Facebook is not face time.
One of my alters came out last night and started looking at the pictures of people on Facebook and I wrote comments on their walls, “Get your hand off your chin!” And, “Boy, you’re pretty…” Fake obscenities, etc.
Clearly, I am acting out.
Let’s figure out what it is.
I must be mad.
Why am I mad?
Because I want people to be how they used to be. People. Not pictures.
When I was in college, you gave your picture to the student guidebook people and they put it in a quickly published book and everyone on campus got it. It was called The Pig Book.
Why?
It was the really sweet way the men would refer to the women in the book. The men wanted to route out the pigs on campus.
Facebook is just one huge Pig Book to me.
As my good friend Bradford recently said, “It’s going to be funny, that day, when we say, ‘Remember when there was Facebook?’”
One of the joys of being young, I mean under twenty, maybe up to twenty-two, was you were really connected to your body. And you felt cool. Sure, it was just the sex talking. But nevertheless, you separated yourself from the somewhat-deadened adults by this coolness, this connectedness to your body. Adults planned and were alienated from experience. YOU were OF THE MOMENT and very much alive.
But now? Everyone, even the kids, everyone is dead, on machines.
I say, push back from the keyboard and go to the post office and help people fill out all those confusing forms. Anything.
And I’ll grow up. I won’t write on your wall, “Nice bangs, cocky duty” or worse when you post your picture. I will say a little prayer for you that you are NOT at your computer. That you ARE physically engaged with another real person.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Freedom Fried
When right wing governments fly in, they do it on a liberty broom. They pretend that all constraint upon humanity is evil.
And then they constrain humanity.
The only thing that is given true liberty is the freedom to make/steal as much money as you can get your hands on.
Though this is not peculiar to The United States, we seem to have a particularly violent strain of this disease. The tired, poor, huddled masses who came to these shores, who still do come, really are poor. And they are sick of it. And they want some serious fucking pie.
They want to be kings. Just like the kings who oppressed them.
Of course, not everyone can be the king. Not everyone can have mountains of stuff. We know this doesn’t work. It simply doesn’t work. And we will get clobbered again and again until we learn this lesson.
It’s like, you know that friend who always cancels because they’re sick? They’re not really sick. Their knees don’t hurt. Their asthma isn’t completely debilitating. They just, simply enough, don’t want to leave the house enough to see you. Fine…but then you keep calling them? Haven’t you learned?
People are slow to figure things out. I don’t know why. I think I am fast, but really, in the areas I don’t want things to change, my mind holds onto faulty, old information. Especially if that information has a golden-sunshine-rainbow around it. I want my crack.
Everyone wants their crack. And in our culture, money is the ultimate crack. And righty wants your ass addicted...because then, he can get you on the Jones and you will do ANYTHING to get that Jones taken care of. And you will go into a state of not-noticing the deleterious effects as long as you can get your crack. Stupid monkey.
It’s all denial and addiction. What on earth are you going to do with a gold bathtub anyway?
It’s ultimately tacky. And who on earth knows how to clean it?
And then they constrain humanity.
The only thing that is given true liberty is the freedom to make/steal as much money as you can get your hands on.
Though this is not peculiar to The United States, we seem to have a particularly violent strain of this disease. The tired, poor, huddled masses who came to these shores, who still do come, really are poor. And they are sick of it. And they want some serious fucking pie.
They want to be kings. Just like the kings who oppressed them.
Of course, not everyone can be the king. Not everyone can have mountains of stuff. We know this doesn’t work. It simply doesn’t work. And we will get clobbered again and again until we learn this lesson.
It’s like, you know that friend who always cancels because they’re sick? They’re not really sick. Their knees don’t hurt. Their asthma isn’t completely debilitating. They just, simply enough, don’t want to leave the house enough to see you. Fine…but then you keep calling them? Haven’t you learned?
People are slow to figure things out. I don’t know why. I think I am fast, but really, in the areas I don’t want things to change, my mind holds onto faulty, old information. Especially if that information has a golden-sunshine-rainbow around it. I want my crack.
Everyone wants their crack. And in our culture, money is the ultimate crack. And righty wants your ass addicted...because then, he can get you on the Jones and you will do ANYTHING to get that Jones taken care of. And you will go into a state of not-noticing the deleterious effects as long as you can get your crack. Stupid monkey.
It’s all denial and addiction. What on earth are you going to do with a gold bathtub anyway?
It’s ultimately tacky. And who on earth knows how to clean it?
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Red Ants, Black Ants, Red Wine
Tax and Spend.
Reduce taxes and grow private prosperity.
Nothing works.
And the fight is on. Same fight that has been going on forever. We are a species in conflict. Maybe we are trying to split off? Become two different species? Homo Togetherus and Homo Itsallaboutmeus. Maybe, like red and black ants, we should just go to war and get it over with.
But the fight goes on and on. Aren’t we bored with it? What is the third way? Was it Bill Clinton? And if so, why are we not going right back to Bill’s way?
It’s all so measurable and also impossible to measure.
And those of us on the ground? We just react.
Side note: Red Wine Incident, 2009.
I had a feeling I should not have my little juice glass of red wine anywhere near the keyboard. I flailed and spilled…all over the cream carpet. Quickly, my waiter instinct came out. I threw a bucket of water on it, followed by a box of salt. It worked. Club soda would have been better. Salt really has a way of drawing things to it. Thank you salt.
Reduce taxes and grow private prosperity.
Nothing works.
And the fight is on. Same fight that has been going on forever. We are a species in conflict. Maybe we are trying to split off? Become two different species? Homo Togetherus and Homo Itsallaboutmeus. Maybe, like red and black ants, we should just go to war and get it over with.
But the fight goes on and on. Aren’t we bored with it? What is the third way? Was it Bill Clinton? And if so, why are we not going right back to Bill’s way?
It’s all so measurable and also impossible to measure.
And those of us on the ground? We just react.
Side note: Red Wine Incident, 2009.
I had a feeling I should not have my little juice glass of red wine anywhere near the keyboard. I flailed and spilled…all over the cream carpet. Quickly, my waiter instinct came out. I threw a bucket of water on it, followed by a box of salt. It worked. Club soda would have been better. Salt really has a way of drawing things to it. Thank you salt.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
The Cold
I am taking an extended stay in New York. Having lived in Los Angeles for fifteen years, I had two trepidations:
1) Noise in apartment buildings
2) The weather
As I walked from the subway to my apartment, wheeling my wheely bag without gloves on, the tips of my right fingers all went to numbness and pain. Otherwise, I held up pretty well. I certainly did not get frost bite. Furthermore, the cold air was bracing.
Upon entering the apartment, the guy above me was running on his treadmill so my entire living area was shaking and bouncing. It was truly awful. Of course, it eventually subsided. Right now, at 3 AM, it is bone quiet.
In Los Angeles, one can go for months without experiencing any physical discomfort (other than poor air and wretched traffic problems). As long as one stays at home, providing the home is lovely, then living in Los Angeles is, simply, lovely. Though, it can get smallish, hiding out on 5,000 square feet of property.
In New York, there is much discomfort, but it is all short lived. Irritants, really. Good place to practice patience. Zen. Acceptance.
1) Noise in apartment buildings
2) The weather
As I walked from the subway to my apartment, wheeling my wheely bag without gloves on, the tips of my right fingers all went to numbness and pain. Otherwise, I held up pretty well. I certainly did not get frost bite. Furthermore, the cold air was bracing.
Upon entering the apartment, the guy above me was running on his treadmill so my entire living area was shaking and bouncing. It was truly awful. Of course, it eventually subsided. Right now, at 3 AM, it is bone quiet.
In Los Angeles, one can go for months without experiencing any physical discomfort (other than poor air and wretched traffic problems). As long as one stays at home, providing the home is lovely, then living in Los Angeles is, simply, lovely. Though, it can get smallish, hiding out on 5,000 square feet of property.
In New York, there is much discomfort, but it is all short lived. Irritants, really. Good place to practice patience. Zen. Acceptance.
A Surprise?
Really? I was walking down the street in Beverly Hills today, heading toward my allergist, when I thought, “Really, there was nothing wrong with George Bush. He was just being who he was. It was all those idiots who voted for him who are the problem.”
Okay, maybe I’m doing a kind of wide shift thing in order to spread my judgment around, but really, it WAS all those millions of people who CHOSE the guy!
The United States of America is a dream state…it churns by PR. People buy that PR. And they get motivated. That works a bit.
And then there was Bush’s PR which was severe and strong. Which seemed nuts to me. Completely. But there were enough people, a voting majority, who did not think he was nuts. So Bush tapped into some great consciousness. So the state we are in now, was truly chosen by the people: War, poverty, low energy. We chose that. (Well, many of us didn’t, but the majority did.) Disaster of our own making.
But I see an upside to this. No, I DO! Since we chose the nut, and since, now, we’ve chosen someone else and since every day we are always in a state of choosing, well, we can choose a new reality.
Let’s simply do that.
Let’s not whine in 20-09.
Let’s choose the new, better thing, get behind it, make it strong.
Okay, maybe I’m doing a kind of wide shift thing in order to spread my judgment around, but really, it WAS all those millions of people who CHOSE the guy!
The United States of America is a dream state…it churns by PR. People buy that PR. And they get motivated. That works a bit.
And then there was Bush’s PR which was severe and strong. Which seemed nuts to me. Completely. But there were enough people, a voting majority, who did not think he was nuts. So Bush tapped into some great consciousness. So the state we are in now, was truly chosen by the people: War, poverty, low energy. We chose that. (Well, many of us didn’t, but the majority did.) Disaster of our own making.
But I see an upside to this. No, I DO! Since we chose the nut, and since, now, we’ve chosen someone else and since every day we are always in a state of choosing, well, we can choose a new reality.
Let’s simply do that.
Let’s not whine in 20-09.
Let’s choose the new, better thing, get behind it, make it strong.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
1972: The Year of the Maxi?
In case anyone needs proof, I have to believe that 1972 was the exact year of the maxiskirt.
My mother is in the plaid one. My sister, pouting in her shocking pink. Great Aunt Rose is way to the left. Great Aunt Angelica is way to the right. The woman looking down is Aunt Joanne. And the woman in her prime, looking straight ahead, hair parted in the middle, is Cousin Mickey.
Every year that my great grandmother lived (she died in 1973), there would be a huge birthday celebration at Don's 21 in Jersey down on Route 17. Everyone would dress up. I remember my sister hating that dress. And I remember how freakish it was that every single woman had to wear the same mandated style. "Who," I wondered, "is telling everyone what to do? And why do they do it? It feels so big-hand-in-the-sky-reaching-down." I think my poor sister was feeling the pain of conformity. Also, I thought I would have liked to try one on, if only because everyone was so excited about their maxi and couldn't wait to show it off. I wanted something to show off. But, frankly, and calmly, I was happy that boy's clothes didn't change much over the years. I didn't like huge surprises as a kid. And some huge maxi skirt thrust upon me might have been more than I could bear.
More pictures to follow. Though it is hard to imagine anything will beat this maximum impression. Click on the photo to get the bigger version.
And get ready. Maxis are coming back.
My mother is in the plaid one. My sister, pouting in her shocking pink. Great Aunt Rose is way to the left. Great Aunt Angelica is way to the right. The woman looking down is Aunt Joanne. And the woman in her prime, looking straight ahead, hair parted in the middle, is Cousin Mickey.
