with Osama by way of homonym, and lump him in with the Saddam Hussein by way of him sounding like a foreign other, brother.

But, fleshing it all out, which is bound to happen with greater scrutiny during a run at the commander in chief, Barack H. Obama will verily become Barack Hussein Obama. This is his full given name.

Obama is well-spoken, multi-racial, he embodies change, if not actually having ideas for policy change, although he did oppose the 2nd Iraq War from its conception. He would certainly energize the disenchanted just by taking up residence at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.

One of us in power, or at least not one of them, again for the last 232 years later.

Something along the lines of:

Why is Bush acting like he trying to get Osama
Why don't we impeach him and elect Obama

But this fight will be about nomenclature, color(s), pedigree, perception and a game of Guesstures.

It sounds like....

This election will expose American politics for what it really is. Prejudice, pre-conceived notions, public relations, and gut-feelings.

A name that will unite center city liberals. A name that is so laden with meaning that it requires no spin doctoring. You can't even spin it because it would be like taking advantage of a disabled person.

It is such an obvious impairment, that it's clear that it requires not a single iteration.

But who will vote for a disabled man that will alienate entire swaths of states?

Barack Hussein Obama is handicapped by birth, by birth certificate and this will be his undoing.

But this is important, we need this.

Who's coming with me?

The First Salvo

2007-01-11T10:17:00.000-05:00

Belligerence moves quickly.

ARBIL, Iraq, Jan 11 (Reuters) - U.S. forces stormed an Iranian consular office in the northern Iraqi Kurdish city of Arbil early on Thursday and arrested five people, including diplomats and staff, Iranian officials said.

The U.S. military made no direct mention of Iranians but in answer to a query issued a statement saying six "individuals" were arrested during "routine" operations in the area.

As the overnight raid was in progress, President George W. Bush was vowing in a keynote address on American television to disrupt what he called the "flow of support" from Iran and Syria for insurgent attacks on U.S. forces in Iraq.

The Shell Holes Have Been Plastered Over

2007-01-09T23:57:00.000-05:00

US doesn't want Iraq to have all the fun.

This is a GLOBAL war on terrorism and we'll prove it.

All 7 continents. Lions and Tamil Tigers and Bay of Bengal, oh my. Indian Ocean, both sides, two coats, two fronts.

All this talk of Black Hawk Down, Mogadishu, the Islamic Court Union and Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys. And the US Army said wait a second Gotim, we'll call your bluff, we don't just drop bombs over baghdad.

What did that mean? nothing. But why is this not a big story today?

If something is slightly confusing we don't discuss. If there are competing offensives we only have so much energy and so much room in the WORLD section of YahooNews. There are sports and technology and entertainment. And didn't we stop talking about Somalia in the 6th grade? Didn't we take yo mama jokes out of Snaps that talked about "well yo mama is so small she went hang gliding on a Dorito" or "yo mama is so skinny she, she, she's like a Somalian."

Well maybe that isn't exactly how it went down in grammar school but Somalia and it's war(lord) torn country was the butt of bloated stomach hunger jokes, don't forget I ran with a rugged crowd in 6th grade(forgive me NYTimes, Jodi Kantor, for reprinting, quoting racist statements that may be perceived as perpetuating stereotypes (yea - I listen to NPR and the Leonard Lopate Show and features on overt/covert racism in the search for quality nannies - yea)).

And today...

"the first U.S. offensives in the African country since 18 American soldiers were killed here in 1993."

US says...

"In Washington, a U.S. intelligence official said American forces killed five to 10 people in an attack on one target in southern Somalia believed to be associated with al-Qaida."

Somalia says...

"A Somali lawmaker said 31 civilians, including a newlywed couple, died in Tuesday's assault by two helicopters near Afmadow, a town in a forested area close to the Kenyan border."

We say...

Tonight N Dot and I discussed Apple's product debuts and it's headline grabbing (and 6 billion dollar stock increasing) announcement - Steve Jobs changed their name from "Apple Computers" to "Apple Inc".

Here is what the unearthing of a new paradigm looks like.

"Nobody can exactly explain what is going on inside these forested areas," said Somali commander Col. Shino Moalin Nur.

And you can capture it all on your new camera, video, mp3, email blackberry, planner phone.

Children of Men

2007-01-09T08:00:00.000-05:00

Alfonso Cuaròn’s new film Children of Men is conspicuously devoid of explanation. Brought along on the journey of a journalist named Theodore (played by Clive Owen) in a future where the worlds population has become infertile, we come across characters and events so starkly filmed and acutely realized that they refuse to be forgotten, even while their origins and back-stories are so mysterious as to defy comprehension in the ordinary cinematic sense.

In the world of futuristic science fiction movie, your ten dollars usually buys you the quick facts you need to understand the world you have walked into so you can focus on the what next - who is chasing who or what’s exploding or who might get naked. For instance: the world is underwater because we melted the ice caps, or the city is rubble because we built robots that took it over. In Children, the future world has gone to a hell that is every bit as palpable as any of these familiar scenarios. But rather than hand over the all-important why by feeding the audience a prologue or preachy mid-film revelation, Children achieves an unexpected greatness by demanding of the audience that they look for answers in the faces of its characters and find out about the fictional world by considering their own. As with every great story, part of Children of Men is what you bring in with you; you aren’t going to wrap up the story up unless you are willing to do a little bit of the work yourself.

As such, it’s a rare moment for the film when the aging hippie Jasper ( Michael Caine) explains to the miraculously pregnant Kee (Claire-Hope Ashitey) a bit about Theo’s past, revealing that he and his ex-wife (Julianne Moore) once lost their own child. It is a rare moment for two reasons. First, the revelation is rare within the film because the filmgoer is otherwise left as much in the dark about the main characters’ pasts as he is about such larger questions as why the world has suddenly gone infertile in the first place.

Secondly, it is unique choice to have Caine’s work as actor happen entirely out of focus in the distance while the audience is left watching only Theo's face as he hears the story of his own pain. Michael Caine is Michael Caine, after all; as is he is delivering the most important monologue in the film you would normally expect a least a few seconds where you could see his face. But Children doesn’t ask you to remember characters and performances as much as it asks you to remember what it might feel like to be them. Unlike other science fiction films, Owen’s own character isn’t important because he’s the last hope from the future, or the map that will save everyone is tattooed on his back, or because hes the ONE – hes important only because of what his face shows in this one scene: that he is despair in human form, walking barefoot and armed only with a flask of jack.

With the exception of one key scene, we see the rest of the film’s terrifying 2027 landscape through Theo's eyes and are invited to experience it the way he does as he leads humanity’s last hope through it. There is a great deal along the way to comment on: allusions to the nativity story, the interesting use of pets, haunting references to holocaust and Abu Ghraib imagery and war-torn Baghdad streets, the looming “Report Suspicious Activity!" signs of the modern Amercican subways, the ever present immigration issue.

To me, the film feels like the disturbing dream of someone who drifted off while watching the news in 2006 and is forced to revisit these images in a self-invented storyline that wanders through his fears about the world. The fact that Theo inexplicably finds it impossible to keep shoes on his feet throughout the film in particular feels like the kind of problem you might have in a dream – improbable in the real world but unsurprising and vivid as it recurs to the dreamer.

I have my own amateur opinions about many of these details – but you will too, so I won’t bother too much with mine. Interpreting this film – from its unseen beginning to its ambiguous end – will depend on your willingness to address your own questions about humanity. Let it suffice to say that ultimately what you think and feel during the film will be affected by what you think and feel about the world you live in. The only question is whether the same stands true for the reverse.

SIDE NOTE
Amusing to me, both the Got and I were surprised that the other liked the film. I remember the Got had hated Black Hawk Down and I would have thought the combat scenes in this movie provided a similarly unpleasant experience – getting that faint shadow-of-a taste of what it might feel like to get shot at, dialogue through gunfire. The Got, for his part, knows that N-Dot hates it when movies inject politically-charged imagery or material without a defined and important reason.

Sure enough, my eyes were already rolling when I read a review of the movie and saw that the word “Orwellian” was being thrown around. But having walked into a movie that I expected to be an undeservedly praised (provocative!) condemnation of the war on terrorism or western immigration policies, I was surprised to instead find a thoughtful film that conjured up all these charged images and issues with the same vehemence with which it demanded that you set aside what you think about them. Sure, there are enough of the expected totalitarian government clichés lurking in the movie that a reasonable lefty could walk out feeling that this or that policy of Bush or Blair’s got targeted and the dirty facists somehow got their usual cinematic flogging. But the movie admirably goes beyond all this; whatever political points might be under construction here they seem secondary to the greater aim of making the audience think about what it means to be human. In that sense, the movie seems to grasp that whatever one personally believes about the best policies to address the threat of terrorism or immigrant deportation or living in a war zone, the dehumanizing aspects these conditions have in common must first be fully felt and understood.

I guess people often see in movies (like events) what they see or expected to see, and I don’t pretend to be different. Some people, for instance, apparently managed to see the amusing, half-staged Borat movie as a serious piece of journalism documenting the evils of American society (I'm looking at you, A-Wood!). For what its worth, I was snacking on a bag of buttered cynicism when I saw Children, and a couple days later I feel like it was the second best movie I’ve seen in a while – frustrating and disturbing, but makes you think. I did not enjoy Children of Men, and I highly recommend seeing it. But get at me if I’m wrong about all this.

My Favorite Mutiny

2007-01-02T23:18:00.000-05:00

Henna Stained and Heading for the Hills

Riddle me this ... can you be accurately described by the US as the radical cleric leader of the Islamic Court Union, the de facto government of Somalia based out of Mogadishu, (disbanded by Ethiopian troops and John Bolton's blessing over the holiday week) when you look this damn merry?

Orange goatee. Bright blue shirt. Sheikh Hassan Dahir Aweys looks downright chipper.

like Scott Spiezio in the 2006 NLCS

Bin Laden, Sheik Hassan Nasrallah, or Muqtada al-Sadr he is not.

Speaking of Muqtada. Reports, circulating, swirling, critiquing THE execution - the timing (on a holy day, Eid al-Adha, i.e., a slap in the collective Sunni face), motivations (al-Maliki seeking revenge for his country or on behalf of his radical comrade in Sadr City) and etiquette (unruly guards, out of Abu Ghraib or an al-Zarqawi video). Another rousing success on the international stage.

When the appeal was denied on Dec. 26, Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki, described as “frantic” to see his enemy executed, signed a death warrant of dubious legitimacy in violation of Iraqi law. On a secretly recorded video, the hanging looks and sounds much like an old-fashioned lynching. The noose is fitted and the trap door springs while a jeering mob screams “Muqtada! Muqtada!” in homage to Muqtada al-Sadr, the anti-American Shiite warlord.

Nervous, no?

The trial and punishment of the late Saddam Hussein ought to have been accomplished with respect for law and human dignity—not necessarily because the former dictator deserved such consideration, but because all who have died in the name of democracy over the past three years certainly do.

I went to see Alfonso Cuaron's (Y Tu Mama Tambien) movie Children of Men yesterday which was based on a science fiction novel where women become infertile in the not too distant future and the world goes to shit - fear, panic, depression, government issued suicide machines, closing borders, persecuting foreigners, forced refugee camps - an Orwellian police state (not an Orwell novel).

I don't need to write the review, applauding cinematography, and Clive Owen's acting, you can read that here. Worth mentioning though is that despite the setting of movie, in the nearly apocalyptic 2030s,

it couldn't be anymore about Iraq.

Scenes from a refugee camp featured newly intaked foreigners perched atop boxes, live wire attached to hands, hood over head, Abu Ghraib style. The culture of closing borders and Homeland Security was out of our (this) world (!!!)

But this wasn't comic book violence, fancy daggers and silly masks with undeserved references to Operation Iraqi Freedom like the Weinsteins' V for Vendetta.

This was ear drum rupturing, ashen urban warfare. With words or images like
terrorist
insurgents
death squads
roadside bomb
refugees
preachers
politicians
evangelists
and
Allahu Akbar.