Every year that my great grandmother lived (she died in 1973), there would be a huge birthday celebration at Don's 21 in Jersey down on Route 17. Everyone would dress up. I remember my sister hating that dress. And I remember how freakish it was that every single woman had to wear the same mandated style. "Who," I wondered, "is telling everyone what to do? And why do they do it? It feels so big-hand-in-the-sky-reaching-down." I think my poor sister was feeling the pain of conformity. Also, I thought I would have liked to try one on, if only because everyone was so excited about their maxi and couldn't wait to show it off. I wanted something to show off. But, frankly, and calmly, I was happy that boy's clothes didn't change much over the years. I didn't like huge surprises as a kid. And some huge maxi skirt thrust upon me might have been more than I could bear.
More pictures to follow. Though it is hard to imagine anything will beat this maximum impression. Click on the photo to get the bigger version.
And get ready. Maxis are coming back.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Revenge of Crack Den
Friends,
So many of you have stayed in "The Crack Den" over the years, our modest little guest room in the back yard.
It has been remodeled, cleaned up, vinyl faux-wood floored, painted, termite tented, made larger by pulling out the back wall that formed the storage closet, and simply made cleaner, brighter, bigger and better.
We have a new mammal pet staying in there for a while. Human. Since all the cats and the dog died, we felt it necessary to have SOMETHING living in our back yard. Why not a human?
The crack den: it's not just for breakfast anymore.
So many of you have stayed in "The Crack Den" over the years, our modest little guest room in the back yard.
It has been remodeled, cleaned up, vinyl faux-wood floored, painted, termite tented, made larger by pulling out the back wall that formed the storage closet, and simply made cleaner, brighter, bigger and better.
We have a new mammal pet staying in there for a while. Human. Since all the cats and the dog died, we felt it necessary to have SOMETHING living in our back yard. Why not a human?
The crack den: it's not just for breakfast anymore.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Noblesse Oblige: Forgotten
Over eighteen billion bucks in bonuses! Now that’s rich.
I have always felt that if you have a huge job with huge prestige and huge perks, why do you need so much damn money? Isn’t the position enough?
Of course, I’m a peasant and don’t really understand the full-on greed thing.
I guess these guys and gals who have the huge places on earth with huge responsibilities take most of their pleasure from the cash gift-thieving.
Everyone talks about this lack of reasonable self-waging. It’s out of control. We keep hearing it. But why do they feel no shame? And what can we do to stop them? Really?
Do they have any sense of responsibility for the common good? It’s Russia out there, friends. And it’s so fucking tacky.
I have always felt that if you have a huge job with huge prestige and huge perks, why do you need so much damn money? Isn’t the position enough?
Of course, I’m a peasant and don’t really understand the full-on greed thing.
I guess these guys and gals who have the huge places on earth with huge responsibilities take most of their pleasure from the cash gift-thieving.
Everyone talks about this lack of reasonable self-waging. It’s out of control. We keep hearing it. But why do they feel no shame? And what can we do to stop them? Really?
Do they have any sense of responsibility for the common good? It’s Russia out there, friends. And it’s so fucking tacky.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Is Facebook Killing Blogs?
Forget newspapers,
If everyone is tooling around Facebook, who is reading blogs?
If everyone is tooling around Facebook, who is reading blogs?
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
The Recession is a Retooling, I REPEAT
I have said it before and I am saying it again because people are flipping out.
The recession is a retooling. Nothing more.
And though we could look backward, (Love to impeach that bastard), or look forward (I’m going to be in so much pain, SOON!), it is essential to remember that right now, it is time to live RIGHT NOW.
Look, so many of us have lived through poorer times. Didn’t so many of you go to college? I don’t know about you, but I remember having to really think about how many quarters I was going to pump into the pinball machine in the lounge. I would go down to Bay Bank and take out twenty dollars, buy a carton of cigarettes and whatever was left, that’s what I spent for the rest of the week…on entertainment, only, but still.
I remember making five bucks an hour.
And, we have all lived with three or four other roommates at some point.
Furthermore, focusing less on material wealth and more on, “Whose turn is it to use the bathroom?” might do a person some good.
Most people do not die during economic downturns like these. Unless they kill themselves. My suggestion: Don’t kill yourself.
Go take a walk. You have legs.
The recession is a retooling. Nothing more.
And though we could look backward, (Love to impeach that bastard), or look forward (I’m going to be in so much pain, SOON!), it is essential to remember that right now, it is time to live RIGHT NOW.
Look, so many of us have lived through poorer times. Didn’t so many of you go to college? I don’t know about you, but I remember having to really think about how many quarters I was going to pump into the pinball machine in the lounge. I would go down to Bay Bank and take out twenty dollars, buy a carton of cigarettes and whatever was left, that’s what I spent for the rest of the week…on entertainment, only, but still.
I remember making five bucks an hour.
And, we have all lived with three or four other roommates at some point.
Furthermore, focusing less on material wealth and more on, “Whose turn is it to use the bathroom?” might do a person some good.
Most people do not die during economic downturns like these. Unless they kill themselves. My suggestion: Don’t kill yourself.
Go take a walk. You have legs.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
A Short Story at 3:11 AM
A man and a woman who had never met before, but who were both married to other people, found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a trans-continental train.
Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room,
they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, he in the upper berth and she in the lower.
At 1:00 AM, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman saying,.......... 'Ma'am,
I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket?
I'm awfully cold.'
'I have a better idea,' she replied 'Just for tonight,...... let's pretend that we're married.'
'Wow!...................... That's a great idea!', he exclaimed.
'Good,' she replied. .............'Get your own damn blanket.'
After a moment of silence, ......................he farted.
The End
--Courtesy of kivinen1.
Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room,
they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, he in the upper berth and she in the lower.
At 1:00 AM, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman saying,.......... 'Ma'am,
I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket?
I'm awfully cold.'
'I have a better idea,' she replied 'Just for tonight,...... let's pretend that we're married.'
'Wow!...................... That's a great idea!', he exclaimed.
'Good,' she replied. .............'Get your own damn blanket.'
After a moment of silence, ......................he farted.
The End
--Courtesy of kivinen1.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Nasty Pendulum
I understand the possible need to nationalize the banks. I certainly agree with changing emissions regulations for car exhaust to the standards set by California, agreed upon by thirteen other states. I completely agree with giving foreign aid to organizations in poor countries who offer information about safe, legal abortion. And for goodness’ sake, I agree it is time to close down the prison at Guantanamo.
But what I wonder is, HOW can it be this simple? How is it that we elect someone and within days, the rules change. Completely. I am ALL FOR THE NEW RULES, let me say this. But what is it about a government system that allows the executive branch to wield so much power? Has it always been this way? Am I seeing a huge pendulum swing from out-of-control-conservative-in-name-only-greed-freaks to intelligent-responsible-repair? Perhaps the swing isn’t so huge? It’s just my perception?
It just seems so huge.
Could it be that we, like chickens, just pick our leader and slide into the pecking order and simply live it? How can the switch be so severe? And if GWB was so wrong, why isn’t our system set up to stop such destructive behavior?
I am thrilled that B.O. can get in there and make all the exact changes I would make. Great. But why does one guy get so much power? Is it our collective dream? Everyone wants such power, so we let one guy have it? I fear for the next GWB type that comes along. I don’t want him to have the ability to answer to “his higher purpose” or whatever the fuck he thought he was doing…and then dole it out followed by us all just eating it.
Art, for the next few years, is going to be mostly sad. We are in mourning.
But what I wonder is, HOW can it be this simple? How is it that we elect someone and within days, the rules change. Completely. I am ALL FOR THE NEW RULES, let me say this. But what is it about a government system that allows the executive branch to wield so much power? Has it always been this way? Am I seeing a huge pendulum swing from out-of-control-conservative-in-name-only-greed-freaks to intelligent-responsible-repair? Perhaps the swing isn’t so huge? It’s just my perception?
It just seems so huge.
Could it be that we, like chickens, just pick our leader and slide into the pecking order and simply live it? How can the switch be so severe? And if GWB was so wrong, why isn’t our system set up to stop such destructive behavior?
I am thrilled that B.O. can get in there and make all the exact changes I would make. Great. But why does one guy get so much power? Is it our collective dream? Everyone wants such power, so we let one guy have it? I fear for the next GWB type that comes along. I don’t want him to have the ability to answer to “his higher purpose” or whatever the fuck he thought he was doing…and then dole it out followed by us all just eating it.
Art, for the next few years, is going to be mostly sad. We are in mourning.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Time's Up
What, four days now? And nothing’s solved?
Damn, this Barak Obama is slow.
I know he said it wasn’t going to be easy and that it would take some time. But I REALLY thought it was a case of him under promising so he could over perform. I guess I was wrong?
The bottom is getting even bottomyer. The unemployed are running at me IN THE AISLES at Home Depot. (Wasn’t it enough I had to run them over in the parking lot?)
My pets are all dead and he hasn’t brought any of them back to life. My retirement account is good for one free hot dog.
Less and less. Less and less. The clock is ticking.
It would be great if I could still eat. But then again, look at me! I have the body of a poor person: fat! Used to be, if things were tight, people ate less. Not us! We’re all eating like hogs. Or maybe it’s the gallons of wine? We look at our cash-on-hand and all we see is skin.
I want this thing fixed by Monday. I’ve had enough.
And Bush? Dead by Tuesday.
Cheney? Taxidermed by Wednesday.
Condi and Rummy? Starting Thursday, forced to perform in the sauerkraut wrestling side show at all the malls in this country named The Galleria.
And B.O.? Make me green. Make me rich. Make it yesterday.
My patience has worn out. Retribution and prosperity, right now.
Damn, this Barak Obama is slow.
I know he said it wasn’t going to be easy and that it would take some time. But I REALLY thought it was a case of him under promising so he could over perform. I guess I was wrong?
The bottom is getting even bottomyer. The unemployed are running at me IN THE AISLES at Home Depot. (Wasn’t it enough I had to run them over in the parking lot?)
My pets are all dead and he hasn’t brought any of them back to life. My retirement account is good for one free hot dog.
Less and less. Less and less. The clock is ticking.
It would be great if I could still eat. But then again, look at me! I have the body of a poor person: fat! Used to be, if things were tight, people ate less. Not us! We’re all eating like hogs. Or maybe it’s the gallons of wine? We look at our cash-on-hand and all we see is skin.
I want this thing fixed by Monday. I’ve had enough.
And Bush? Dead by Tuesday.
Cheney? Taxidermed by Wednesday.
Condi and Rummy? Starting Thursday, forced to perform in the sauerkraut wrestling side show at all the malls in this country named The Galleria.
And B.O.? Make me green. Make me rich. Make it yesterday.
My patience has worn out. Retribution and prosperity, right now.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Like Something Out of Mame
We need a little Christmas?
Like in the scene from Mame, we fired our maid today. Partially because we no longer need her since all the dirty pets are dead, partially because I will be spending much more time in New York and mostly because we don’t want to spend the money. I hope she does not end up like Agnes Gooch, Mame’s maid, pregnant from a one night stand in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania.
She has been with us for fourteen years.
We all cried. She knew something was up when she came into the house.
We like her so much. We’ll just have to have her come over and hang out. You think that will happen? Can that happen? Can you just be friends with your former maid?
Here’s Lucille Ball, turning her freshly fired maid into a Christmas tree.
Like in the scene from Mame, we fired our maid today. Partially because we no longer need her since all the dirty pets are dead, partially because I will be spending much more time in New York and mostly because we don’t want to spend the money. I hope she does not end up like Agnes Gooch, Mame’s maid, pregnant from a one night stand in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania.