The last battle scene fought between British soldiers and a combination of opposition groups, random refugees, foreigners and thugs was relentless (like Danger Mouse's remix of Jay-Z's Encore w/ Beatles' White Album, which is to say - a relentless beat, bullets, bombs (over Baghdad)). And after the battle scene fought on the streets and apartments of the refugee camp you felt uncomfortable at how visceral it was and then like a bad dream you were relieved because it's only a dream or only a movie and whatever adrenaline was racing or hands were sweating aren't really real but then you think, oh yeah - urban warfare, insurgents, apartment buildings blown up_out - it is real and happening and you hear about people dying 80 from a car bomb at a police station or fish market or school, 300, 400 per day citizens, soldiers, insurgents, everyone and it doesn't mean much other than a number we've heard for 3, 4 years each day but if it looks anything like it did in this movie, which it must, and worse - than it is completely brutal and gratuitous.

i had a dream

2006-12-28T15:29:00.000-05:00

during an afternoon nap, talk in background TV of Gerald Ford's 5 days of official mourning, kidnapped twins, cigars banned in the Capitol.

the nap, the dream felt like, looked like this...

in the foreground my dream involved searching through 7th grade for a quote, a book, i may have read that year. possibly Uncle Tom's Cabin. possibly not this year and maybe it was high school I was looking for, or some other book about slavery. the slave owners gave the slaves 1 week, or 1 weekend, or maybe only 1 day at end of year to drink and celebrate. they gave the slaves grain alcohol, everclear, and lots of it. the goal was to have the slaves debauch themselves to such a degree that they swore such things off for the rest of the year and were more productive. so it was written.

i was looking for this in my dream, half awake, somewhere between 7th and 12th grade, for sure, and decided that Google will create a search feature by April 2007 that will allow you to search for text, photos, syllabi, people, lectures, quotes from classrooms - by year, grade, hour, minute. a Google Desktop Search for your Junior High.

and next on the docket - a CTRL + F search for objects, people - RFID technology. every_one_thing tagged with a keyword and searchable, find-able.

I have a dream.

Peeing in Your Shower

2006-12-27T00:48:00.001-05:00

First Lines...

Frank Costello:

I don't want to be a product of my environment. I want my environment to be a product of me.

Years ago we had the church. That was only a way of saying - we had each other. The Knights of Columbus were real head-breakers; true guineas. They took over their piece of the city. Twenty years after an Irishman couldn't get a fucking job, we had the presidency. May rest in peace. That's what the niggers don't realize. If I got one thing against the black chappies, it's this - no one gives it to you. You have to take it.

and quite aptly,

When you decide to be something, you can be it. That's what they don't tell you in the church. When I was your age they would say we can become cops, or criminals. Today, what I'm saying to you is this: when you're facing a loaded gun, what's the difference?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

OR on the Bob Marley, Pharcyde, LA Riots, death by heroin - tip:

it's the freedom game
you can see it every day,
'cause your freedom ain't free

Paradigm shifts like Blogger has moved to WWW2.blogger.com. Whoa.

The matter at hand:

Carbon Emissions Trading

I had something to say about this a ways back but didn't and thought the moment had passed me by (what up freshman year NYU?).

But it is just a strange enough concept that every 3 months NPR talks about it on their morning radio programs like BBC World. Because we all have,

"Economic incentive to do so"

Those in best position to pay do so. This was the US's idea back in Kyoto. They wanted to green the environment with free-market driven decisions. The companies in the best financial position, i.e., the easiest industries to reduce carbon dioxide/monoxide emissions in would do so on their own and be given credits for being "extra clean", for surpassing the benchmarks set by UN or the Kyoto Oversight Committee or whoever is tasked with monitoring these things each year.

The industries that had significant pollution, emissions and no affordable way to clean their factories, i.e., coal companies, could buy emissions credits from the greener companies.

Adam Smith's wet dream, right? Economics, free trade driving decisions, governing policies, and as a vehicle for evironmental decisions.

I don't pretend to know economic theory, or the Wealth of Nations. But this is interesting because cleaning the environment, fighting against global warming, and creating trans-national policy to battle common 9th Grade Earth Science enemies like holes in the ozone, definitely has a bit of moral momentum behind it, something you don't typically find in free trade outside of the Ethiopian Kitamu Roast at Starbucks.

I could see the liberal raging against this type of machine. Multi-national conglomerates trading rights to melt glaciers and kill baby seals, scorch bamboo trees in Sri Lanka.

But I think it's fine. If governments agree on a sum total of acceptable carbons emitted then it doesn't matter if they are coming from one company or 1 million. If anything it seems to give economic incentive to some progressive companies to find ways to develop technologis that will allow them to surpass benchmarks and collect payment for credits.

But, enough of making sense and arguing a policy point in a straightforward (read boring) way. Carbon Emission Trading sounds like what Nick Cage in War Games and Milo Minderbinder in Catch 22 would get together and do while shooting rocket launchers at rhinoceroses in Cambodia.

Milo, unlike most characters in Catch-22, who are only the subject of one chapter, is the subject of three chapters ("Milo the Mayor," "Milo," and "Milo the Militant"). Like most characters in "Catch-22," he is mentioned much earlier in the book than his chapter. He is one of the main characters in the novel. His most interesting attributes are his complete, mercenary amorality and absurd logic in the operations of his enterprise.

Milo's enterprise becomes known as "M & M Enterprises", with the two M's standing for his initials and the "&" added to dispel any idea that the enterprise is a one-man operation. Milo travels across the world, mainly though the Mediterranean, trying to buy and sell goods at a profit through black market channels. Everyone in the camp has a "share", which Milo uses to defend his actions, stating what is good for the company is good for all.

Milo even begins contracting missions for the Germans, fighting on both sides at Orvieto, and bombing his own squadron at Pianosa. He finally gets court-martialed for treason. At one point, Milo orders his fleet of aircraft to attack the American base where he lives, killing many American officers and enlisted men. As M&M Enterprises proves to be incredibly profitable, he hires an expensive lawyer, who gets the court convinced that it was capitalism which made America great, and Milo is an example of an American entrepreneur. Ironically, his company's phrase, "What's good for M&M enterprises is good for the country" mirrors a phrase Mussolini often used; "What's good for Fiat is good for Italy", or the similar "What's good for General Motors is good for America". There are some historical parallels to Milo Minderbinder, most notably Ford, who like Minderbinder avoided getting their factories blown up due to business connections.

And it seems that before long you will witness carbon emission rights being traded on commodity exchanges in Chicago, on the open market in New York, London, Tokyo. And this is made up. Completely artificial distinctions. Humans getting in the way of themselves, their environment. Their ability to extract and burn more earth to support - well, more humans.

I've thought about this while bathing in dark waters, watching water boil, and while reclining and pondering the cosmos at Jones Beach.

My socialist explanation - in between Italian ices and Starbucks iced coffees - an easy, simple-minded utopian (my 13th grade zeitgeist, where I peaked in terms of idealist Beat generation energy - which winds its way into an imperative for capitalism).

There are enough resources to go around. Artificial borders and fear of scarcity developed into disparate languages, cultures, rivalries, wars - disproportionate distribution of wealth. Guns, Germs and Steel.

Erected, artificial obstacles and want. We end up with foreign languages, religions, cultures.

In the rush of youth and speed pills and never-ending scroll

this might seem to make sense.

But there would be no progress, inventions without capitalism. True enough computer chips are made of silicon, which is made of sand. But there has to be a common incentive, credit, currency to transmutate beach into internet

This rant was not satisfying. But the point was something along the lines of there is a science to money, so there is no surprise that Al Gore's science and morals end up intersecting with Wall St. Which is also why you get a Master of Science in Economics and a Master of Arts in English Literature.

And on NPR, RE: CARBON EMMISSIONS, they asked some guy from a Green Party, maybe in France or US or anywhere really, what he thought about proposed inclusion of European Airlines in the Carbon Limitation Game. Is the Green Party, by default, opposed to carbon emissions? Or is it not that kind of Green? At one point was it that kind Green?

Something like Southern Democrats who used to vote Republican before the Reconstruction or after and not sure.

We're All Canaries in the Coal Mine

2006-12-24T11:27:00.000-05:00

My focus group, my blog

2006-12-18T23:39:00.000-05:00

Nas from Hip Hop is Dead:

I'm lookin' over my shoulder
It's about eighty n$@gaz from my hood that showed up
And they came to show love
Sold out concert and the doors are closed shut.

And I like that, and that's the way it it is!!@!@#!@!!!!%$@!$$!$!#@$!#!!!!

This verse from Nas is, in short, my definition of not selling out, and understanding. This is the high end, the max of a min/max for # of humans who can really share, knowingly, in clever turns of phrase, references to specific neighborhoods, landmarks, roots of hip hop or urban lore, bodies of knowledge in general, before the reference becomes diluted.

And for this type of precision calibration to reach a larger, broader group it needs footnotes, artistic champions, English literature classes taught for 50 years, or else, it becomes watered down in meaning via pop music or broadcast TV and reaches us instantly, e.g., U2, or e.g.(er) Coldplay or Snow Patrol. And you end up comfortably numb.

I could write 100,000 words about this but I would rather YOU did.

So for it to be REAL hip hop, or otherwise, it has to be a limited engagement. Nas doesn't elaborate, but I must, which already gives him a rhetorical advantage over me. He could sell more seats for this fictional concert, in closing (of his verse), but he is only housing 80 people with common backgrounds, not in terms of race (I'd like to think) but in terms experience and shared knowledge - real hip hop heads, fans who are old enough to know that hip hop has died because the music that captured my imagination when I was 12 years old and memorizing all the lyrics, the verbal gymnastic session outlined on LP tape cassettes, in Wu Tang's 36 Chambers or Nas' Illmatic is not the same music on Hot 97 today.

So once Nas' 80 true believers are loaded on his ark he is setting sail. Ironically though, this type of earnest reflection will attract a wider audience, and this record will sell.

Real Violence in the Air

2006-12-17T15:19:00.000-05:00

A charismatic fearless leader at five foot nothing.

The Sports Guy wrote about Iverson and I liked it. It reminds me of a couple of things. My experiences at Lincoln/Douglas high school debates.

AND

Bill the Butcher's foray in politics.

Charismatic leaders the world over. Larger than life - existing outside systems, laws, time. Men powerful enough, like forces of nature, that their likenesses are dynamited into mountains or are chanted in streets and inked onto arms - long after their deaths.

And Iverson as voiced by Jay-Z:

Face it y'all playin basic ball
I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall
Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on
That's why the streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool!

Simmons:

There's another aspect to Iverson's brilliance, something the ESPN guys tried to describe last night: Quite simply, he's the most menacing player in the league. There's just something different about him, a darker edge that the other stars don't have. Once I was sitting midcourt at the Fleet Center when Iverson was whistled for a technical, yelped in disbelief, then followed the referee toward the scorer's table and screamed, "[Bleep] you!" at the top of his lungs. The official whirled around and pulled his whistle toward his mouth for a second technical.

And I swear on my daughter's life, the following moment happened: As the official started to blow the whistle, Iverson's eyes widened and he moved angrily toward the official, almost like someone getting written up for a parking ticket who decides it would just be easier to punch out the meter maid. For a split-second, there was real violence in the air. Of course, the rattled official lowered his whistle and never called the second T. By sheer force of personality, Iverson kept himself in the game.

Like Russell Crowe looking like Michelangelo's David in terms of musculature, chiseled physique, composure staring down lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

When in reality he is of average size, not particularly intimidating physically, but when he roars at hotel concierges

or he screams at NBA referees

tall buildings shake

But way back when it wasn't all technical fouls and whistles and TNT/ESPN cameras and analysis. There were brawls and riots and real 15 year prison sentences, later pardoned.

I'm not sure where this was meant to go. I was never AI's biggest fan but I like Simmon's description of Iverson at the Fleet Center and I hope that the anecdote relayed is true.

It's in line with my type of magic.

As I Lay Dying

2006-12-15T21:55:00.000-05:00

Calling all doctors, all medicine men, voodoo doctors, all the king's horses and all the king's men, every , brain surgeon and oncologists, all loop holes and legal impasses, and if all else fails call on a cryogenic deep freeze!!!

The smell of fresh tar smeared on a roof on an unnaturally warm day in December.

Which is to say something smelled funny on Wednesday and it has legs, staying power, permeating the entire block.

Lance the boil, dig deeper.

Let's do the math. 50 states. 51 Democratic Senators, 49 Republican Senators. 28 Republican Governors, 22 Democratic Governors. 13 States that have both a Democratic Senator and a Republican Governor.

Yes, I took the time to compile this information into excel, but it was worth it to sooth suspicion. When I heard this story I assumed there would be far fewer states that fit the criteria of having both a Dem. Senator and a Rep. Governor, the only doomsday scenario that could potentially wrest control of the Senate from the Blue States. If the odds were stacked against this scenario then there would be implications that Senator Johnson's stroke may have had other hands involved than those of the Almighty. Instead the odds of a Dem. Senator being from same state as Rep. Governor are about 1 in 4. Your average NFL parlay football odds, i.e., you'll probably lose but it's not impossible.

But there are other metrics, other limiting factors that make Tim Johnson not the most likely candidate to be felled by a stroke or rather arteriovenous malformation (AVM). History of congenital conditions. His age, only 59. This isn't a conspiracy, probably, but someone should ask these questions, crunch these numbers. The media, positioning themselves in the spineless center per the usual, can't, won't, is too afraid to explore what everyone is thinking, if only in passing. I discussed this in September.

This seems like a storyline lifted right out of Hollywood. I think something like this happened in The Net, starring Sandra Bullock and Dennis Miller.

And if Senator Tim Johnson dies the deciding vote on all legislation would be cast by VP Dick Cheney. That sounds impossibly impossible. And yet we were close to that becoming a reality this week and may still be.

And also testing the US's medical might is the push to keep The Blind Sheikh alive.

ABC is reporting that notorious al-Qaeda spiritual leader Omar Abdel-Rahman -- who's been cited as an inspiration by Osama bin Laden and other al-Qaeda leaders -- may be near death. The 68-year-old Abdel-Rahman, convicted in 1996 of conspiring to blow up New York City landmarks, The FBI fears that Abdel-Rahman's death could trigger retaliatory attacks on American targets by al-Qaeda:

The FBI bulletin reminded authorities that the sheikh had previously called for reprisal attacks in the case of his death in prison. And Rahman has said:

"My Brothers. If they kill me, which they will certainly do - hold my funeral and send my corpse to my family, but do not let my blood be shed in vain. Rather, extract the most violent revenge, and remember your brother who spoke the truth and died for the will of God. The Mujahid Sheikh Omar Abdel al Rahman. In the name of God the kind and merciful."

This might have had a little more urgency, panic, and mania had I written it on Wednesday or Thursday but I faced a few impasses of my own.

Happy Holidays.

NYC Rush Hour Could Last All Day

2006-12-13T22:34:00.000-05:00

By 2030, with 9 million residents.

I'm a lots a name haver

2006-12-12T01:08:00.000-05:00

With a camera, looking forward and back.

Trying to create something. A record for posterity.

Guileless, hopefully.

and completely forthcoming (for the most part)

or sad

or sadder

menacing, piercing, Clint Eastwood stone cold-stare, eyes marbled with cataracts, without tumbleweed on a washed-out street in central Mumbai, which is all just to say - unforgiven

or a redundant

duck

duck

duck

goose

window into a world

various hats

or something perfect you want to dry

or something good for a little chuckle,

or juxtaposed, disparate, too good to be believed combined in a single frame and you won't believe this

or this

but enough about the past onward, upward.

Greater_than_Great!

through a jacket sleeve (mine or yours) trying to stealthy capture some sorry looking man with a humorous hat on the E train.

Fat dog with his own little piece of area rug, parked at a street meter. happy as a clam, content as a fat cat or a mule with his 40 acres.

in a fish tank, real art on display. Bubble-eyed fish

missing one, cyclopes.

Inbred is the artists explanation (calling to mind multi-national firms dumping caustic chemicals into the Hudson, killing cod fish, 3-eyed fish spawned),

I question this artist (who is there for questioning at this New Yorker Passport to the Art Galleries of Chelsea - Tour for the benefit of the Hi-Line Restoration) it seems there might be a bit of artifice, creating artful mutations (with a Swiss army) rather than seeking them out and documenting them in the democratic way.

it ain't no fun (if my homies can't have none) that way.

is it in an umbrella?

opened in doors bad luck, is it art, is it raining outside, at what point can't you separate the two, the three?

is it stylistic? ignoring capitalization and strunk and white as a stand against something establishment corporate conglomerate publishing houses art galleries that sell out rap music that sells out?

no page #'s or table of contents in this collection of poetry - the result of which was - I read two pages of table of contents before realizing that the collection of titles (not capitalized or denoted) was not, in fact, the first poem in the collection (I promised a review, and delivered). this speaks volumes to my reading comprehension skills of late and a well-executed slight of hand, for sure, although I'm unclear where it gets US.

turning the camera back at me

weird or eclectic, obscure or just made up? does the random lyric I insert as title to a post mean anything at all "The Sound of God is the Screech of Tires ?" or does it become blurred beyond recognition?

the ol' blank canvas on the wall trick. pause, observe, obscure, pretend you are considering it, hand on chin deep in thought

if you and I are ever in an art gallery and we fail to exchange knowing glances and smirk and laugh and make fun of this blank canvas posing as art, then I don't believe you and I will be fast friends

because when I see this type of art I want to immediately drop my gallery brochure and do the Irish jig or jump up and down screaming and pointing like a chimpanzee throwing banana peels at the walls or passers-by, or bring a polar bear into the exhibit and seat him in front of the blank canvas and watch as he lays down on the floor and rolling over due to his complete inability to stay awake while viewing plain white canvas on a white wall, which reminds this polar bear of planes of white snow, repetition, home, sleep, non-distinction and millions of snow flakes each so nearly identical so as to not warrant occupying exhibit space

wake the artist and all those concentrating on decoding and interpreting out of their monochrome/monotone stupors.

I feel like I'm showing my hand a bit too much, right? This type of rant is too easy but I'm having fun.

Come on, smile like you mean it!

Is that an ascot, neck brace, and popped-collar? That is just straight snidely. Well played.

Where were we - pictures, art, smiles.

on construction site fencing

Or playing instruments more suited for an orchestra pit at Carnegie Hall than in front of a barbed wire fence in Brooklyn

Traffic cones misplaced, anachronistically on a Doric column on Houston St. contributing to my aesthetic.

Art again life-sized viewed upright viewing you and your friends. Right back at ya, kiddo, art that you can conversate with cheese, crackers and merlot, art that looks festive in a Eyes Wide Shut Venice Mardi Gras Mask Saw II life-sized puppets horror movie maybe

way

Yes a bunch of pictures from an art gallery tour I went on and the streets of New York, coming and going - but what I really want to know is are these pictures and words only yours (Whose world is this? The world is yours, the world is yours It's mine, it's mine, it's mine) if you create something truly original. Draw, paint, sculpt, write a poem in a black hole vacuum with nothing coming in or going out. No references or influences. Pre-Post-Modern. Or is it more along the lines of name it and claim it.

Found art, funny pictures photographed or google imaged and paired with music lyrics or news references light in gravity (heavy in levity), high and low, or even stealing from yourself

borrowing old short stories, pictures, the same songs since I was thirteen. All recycled, reshuffled, and removed from context, gloriously

I really just want a vehicle to house e pictures I take. Ha

So if there is interest, discuss these attempts at art - mine and others - otherwise shower me with rose petals for a job cleverly done.

Art Imitating Life

2006-12-04T22:55:00.000-05:00

YESSSS (and it counts).

This kid unearths a Nintendo 64 on Christmas morn

and goes ballistic as if he just won the lottery,

or as if he just lost the New Hampshire Democratic primary.

IdleAtWork linked to the original home video version of this a year ago. My girlfriend and I thought it was hilarious and have been referencing it and going back to watch it ever since.

Tonight she saw a holiday TV commercial that starts with this home video clip and then segues into a BMW ad:

Remember when dreams came true? They still can. Introducing the BMW Holiday Wish Event -the best time of year to buy the new 328i sedan.

This is encouraging to me. If I were pitching ideas for BMW commercials (or writing on a blog after work) I would probably link to this a video like this. It’s like someone from the neighborhood you grew up in “making good”.

Maybe.

===============================================================
And a random video from Harvard Medical that makes the inner machinations of a cell pretty theatrical.

This is a ribosome or a mitochondria or a golgi body doing some werk.

Cheers.

Overfishing the Waters.

2006-12-01T00:29:00.000-05:00

Yankees Spend $26 Million for Rights to Negotiate with Kei Igawa.

Red Sox agree to contract with Japanese relief pitcher Hideki Okajima.

"Merely Talking to Japan’s Best Is Big Business" Red Sox pay $51.1 million for rights to Negotiate with Daisuke Matsuzaka.

Japan ready for cut in Indian Ocean tuna catch In another move that could drive up sushi prices in Japan, scientists at the Indian Ocean Tuna Commission have proposed bringing down the catch of bigeye tuna, according to Japan's agriculture ministry.

A 42-nation meeting in Croatia agreed on Sunday to cut the catch of bluefin tuna in the Mediterranean Sea.

Environmentalists had warned that the lucrative Japanese market and a global fad for Japanese food were driving the fish toward extinction. The International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas reduced the gross catch of bluefin tuna in the Mediterranean from 32 000 tons this year to 29 500 tons for 2007, and 25 500 tons in 2010.

i get angry with athletic ease

2006-11-28T23:10:00.000-05:00

Someone had to say it.

I said it two weeks ago and someone finally picked up what I was putting down:

This government is powerless. Fuck semantics. Shit is nervous over there. This is a Civil War.

I don't know that this will make a difference, but if the US.gov makes this distinction (admission) maybe they will look at alternate exit strategies like splitting the country into thirds or who knows what? (saying sorry wouldn't hurt)

I saw this story break on MSNBC, NBC's cable news brethren, at 9:00AM on Monday. Amy Robach, the newscaster, interviewing some former Army General.

She asked him what made this a civil war, why wasn't the government acknowledging that this was a civil war, what does this mean, et al.

The General began responding and I heard the sound of air bubbles surfacing.

A pop up graphic appeared in lower left hand corner of screen complete with its own graphic bubbles as wallpaper. A factoid informing the viewer that the General fought in the Gulf War or the General went to high school with Danny Glover or the General shares a birthday with General Custard.

Out of place. Not befitting of the gravity the National Broadcasting Company was trying to convey. This was not a small announcement. They were taking an editorial position on the War. They consulted experts, former military brass - sat in board rooms, made PowerPoint presentations and came to the executive decision that they would be THE media outlet, print, broadcast, whatever that took 3 years of caution, political correctness, media even-handedness and throw it to the wind.

They took a stand, proclaimed their position, tried to shape policy and the hearts and minds of US and Iraqi citizens. They tried to do this and then broke the story (to me at least) with a gurgle of air pocketed in water and a silly pop up window. A small point, for sure, but when someone can't get the minor details right, can't set the proper tone (or even understand the tone for that matter) the rest of the argument starts to crumble. A little bit of food on the chin that just won't go away, residual from that business lunch, and you can't look at the person without laughing anymore regardless of what wisdom they are speaking.

Savvy?

If the Gray Lady had the marbles to declare it a civil war she would have probably done so in a more serious way and not turned their first interview, the day of NBC's proclamation, into a VH1 I Love the 80s segment. She has good posture and a stately presence, in print.

or maybe she wouldn't have.

There is an awful lot of that Dick_&_Rummy_speak, nursery rhymes and fables, a lot of pouting of the lips and temper tantrums - playful and child-like from that Gray Lady, sometimes.

I thought Brown and Geoff were bad...

2006-11-28T08:56:00.000-05:00

Good for this girl. If she wanted to, she could sell her Second Life assests and expliot countless people who have nothing better to do than to pretend they acquired belongings in a video game.

Seriously though, shes got assests worth a million dollars all tied up in a video game. I say sell now while the getting is good. Its only a matter of time until something else comes around and takes Second Life's popularity.

If I ever

2006-11-24T09:39:00.000-05:00

find myself on my death bed from radioactive residuals poisoning at the hands of a former director of the KGB turned President of Russia I hope to come up with something as poignant as this, Alexander Litvinenko's final statement:

You may succeed in silencing me, but that silence comes at a price. You have shown yourself to be as barbaric and ruthless as your most hostile critics claim. You may succeed in silencing one man. But a howl of protest from around the world will reverberate, Mr Putin, in your ears for the rest of your life. May God forgive you for what you have done.