She has been with us for fourteen years.
We all cried. She knew something was up when she came into the house.
We like her so much. We’ll just have to have her come over and hang out. You think that will happen? Can that happen? Can you just be friends with your former maid?
Here’s Lucille Ball, turning her freshly fired maid into a Christmas tree.
Plus Que Ca Change
My favorite inauguration speech quote:
“The world has changed and we must change with it.”
But what I mostly felt was 1933 and 1960.
1933 for the economy
and
1960 for a shift in spirit and intellect.
I imagine fat cats from the 1920’s running around, not caring, greedily consuming everything in their paths.
I imagine Black Americans in Newark in the early 1960’s waiting for the great times to come.
Change is cyclical but it is also linear. So yes, the world has changed and WE MUST change with it. It’s all about the effluent and the affluent. We must diminish our pollution, all of it, so living things may grow. We must spread the riches more evenly, so the system can thrive.
The world has changed and we must change with it. The thinking in our country has changed. It is evolution.
“The world has changed and we must change with it.”
But what I mostly felt was 1933 and 1960.
1933 for the economy
and
1960 for a shift in spirit and intellect.
I imagine fat cats from the 1920’s running around, not caring, greedily consuming everything in their paths.
I imagine Black Americans in Newark in the early 1960’s waiting for the great times to come.
Change is cyclical but it is also linear. So yes, the world has changed and WE MUST change with it. It’s all about the effluent and the affluent. We must diminish our pollution, all of it, so living things may grow. We must spread the riches more evenly, so the system can thrive.
The world has changed and we must change with it. The thinking in our country has changed. It is evolution.
Monday, January 19, 2009
A New Era. Finally.
The inauguration of B.O.: A Re-Enlightenment.
What is Science?
President Obama is literate, too.
Welcome to the White House. Please wear Kevlar.
What is Science?
President Obama is literate, too.
Welcome to the White House. Please wear Kevlar.
Garage Sale 2009: Televisions with Big Asses
They went for five bucks each. Glad to keep them out of the trash and in a house for a few more years.
From a Distance: The Garage Sale Hits a Lull
This was long after more than half of everything was sold. Wish I had a picture of the start. Couldn't, too busy selling.
The Ugliest Thing at the Garage Sale Award Goes To:
Margot's plastic sunflowers.
We made about five-hundred bucks. On garbage. We spent the book sales money on Bloody Marys. Right away. Early morning, as usual, was best. The CD vulture guy was there, like always, before we were half set up. TV's flew off the grass shelves. The old turntable we've been keeping wrapped in a pillow case up in termite dropping land high in the garage, gone. The endless dishes and mismatched glasses and dog gates and boombox and clothing and a dog that dances when you plug your ipod into him and books and CD's (and even some of my mixed tapes from 1993-lesbian couple cooing over the hilarity), the baked goods by Anne, Karen's place mats in brown wonder, Bradford's candlesticks and stylish shoes, Margot's tiny whore house lamps, very smelly soap, canvas, pictures, picture frames, baskets, flower pots, a teddy bear, throw pillows for the common man, a poker table, Adam's Z gallery table lamp attempting an ode to the treble Clef, Sarah's grand dishware, the clock radio, the little toys and sippy straws and pencil sharpeners and umbrellas and pedestal sink and coffee tables and book shelves and nine-ton black office file cabinets and jewelery, the finger eating circular saw, the vases, the rollerblades, the whole mess, almost.
By the end of the day, we were posting on Craig's List and LAFreecycle, "Come and take anything you want for free!" (Thank goodness we did or that huge orange laminate book shelf with the low convenient cabinet might have never left, thankfully hauled off on the roof of a van)---So there we were surrounded by our for-free stuff and the people rummaging through the remains (like anorexic Dark Lady) were being choosy, picking things up and replacing them on the table in revulsion. The quote of the day, from Bradford, which will ring in my ears and make me laugh every day until the next one in 2010: "For years, we have been living with all this stuff we can't even give away at the garage sale."
There may have been one thing more repulsive than Margot's sun flowers. And that was probably the torquoise kidney shaped plastic hospital receptacle that is used to hold small unwanted body parts during a procedure. It was mine. I ended up putting it in the blue recyling can.
We made about five-hundred bucks. On garbage. We spent the book sales money on Bloody Marys. Right away. Early morning, as usual, was best. The CD vulture guy was there, like always, before we were half set up. TV's flew off the grass shelves. The old turntable we've been keeping wrapped in a pillow case up in termite dropping land high in the garage, gone. The endless dishes and mismatched glasses and dog gates and boombox and clothing and a dog that dances when you plug your ipod into him and books and CD's (and even some of my mixed tapes from 1993-lesbian couple cooing over the hilarity), the baked goods by Anne, Karen's place mats in brown wonder, Bradford's candlesticks and stylish shoes, Margot's tiny whore house lamps, very smelly soap, canvas, pictures, picture frames, baskets, flower pots, a teddy bear, throw pillows for the common man, a poker table, Adam's Z gallery table lamp attempting an ode to the treble Clef, Sarah's grand dishware, the clock radio, the little toys and sippy straws and pencil sharpeners and umbrellas and pedestal sink and coffee tables and book shelves and nine-ton black office file cabinets and jewelery, the finger eating circular saw, the vases, the rollerblades, the whole mess, almost.
By the end of the day, we were posting on Craig's List and LAFreecycle, "Come and take anything you want for free!" (Thank goodness we did or that huge orange laminate book shelf with the low convenient cabinet might have never left, thankfully hauled off on the roof of a van)---So there we were surrounded by our for-free stuff and the people rummaging through the remains (like anorexic Dark Lady) were being choosy, picking things up and replacing them on the table in revulsion. The quote of the day, from Bradford, which will ring in my ears and make me laugh every day until the next one in 2010: "For years, we have been living with all this stuff we can't even give away at the garage sale."
There may have been one thing more repulsive than Margot's sun flowers. And that was probably the torquoise kidney shaped plastic hospital receptacle that is used to hold small unwanted body parts during a procedure. It was mine. I ended up putting it in the blue recyling can.
Friday, January 16, 2009
The Garage Sale
CRAIGS LIST POSTING FOR THE GARAGE SALE
BEST GARAGE SALE SATURDAY the 17th HOLLYWOOD (Hollywood)
________________________________________
THIS is the BIGGEST Garage Sale this SIDE of PARIS!
MULTI FAMILY.
Most CONVENIENT location: Melrose/Highland
PEOPLE WITH GREAT TASTE Offering up their GREAT THINGS for sale.
RECESSION PRICES with GRAND EPOCH FLAVOR.
635 N. Mansfield Avenue Los Angeles CA 90036
Three Blocks East of La Brea, Just South of Melrose
8AM – 3PM
(No Early Vultures. If anyone arrives before 8AM, the security guard will whisk you off to Cudahy)
THIS IS THE ONE!!
What YOU’ll FIND, AND SO MUCH MORE:
FURNITURE, Clothing for all sizes and shapes, KITCHEN SUPPLIES, wonderfully working electronics, LAMPS, Books, LARGE OFFICE FILE CABINETS, Pet Supplies, A nearly new PET AIRLINE BAG, Fire Pit, BEAUTIFUL NOTIONS, Jewelry, Vacuum Cleaner, RYOBI Circular Saw used once, WATCHES, Vacuum Cleaner, glasses, SHOES, GAMES, Rollerblades, TELEVISIONS,Book shelves, tape deck, Boom box, a hose, A beautiful coffee Table, Flower pots, PEDESTAL SINK with FIXTURE, CD’s, DVD’s, and so much MORE with BAKED GOODS.
BEST GARAGE SALE SATURDAY the 17th HOLLYWOOD (Hollywood)
________________________________________
THIS is the BIGGEST Garage Sale this SIDE of PARIS!
MULTI FAMILY.
Most CONVENIENT location: Melrose/Highland
PEOPLE WITH GREAT TASTE Offering up their GREAT THINGS for sale.
RECESSION PRICES with GRAND EPOCH FLAVOR.
635 N. Mansfield Avenue Los Angeles CA 90036
Three Blocks East of La Brea, Just South of Melrose
8AM – 3PM
(No Early Vultures. If anyone arrives before 8AM, the security guard will whisk you off to Cudahy)
THIS IS THE ONE!!
What YOU’ll FIND, AND SO MUCH MORE:
FURNITURE, Clothing for all sizes and shapes, KITCHEN SUPPLIES, wonderfully working electronics, LAMPS, Books, LARGE OFFICE FILE CABINETS, Pet Supplies, A nearly new PET AIRLINE BAG, Fire Pit, BEAUTIFUL NOTIONS, Jewelry, Vacuum Cleaner, RYOBI Circular Saw used once, WATCHES, Vacuum Cleaner, glasses, SHOES, GAMES, Rollerblades, TELEVISIONS,Book shelves, tape deck, Boom box, a hose, A beautiful coffee Table, Flower pots, PEDESTAL SINK with FIXTURE, CD’s, DVD’s, and so much MORE with BAKED GOODS.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
The Last Eight Years Have Been the Swedish
As we count the seconds until George Bush moves back to Texas, forever, I would like to take a moment to admit something completely awful.
I had dreams during the eight years of GWB’s reign that I was actually friends with him, that he confided in me, that he saw me as a right wing spy in the left wing camp and in the dreams that’s kind of what I was.
We would go out with the other important people, have pizza, tell jokes. GWB took my opinions very seriously. He would listen to me more than he would listen to almost anyone. He trusted me to be completely honest with him. And I felt proud to know that I was liked by this guy, who I found, honestly, to be kind of fun, grounded and pretty clear headed about what was right and wrong.
I JUST WANTED TO FEEL LIKE I WOULD SURVIVE! And not only survive, but be close to the center of the ultimate power in our culture. And to be liked.
I had, simply, Stockholm Syndrome.
I only had the dream three times. We were like best buddies, joking, Bush et moi. He was my boss, sort of, and I was his smart guy who told him what was what. What a team. He was charming, I was charming, everything was possible. Then I’d wake up. After each time, I would feel disgusted. I wondered, what on earth is wrong with me?
Stockholm Syndrome.
I was identifying with my captor.
These Bush dreams were so different than the dreams I had about Bill Clinton when he was president, but that was back in the day when I still had an outsized libido.
I had dreams during the eight years of GWB’s reign that I was actually friends with him, that he confided in me, that he saw me as a right wing spy in the left wing camp and in the dreams that’s kind of what I was.
We would go out with the other important people, have pizza, tell jokes. GWB took my opinions very seriously. He would listen to me more than he would listen to almost anyone. He trusted me to be completely honest with him. And I felt proud to know that I was liked by this guy, who I found, honestly, to be kind of fun, grounded and pretty clear headed about what was right and wrong.
I JUST WANTED TO FEEL LIKE I WOULD SURVIVE! And not only survive, but be close to the center of the ultimate power in our culture. And to be liked.
I had, simply, Stockholm Syndrome.
I only had the dream three times. We were like best buddies, joking, Bush et moi. He was my boss, sort of, and I was his smart guy who told him what was what. What a team. He was charming, I was charming, everything was possible. Then I’d wake up. After each time, I would feel disgusted. I wondered, what on earth is wrong with me?
Stockholm Syndrome.
I was identifying with my captor.
These Bush dreams were so different than the dreams I had about Bill Clinton when he was president, but that was back in the day when I still had an outsized libido.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
The Curious Case of Benjamin Boredom
I knew the slog that it was going to be, but did two-thirds of the movie have to be in sepia tone?