A Tendency Towards the Hyperbolic

2006-11-23T21:26:00.000-05:00

He of silver screen magistrate

or rather he of over the top descriptives and gravely voice.

Fields of flowery language like One Hundred Years of Solitude

I heard him interviewed (sort of) intermittently, between extended monologues, on Wednesday.

I cringed at first when I heard him describe our 35th president as:

His mind was honey-combed with contradictions.

Who talks like this? Who can speak like this with straight face during an interview?

He then emoted this polished, rehearsed gem, about Lyndon B. on November 22, 1963:

His volcanic emotions kept under stern control - like a chess player thinking 3 or 4 moves ahead.

But when I heard this piece of prose:

Hysteria hung in the room like Spanish moss on the ceiling

Jack Valente had me

Consider me a fan

New Fangled Gadgets

2006-11-18T02:13:00.000-05:00

Israel developing anti-militant "bionic hornet". They say it will be operational in 3 years.

The flying robot, nicknamed the "bionic hornet," would be able to navigate its way down narrow alleyways to target otherwise unreachable enemies such as rocket launchers, the daily Yedioth Ahronoth said.

[...]

"The war in Lebanon proved that we need smaller weaponry. It's illogical to send a plane worth $100 million against a suicidal terrorist. So we are building futuristic weapons," Peres said.

I've seen this before 1960s visions from Phillip K. Dick and 2000s special effects realized by Spielberg:

And then what?

I once asked on this blog - what is Israel's industry? In the past I didn't immediately identify any one product or company with them as you do Sony with Japan, BMW with Germany, LG with South Korea. Someone responded back in the comments section that Israel is at the forefront of developing security, surveillance and military technology. They are a nation of engineers. And they grow Jaffa oranges.

In Case You Were Wondering...

2006-11-16T17:15:00.000-05:00

... this is why our country can't win a war:

Seriously, people. You just couldn't live without that PS3 for a few more days? You had to spend a night sleeping in a lawn chair on the sidewalk to make your life complete?

The good news, I suppose, is that a serious storm is potentially headed towards our friends. They will gain a greater appreciation for the shelter that they've momentarily abondoned as they are struck by hailstones at winds of 30-50 MPH. And they will realize that perhaps a wiser investment for some of the $600 that they are about to fork over to Best Buy would have been on a pair of rain boots as flash floods bring the water level to the middle of their calves.

-Pics courtesy of our good friends at Fox News ("We Report. You decide that these kids need to get some fucking jobs.")

Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?

2006-11-14T22:36:00.000-05:00

A Guide to Recognizing Your Saints. I saw it going on a month ago now. It was good. In a Do_the_Right_Thing_/_25th_Hour_/_Native_New_York_way ... Bensonhurst!!! What!!, but in Astoria, Queens. It was KIDS.

It was me and my friends growing up, hanging out, doing nothing, but romantized and cinematized.

This dude was powerful.

In a Brandon Jacobs type way. Completely bowling people over. With bravado, brawn.

This guy was effective, like a character out of Fortress of Solitude, verbatim.

He was of steely-countenance per the usual.

But, what stood out was the scene where Dito, main character, and a new Irish student ride the elevated subway tracks, N, R, W, 7 in Western Queens, full of graffiti and what the fuck? Packed trains, smelling people closely.

I can't describe this scene in a way that displays its genius (genus) but it is short, so even if you see it you might blink you may miss it, so A Guide to Recognizing Deft Dialogue, Voice Overs, and Pulling on Emotional Heart Strings in a Complex, not Sappy Way...

This scene:

Irish kid, a tourist in new city, asks dumb obvious questions to Dito like have you ever been to Coney Island?

Dito, who's father gets nervous when he leaves the block for fear his horizon will expand beyond 30th ave, says to Irish kid, Nah, yo, never been out there. (And who has? I haven't been to the Statue of Liberty and I've lived within 15 miles of it my entire life. You have one life as a tourist another as a resident, right? Eiffel tower, Reclining Buddha, Coliseum... check, check, yes ... Empire State Building ... no) Dito, asks Irish kid, how is it being so far from home? Irish kid answers it's not so bad, I'm seeing things, going to Coney Island now actually, on this train. The normal-est dialogue you ever heard. But, behind them, voiced-over, each character narrates, not overtly, but tone-wise you can tell, that Dito's nah yo, really means that he knows his world is too small since it can't include a landmark known world-wide, across oceans, that resides 10 miles from home. He knows he is a bit sad and small. Irish kid knows that he is overwhelmed by the new city, the subway, by the Brandon Jacobs character. The voice over narratives function like a Gregorian chant, on this subway.

Something along the lines of we are laughing all the time to keep from crying. Or like Radiohead what if we could say everything of all of the time. Happy and sad. The dialogue at hand. And a removed, distanced, enlightened narrative that explained YOU. Minor, insignificant, and Meta. The conversations on a subway. And the monologue when you are repeating when you can't fall asleep. What you are really feeling and the easier truth that you will pick up and run with.

And you know what, I will come with you to Coney Island.

All speed and whistles heading west!

A light-hearted jaunt

2006-11-14T21:51:00.000-05:00

We may need emergency surgery in the studio.

An Independent, Pro-Active Iraqi Police Force, Army, Security Force

2006-11-14T10:53:00.000-05:00

Doing the peoples' work! Rumsfeld's vision coming to fruitition.

Gunmen wearing Iraqi police commando uniforms (or actual Iraqi police moonlighting as kidnappers) kidnapped as many as 100 men from a Higher Education Ministry building. ID cards were checked to separate Sunnis from Shiites. It takes a while to kidnap 100 people and check IDs, where were the real police? Were these the real police. This government is powerless.

Fuck semantics. Shit is nervous over there. This is a Civil War.

Like a Million Elephants with Silver Back Orangutans

2006-11-14T00:00:00.000-05:00

Tonight I started reading Tao Lin's collection of poetry called You Are a Little Bit Happier Than Me. I like it and will comment on it when I finish reading it. But I also read a spam mail. It was one of those stream of consciousness narratives that accompanies an ad for some weight loss pills. I am intrigued by this. Who writes copy for spam mail to sneak past the censors, the filters? And isn't this spam free form, strange and kind of almost poetic? Can someone confirm any of this, or better yet explain how it works and who writes it? Wikipedia's explanations are lacking.

Any burglar can eat an ocean about a bullfrog, but it takes a real hole puncher to be a big fan of some oil filter.
A light bulb related to the wedding dress prays, and the unstable support group reads a magazine; however, a bowling ball around a dolphin pours freezing cold water on a pork chop. When a completely fractured spider is secretly false, a boiled fundraiser gives secret financial aid to some football team.

You Can't Be the King of the Parking Lot Forever

2006-11-12T20:42:00.000-05:00

Tupac got murdered, Biggie got murdered, Jay Z makes too many records to not have a few potholes in his playlist.

Andre 3000 from Outkast keeps making music, but with a few exceptions, i.e., The Mighty O off of the IdleWild soundtrack, he stopped rapping 6 years ago, after releasing Stankonia.

I heard The Walk it Out Remix on Hot97 while driving home tonight.

Kinda catchy, but the type of thing that didn't exactly appear to be intricate, layered.

One verse ended with the query:

How can I say this and be polite, don't make me have to kill you, aight?

Material for a dissertation in cultural criticism course at NYU this was not. The last person I expected to hear on the next verse was Andre,

not just because of the tone already set in this song, but because he does not rap anymore, he croons.

The lyrical content couldn't be more disparate in the verses. Like Jay Z and Kanye in Diamonds are Forver Remix. Jay-Z ignoring the theme, or throwing spite at Kanye's attempt at social consciousness. There is not a common theme running through Walk it Out by DJ Unk featuring Jim Jones (the We_Fly_high_you_know_it_BALLIN!!!, dude) and Andre 3000.

It is also like Hugo Chavez invited onto US soil and critiquing his host country from their podium at UN and pulpit at Harlem Church.

Andre 3000 tries to talk sense to the real talkin', long white t-shirt wearin' (dip) set, who happen to reside on the same track. Oh my. Some excerpts from Andre critiquing the rap world and hip hop culture he left behind (in (and for) his spaceship) years ago.

Walk it out like an usher, if you say real talk I probably won't trust ya.

If you want to go to war with guns, my pleasure, even Jesus had twelve disciples on the lever, excuse me I mean trigger, whatever.

Your white tee, well to me, look like a night-gown, make your momma proud take that thing two sizes down. Then you'll look like the man you are, or could be. I could give a damn about your car, but then I would be.

My boy is wicked smart.

But it's not just a good verse, it's well-placed, in a song with this dude who epitomizes everything that is dead, soul-less, unoriginal and boring about hip hop today.

WAKE UP!@#!@#!@#$

Jones looks like he can't even stay awake listening to his popular, painfully slow-paced, plodding song called We Just Ballin.

Andre 3000 is calling him out (among others) and is just so much more adept and crisper. The song also appeals to The Billiken's Bluff because it mixes high_culture/low_culture, street smarts and books smarts, violent hip hop brag talk with nuanced turns of phrase. It's like a port city from the past. A cosmopolitan melting pot. A trading mecca where varied ideas and goods change hands. Like a bazaar in Constantinople or Babel.

Those moments, those what you might call liminal, Limit, frontier, edge zone experiences...are actually now becoming the norm. These multiplicities and distinctions and differences...that have given great difficulty to the old mind...are actually through entering into their very essence, tasting and feeling their uniqueness.

I am thoroughly excited and encouraged by Andre's unexpected appearance on this track. Hopefully this is a sign of things to come.

Screeching tires?

2006-11-12T12:19:00.000-05:00

I dont know how much weight to put on this, but is Sacha Baron Cohen going to be in legal trouble?

But now the villagers of this tiny, close-knit community have angrily accused the comedian of exploiting them, after discovering his new blockbuster film portrays them as a backward group of rapists, abortionists and prostitutes, who happily engage in casual incest.

They claim film-makers lied to them about the true nature of the project, which they believed would be a documentary about their hardship, rather than a comedy mocking their poverty and isolation.

I doubt that Cohen will ever have to face consequences in Khazakastan (because he will never, ever, ever go back to that forsaken country). But should we even care if the producers lied to get the movie made? The fraternity SAE is threatening to sue Fox also, claiming that the producers made them drink and encouraged them to act stupidly.

Admittedly, I havent seen the movie yet, (but I plan to soon) so I cant speak on the portrayal of the villagers or the college kids. I am inclined to think that this is a situation where people are pissed off because they made a poor decision, and now want someone to make it up to them. So cry me a river college boy. Thoughts?

The Sound of God is the Screech of Tires

2006-11-05T21:51:00.000-05:00

To sum it all up, in closing...

Gold teeth and a curse for this town were all in my mouth.
Only, i don't know how they got out, dear!!!

And now on to the great new wonderful (post)...

Freedarko put me onto the t-shirt stylings of Lemar and Dauley. I want to purchase colorful icons like this:

Jordan demi-god of all that is hip and urban and upwardly mobile and full of gravity and levitation.

Or the likeness of Ghostface (Killa):

But riddle me this, would the man emblazoned on one of the smoothest-looking t-shirts I've ever come across, even wear something as pedestrian-simple as a black t-shirt?

Would Tony Starks, known for stately velvet robes, golden eagle idols of bracelets and Wallabies dyed in Martian Moonscape dream technicolors be able to transmutate this style into an American Apparel undershirt?

Urbana's Paper Magazine party last year that featured characters like this:

free love like this:

free yay like this (two turntables and a mic, MIC!):

and some random out of place youngsters like this:

had a soundtrack that nearly exclusively featuring Ghostface. It was the only music artsy enough for this crowd. His lyrics are obscure. His narrative bordering on James_Joyce's_Ulysses-like_genius. His manner of dress fanciful and formal. His Daytona 500 video, a pre-supposed post-modern Warhol factory video screen in Williamsburg, BK 50 years in the future, at all points extending out from here.

Needless to say the only way to capture this type of virtuoso is in a t-shirt. I mean how else, where else? in a bottle?

This would be the cornerstone of any average joe's outfit. For Ghostface himself, I imagine it would be functional a matter of need, not style. Something to wear to sleep, or to the gym.