The most exciting thing was watching Brad Pitt grow younger and more beautiful with each grinding hour.
I must say by the end of the movie, when Benjamin becomes a kid and is going to die, I was overcome with great sadness. It is another take on the pondering dolorousness that life is a trajectory toward death and that all things are impermanent and perhaps even fated. But pointed up is that the natural order of aging is actually no so tragic, that enduring the isolation of reverse aging, becoming a confused child and then dying in your old wife’s arms, as another alternative encompasses much greater sadness. So, cheer up, things could be worse. One must live life on its own terms. Maybe not joyously, but certainly without freaking out too much about it.
It was an etude. A forever etude.
The acting was simply fine by everyone. No complaints. The directing, heavy handed.
I always want to think great things about Brad Pitt. First of all, I have written checks for him through a Japanese commercial company I work for and so I have this one degree of separation thing going on, though I have never met him, and so feel like we’re “Working in the same office”. Secondly, he really spends enormous amounts of money to help other people. And lastly, I have about eight pairs of his leftover Edwin jeans from a commercial shoot and I am very grateful to own such fancy pants. So a soft spot to the Pittster is in me.
But this movie--It was like watching paint dry.
No, it was like watching dry paint slowly get wetter and wetter.
The most exciting thing was watching Brad Pitt grow younger and more beautiful with each grinding hour.
I must say by the end of the movie, when Benjamin becomes a kid and is going to die, I was overcome with great sadness. It is another take on the pondering dolorousness that life is a trajectory toward death and that all things are impermanent and perhaps even fated. But pointed up is that the natural order of aging is actually no so tragic, that enduring the isolation of reverse aging, becoming a confused child and then dying in your old wife’s arms, as another alternative encompasses much greater sadness. So, cheer up, things could be worse. One must live life on its own terms. Maybe not joyously, but certainly without freaking out too much about it.
It was an etude. A forever etude.
The acting was simply fine by everyone. No complaints. The directing, heavy handed.
I always want to think great things about Brad Pitt. First of all, I have written checks for him through a Japanese commercial company I work for and so I have this one degree of separation thing going on, though I have never met him, and so feel like we’re “Working in the same office”. Secondly, he really spends enormous amounts of money to help other people. And lastly, I have about eight pairs of his leftover Edwin jeans from a commercial shoot and I am very grateful to own such fancy pants. So a soft spot to the Pittster is in me.
But this movie--It was like watching paint dry.
No, it was like watching dry paint slowly get wetter and wetter.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Circus in Town?
Cristo installation?
No! We're murdering termites!
It's a pleasure to listen to them squeal.
Nasty munchers.
Monday, January 12, 2009
A Paper Free Life
It can be done and I know we are not the first.
Our goal is to achieve an empty mailbox.
A year ago, we read about the website Catalogchoice.org. We signed up and stopped all the unwanted catalogues from entering our lives. It takes some doing. I have blogged about it before. Basically, you collect your catalogues that are streaming, unwanted, into your life and you go to this web site and put in your exact name as it appears on the catalogue, which catalogue it is, and click BYE-BYE!
We now only get about two catalogues, the ones we want.
Please do it. It’s not too hard. Just collect those catalogues and put them in a pile—and one relaxing day, jump online and KILL THOSE PUPPIES!
Cancel your newspaper subscription and read the New York Times online.
Next, and it costs a bit but is worth it, you can sign up for electronic payments for all your bills. It costs 9.95 per month at Wells Fargo, truly more expensive than checkbooks and stamps, but worth it. Pay all your bills online and opt for Ebills for any vendor they have listed.
Log onto your phone bills and internet bills and choose the paperless option.
You can get all your credit card statements and bank statements online. Just go to the websites of your bank and your credit cards. It takes just a minute. Sign in and opt out of paper statements. You will receive statements by email.
Almost all corporations have this option. It saves them money so they make it pretty easy for you to do.
Make your email inbox your mailbox. Make a folder called “Bills” or “Accounting” or “Money” or whatever and as the emails come in, just throw them into the folder. And instead of that weekly or biweekly or monthly stack of mess you usually have laying about the house that you have to attend to, just go to your Money folder and pay those things, reconcile those things, get that stuff done. WITHOUT KILLING ONE SINGLE OXYGEN GIVING TREE!
Then, just save these digital bills and statements in a folder for the year. And file. Done. No bulky paper all over your house and no paper production waste in your streams.
Come on. You know you want to. Obama Commands It!
Happy new epoch, everyone. Get online with the big green retooling.
Another way to help out the earth: Tell your boss you are working from home one day each week. If everyone does this, it would unclog the streets by 20%! Decrease automobile effluent by 20%! This is huge. Try it. And if your boss balks, then offer to work only four days each week for only four day’s pay. Could keep unemployment down.
And on your first four day week, with your extra free day, do something completely enjoyable.
The second week on your day off, KILL ALL THAT PAPER!
You know you want to.
Our goal is to achieve an empty mailbox.
A year ago, we read about the website Catalogchoice.org. We signed up and stopped all the unwanted catalogues from entering our lives. It takes some doing. I have blogged about it before. Basically, you collect your catalogues that are streaming, unwanted, into your life and you go to this web site and put in your exact name as it appears on the catalogue, which catalogue it is, and click BYE-BYE!
We now only get about two catalogues, the ones we want.
Please do it. It’s not too hard. Just collect those catalogues and put them in a pile—and one relaxing day, jump online and KILL THOSE PUPPIES!
Cancel your newspaper subscription and read the New York Times online.
Next, and it costs a bit but is worth it, you can sign up for electronic payments for all your bills. It costs 9.95 per month at Wells Fargo, truly more expensive than checkbooks and stamps, but worth it. Pay all your bills online and opt for Ebills for any vendor they have listed.
Log onto your phone bills and internet bills and choose the paperless option.
You can get all your credit card statements and bank statements online. Just go to the websites of your bank and your credit cards. It takes just a minute. Sign in and opt out of paper statements. You will receive statements by email.
Almost all corporations have this option. It saves them money so they make it pretty easy for you to do.
Make your email inbox your mailbox. Make a folder called “Bills” or “Accounting” or “Money” or whatever and as the emails come in, just throw them into the folder. And instead of that weekly or biweekly or monthly stack of mess you usually have laying about the house that you have to attend to, just go to your Money folder and pay those things, reconcile those things, get that stuff done. WITHOUT KILLING ONE SINGLE OXYGEN GIVING TREE!
Then, just save these digital bills and statements in a folder for the year. And file. Done. No bulky paper all over your house and no paper production waste in your streams.
Come on. You know you want to. Obama Commands It!
Happy new epoch, everyone. Get online with the big green retooling.
Another way to help out the earth: Tell your boss you are working from home one day each week. If everyone does this, it would unclog the streets by 20%! Decrease automobile effluent by 20%! This is huge. Try it. And if your boss balks, then offer to work only four days each week for only four day’s pay. Could keep unemployment down.
And on your first four day week, with your extra free day, do something completely enjoyable.
The second week on your day off, KILL ALL THAT PAPER!
You know you want to.
Friday, January 09, 2009
Wet Wood
Watering your lawn is so stupid. You just have to get plants that thrive in whatever climate you are living, with no extra water. It just doesn’t make sense.
Plus, if you live in a climate that doesn’t freeze, you get pools of water from the sprinklers and if those sprinklers are anywhere near your garage building, you end up with wet wood and if that wet wood is on a slab of cement and not raised, you get termites.
Billions of them.
And then you have to tent the building. Spend 1400 bucks. So, you spent all that money watering all that environment so you could grow termites and then you have to spend money to get rid of them.
What am I? A termite farmer?
Basta with the irrigation.
Plus, if you live in a climate that doesn’t freeze, you get pools of water from the sprinklers and if those sprinklers are anywhere near your garage building, you end up with wet wood and if that wet wood is on a slab of cement and not raised, you get termites.
Billions of them.
And then you have to tent the building. Spend 1400 bucks. So, you spent all that money watering all that environment so you could grow termites and then you have to spend money to get rid of them.
What am I? A termite farmer?
Basta with the irrigation.
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Keep the Evil Off Your Box
Corporations do not have the money in their budgets to worry too much about your safety right now. (OY! The cross continental flights.)
But what gets me most is the computer stuff. I actually do like Internet Explorer and even though this is the most vulnerable browser on earth, I want to keep using it.
But strange back door things can do what strange back door things do—which is poke around in your junk and find your passwords, etc.
So do this one thing---all the time, whenever you can. After you are done browsing around (and especially after you have gone to your banking or credit card sites), go to Tools>Internet Options>Browsing History>Delete>Delete all.
This kills all cookies, all history, all form data and all passwords. All the time.
This simple action, taken after a heavy period of surfing will delete the spies, will keep your wife from knowing what porn sites you go to and most importantly removes all your stored personal information and passwords. Keep your browser clean and empty.
Also, for 2009: Have you backed up this year’s pictures onto disks?
And your files, all your files, are they backed up to an external hard drive? Please do it, today.
Happy, healthy computer days to all. And a brilliant, bold, well supported and donkey kicking 2009 to everyone.
But what gets me most is the computer stuff. I actually do like Internet Explorer and even though this is the most vulnerable browser on earth, I want to keep using it.
But strange back door things can do what strange back door things do—which is poke around in your junk and find your passwords, etc.
So do this one thing---all the time, whenever you can. After you are done browsing around (and especially after you have gone to your banking or credit card sites), go to Tools>Internet Options>Browsing History>Delete>Delete all.
This kills all cookies, all history, all form data and all passwords. All the time.
This simple action, taken after a heavy period of surfing will delete the spies, will keep your wife from knowing what porn sites you go to and most importantly removes all your stored personal information and passwords. Keep your browser clean and empty.
Also, for 2009: Have you backed up this year’s pictures onto disks?
And your files, all your files, are they backed up to an external hard drive? Please do it, today.
Happy, healthy computer days to all. And a brilliant, bold, well supported and donkey kicking 2009 to everyone.
Wednesday, January 07, 2009
As Gregory Corso Said
“Out the Window with the Window!”
We are having a garage sale on January 17. We scan the premises, gather things into piles and scurry them out to the shelves, tables and drawers in the garage.
There is a huge amount of junk laying around the property. We do what we can to keep the garbage down over the years, but it does collect.
Witness: a teddy bear, books, CD’s, shelves, a dorm fridge, two pairs of rollerblades, cups, baskets on end, a television, a boom box, a tape deck, tons of canvasses, framed prints, pet-phenalia including a dog carrier, pet bowls, leash, collar, shampoo, door gates, bowls, clippers, clothes, shoes, sparkles, party poppers, a plastic yellow egg, a glass bird, a big clay bird, a coffee press, silverware, an ashtray, linens, a pillow, shelves, tennis rackets, Trivial Pursuit, Clue, a circular saw, lawn furniture, 11-cup Cuisinart food processor, sunglasses, old cassettes, alarm clock radio, a couple of land telephones, a Styrofoam cooler and so much more to collect.
It’s ridiculous. How did we end up with all this stuff?
Much of it we bought. And much of it was from well meaning gift givers over the years.
It’s a party. Nice to lighten the load. I suggest it.
The Whole Mess ... Almost
BY GREGORY CORSO
I ran up six flights of stairs
to my small furnished room
opened the window
and began throwing out
those things most important in life
First to go, Truth, squealing like a fink:
“Don’t! I’ll tell awful things about you!”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve nothing to hide ... OUT!”
Then went God, glowering & whimpering in amazement:
“It’s not my fault! I’m not the cause of it all!” “OUT!”
Then Love, cooing bribes: “You’ll never know impotency!
All the girls on Vogue covers, all yours!”
I pushed her fat ass out and screamed:
“You always end up a bummer!”
I picked up Faith Hope Charity
all three clinging together:
“Without us you’ll surely die!”
“With you I’m going nuts! Goodbye!”
Then Beauty ... ah, Beauty—
As I led her to the window
I told her: “You I loved best in life
... but you’re a killer; Beauty kills!”
Not really meaning to drop her
I immediately ran downstairs
getting there just in time to catch her
“You saved me!” she cried
I put her down and told her: “Move on.”
Went back up those six flights
went to the money
there was no money to throw out.
The only thing left in the room was Death
hiding beneath the kitchen sink:
“I’m not real!” It cried
“I’m just a rumor spread by life ... ”
Laughing I threw it out, kitchen sink and all
and suddenly realized Humor
was all that was left—
All I could do with Humor was to say:
“Out the window with the window!”
We are having a garage sale on January 17. We scan the premises, gather things into piles and scurry them out to the shelves, tables and drawers in the garage.
There is a huge amount of junk laying around the property. We do what we can to keep the garbage down over the years, but it does collect.
Witness: a teddy bear, books, CD’s, shelves, a dorm fridge, two pairs of rollerblades, cups, baskets on end, a television, a boom box, a tape deck, tons of canvasses, framed prints, pet-phenalia including a dog carrier, pet bowls, leash, collar, shampoo, door gates, bowls, clippers, clothes, shoes, sparkles, party poppers, a plastic yellow egg, a glass bird, a big clay bird, a coffee press, silverware, an ashtray, linens, a pillow, shelves, tennis rackets, Trivial Pursuit, Clue, a circular saw, lawn furniture, 11-cup Cuisinart food processor, sunglasses, old cassettes, alarm clock radio, a couple of land telephones, a Styrofoam cooler and so much more to collect.
It’s ridiculous. How did we end up with all this stuff?
Much of it we bought. And much of it was from well meaning gift givers over the years.
It’s a party. Nice to lighten the load. I suggest it.
The Whole Mess ... Almost
BY GREGORY CORSO
I ran up six flights of stairs
to my small furnished room
opened the window
and began throwing out
those things most important in life
First to go, Truth, squealing like a fink:
“Don’t! I’ll tell awful things about you!”
“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve nothing to hide ... OUT!”
Then went God, glowering & whimpering in amazement:
“It’s not my fault! I’m not the cause of it all!” “OUT!”
Then Love, cooing bribes: “You’ll never know impotency!
All the girls on Vogue covers, all yours!”
I pushed her fat ass out and screamed:
“You always end up a bummer!”
I picked up Faith Hope Charity
all three clinging together:
“Without us you’ll surely die!”
“With you I’m going nuts! Goodbye!”
Then Beauty ... ah, Beauty—
As I led her to the window
I told her: “You I loved best in life
... but you’re a killer; Beauty kills!”
Not really meaning to drop her
I immediately ran downstairs
getting there just in time to catch her
“You saved me!” she cried
I put her down and told her: “Move on.”
Went back up those six flights
went to the money
there was no money to throw out.
The only thing left in the room was Death
hiding beneath the kitchen sink:
“I’m not real!” It cried
“I’m just a rumor spread by life ... ”
Laughing I threw it out, kitchen sink and all
and suddenly realized Humor
was all that was left—
All I could do with Humor was to say:
“Out the window with the window!”
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Corio's This is Burlesque
Next time you are planning a trip to Soho, make plans to see Corio’s This is Burlesque.
I had never seen a Burlesque show before. A friend of mine had always wanted to go and I’m certainly game…so on Saturday night we walked over (with prepurchased seats, very important. It does get sold out).
It was hilarious. And extremely well done. First of all, these women really are dancers. The near nudity at the end of each number is really no big deal. In fact, the whole thing seemed more innocent than most commercial movies. Some of it was absolutely hilarious. There was a fan dance number with a lot of contortions by the dancer, while being supported by a man in a monkey outfit, the “Evil hate monkey.” The strength of the monkey and the supple moves of the fan dancer made me just as proud of our species as witnessing any Olympic event.
There was tap dancing.
Joyful tap dancing.
In general, a great celebration of glittery outfits and the complete fun fun fun of being almost naked dancing around the stage, with a theme. I am sure it was titillating for some. But for me it was mostly fun, affirming and let’s face it, recession proof.
I also liked how it came off with just seven performers, had a low vibe lesbian tone and remained light hearted throughout.
Check it out. 25 bucks with a two drink minimum. You can also have dinner there. The food looked good.
I had never seen a Burlesque show before. A friend of mine had always wanted to go and I’m certainly game…so on Saturday night we walked over (with prepurchased seats, very important. It does get sold out).
It was hilarious. And extremely well done. First of all, these women really are dancers. The near nudity at the end of each number is really no big deal. In fact, the whole thing seemed more innocent than most commercial movies. Some of it was absolutely hilarious. There was a fan dance number with a lot of contortions by the dancer, while being supported by a man in a monkey outfit, the “Evil hate monkey.” The strength of the monkey and the supple moves of the fan dancer made me just as proud of our species as witnessing any Olympic event.
There was tap dancing.
Joyful tap dancing.
In general, a great celebration of glittery outfits and the complete fun fun fun of being almost naked dancing around the stage, with a theme. I am sure it was titillating for some. But for me it was mostly fun, affirming and let’s face it, recession proof.
I also liked how it came off with just seven performers, had a low vibe lesbian tone and remained light hearted throughout.
Check it out. 25 bucks with a two drink minimum. You can also have dinner there. The food looked good.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
Welcome Back Muffin Tops!
Just call me Shamu?
Anyone else besides me bigger than a heifer?
How many roasts did YOU eat?
It’s disgusting. I have to say, my favorite of all was a boiled ham we had up in the Berkshires. It was so tender and smoky.
We have been on the east coast for a couple of weeks, driving to ancient states like New Jersey and Maryland and Massachusetts. Say what you want about this dirty ol’ industrial corner of the U.S., it certainly has a lot of variety. No, it isn’t like driving through France, Switzerland and Austria in one day, but it does have a bit of that feel going on.
All the old bricks.
And it is cold. Sure.
But the visual cortex gets a workout here as you poke around. Which is stimulating. Now…time to drop the tonnage so I can keep moving.
Anyone else besides me bigger than a heifer?
How many roasts did YOU eat?
It’s disgusting. I have to say, my favorite of all was a boiled ham we had up in the Berkshires. It was so tender and smoky.
We have been on the east coast for a couple of weeks, driving to ancient states like New Jersey and Maryland and Massachusetts. Say what you want about this dirty ol’ industrial corner of the U.S., it certainly has a lot of variety. No, it isn’t like driving through France, Switzerland and Austria in one day, but it does have a bit of that feel going on.
All the old bricks.
And it is cold. Sure.
But the visual cortex gets a workout here as you poke around. Which is stimulating. Now…time to drop the tonnage so I can keep moving.
Monday, December 22, 2008
A Wish
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
Please return in the new year for much more commentary and some new forms of expression, like maybe a singing squid.
May 2009 leave 2008 way behind.
And after the correction is corrected (swiftly, I might add), may you find yourself completely flush with the joys of all that you have ever wanted to do, to see, to give. And then some.
And please, recycle.
Namaste.
Please return in the new year for much more commentary and some new forms of expression, like maybe a singing squid.
May 2009 leave 2008 way behind.
And after the correction is corrected (swiftly, I might add), may you find yourself completely flush with the joys of all that you have ever wanted to do, to see, to give. And then some.
And please, recycle.
Namaste.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
My Alma Mater: Suckered
It should be well noted that P.T. Barnum was a large donor of my college. In fact, I majored in Biology, taking most of my classes in Barnum Hall. "There's a sucker born every minute."
And now this:
December 19, 2008
Dear Friends:
I have promised to keep you informed when the economic news of these extraordinary times has special significance for Tufts. The news this past week has been dominated by a financial scandal of unprecedented scale and scope. I am sorry to report that Tufts is one of a growing number of victims of the crimes allegedly committed by Bernard Madoff.
In 2005, the university’s Investment Committee authorized an investment with Ascot Partners, which in turn invested the entire sum with Madoff Securities. We have written off the value of this investment, which totaled $20 million, or slightly less than 2 percent of our endowment. This write-off will not significantly affect our operations. We will cooperate with any investigations of this fraud and will work to recoup as much of our investment as possible.
It is personally painful for me to communicate this information to you. We deeply appreciate the trust and confidence that each donor places in the university. We also have an obligation to our students and faculty to manage these resources wisely for their benefit. You have my word that we will look closely at our experience in this case so that we can strengthen our investment process for the future.
I will continue to keep you informed as we work our way through these difficult times. For now, I send all the members of the Tufts community my very best wishes for the holiday season ahead.
Sincerely,
Lawrence S. Bacow
President
And now this:
December 19, 2008
Dear Friends:
I have promised to keep you informed when the economic news of these extraordinary times has special significance for Tufts. The news this past week has been dominated by a financial scandal of unprecedented scale and scope. I am sorry to report that Tufts is one of a growing number of victims of the crimes allegedly committed by Bernard Madoff.
In 2005, the university’s Investment Committee authorized an investment with Ascot Partners, which in turn invested the entire sum with Madoff Securities. We have written off the value of this investment, which totaled $20 million, or slightly less than 2 percent of our endowment. This write-off will not significantly affect our operations. We will cooperate with any investigations of this fraud and will work to recoup as much of our investment as possible.
It is personally painful for me to communicate this information to you. We deeply appreciate the trust and confidence that each donor places in the university. We also have an obligation to our students and faculty to manage these resources wisely for their benefit. You have my word that we will look closely at our experience in this case so that we can strengthen our investment process for the future.
I will continue to keep you informed as we work our way through these difficult times. For now, I send all the members of the Tufts community my very best wishes for the holiday season ahead.
Sincerely,
Lawrence S. Bacow
President
Friday, December 19, 2008
Epiteth for the Loss of a Beloved Pet
They say
Time heals everything.
But for some things, it simply kills.
Time heals everything.
But for some things, it simply kills.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Quiet
What is so strange is the quiet.
I imagine widows must feel this way.
It’s just so quiet. No sound of dog nails running across the floor.
No dog door sliding up and down.
No sound of a dog tongue lapping up water.
It rained very hard today. Rain is a natural muffler, something I usually welcome.
But not today.
I would like to have heard trucks, coyotes, car stereos, anything.
But just rain and silent floors. Silence.
Maybe the silence will bring something great. Maybe focusing NOT on a dying dog for nine months will bring great enjoyment.
But for now—it’s just quiet. Quiet.
I imagine widows must feel this way.
It’s just so quiet. No sound of dog nails running across the floor.
No dog door sliding up and down.
No sound of a dog tongue lapping up water.
It rained very hard today. Rain is a natural muffler, something I usually welcome.
But not today.
I would like to have heard trucks, coyotes, car stereos, anything.
But just rain and silent floors. Silence.
Maybe the silence will bring something great. Maybe focusing NOT on a dying dog for nine months will bring great enjoyment.
But for now—it’s just quiet. Quiet.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The Dying Dog Show: The End
Sweetness Dog-Sonified
The obituary for our dog, Louise, by Adam.