The only way to capture this style or emulate it, is to wear a simple t-shirt. This is how people convert, via water-down what they respect, strive to be, into what they ultimately wear on their sleeve.

Of course this is really a critique or discussion, as per the usual, of the 600 lb gorilla/elephant in the corner of the room. Your political party of choice is no different. Your belief in all that is cool and righteous in the world screen-printed on the t-shirt that fits most properly (political analogies fail under the weight of the fact that I tire writing about them as soon as the sentence begins...Ghostface is easy, Mid-term elections, damn hard!).

People turn their ignorance into virtue. Simple-mindedness into a strive towards simplicity of thought. Ethnocentricity into clarity. Lack of awareness of other cultures and countries into Nationalism, into My Country Tis' of Thee. "US #1, Greatest Country in World." "Kazakhstan, Best Prostitutes in all of Central Asia," and so forth and son on.

Biting yes, an indictment, maybe. But watch Borat, it can be funny too.

And maybe one fine day after we win the war on terror you can wear that mustache, but until then you should probably shave it so you don't look like one of them and that way you can fit in.

Ok?

that's the spirit, clean shaven like the NY Yankees.

What are you?

I have so many names.

There is so much to say about this and I'm just distilling it down to some easily critiqued jabs. But here I go...

(don't hit)

Something along the lines of...

But you like yourself. You believe you live the right way. That others, the others are out to get you.

To make you live a different way to teach strange things like the union between a man a woman can also involve another man, or two women, or a Congressman and his intern, or a president and young woman.

This makes you angry, but not because you can't understand it, but because you can. It's not political double-talk, it's simple. It's straight forward. Black and White even.

You know these things and know right from wrong.

Or how about babies and abortion or stem cells and even Evolution. This is straight forward too. There is natural and unnatural. Cloned sheep are certainly not natural. Agreed all around?

The missing link of course between big business interest and lower-class virtue.

But let's not be hasty.

This is not an indictment of the idol - Ghostface, Bush. This is an exploration of how their bases, t-shirt purchasers or voting public, feel a connection to their fearless leaders.

1) Ghostface's style is beyond you middle-American_teenager or you big_city_blog-writing_free-magazine_party-going_twenty-something. A t-shirt is a far approximation.

2) G.W.B may look like you and talk like you and have been an alcoholic like you and loves Jesus like you but he is not like you. He is being used like you are being used. But he is wealthy. He fits an image and and his Party crowned him their leader. They threw the more qualified McCain under the bus in 2000. They'd do the same to you if they didn't need your vote.

So likes and dislikes turn out not to be issue based,

WMDs, stem cell research, war of terror

or even logical,

Voice be metal like Von Harper radio bubble
Murder sleep away camp, the fly lady champ
The arsonist, who burn with his pen regardless
Slaying all these earthlings and fake foreigners
In the Philippines, pick herbal beans, bubbling strings
Body chemical CREAM, we burn kerosene
The conviction of my tape is rape, wicked like Nixon
Long-heads inscriptions with three sixes in
Kiss the pyramid experiment with high explosive
I slapbox with Jesus, lick shots at Joseph
Zoomin like binoculars, the rap blacksmith
Money's Rolex, with sparkles, Chef ragtop is spotless
I'm Iron Man no cheap cash metal I'm steel alloy
True identity hidden inside secret tabloids

it's more of a feeling.

===============================================================

Junior year of high school I joined the debate team for a minute. I needed extra-curricular activities to appeal to the admissions boards, that sort of thing. Went to some practices and brain-storming sessions and stormed my way through two debates.

The third was derailed by someone's mother turned debate official. I made my points, rebutted the opponent,

it could not have been more clear, I thought

but the mother/officiator/moderator couldn't see me point

I like Bill the Butcher's character in Gangs of New York.

Newly-elected Irish Police Commissioner:

Mr. Cutting is attempting to draw me...into an argument... that would no doubt end in bloodshed...and the compromising of my office...What do you think? Shall I engage in silence, this relic of the ancient law...or, shall I be your chosen voice...in a new testament, in a new world? There you are, Bill. The people have spoken. The very notion of violent reprisal benumbs them. Come on up. Let's see if we can resolve our...grievances the democratic way.

Bill the Butcher, aptly responds by throwing a hatchet at the Commissioner:

That my friends, is the minority vote.

Later...

Tammany Hall:

You killed an elected official? Who elected him? You don't know what you've done to yourself.

Bill the Butcher:

I know your works. You're neither cold nor hot. So because you are luke warm...I will spew you out of my mouth. You can build your filthy world without me. I took the father, now I'll take the son. You tell young Vallon, I'm going to paint...Paradise square with his blood. Two coats!

I feel this futility in argument, this fury at being unable to get my point across, verbally (or bludgeon-ly) to convince anyone and everyone of just how correct I am, and I feel like, maybe I'm not the only one.

And that's pretty much the way I feel about it.

I want to end every one of my arguments, my debates and tirades with a fiery explosion. A pyrotechnic exclamation point, so as to leave no doubt that my argument has been tattooed across the skyline (and your forehead if necessary). No challenges, just a loud whistle and boom and some bright colors.

Pretty much the way I feel about it

2006-11-04T23:53:00.000-05:00

Get Off the Stage

2006-11-04T14:35:00.000-05:00

C'mon Got, Kanye is NOT alright. He's an arrogant poseur. He has no sense of humor. Yeah, he knows how to construct a catchy song and some of his lyrics can be pretty clever. But on the whole, his music isn't THAT good, certainly not enough to justify the amount of press coverage and acclaim that he receives.

Kanye is a clear example of the lowered expectations that are present in all levels of American culture. Mainstream music - along with books, TV and movies for that matter - are just so mediocre in the year 2006 that when someone like Kanye comes along and is merely decent, he is anointed as a superstar. His closest parallel is The Killers, another group of solid musicians who made a debut album that had about 8-10 pretty good songs. Apparently, that's enough to be considered one of America's best new artists. Recently, they just released their second album, which they are calling the best piece of music to be released in the last twenty years. They claim that it's "bringing music back?" What the fuck? And just like Kanye's second album, half of it is pretty good and the other half is downright unlistenable.

So Kanye hasn't earned the right to upstage his peers and inform the world of its collective inferiority to him. Not just yet. Jay-Z has that power if he wants it; so does Dave Chappelle or Edward Norton. If Dave Chappelle was enough of an asshole to jump up on stage as Adam Sandler won an award that should have been his, we'd have no choice but to watch him with grins on our faces in the silent understanding that Dave got screwed - even if he's not handling it all that well. But with Kanye? He needs to get off the stage and back into the studio to record that masterpiece that we've all been hearing about.

The Importance of Being Earnest

2006-11-03T23:52:00.000-05:00

I started writing this as a comment, but it was getting too long, and we seem to be having a postage competition, so here we go... quantity, if not quality.

I think Kanye's songs are pretty decent. His beats are superior, in a jazzy, soulful, Pete Rock kind of way. And as far as his performance ... he's a straight diva.

He says ridiculous shit. Wears fur coats, aviator shades, diamond rings and leather pants. He's a showman.

It's his party and he'll cry if he wants to. That sort of thing. I kind of like it.

Award Shows are nonsensical,

it's not like Kanye is treading on sacred ground here.

So if Kanye West makes a wacky claim like:

"If I don't win, the awards show loses credibility."

or

"[My video] cost a million dollars, Pamela Anderson was in it. I was jumping across canyons. [I should have won the award]"

I don't feel that he is sacrileg(ing) some sacred institution. He's piling garbage upon garbage. He's throwing bad money after bad. And besides that he is earnest. Taking a cue from George W. Bush, whether you like Kanye or not, you can't really argue that he is lacking in faith and veracity. These men believe in things - seatbelts, Jesus, music video superiority, and the democratization of the Middle East. And despite sometimes lacking in the articulation, there is little double talk.

They shoot straight.

[[Speaking of Blood Diamonds. I thought the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio about diamond trading in Africa might be decent but the commercial/trailer has one excerpt that boasts:

"In the USA it's bling bling, over here its bling BLAM!!!"]]

Back to Mr. West... I wrote a term paper about him, to mixed, grade B- reviews, I've written posts about him, to somewhat better acclaim. I am almost fascinated by this guy.

His episode with Mike Myers during the Katrina Telethon cemented this. He might have been wrong about Bush and the federal government's hating of Black people. His rant might have been far-fetched, or offensive. But he believed what he was saying. He wasn’t trying to make the headlines, he wasn’t (at least during that appearance) from the school of all press is good press. He was nervous, nearly tearing up during the telethon. Other people were thinking what Kanye voiced. People were saying this in their homes from Queens to New Orleans. People said/say/will_say that Bush/Republicans/affluent_Whites do not care about Black people, minorities, that they continually exploit them and then fail to help them when in need. Right or wrong, accurate or not, this is how people talk. This is the dialogue that goes on just outside of the public sphere, inside the house. West believed what he was saying while on camera. It is impossible not to recognize - Bush, West, or otherwise - when someone truly believes what they are saying. Not John Kerry stumbling while awkwardly attempting his political stilt walk

- unable to tell joke or make anyone believe that he has a single belief - but true honesty, whether you agree or not. Bush is closer to this honesty, earnestness than Kerry, but then again, I would say, so is Bin Laden.

Kerry, Hussein and Puff Daddy in one camp ... Bush, Bin Laden and Kanye in the other.

Drafting teams for The Day of Reckoning game.

Anyway the Katrina Telethon shattered (awoke) numerous conventions of the time, place, medium Kanye was speaking/standing/living_in.

That's always valuable and respectable whether you are right or wrong. It made me think not only about if what he said might have had any truth in it, but also about why other people (celebrities, anyone in media) are virtually across the board - opinion-less tele-prompter-reading drones.

Anyway, Kanye is alright. And you might be too.

Angelina to Play Dagny Taggart

2006-11-03T16:28:00.000-05:00

I stumbled on this a few weeks ago when i was clicking through IMDB (i love this site). "Atlas Shrugged" was written by Ayn Rand, one of the most vocal anti-communist writers of her time. I find it both humurous and ironic that Angelina Jolie is going to play Rand's strongest female character, from her most powerful novel.

This is not ironic because Jolie is a communist (i dont think she is, and prior to writing this i looked for references to it and couldnt find any). It is ironic because of her work with the UN, a political body that Ayn Rand would have found both disgusting and ammoral. Rand's Objectivist philosophy can be described as anti-charity. Or better put, not acting out of self interest is ammoral.

"Atlas Shrugged" is a great book, even if a little over the top (ok, a lot over the top). I encourage anyone to read it because it will help clue you in to why libertarians think the way they do, and what goes through their mind when they have to pay taxes to support things like welfare. Its a commitment though; if i remember correctly its about 1000 pages. I would also like to add that i think Jolie is going to do an excellent job playing her, and I cant wait to see the movie.

Kanye West aint a sane &*@^%#

2006-11-03T10:17:00.000-05:00

Classic. I love reading about this guy.

Does Anyone Out There Actually Like This Person

2006-11-03T10:15:00.000-05:00

Just wondering.

COPENHAGEN, Denmark (AP) - Rap star Kanye West was named Best Hip Hop artist but still came off as a sore loser at the MTV Europe Music Awards.

Kanye apparently was so disappointed at not winning for Best Video that he crashed the stage Thursday in Copenhagen when the award was being presented to Justice and Simian for "We Are Your Friends."

In a tirade riddled with expletives, Kanye said he should have won the prize for his video "Touch The Sky," because it "cost a million dollars, Pamela Anderson was in it. I was jumping across canyons."

"If I don't win, the awards show loses credibility," Kanye said.

Rape? Blame the female

2006-11-02T11:42:00.000-05:00

As disenfranchised as I feel with the Bush administration, they champion women rights more than you think. Its a wonder you dont hear more from women groups about the savage treatment towards females in the Muslim part of the world.

http://www.jpost.com

Say what you want about conservatives and abortion rights, the fact is that by spreading liberty women in Iraq and Afghanistan have more freedom now then thay ever had. And that is thanks to the Bush administration. Where are the feminist groups to thank Bush for liberating millions of women in the Middle East?