We put our beloved dog Louise down today at 1:15 PM. She had gotten so sick and swollen with cancer and edema that she had a hard time getting comfortable, and her tumors were slowly choking her. It was time. Louise came to us as if by magic one night shortly after 9/11. She just followed Don home from a walk. She was covered with fleas and mange and scabs and she hardly had any hair -- she needed rescuing as much as we needed comforting. She quickly blossomed, and stayed with us all the way through the wretched Bush administration. She didn't let go until she knew we were safe again. Even though she was only given two to six months back in March, she held on. Louise had an amazing combination of sweetness and intrepidness. She greeted everyone who came to our house with love and excitement, and she was happy to snuggle up next to anyone who wanted her to (and even some who didn't). But she was also fearless, running freely when allowed and sidling up to dogs three times her size on her nightly walks. She was sturdy. But most of all, she was always right there. At our feet and by our sides throughout the day and night, finding comfort in our company and making sure we were okay. Our hearts are broken, but our dear Louise will always have a place in them. And we take comfort in the knowledge that her suffering is over. Thank you all so much for all your kind words and thoughts and help during these trying past nine months. Goodbye angel, we will never, ever forget you.
A note from me, Don: It was pretty rough. The heaving grief, the holding onto her dead body and wailing how much I loved her, the whole thing. It was huge.
Then, I went home and cleaned the house for five hours. Seemed important to get really busy.
And, truthfully, the last week of her life she was letting it all rip all over the place, so the rugs needed to go. The floors needed some serious work.
You know--the pain was huge, but I'm kind of in this mild state of wonder. I loved her so much, I just imagine I won't ever stop feeling that way.
What an amazing dog. My sweet little girl. My sweetest little doggy. That I loved more clearly than anything I have ever loved before.
The obituary for our dog, Louise, by Adam.
We put our beloved dog Louise down today at 1:15 PM. She had gotten so sick and swollen with cancer and edema that she had a hard time getting comfortable, and her tumors were slowly choking her. It was time. Louise came to us as if by magic one night shortly after 9/11. She just followed Don home from a walk. She was covered with fleas and mange and scabs and she hardly had any hair -- she needed rescuing as much as we needed comforting. She quickly blossomed, and stayed with us all the way through the wretched Bush administration. She didn't let go until she knew we were safe again. Even though she was only given two to six months back in March, she held on. Louise had an amazing combination of sweetness and intrepidness. She greeted everyone who came to our house with love and excitement, and she was happy to snuggle up next to anyone who wanted her to (and even some who didn't). But she was also fearless, running freely when allowed and sidling up to dogs three times her size on her nightly walks. She was sturdy. But most of all, she was always right there. At our feet and by our sides throughout the day and night, finding comfort in our company and making sure we were okay. Our hearts are broken, but our dear Louise will always have a place in them. And we take comfort in the knowledge that her suffering is over. Thank you all so much for all your kind words and thoughts and help during these trying past nine months. Goodbye angel, we will never, ever forget you.
A note from me, Don: It was pretty rough. The heaving grief, the holding onto her dead body and wailing how much I loved her, the whole thing. It was huge.
Then, I went home and cleaned the house for five hours. Seemed important to get really busy.
And, truthfully, the last week of her life she was letting it all rip all over the place, so the rugs needed to go. The floors needed some serious work.
You know--the pain was huge, but I'm kind of in this mild state of wonder. I loved her so much, I just imagine I won't ever stop feeling that way.
What an amazing dog. My sweet little girl. My sweetest little doggy. That I loved more clearly than anything I have ever loved before.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
Downwardly Mobile
We have had a clear sign of downward mobility in our household:
The reintroduction of a laminate Ikea bookcase.
This is the clearest sign of the economy in recession. When you’re over forty and Ikea marches back into your house from the garage storage, well, something is up.
Last night, standing in a beautifully renovated kitchen in conjunction with a complete house remodel in Silverlake with old friends, most of them well established in their careers, it was noted by one party guest, “You know, my salary hasn’t changed at all. It’s just from reading everything I get so scared, I’ve been making soup and eating it all week and brown bagging it for lunch.”
For the most part, like the party talker, we have not felt the crunch too greatly, though in this house we have never had anything but freelance careers. Maybe that makes us even more ready for wacky economic times. We are certainly pliable.
But yesterday, having spent a couple of days getting our little guest house ready for a little renovation so we can rent it out for maybe a little year, we needed to bring some books back into the house. Which meant a bookcase. Usually, we’d drive down Venice Boulevard or poke around antique stores to try to find something nice. But we didn’t consider those options. We grabbed the old laminate instead…leftover from our apartment days in Santa Monica.
It’s not beautiful. But it is highly functional.
When the revolution happens, it will most likely appear Swedish.
The reintroduction of a laminate Ikea bookcase.
This is the clearest sign of the economy in recession. When you’re over forty and Ikea marches back into your house from the garage storage, well, something is up.
Last night, standing in a beautifully renovated kitchen in conjunction with a complete house remodel in Silverlake with old friends, most of them well established in their careers, it was noted by one party guest, “You know, my salary hasn’t changed at all. It’s just from reading everything I get so scared, I’ve been making soup and eating it all week and brown bagging it for lunch.”
For the most part, like the party talker, we have not felt the crunch too greatly, though in this house we have never had anything but freelance careers. Maybe that makes us even more ready for wacky economic times. We are certainly pliable.
But yesterday, having spent a couple of days getting our little guest house ready for a little renovation so we can rent it out for maybe a little year, we needed to bring some books back into the house. Which meant a bookcase. Usually, we’d drive down Venice Boulevard or poke around antique stores to try to find something nice. But we didn’t consider those options. We grabbed the old laminate instead…leftover from our apartment days in Santa Monica.
It’s not beautiful. But it is highly functional.
When the revolution happens, it will most likely appear Swedish.
Friday, December 12, 2008
The Dying Dog Show: Freedom
There has been such an outpouring of sympathy in response to the sadness over the demise of my pooch and for that I am grateful. Thank you.
All the crying is good. No need to ever fear getting really emotional. Resisting it is more painful than experiencing it. And at the end of the flood? You just feel more relaxed.
And for that I am grateful, too.
Monday or Tuesday.
The house will be reorganized around not having a dog. Gates will disappear. As will bowls on the floor.
More time spent traveling--
--with the memory of Louise, the greatest little girl dog who ever stayed in a motel at the Spokane airport.
All the crying is good. No need to ever fear getting really emotional. Resisting it is more painful than experiencing it. And at the end of the flood? You just feel more relaxed.
And for that I am grateful, too.
Monday or Tuesday.
The house will be reorganized around not having a dog. Gates will disappear. As will bowls on the floor.
More time spent traveling--
--with the memory of Louise, the greatest little girl dog who ever stayed in a motel at the Spokane airport.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Dying Dog Show: Going Going
Though it is almost impossible to believe, my dog must die.
She was diagnosed with a big heart tumor March 7. If you do a search in the blog for Dying Dog Show, it covers the dog tracks.
I am at the point where I am keeping the dog alive more for me than for the dog. I was talking to my mother about it on the phone today while driving and she said, “I put both you and your sister on the health directive because I figured your sister would hang onto us ‘till the very end but you’d be more ready to pull the plug.”
She said it with full confidence as if to say, “Come on, son, we all know you’re a cold blooded killer. That’s why we picked you. We’re going to need you to not go soft when the time comes.”
My mother thinks I would have no problem killing her, so this dog, in her mind, should be a breeze.
But it isn’t. You know how many things I’ve written while she was just one chair away? Sometimes, I’d put her in a folding chair right next to me, on a cushion. She always wanted to be right next to me. You could sleep with her with her head right on your shoulder all night long. She was the most affectionate mammal west of Philly.
Now, though, she doesn’t want to be near anyone. She is bloated and wretched. And when she moves she chokes and coughs on her tumor.
Look, it’s over. It’s over. It’s over.
And all we do is cry.
Execution is slated for Tuesday. So if anyone wants to see her one last time, just let me know.
She was diagnosed with a big heart tumor March 7. If you do a search in the blog for Dying Dog Show, it covers the dog tracks.
I am at the point where I am keeping the dog alive more for me than for the dog. I was talking to my mother about it on the phone today while driving and she said, “I put both you and your sister on the health directive because I figured your sister would hang onto us ‘till the very end but you’d be more ready to pull the plug.”
She said it with full confidence as if to say, “Come on, son, we all know you’re a cold blooded killer. That’s why we picked you. We’re going to need you to not go soft when the time comes.”
My mother thinks I would have no problem killing her, so this dog, in her mind, should be a breeze.
But it isn’t. You know how many things I’ve written while she was just one chair away? Sometimes, I’d put her in a folding chair right next to me, on a cushion. She always wanted to be right next to me. You could sleep with her with her head right on your shoulder all night long. She was the most affectionate mammal west of Philly.
Now, though, she doesn’t want to be near anyone. She is bloated and wretched. And when she moves she chokes and coughs on her tumor.
Look, it’s over. It’s over. It’s over.
And all we do is cry.
Execution is slated for Tuesday. So if anyone wants to see her one last time, just let me know.
Detroit: Just Read It
Friends, it is 3:38 AM, I've been crying about my dying dog all day, so I bring you this heavy hitter, the great opinionator, Thomas L. Friedman, from the New York Times:
While Detroit Slept
By THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN
Published: December 9, 2008
As I think about our bailing out Detroit, I can’t help but reflect on what, in my view, is the most important rule of business in today’s integrated and digitized global market, where knowledge and innovation tools are so widely distributed. It’s this: Whatever can be done, will be done. The only question is will it be done by you or to you. Just don’t think it won’t be done. If you have an idea in Detroit or Tennessee, promise me that you’ll pursue it, because someone in Denmark or Tel Aviv will do so a second later.
Why do I bring this up? Because someone in the mobility business in Denmark and Tel Aviv is already developing a real-world alternative to Detroit’s business model. I don’t know if this alternative to gasoline-powered cars will work, but I do know that it can be done — and Detroit isn’t doing it. And therefore it will be done, and eventually, I bet, it will be done profitably.
And when it is, our bailout of Detroit will be remembered as the equivalent of pouring billions of dollars of taxpayer money into the mail-order-catalogue business on the eve of the birth of eBay. It will be remembered as pouring billions of dollars into the CD music business on the eve of the birth of the iPod and iTunes. It will be remembered as pouring billions of dollars into a book-store chain on the eve of the birth of Amazon.com and the Kindle. It will be remembered as pouring billions of dollars into improving typewriters on the eve of the birth of the PC and the Internet.
What business model am I talking about? It is Shai Agassi’s electric car network company, called Better Place. Just last week, the company, based in Palo Alto, Calif., announced a partnership with the state of Hawaii to road test its business plan there after already inking similar deals with Israel, Australia, the San Francisco Bay area and, yes, Denmark.
The Better Place electric car charging system involves generating electrons from as much renewable energy — such as wind and solar — as possible and then feeding those clean electrons into a national electric car charging infrastructure. This consists of electricity charging spots with plug-in outlets — the first pilots were opened in Israel this week — plus battery-exchange stations all over the respective country. The whole system is then coordinated by a service control center that integrates and does the billing.
Under the Better Place model, consumers can either buy or lease an electric car from the French automaker Renault or Japanese companies like Nissan (General Motors snubbed Agassi) and then buy miles on their electric car batteries from Better Place the way you now buy an Apple cellphone and the minutes from AT&T. That way Better Place, or any car company that partners with it, benefits from each mile you drive. G.M. sells cars. Better Place is selling mobility miles.