Lost losing my patience

2006-11-02T11:00:00.000-05:00

I am a huge fan of the show Lost on ABC. I think it is the second best show on TV, being slightly edged out by South Park. Now, even though this ranking is due to the slip in Fox's 24, I still never miss a weeks show.

ABC has announced that after next week's episode, they will delay the rest of the season until February 7th. 7 episodes into the 3rd season, they are going to delay for 3 months to air the next 16 episodes. This angers the hell out of me. Last season ABC consistently had 2 or 3 week breaks between new episodes, and didnt even announce if there would be a new one until that day. The reason they do this is clear: They hit the fall sweeps and the spring sweeps so their ratings can be high for both.

But for this tasty development:

I might have abandoned the show. But for some reason, these ABC producers get the hottest women. Even the annoying Australian chick is smoking.

Columbia-wannabes

2006-11-01T23:17:00.000-05:00

This comes as no surprise to me. Michelle Malkin has got word that the MinuteMen speech at GeorgeTown has been interrupted by a fire alarm being pulled. Schocking. Really, I am at a loss for words here.

http://michellemalkin.com/archives/006256.htm

My people certainly have a flair for color

2006-11-01T17:29:00.000-05:00

Moonbats in Florida Go After Trump

2006-11-01T17:02:00.000-05:00

AHEM! MOONBAT! ahem...

"PALM BEACH, Florida (AP) -- Donald Trump's display of patriotism is apparently too flamboyant for this chic oceanside town.

Palm Beach officials cited Trump for hoisting a large American flag atop an 80-foot pole at his lavish Mar-a-Lago estate and club.

Town officials said the real estate mogul has violated zoning codes with a flagpole taller than 42 feet and for erecting it without a building permit and permission from the landmarks board.

Trump has until November 27 to apply for approvals or face a December 21 code enforcement hearing that could result in $250-a-day fines.

"You don't need a permit to put up the American flag," Trump said Tuesday. "The day you need a permit to put up the American flag, that will be a sad day for this country."

Lee Hanley, vice chairman of the town's landmarks commission, previously said the 15-by-25-foot flag makes the town look like "we have an Okeechobee car dealer," referring to a strip of auto dealerships along Okeechobee Boulevard in West Palm Beach.

Trump responded in a letter last week saying that "anyone who objects should not, in my opinion, hold a public office of any kind -- at least not in this country."

The flag first appeared outside the estate October 3."

-CNN

He Was For the Joke Before He Was Against It

2006-11-01T14:19:00.000-05:00

Cheney today in Montana:

Time and time again, we're seeing examples of Democratic Party leaders apparently having lost their perspective concerning the nature of the enemy we face, and the need to wage this fight aggressively. No sharper example can be found than the Democratic Party chairman himself, Howard Dean, who said the capture of Saddam Hussein didn't make America any safer. And maybe it should be no surprise that such a party would turn its back on a man like Senator Joe Lieberman, who has been an unapologetic supporter of the fight against terror.

Instead they highlight people like John Kerry, their presidential nominee in 2004. Aren’t we lucky he lost that election? You remember John Kerry – the senator who voted for the 87 billion dollars before he voted against it … the guy that was always lecturing us about “nuances.” He’s the one, you’ll recall, who last year said that American soldiers were “terrorizing … children” in Iraq. And just this week he took another swipe at the U. S. military. Here’s what he said, word for word. Quote: “You know education, if you make the most of it, you study hard, you do your homework, and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. If you don’t, you get stuck in Iraq.” End quote. Well, apparently Senator Kerry’s the one who needs to be educated.

Of course, now Senator Kerry says he was just making a joke, and he botched it up. I guess we didn’t get the nuance. He was for the joke before he was against it.

As a leading Democratic senator, John Kerry needs to learn that the men and women serving in Iraq aren’t there because they didn’t study hard or do their homework. The all-volunteer force represents the very best of this country. They’re smart, patriotic, exceptionally well trained, and dedicated to their mission. They are heroes, and they are the pride of the United States of America.

Kerry says he was just calling Bush stupid. Its a sketchy excuse, given that it doesn't make a lick of sense: Bush got better grades than Kerry at Yale, and anyways Kerry voted for the same decision to go to war. In addition, it is a matter of historical record that Kerry started out in politics by slandering the troops that fought in Vietnam and has said things about the troops fighting now, including that they were "terrorizing children" (This guy was ALMOST PRESIDENT!).

Still, in this case I'd have to say that I don't know why yo but I believe him.

John Kerry: Your 2004 Democratic Presidential Nominee

2006-10-31T23:21:00.000-05:00

You've probably already heard about John Kerry's comments, but I found this picture on Michelle Malkins site. Heh...

Allow me to Retort

2006-10-31T10:13:00.000-05:00

I was writing short stories for some fiction classes at NYU. This was before blogger and comment sections. For a bunch of stories I footnoted everything, like a comment section to myself, for everyone to read. The footnotes, the caveats, the rejoinders were written against an imaginary critic. I was worried that people wouldn't get the writing, which was mostly a bunch of attempts at clever references and humor about things that weren't necessarily that clever or humorous like barber shops or bath tubs.

Anyway maybe I should start using this technique again. Admittedly, my pictures and references have become such inside, circular references-

that no one, weinger or otherwise, could be expected to get it. So I will try this, going forward... a running commentary. Going backward.... I was told there was a two hour wait at Clinton St. Bakery for brunch on Sunday. There was a line outside, there was a line inside. They serve tasty obnoxious things like steel cut oatmeal with blackberries, or french toast with with some nectar reduction sauce. Stuff that makes you blush a little when it comes time to order them (ummm I’ll just have a cheeseburger, w/ American cheese, no that’s all). Anyway, two hours was too much I walked uptown and passed these two gentlemen eating some soup and something dried out of a packet that did not look fancy, but there was no wait, but yet and still, they looked less than amused, surly as all hell on this Sunday morning.

So there were a lot of opposites headed my way and in response I took that picture and ended up eating brunch somewhere else. French Toast with some berries.

Sunday Brunch in the Lower East Side

2006-10-29T20:57:00.000-05:00

steel cut irish oatmeal — 8

cinnamon sugar and sautéed apples

brioche french toast — 12

caramelized bananas, roasted pecans, maple butter

smoked salmon benedict — 15

with Petrossian smoked salmon

C.J. Parker, from the Village of Baywatch

2006-10-26T15:57:00.000-04:00

RNC smear commercial against Imus in the Morning favorite and Tennessee Senate hopeful, Harold Ford Jr.

So what if Harold Ford Jr. made a little sexy time at a Super Bowl after-party? Does that mean he is unfit for church pew? The man has the 10 commandments printed on the back of his campaign business cards, for the Lord Jesus' sake! This dude is versatile. From Bible Belt to liberal enclaves to Blaze a 50.

met her in San Diego at tha Super Bowl party.
had the Heiny sipped it up, wit Terrell Davis.
MVP, we flicked it up from Sports Illustrated.
I was silked out, flossin wit stout, he had the gators.
when she walked in, she lit up the room, like Las Vegas.

The first shots have been fired in this war pitting:

North v. South
Democrat v. Republican
Black v. White
A Party of Playboys v. A Party Whose Members Solicited Young Boys.

It's time to cowboy up.

In 2004 I drove through Tennessee on my way further south and stopped in a 7/11 type place at 5:00AM. I'd been driving through night and was disorientated. The clerk behind the counter sees me scanning newspaper headlines.

He says: "You know you're reading yesterday's news."

I looked puzzled, 5:00AM? New paper hasn't arrived? Delirium onsetting?

He continued: "All of that stuff in the paper happened yesterday. It's yesterday's news."

Oh.......

True story.

Nerd Politics

2006-10-26T11:46:00.000-04:00

More evidence that liberals need to move out of their moms' basements and get jobs.

I've Seen the Years Go by in Triple Lines of Gray

2006-10-25T09:43:00.000-04:00

The first one was just a draft. Here it is, in living color.

Depressed Reader of Billiken's Bluff

2006-10-24T22:50:00.000-04:00

Like a bad Wheel of Fortune Before & After puzzle.

I commisioned Tao to draw a likeness of this site's namesake:

And in turn I am plugging his collection of poems. Tao, here is a blurb for the backcover of your book:

"This Motherf**ker can write."

And the who, what, when, where, how of it:

You can now purchase YOU ARE A LITTLE BIT HAPPIER THAN I AM, a poetry-collection by Tao Lin.

You can read about it here. You can read a review here. Officially it comes out later than now, in November.

You can buy it from the action books website.

You can buy it directly from Tao (by paypaling binky.tabby@gmail.com $13). If you buy it directly from him he will draw you pictures and put them in the envelope.

I know your works.

2006-10-22T21:43:00.000-04:00

You are neither cold

nor hot.

So because you are lukewarm,

You can build your filthy world

without

me

Krabi

Nelson de la Rosa, Rest in Peace

2006-10-22T20:21:00.000-04:00

The world says goodbye to a hero today. Nelson de la Rosa, the "World's Smallest Actor," has died today of unknown causes after flying to Miami from Chile, where he had been working in the circus. The two-foot-four legend traded lines with Marlon Brando in 1996's The Island of Dr. Moreau but is best known for his month-long spell as Pedro Martinez' good luck charm for the 2004 World Series Champion Boston Red Sox. The Dominican-born de la Rosa is expected to be put on display in a museum in the near future to allow the world to pay its respect to this monument to the human spirit.

Here's Looking at Me Looking at You

2006-10-21T23:11:00.000-04:00

"As if finding it alone deserves a medal or a pat on the back or a congratulatory chuckle."

2006-10-18T21:43:00.001-04:00

That's like my mission statement, my raison d’être. I'm always looking and taking pictures and matching them with music and one-liners and out-takes from speeches and MSM articles and occasionally some of my own writing.

Solidarność, Awood.

10 Years

2006-10-11T22:40:00.000-04:00

Having been a fan since the first episode, I find it hard to believe that South Park is now in its tenth season. Maybe its because I haven't grown up at all since then, but in my opinion its still the funniest show you can find on television and some of the best satire ever produced.

Here's the first episode of the new season. Unfortunately, I can't link to any of the other great episodes from past seasons because Google snatched up YouTube and decided to care about copyright law.

Real Talk For Ya

2006-10-10T23:24:00.000-04:00

The Yonhap news agency in China quoted an unnamed North Korean official who said that his nation could fire a nuclear-tipped missile unless the United States acts to resolve its standoff with the regime in Pyongyang, according to the Associated Press. The unamed North Korean official said:

"We hope the situation will be resolved before an unfortunate incident of us firing a nuclear missile comes."

I'm sure stilted translation from Korean to Chinese to English for a US wire service accounted for the (un)veiled threat.

You know something real subtle-like, along the lines of Fat Tony from the Simpsons saying:

"I'd just like to remind Mayor Quimby that accidents happen... such as the killing of you, by us."

And a child shall lead us.

Discuss Amongst Yourselves

2006-10-09T12:05:00.000-04:00

Jon Stewart dispels rumor of White House run.

Fict and Faction

2006-10-09T11:23:00.000-04:00

An image taken from television footage shows a newsreader announcing North Korea's nuclear test October 9, 2006. North Korea said it conducted an underground nuclear test on Monday, defying a warning from the U.N. Security Council and opening its crippled economy to the risk of fresh sanctions.

Public Access TV sets, nuclear style.

How about Noam Chomsky's "Manufacturing Consent"?

2006-10-08T16:05:00.000-04:00

$200 million and 20 scoreless innings. Over 1 billion spent since the last subway series and no rings to show for it.

You people baffle me. You spend all
this money on beautiful, fancy books--
and they're the wrong fuckin' books.

Time to get paid, blow up like the world trade

2006-10-05T21:08:00.000-04:00

Please someone look and see.

Disengage yourself from the honey maple glazed turkey.

The fresh mozzarella balls are unsalted and unremarkable. Don't worry about how thinly sliced your lox are.

This is far from the most pressing issue at the deli counter of the local supercenter.

There is a pole display above

the meat weighing apparatus informing me that:

UNITED WE STAND ... NEVER FORGET

What menace lurks below this message? Is there a company whose sole specialty lies in this type of translation? I don't believe you or this. This seems didactic and assumed in green pixilated font.