The first Renault and Nissan electric cars are scheduled to hit Denmark and Israel in 2011, when the whole system should be up and running. On Tuesday, Japan’s Ministry of Environment invited Better Place to join the first government-led electric car project along with Honda, Mitsubishi and Subaru. Better Place was the only foreign company invited to participate, working with Japan’s leading auto companies, to build a battery swap station for electric cars in Yokohama, the Detroit of Japan.
What I find exciting about Better Place is that it is building a car company off the new industrial platform of the 21st century, not the one from the 20th — the exact same way that Steve Jobs did to overturn the music business. What did Apple understand first? One, that today’s technology platform would allow anyone with a computer to record music. Two, that the Internet and MP3 players would allow anyone to transfer music in digital form to anyone else. You wouldn’t need CDs or record companies anymore. Apple simply took all those innovations and integrated them into a single music-generating, purchasing and listening system that completely disrupted the music business.
What Agassi, the founder of Better Place, is saying is that there is a new way to generate mobility, not just music, using the same platform. It just takes the right kind of auto battery — the iPod in this story — and the right kind of national plug-in network — the iTunes store — to make the business model work for electric cars at six cents a mile. The average American is paying today around 12 cents a mile for gasoline transportation, which also adds to global warming and strengthens petro-dictators.
Do not expect this innovation to come out of Detroit. Remember, in 1908, the Ford Model-T got better mileage — 25 miles per gallon — than many Ford, G.M. and Chrysler models made in 2008. But don’t be surprised when it comes out of somewhere else. It can be done. It will be done. If we miss the chance to win the race for Car 2.0 because we keep mindlessly bailing out Car 1.0, there will be no one to blame more than Detroit’s new shareholders: we the taxpayers.
While Detroit Slept
By THOMAS L. FRIEDMAN
Published: December 9, 2008
As I think about our bailing out Detroit, I can’t help but reflect on what, in my view, is the most important rule of business in today’s integrated and digitized global market, where knowledge and innovation tools are so widely distributed. It’s this: Whatever can be done, will be done. The only question is will it be done by you or to you. Just don’t think it won’t be done. If you have an idea in Detroit or Tennessee, promise me that you’ll pursue it, because someone in Denmark or Tel Aviv will do so a second later.
Why do I bring this up? Because someone in the mobility business in Denmark and Tel Aviv is already developing a real-world alternative to Detroit’s business model. I don’t know if this alternative to gasoline-powered cars will work, but I do know that it can be done — and Detroit isn’t doing it. And therefore it will be done, and eventually, I bet, it will be done profitably.
And when it is, our bailout of Detroit will be remembered as the equivalent of pouring billions of dollars of taxpayer money into the mail-order-catalogue business on the eve of the birth of eBay. It will be remembered as pouring billions of dollars into the CD music business on the eve of the birth of the iPod and iTunes. It will be remembered as pouring billions of dollars into a book-store chain on the eve of the birth of Amazon.com and the Kindle. It will be remembered as pouring billions of dollars into improving typewriters on the eve of the birth of the PC and the Internet.
What business model am I talking about? It is Shai Agassi’s electric car network company, called Better Place. Just last week, the company, based in Palo Alto, Calif., announced a partnership with the state of Hawaii to road test its business plan there after already inking similar deals with Israel, Australia, the San Francisco Bay area and, yes, Denmark.
The Better Place electric car charging system involves generating electrons from as much renewable energy — such as wind and solar — as possible and then feeding those clean electrons into a national electric car charging infrastructure. This consists of electricity charging spots with plug-in outlets — the first pilots were opened in Israel this week — plus battery-exchange stations all over the respective country. The whole system is then coordinated by a service control center that integrates and does the billing.
Under the Better Place model, consumers can either buy or lease an electric car from the French automaker Renault or Japanese companies like Nissan (General Motors snubbed Agassi) and then buy miles on their electric car batteries from Better Place the way you now buy an Apple cellphone and the minutes from AT&T. That way Better Place, or any car company that partners with it, benefits from each mile you drive. G.M. sells cars. Better Place is selling mobility miles.
The first Renault and Nissan electric cars are scheduled to hit Denmark and Israel in 2011, when the whole system should be up and running. On Tuesday, Japan’s Ministry of Environment invited Better Place to join the first government-led electric car project along with Honda, Mitsubishi and Subaru. Better Place was the only foreign company invited to participate, working with Japan’s leading auto companies, to build a battery swap station for electric cars in Yokohama, the Detroit of Japan.
What I find exciting about Better Place is that it is building a car company off the new industrial platform of the 21st century, not the one from the 20th — the exact same way that Steve Jobs did to overturn the music business. What did Apple understand first? One, that today’s technology platform would allow anyone with a computer to record music. Two, that the Internet and MP3 players would allow anyone to transfer music in digital form to anyone else. You wouldn’t need CDs or record companies anymore. Apple simply took all those innovations and integrated them into a single music-generating, purchasing and listening system that completely disrupted the music business.
What Agassi, the founder of Better Place, is saying is that there is a new way to generate mobility, not just music, using the same platform. It just takes the right kind of auto battery — the iPod in this story — and the right kind of national plug-in network — the iTunes store — to make the business model work for electric cars at six cents a mile. The average American is paying today around 12 cents a mile for gasoline transportation, which also adds to global warming and strengthens petro-dictators.
Do not expect this innovation to come out of Detroit. Remember, in 1908, the Ford Model-T got better mileage — 25 miles per gallon — than many Ford, G.M. and Chrysler models made in 2008. But don’t be surprised when it comes out of somewhere else. It can be done. It will be done. If we miss the chance to win the race for Car 2.0 because we keep mindlessly bailing out Car 1.0, there will be no one to blame more than Detroit’s new shareholders: we the taxpayers.
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
December 9, 1974
This morning I put up another Santa Clause + tomorrow I’m putting Christmas lights on the trees outside. Can you imagine how yellow this book is going to be when I read it years later. It is 1974 and I predict I will read it in 1992.
Monday, December 08, 2008
A Purifying Wind
Though it seems a bit sad, it isn’t. It’s a purifying wind.
Sell that Cuisinart you never use.
Rent that room that sits fallow.
Clean out your closets.
Cancel your subscription to _______.
Chuck your friends that are not so great.
Netflix? There’s always Hulu.
The maid? You can clean your own damn house.
Get lean. Get tough. And answer that hard dream: Who am I? What am I? What do I really need?
You can do it.
Sell that Cuisinart you never use.
Rent that room that sits fallow.
Clean out your closets.
Cancel your subscription to _______.
Chuck your friends that are not so great.
Netflix? There’s always Hulu.
The maid? You can clean your own damn house.
Get lean. Get tough. And answer that hard dream: Who am I? What am I? What do I really need?
You can do it.
Friday, December 05, 2008
I've Been Koobfaced
Don't let it happen to you. When that message comes from Facebook that says someone saw you in some video, perhaps dancing...if you open it, you're in for a world of trouble. Big ol Trojan--loaded up with malware.
Do a Koobface Search. Nighty night.
Do a Koobface Search. Nighty night.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Christmas is Coming
I am making my yearly Christmas plug: DON’T GO SHOPPING!
Of course, this year it will be easier to resist than most.
Instead, think about this: Go around your house and gather up everything you don’t need. In our house it’s the Cuisinart Food Processor and old eyeglasses. Take these things—the old pants, the Palm Pilot, the unopened packages of underwear and the hula-hoops and sell them on EBay, give them away, donate them to a homeless shelter, or send them into space.
The best thing you can do for yourself this Christmas season is to CLEAR IT ALL OUT, because in 2009 you are going to be asked to be yourself in the clearest way possible. Best not to have too much around. You don’t need to be stumbling.
Of course, this year it will be easier to resist than most.
Instead, think about this: Go around your house and gather up everything you don’t need. In our house it’s the Cuisinart Food Processor and old eyeglasses. Take these things—the old pants, the Palm Pilot, the unopened packages of underwear and the hula-hoops and sell them on EBay, give them away, donate them to a homeless shelter, or send them into space.
The best thing you can do for yourself this Christmas season is to CLEAR IT ALL OUT, because in 2009 you are going to be asked to be yourself in the clearest way possible. Best not to have too much around. You don’t need to be stumbling.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
I'm Really Different (Now) !
I’m Really Different (Now)!
A Musical Performance Piece, with comedy by Karen Kilgariff and Music by Don Cummings. And a guest.
Tuesday, December 9 @ 9PM.
The Little Room at the New Largo
366 N. La Cienega Blvd. Los Angeles 90048
No Reservations taken. Sixty Seats. Come on.
Ten bucks.
Remarks:
“Karen is so funny. The music is great. I’m coming back.”
A Musical Performance Piece, with comedy by Karen Kilgariff and Music by Don Cummings. And a guest.
Tuesday, December 9 @ 9PM.
The Little Room at the New Largo
366 N. La Cienega Blvd. Los Angeles 90048
No Reservations taken. Sixty Seats. Come on.
Ten bucks.
Remarks:
“Karen is so funny. The music is great. I’m coming back.”
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Fireside Chat March 12, 1933
By the afternoon of March 3, 1933, scarcely a bank in the country was open to do business. 4,000 commercial banks failed that year.
Things are not as bad. The media could possibly calm down with the hype.
I love the accent. No one speaks like this any longer. My Aunt Rose tried to speak like she was from Park Avenue but the Newark honk was always marring the effect.
Things are not as bad. The media could possibly calm down with the hype.
I love the accent. No one speaks like this any longer. My Aunt Rose tried to speak like she was from Park Avenue but the Newark honk was always marring the effect.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Milk is a Natural
MILK, as a movie was not so fabulous. Sean Penn as an actor is always fabulous.
Problem is, with most biopics, the structure is such that it reads this happened then that happened, then this happened, then that. Not unlike the diaries I have kept since 1973. Lord!
Again, Sean Penn? Will be nominated for an Oscar, surely. The other actors: Emile Hirsch, Josh Bolin and James Franco, wonderful, all.
The period was when I was in high school. Big curly hair and big ugly glasses were the rage. And the movie brought those out in full force. Lovely. Made me nostalgic.
There is so much to admire in Harvey Milk. He was a true humanitarian, a believer in the cause of human rights and a deft politician.
Feels like this is an important movie to see, what with Prop 8 and all. I just wish it was a little more interesting than a laundry list. Okay, it is more interesting than a laundry list.
You just want to get your socks knocked off. But you don’t.
Problem is, with most biopics, the structure is such that it reads this happened then that happened, then this happened, then that. Not unlike the diaries I have kept since 1973. Lord!
Again, Sean Penn? Will be nominated for an Oscar, surely. The other actors: Emile Hirsch, Josh Bolin and James Franco, wonderful, all.
The period was when I was in high school. Big curly hair and big ugly glasses were the rage. And the movie brought those out in full force. Lovely. Made me nostalgic.
There is so much to admire in Harvey Milk. He was a true humanitarian, a believer in the cause of human rights and a deft politician.
Feels like this is an important movie to see, what with Prop 8 and all. I just wish it was a little more interesting than a laundry list. Okay, it is more interesting than a laundry list.
You just want to get your socks knocked off. But you don’t.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
A Christmas Tale
A Christmas Tale, directed by Arnaud Desplechin, starring Catherine Deneuve, Mathieu Amalric and many other brilliant actors, is one of those movies that lets you know it’s a movie. For better or for worse.