Does this boost sales? Does this promote Born on the 4th of July BBQs? Does this increase discretionary spending for impromptu 9/11 memorial dinners?

Look up from the meat slicer.

Ignore the boiled ham.

No I want it shredded, so it falls apart. Don't be afraid to cut it too thin. You can't cut it too thin.

Look, look the plane, the plane!!!

No, no, no, cast a more fine toothed comb. Divert your attention

Yes that's the spirit.

Expand your mind. Look for signals, signifiers

This is not a test of the emergency broadcast system. This is your local grocer. You are purchasing gelatinous meat products at least ask them to allow you to do so on a level playing field. Don't let them make this an emotional sell. This is a decision based on nutrients and pounds per dollars.

A Tourettic Tic

2006-10-03T22:10:00.000-04:00

Albert Haynesworth's Monday morning apology for Sunday's mis-step

prompted N Dot to comment that it's funny that public figures and celebrities try to apologize for inexplicable actions after the fact (i'm paraphrasing due to a poor decision to delete an AIM convo). Like he changed his mind about the merits of stomping on the dude's face a day later, after thinking about it.

"I apologize to Andre," Haynesworth said. "What I did was disgusting. It's something that should never happen. I mean, I'm not a dirty player. I don't play dirty. I have respect for the game. What I feel like is I disgraced the game, disgraced my team and disgraced my last name."

But I would ask.... funny how?

Did you expect Haynesworth to stay the course? To stand behind his decision to stomp on Cowboy OL Gurode's face?

Adrenline-drained, sober thinking and mop up duty ensue.

Admit no wrong doing. Stand by the stomping decision 100%. If I had to do it over again knowing everything I know today I'd do everything the same.

Machismo. Steely reserve.

What if he hadn't cut and run?

One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.

Subway Series

2006-10-03T19:46:00.000-04:00

The Fates are striking Mets pitchers down 2 at a time in an effort to derail this late October matchup.

The Yankees have drawn a Tigers team who has only won 19 of last 50 and doesn't have one player on their roster that would crack the Yankees lineup. The Yankees have Alex Rodriguez batting 6th followed by Matsui 7th, and batting 9th, Robinson Cano, who finished third in the American League in hitting with a .342 batting average. I'm blown away, blown away, as Larry David doing his best George Steinbrenner would say.

A Mets/Yankees World Series still seems more likely than not, despite the Mets dearth of pitching and a likely game 1 start tomorrow by rookie John Maine.

But what I really wanted to comment on was a TV ad I saw last night while falling to sleep. I thought I might have dreamed it but confirmed it to be true today. Golden boy Derek Jeter, Mr. MVP candidate despite numbers that are dwarfed by David Ortiz, has an advertisement with Movado watches with the following copy:

Derek Jeter: Humanitarian, Leader, Athlete.

And to compare the polar opposites. A-Rod's career postseason numbers: .305 BA/.393 OBP/.534 Slg.; Derek Jeter's career postseason numbers: .307/.379/.463.

A-Rod is characterized as an overpriced head case. Jeter crowned Mr. October, Mr. Intangible (the hardest of all stats to track),

and now marketed as a Humanitarian!!!

The Billiken will heartily root for A-Rod to right his wronged name and for the depleted, and suddenly underdogged NY Metropolitans.

Quote Shakespeare:

Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.

The comedy is that it's serious

2006-10-02T17:40:00.000-04:00

This is a strange enough new play on words

Looking for Some Triangulation

2006-09-30T19:20:00.000-04:00

Lights are fading, the feeling is back

2006-09-27T21:09:00.000-04:00

This is the closest thing to disaster

Keep on fading, snow white into black
The kind of thing you (hope to) laugh about after

Like One of Those Woman on the Front of the Ship

2006-09-21T23:26:00.000-04:00

We on an award tour with muhammad my man
Goin each and every place with the mic in our hand
New york, nj, n.c., va
We on an award tour with muhammad my man
Goin each and every place with the mic in our hand
Oaktown, l.a., san fran, st. john

A Chav Party!!!

Leathal Weapon 5

The Screwtape Letters

But are you not being a trifle naïve? It sounds as if you supposed that argument was the way to keep him out of the Enemy's clutches [...] But what with the weekly press and other such weapons we have largely altered that. Your man has been accustomed, ever since he was a boy, to have a dozen incompatible philosophies dancing about together inside his head. He doesn't think of doctrines as primarily 'true' or 'false', but as 'academic' or 'practical', 'outworn' or 'contemporary', 'conventional' or 'ruthless'. Jargon, not argument, is your best ally in keeping him from the Church. Don't waste time trying to make him think that materialism is true! Make him think it is strong, or stark, or courageous -- that it is the philosophy of the future. That's the sort of thing he cares about.

The trouble about argument is that it moves the whole struggle on to the Enemy's own ground. He can argue too; whereas in really practical propaganda of the kind I am suggesting He has been shown for centuries to be greatly the inferior of Our Father Below. By the very act of arguing, you awake the patient's reason; and once it is awake, who can foresee the result?

Your affectionate uncle

Screwtape

Poor people of the world unite...Harlem World to Caracas...

Take that, take that...

A call to arms... a call out of alcoholics (recovering addicts in the room excluded)... and a warm winter for all.

two oil-rich straight shooting cowboys headquartered in the lone star state

Straight shot...

Citgo will provide 100 million gallons of heating oil at discount prices this winter to low-income people in New York and 17 other states. Citgo, a Houston-based energy company that is owned and controlled by the Venezuelan government, organized the highly publicized event in Harlem -- one of a series designed to boost the Venezuelan leader's popularity in the U.S.

Don't Say I Didn't Warn You

2006-09-21T11:16:00.000-04:00

From LA Times/Bloomberg:

WASHINGTON — President Bush's approval rating has reached its highest level since January, helping to boost the Republican Party's image across a range of domestic and national security issues just seven weeks before this year's midterm election, a new Times/Bloomberg poll has found.

The survey spotlights a continuing array of Republican vulnerabilities, but it also offers the first evidence in months that the GOP may be gaining momentum before November's battle for control of Congress.

Democrats hold a lead in the poll, 49% to 39%, when registered voters are asked which party they intend to support for Congress this year. But that advantage may rest on softening ground: On virtually every comparison between the parties measured in the survey, Republicans have improved their position since early summer.

In particular, Republicans have nearly doubled their advantage when voters are asked which party they trust most to protect the nation against terrorism — the thrust of Bush's public relations blitz in recent weeks.

Good job, guys.

Rearranging the Deck Chairs on the Titanic

2006-09-19T23:21:00.000-04:00

I was going hungry and lazy here

When you stopped me in my tracks

I was going crazy; I was desolate and ready to kill

But maybe I believe in another place

>

If you go, you won't look back

And anywhere you go you know

The ugliness will follow you still

And you break
This into waste

We are desperate, lonely and underpaid

I’m a bitter man, I know

But listen, honey, you're no fun

I will never live like you

But you will probably die like me

Oh lovelessly, an ending

Full of god, and god makes plenty.

You will go on searching

For someone to keep you killing

If you love me, won't you leave me?

'cause I want to settle down

First you
Fade into the background

Wouldn’t even call me
Had the nerve to leave me

Go ahead and love me
I’m a hungry man
Ever since you went away

First you
Fade into the background

Wouldn’t even call me
Had the nerve to leave me

Go ahead and love me
I’m a hungry man

Ever since you went away

I don't know if you've got another place

Where you bury all these things

I don't know if you can see the shadow
That you cast on the ground
But maybe I can see through the lonely face

Loose your feet and loose your waist
Anywhere you are, you know the freedom there

Is dragging you down

And you break me into lines

We can shake our bodies
And wreck our minds
I’m a bitter man, I know,

But listen, honey, you're no fun

And oh, don't you wanna love?

And don't you wanna feel?

I remember, you were reckless, you were hungry
You were real,

you were so uptight
Listen, I don't mind
I feel like I’m watching a car crash.

And oh, this is how it ends
You will watch your friends

Take a moment, take a knife
Then they'll put it in again.
This is how we are

I will never live like you do

[much respect]

The Subterraneans

2006-09-17T21:30:00.000-04:00

I've never felt comfortable being described as a liberal or a democrat. I'm more ANTI if anything.

But without the t-shirts and slogans. I could be convinced to be a card carrying Democrat if they changed a just about everything about their party. I like Elliot Spitzer but only because he seems like a little bit like Bruce Wayne, a rich citizen of Gotham, devoted to fighting crime with a Bill Cowher, granite jaw:

With that said I can't stand the center. The politically correct, say nothing offensive, nothing you believe in. Squelch all opinions that even remotely resemble a deviation from the median.

And yet my public life, my career and my comments without my mask on

are from this spineless center.

I like fantasy sports leagues, in part for the messageboard posts, the back and forth, and the team names. On WFAN sports radio there are callers who want to create small controversy. They call in this time of season and say why women shouldn't be allowed in fantasy sports leagues, or why the last caller is an idiot for taking that position. They posit that it's a boys club on the messageboards. Lewd and crude. They want to protect innocents at all costs. No casualities in this exchange of barbs. They also don’t want anyone reporting back what goes on inside.

I am the De La Brickashaws, mildly clever Jets fan's play on words (or not) in this year's fantasy football league. Nothing offensive (I've been broken politically correctly long ago),

but consider some of the other team names from my baseball league which is in its last throes:

Sure we have the SUNY frat boy boilerplate:

This League is GAY
T-Baggers

But we also have the more nuisanced:

The NY METsicans
Minaya's Gardeners

This is how people interpret the world around them.

This is what people would say without work places, and DMV’s and public spaces. Child's honesties. Everyone Mets fan would admit, if assured no repercussions, that the Mets blueprint has a decidedly Latin imprint. Omar Minaya signs the best Latin American players. People say on sports radio that it doesn't matter, which it doesn't to most people, but they also say they can't see a pattern.

call a spade a spade

I'm not sure what good it does to call out Omar Minaya for signing, Carlos Delgado, Carlos Beltran, trading away Kris Benson. But, if the question is posed, observe honestly.

I can't care less about a players country of origin. I am a Mets fan. Jose Reyes is my favorite player. I root for him because he is small and quick and I know that whatever stats he compiles are free of any steroid/HGH accusation (i.e. Ryan Howard needs 10 clean years behind him before his fans can argue on his behalf). But, ask me and I'll tell you honestly that the Mets are the NY METsicans.

The street is correct.

The Utah Jazz pursue Arayan talent. Their GM, Scott Layden, transmutated to New York, signed Travis Knight, traded for Keith Van Horn and drafted Michael Doleac. Utah byproducts. Isiah Thomas traded Van Horn and filled the roster with his type of player.

The Celtics, were the Celtics because they had Bird, Mchale and Ainge (alongside Parrish)... three Irish-looking white guys. They appealed to their fans.

We cast our teams in our own image and likeness.

The Toronto Raptors are repositioning themselves as a foreign other. More than just the neighbor from the nook of the north. This will appeal to someone and this composition is not at random.

Everyone in NY media, and I guess every NYer by extension, wanted to know about Shawn Green's (the outlier on the NY METSicans) Wedding that his teammate and friend Carlos Delgado attended last year. Did Carlos do the hora during the party?

He's been described in the NYT Sunday Styles section (incorrectly) as perhaps the best Jewish baseball player in the MLB (Lance Berkman) come home to NYC. In 2000, when Green signed with LA, the Yankees considered bringing Green in to be a draw for New York Jewish fans.

Refusing to reveal obvious prejudices, black and white motivations.

Sports is close to Walton’s egalitarian meritocracy on the field, but in the hearts and minds of fans and ownership there are certain tangibles that are given equal consideration, but denied vehemently, outside the confines of your friends' fantasy sports league.

Smile All the Time

2006-09-15T00:08:00.000-04:00

Does Bin Laden smile?

Is there humor in miltant islam?

shine your teeth till meaningless and sharpen them with lies.

Can anyone speak to this?

Listen, I don't mind

2006-09-10T19:15:00.000-04:00

I feel like I’m watching a car crash.
And oh, this is how it ends
You will watch your friends
Take a moment, take a knife
Then they'll put it in again.
This is how we are
This is how we are
We are young and stupid
And raised by wolves.

[watchingtheworldchange]

being more concerned with girls and parties and drinking 40s, and the excitement of it all than the actual events on the day of 9.11.01.

You will go on searching
For someone to keep you killing

He'll NEVER FORGET.

And I'm READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL

Apathy with a capital "A"

2006-09-07T12:07:00.000-04:00

From an CNN.com piece on a possible Democratic shift among female Republicans, here's a quote from the spoiler who thinks such women are merely cutting and running:

Still, some Southern women remain stalwart supporters of the president and the Republican Party. At a watermelon festival in Chickamauga, in the mountains of northwest Georgia, substitute teacher Clydeen Tomanio said she remains committed to the party she's called home for 43 years.

"There are some people, and I'm one of them, that believe George Bush was placed where he is by the Lord," Tomanio said. "I don't care how he governs, I will support him. I'm a Republican through and through."

Did everyone get that? "I don't care how he governs, I will support him." Now I know this is probably just some crackpot that the writer interviewed for the juicy quote, but damn, Clydeen.

Reminds me of ol' what's-her-name...

Debate Me Or the Universe Will Kill You!

2006-09-06T12:40:00.000-04:00

Ahmadinejad continues his interesting walk on the fine line between terrifying and hilarious.

Money...Shrugs?

2006-09-06T12:36:00.000-04:00

In a Week in Review piece this week, the Times had this to say:

[L]iberals would surely argue that economic populism, packaged right, could be a winning strategy. Republicans, meanwhile, have said that Democrats are exaggerating the public’s unhappiness and that there is no pay problem. President Bush and his allies have frequently, and accurately, pointed out that average incomes are rising at a nice clip.

But averages can be affected by big changes among a small group of people, which is exactly what seems to be happening with incomes, according to an array of government data. The census report, for instance, showed strong income growth last year only at the 95th percentile of the distribution, which covers families making $166,000 a year. Even at the 90th percentile, as well as the 50th and further down, according to the Labor Department, pay increases have trailed inflation over the last three years.

Not being an expert in anything remotely quantitative, this text still speaks volumes to me. It's easy to understand, contextualize, and, in my case, become really furious about. It brings to mind excessive tax cuts, the repeal of the estate ("death") tax, and various other economic iniatives of which I disapprove.

My question, though, is why can't everyone understand it? You don't need a college degree or even a GED, so why isn't this on the front page? If this isn't news, then what is?

Oh right - Suri.

And this "unusually pretty" CBS correspondant, Lara Logan:

She's the news.

"News," sans news, is the News.

Meanwhile, Lebanon, Palestine, Mexico, Iraq, North Korea, Sudan, Zimbabwe, Myanmar, Venezuela, presidential "signing statements," line vetoes, Cheney's evil chief-of-staff David Addington, unaffordable health care, a debacle of a war, and innumerable other complaints and worries are perpetually playing Shiloh to today's Suri - old hat, totally over, fighting for headlines.

Nothing new here, I know. But every once in a while, I just weep for people who would sooner pick up a gun or a crucifix than a newspaper. That is so say, Americans.

Fat (Chance) Tuesday

2006-08-29T16:32:00.000-04:00

Gov. Michael Rounds, pictured imploring the Lord God Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth, source of all things Good, and Proctector of all, to feed your cow.

Ever the dreamer, cuddly Iranian Prez Admadinejad has challenged Bush to a live televised debate on world issues. Of course, the White House rejected the request immediately. But man, wouldn't that have been something? Admadinejad is probably a more eloquent English speaker, but he wouldn't have been able to best Bush's folksy, cliche-based rhetorical techniques. Close call, but I say Bush in 11 rounds.

And it looks like the nation is waking up to the crippling drought that hit several western and southern states this summer, disappointing corn enthusiasts nationwide and putting small farmers out of business. (That's what you get for not selling to ConAgra, loners.) Drastic measures are needed, it seems. The plan from the governer of hard hit South Dakota, Michael Rounds? That's right: a proclamation declaring a week to pray for rain! Citizens should certainly have the opportunity now that all those pesky, time consuming abortions have been eliminated.

Two emerging trends documented on YahooNews this afternoon....

2006-08-29T13:50:00.000-04:00

Here, Sir Fire, Eat!

2006-08-27T15:48:00.000-04:00

An initiated college student cramming for final exams, writing four term papers in the span of 36 hours is familiar with speed in its various prescribed forms. The side effects that accompany them are known quantities:

You don't sleep, you lose your appetite, you are a little jumpy, paranoid. But you focus like a savant.

Kerouac was familiar with them, knew their uses and unpleasantries, wrote about them in On the Road:

Jane was still looking for her fire; in those days she ate three tunes pf benzedrine paper a day. Her face, once plump and Germanic and pretty, had become stony and red and gaunt.

in fact used them to write On the Road:

Yemenite cab drivers chew a homegrown leaf variety called qat. Salim Hamdam, Bin Laden's driver ruminated on these, wired.

Baseball players use it. Watch them sweat profusely. Eyes buggy, pupils dilated. It sharpens their senses, quickens their reaction time, and leads them to chew copious amounts of gum, sunflower seeds, dip and whatever else they use to prevent grinding of teeth. Commentators are either complicit in this practice or ignorant. Players look high strung, if not strung out.

This angle has been written about, but not with the same fanfare as the steroid enhancements. The average fan either doesn't understand this drug as well, or can't bring themselves to be outraged by more than one chemical concurrently.

Here is what Ken Caminiti told Sports Illustrated re: speed (Full disclosure... Caminiti died a few years ago from a Crack induced heart attack):

"I would say there are only a couple of guys on a team that don't take greenies [speed] before a game. One or two guys. That's called going out there naked. And you hear it all the time from teammates, 'You're not going to play naked, are you?' And even the guys who are against greenies may be taking diet pills or popping 25 caffeine pills and they're up there [at bat] with their hands shaking. So how good is that? This game is so whacked out that guys will take anything to get an edge. You got a pill that will make me feel better? Let me have it."

Former outfielder Chad Curtis agreed with Caminiti:
"You might have one team where eight guys play naked and another team where nobody does, but that sounds about right. Steroids are popular, but quite a lot more guys take [amphetamines] than steroids. I'm talking about illegal stuff. Speed ... ritalin, which is legal only with a doctor's prescription ... sometimes guys don't even know what they're taking. One guy will take some pills out of his locker and tell somebody else, 'Here, take one of these. You'll feel better.' And the other guy will take it and not even know what it is."

Curtis added that amphetamine use is so prevalent that non-users are sometimes ostracized as slackers.

"If the starting pitcher knows you're going out there naked, he's upset that you're not giving him more than what you can," Curtis said. "The big-time pitcher wants to make sure you're beaning up before the game tonight."

An AL manager told me last month greenies are so prevalent with old and young players alike that baseball would have to shorten the season if they banned them.

But I woulnd't have bothered to post anything about this, if I hadn't read this story about David Ortiz's recent hospitalization that was hiding in plain site on ESPN.com. No one in MSM was going to dissect this story for what it appears to be, so I have to.

Sleeplessness, dehydration sent Papi to Hospital

SEATTLE -- Boston Red Sox slugger David Ortiz said stress and nearly a week of sleeplessness caused dehydration and eventually the irregular heartbeat that landed him in a Boston hospital last weekend.
The major-league leader in home runs said he was "stressed out about everything" -- including the New York Yankees' first three wins of their eventual five-game sweep of the Red Sox last weekend that has turned both teams' seasons. A team doctor advised him to go to Massachusetts General Hospital last Saturday evening.

And he didn't miss a game -- he has missed only two of Boston's 128 games. He spent one night under observation while receiving intravenous fluids. He went home Sunday and returned to Fenway Park a few hours later to hit his 44th home run in another Boston loss to New York that night.

But he was stressed.

"I stress a lot, sometimes," the usually gregarious, outwardly jolly giant said before starting again as Boston's designated hitter in the series opener against the Seattle Mariners.

"We got to play all those games against New York. You know, there was a lot of stress going on," the 30-year-old Ortiz said. "And then to go out there and receive that [butt] kicking ... I wasn't feeling good. I was beat."

It was his first time speaking publicly about the hospitalization, which was first reported on the Internet earlier this week. He initially would not discuss the situation, and Boston manager Terry Francona continued to honor Ortiz's request to remain mum Friday afternoon.

"He just prefers it that way. I just have to follow protocol," Francona said.

But then about an hour later, Ortiz emerged from the trainer's area of the Safeco Field visiting clubhouse to tell what happened.

"I didn't want to go back to Boston with people freaking out about something like that," he said. "When something like this comes out, the press wants to get more information. But you just want to get it over with."

Now, Ortiz said, "I'm a healthy son of a [gun]."

Thursday, he hit his second home run in as many games to lead the Red Sox to a series win at the Los Angeles Angels. Boston entered Friday with 15 losses this month -- its most in a calendar month since August 2002. But it hasn't been Ortiz's fault. He had five home runs in nine games entering Friday.

He reached 46 home runs in his 125th game Thursday, faster than any hitter in Boston history. Jimmie Foxx hit his 46th in his 140th game of 1938.

"Actually, you know what? I'm feeling way better here on the West Coast," Ortiz said. "There's more time to sleep in. I've been sleeping my [rear end] off."

Ortiz said he began feeling ill between games of a day-night doubleheader on Aug. 18 against New York that dragged into the early morning. Between games, he had gone home and tried to sleep but couldn't.

He said by Aug. 19, "It was like my whole body was cramping ... I've felt dehydrated before, but it wasn't like that. It wasn't a good feeling."

Dr. Larry Ronan, a member of the Red Sox medical team, checked Ortiz after that Saturday afternoon loss to New York and sent Ortiz to Massachusetts General for more tests.

Doctors there found an irregular heartbeat and told Ortiz the cause was stress. Ortiz said he had been having problems sleeping for "four or five days" before his hospital stay.

Forget that by the age of 27 Ortiz had never hit for power (no more than 20 HRs in a season as a 1st baseman, a power position). He was cut from Minnesota, signed by Boston and has been dominating the game since. Announcers consistently express disbelief that Minnesota did this. Something nearly on par with taking Bowie before Jordan in the '84 draft. I express some disbelief that no one has questioned where he found all this power beginning in 2002. It's possible was natural, he is a big guy, maybe he was just coming into his prime.

Big Papi is nearly universally heralded for his clutch hitting and expansive personality. People just want to give him a big bear hug and have him carry them on his back.

The story above is the type of thing you would want to cover up as a player and team, especially when we are talking about the Big Papi. At least I think you would want to cover up this story because there is seemingly such a one to one correlation between the described symptoms surrounding his trip to the ER and someone who has clearly taken too much speed for too long a time with too little sleep.

Consider the following:

• Symptoms of an Adderall overdose include restlessness, tremor, rapid breathing, confusion, hallucinations, panic, aggressiveness, nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, an irregular heartbeat, and seizures.

• Other, less serious side effects may be more likely to occur. Continue to take Adderall and talk to your doctor if you experience
• restlessness or tremor;
• anxiety or nervousness;
• headache or dizziness;
• insomnia;
• dryness of the mouth or an unpleasant taste in the mouth;
• diarrhea or constipation; or
• impotence or changes in sex drive.

Shit is nervous.

I assume everyone in the NFL is on steroids and speed. But this doesn’t matter to me in a sport where it is a battle of strength, team vs. team, war metaphors and the like, fighting it out in the trenches, the war room, a quarterback as "field general". Everyone is doing it, an equal playing field, so it matters to me less. All is fair in war...

You are competing against the player in front of you. Mutual assured destruction. Superpowers, fully armed. Order, peace, and some really cool caches of weapons on display every Sunday.

In baseball again everyone may be doing IT, but they are also always competing against history or some gold standard in understood physical limitations, a 500 foot homerun, 61 homeruns in season, 755 for a career, a 100 mph fastball. These types of statistics are not as much a part of football. The highlights are of one-handed catches, and violent tackles. No one reads the box score in football. People are more let down by the disclosure of steroids (and speed) in baseball. But we already know this and this has been talked to death.

I am less interested in proselytizing about drugs and sports, than I am in pointing out how no one else is pointing out that Ortiz's symptoms seem to be so straight forward and so widespread across the sport. Just read the back of a prescription pill bottle.

Stay hydrated, brother. Get well soon.