So beautiful, with occasional scenes that are truly brilliant, you just wish someone had trimmed away some of the excess so you could say, “I was blown away.”
Each character is wacked with some form of mental illness or low functioning impediment. And Momma needs a bone marrow transplant for her cancer.
It’s dark stuff, indeed, set in a French town just south of the Belgian border, north of Lille. And there’s snow.
I loved the movie for a while. There is an amazing scene, as subtle as anything gets, when the drunken, most problematic grown son, Henri, sits with his mother outside on a bench and they both speak freely about how they don’t like each other. But they do. But they don’t. It has three layers, at least, of ambivalence. And for this alone, I was so happy to have watched this movie.
I particularly liked the work of Emmanuelle Devos who played the wacky girlfriend of Henri. No matter how weird things got, she just sat there completely bemused by the events collapsing around her.
Catherine Deneuve is old, plump and about as brilliant as I’ve ever seen her work. She is one of the rare talents that can exist in front of the camera instead of putting on any kind of show.
There is generous use of direct address to the camera and bagpipes, for no reason at all. You have to love the whimsy. It is also shot so beautifully.
At times I felt like I was watching a modern French version of You Can’t Take it With You. But so what?
As far as French films go, I’d give this one 2.8 out of 4 frogs.
So beautiful, with occasional scenes that are truly brilliant, you just wish someone had trimmed away some of the excess so you could say, “I was blown away.”
Each character is wacked with some form of mental illness or low functioning impediment. And Momma needs a bone marrow transplant for her cancer.
It’s dark stuff, indeed, set in a French town just south of the Belgian border, north of Lille. And there’s snow.
I loved the movie for a while. There is an amazing scene, as subtle as anything gets, when the drunken, most problematic grown son, Henri, sits with his mother outside on a bench and they both speak freely about how they don’t like each other. But they do. But they don’t. It has three layers, at least, of ambivalence. And for this alone, I was so happy to have watched this movie.
I particularly liked the work of Emmanuelle Devos who played the wacky girlfriend of Henri. No matter how weird things got, she just sat there completely bemused by the events collapsing around her.
Catherine Deneuve is old, plump and about as brilliant as I’ve ever seen her work. She is one of the rare talents that can exist in front of the camera instead of putting on any kind of show.
There is generous use of direct address to the camera and bagpipes, for no reason at all. You have to love the whimsy. It is also shot so beautifully.
At times I felt like I was watching a modern French version of You Can’t Take it With You. But so what?
As far as French films go, I’d give this one 2.8 out of 4 frogs.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Slow and Steady
What concerns me about Obama, in addition to the future first pooch, is he might bight off too much too quickly.
Of course, economics, such as they are right now, may thwart him.
But in my world view, and I admit I cannot really understand the whole world, I do hope we all slow down. And I hope Obama is an agent of slowness. Steady. But slow.
When the WPA type jobs come through to build new infrastructure, I say, do them slow and steady. A few bridges a year. A few trains a decade. Keep people employed for the long haul, not the short, shoddy haul.
Where I grew up, we have the beautiful Palisades Parkway. It is only about forty miles long and didn’t take too long to build. It would be so nice to have other beautiful roadways and bridges in the spirit of the Palisades Parkway. These days, one fears they’ll go at this whole new building frenzy in a very utilitarian way. I say, go slow and beautiful. And be home by five to relax with the family. Besides, going too fast, even if it is a works program, isn’t that, oddly, another kind of bubble mentality?
Bush said RAISE THE PIE HIGHER.
I say, BAKE THE CAKE LONGER.
Of course, economics, such as they are right now, may thwart him.
But in my world view, and I admit I cannot really understand the whole world, I do hope we all slow down. And I hope Obama is an agent of slowness. Steady. But slow.
When the WPA type jobs come through to build new infrastructure, I say, do them slow and steady. A few bridges a year. A few trains a decade. Keep people employed for the long haul, not the short, shoddy haul.
Where I grew up, we have the beautiful Palisades Parkway. It is only about forty miles long and didn’t take too long to build. It would be so nice to have other beautiful roadways and bridges in the spirit of the Palisades Parkway. These days, one fears they’ll go at this whole new building frenzy in a very utilitarian way. I say, go slow and beautiful. And be home by five to relax with the family. Besides, going too fast, even if it is a works program, isn’t that, oddly, another kind of bubble mentality?
Bush said RAISE THE PIE HIGHER.
I say, BAKE THE CAKE LONGER.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
It Isn't Ass Time
Eighteenth months ago I did a few flips off a diving board in Long Beach at our friends’ pool. On the last flip (for life) I landed square on my lower back and I have not been the same since.
Of course, it’s not cystic fibrosis. I mean, one must not get dramatic.
But, having tightness traveling up and down my leg, numbness, pain, etc, for months: Oh, welcome to middle age! I made an appointment, maybe looking for something I could do, alternative like, man.
At the doctor’s office today, no one wanted to do their work. Seems like with this downfall, many intrinsically lazy people are just saying, “Fuck it,” at a time when they need to ramp it up a bit. And maybe mean spirited people who usually have to keep a clamp on it are letting it rip. The doctor was furious and nastily cranky, stating that the cause of my lower back problem is my weight. “For every ten pounds you are overweight, that’s fifty extra pounds on your lumbar spine. You know it’s curved right? How tall are you? How much did you weigh in high school? You should head toward that weight. Probably all your problems will go away.” The lanky, cranky man.
I was aghast. I told him I wasn’t even full grown in high school, so let’s deal with freshman year of college. Okay, I was ten or fifteen pounds lighter then. But I mean, that was a long time ago and I’ve had a lot of pork chops since then. I told the doctor, “Well, I was about 165 or 168 pounds,” I told him, with an expression on my face like, “Are you really serious about full grown adults trying to recapture the weight of their youth?”
He talked about his running miles every day. He clearly hates himself. Sure, he’s thin. I mentioned something about being middle aged, not really including him, and he quickly responded, “I’m not middle aged.”
Then the phone rang. A nurse asked something about drops. The doctor yelled into the phone, “You called me for this? Why are you calling me? Put in the drops. Just put in the drops.” He slammed down the phone, completely peeved that he was being bothered for something so routine and looked right at me, searching for an ally, and said derisively, “Guacamole,” like he was saying, “Fucking Mexican idiot.”
I just looked at him, stunned.
Later in the hall, he was putting someone down, a co-worker, for not covering his mouth when he coughed and the put down man, sounding exhausted from daily lambasting said, “There was no one around, so I didn’t cover my mouth. There was no one around. Should I have covered my mouth if there was no one around?”
When I was leaving, I tried to get some paperwork from the front desk. The front desk person looked at me blankly, like I was destroying her special slow-time-at-the-lunch hour with my Danielle Steele book. Eventually, I got what I needed.
Let’s not let these bad times make us bad people. Get off your ass if you are sitting on your ass. If you are sitting on other peoples’ asses because you’re a jerk, get off their ass.
Of course, it’s not cystic fibrosis. I mean, one must not get dramatic.
But, having tightness traveling up and down my leg, numbness, pain, etc, for months: Oh, welcome to middle age! I made an appointment, maybe looking for something I could do, alternative like, man.
At the doctor’s office today, no one wanted to do their work. Seems like with this downfall, many intrinsically lazy people are just saying, “Fuck it,” at a time when they need to ramp it up a bit. And maybe mean spirited people who usually have to keep a clamp on it are letting it rip. The doctor was furious and nastily cranky, stating that the cause of my lower back problem is my weight. “For every ten pounds you are overweight, that’s fifty extra pounds on your lumbar spine. You know it’s curved right? How tall are you? How much did you weigh in high school? You should head toward that weight. Probably all your problems will go away.” The lanky, cranky man.
I was aghast. I told him I wasn’t even full grown in high school, so let’s deal with freshman year of college. Okay, I was ten or fifteen pounds lighter then. But I mean, that was a long time ago and I’ve had a lot of pork chops since then. I told the doctor, “Well, I was about 165 or 168 pounds,” I told him, with an expression on my face like, “Are you really serious about full grown adults trying to recapture the weight of their youth?”
He talked about his running miles every day. He clearly hates himself. Sure, he’s thin. I mentioned something about being middle aged, not really including him, and he quickly responded, “I’m not middle aged.”
Then the phone rang. A nurse asked something about drops. The doctor yelled into the phone, “You called me for this? Why are you calling me? Put in the drops. Just put in the drops.” He slammed down the phone, completely peeved that he was being bothered for something so routine and looked right at me, searching for an ally, and said derisively, “Guacamole,” like he was saying, “Fucking Mexican idiot.”
I just looked at him, stunned.
Later in the hall, he was putting someone down, a co-worker, for not covering his mouth when he coughed and the put down man, sounding exhausted from daily lambasting said, “There was no one around, so I didn’t cover my mouth. There was no one around. Should I have covered my mouth if there was no one around?”
When I was leaving, I tried to get some paperwork from the front desk. The front desk person looked at me blankly, like I was destroying her special slow-time-at-the-lunch hour with my Danielle Steele book. Eventually, I got what I needed.
Let’s not let these bad times make us bad people. Get off your ass if you are sitting on your ass. If you are sitting on other peoples’ asses because you’re a jerk, get off their ass.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Hopeful. It's All About Love
Fresh in from the Gay and Lesbian Center of Los Angeles:
Dear Don:
Just this afternoon, the California Supreme Court decided to grant review to numerous lawsuits regarding Prop. 8, making the case that:
• Prop. 8 is invalid because it constitutes a revision of, rather than an amendment to, the California Constitution.
• Prop. 8 violates the separation of powers doctrine under the California Constitution.
• If Prop. 8 is not unconstitutional, the marriages performed before Prop 8 passed should still be valid.
The court gave a very short briefing schedule, giving the state until December 19th to respond and giving our side until January 5th to respond to those briefs. Amicus briefs must be filed by January 15th, with replies to those due by January 21st.
The court did NOT grant a stay of Prop. 8 as had been requested. So, during the pendency of this matter, no marriage licenses will be issued to same-sex couples. Over the past 100 years, the California Supreme Court has heard nine cases challenging either legislative enactments or initiatives as invalid revisions of the California Constitution. In three of those cases, the Court invalidated those measures.
We are very pleased that the Court has granted review of these cases (they could have opted to not consider the lawsuits), but this should not be considered an indication they will rule in our favor. We’ll keep you updated as news develops.
Sincerely,
Lorri
If you missed the Olbermann Coverage, this is what it’s all about: Love, man.
Dear Don:
Just this afternoon, the California Supreme Court decided to grant review to numerous lawsuits regarding Prop. 8, making the case that:
• Prop. 8 is invalid because it constitutes a revision of, rather than an amendment to, the California Constitution.
• Prop. 8 violates the separation of powers doctrine under the California Constitution.
• If Prop. 8 is not unconstitutional, the marriages performed before Prop 8 passed should still be valid.
The court gave a very short briefing schedule, giving the state until December 19th to respond and giving our side until January 5th to respond to those briefs. Amicus briefs must be filed by January 15th, with replies to those due by January 21st.
The court did NOT grant a stay of Prop. 8 as had been requested. So, during the pendency of this matter, no marriage licenses will be issued to same-sex couples. Over the past 100 years, the California Supreme Court has heard nine cases challenging either legislative enactments or initiatives as invalid revisions of the California Constitution. In three of those cases, the Court invalidated those measures.
We are very pleased that the Court has granted review of these cases (they could have opted to not consider the lawsuits), but this should not be considered an indication they will rule in our favor. We’ll keep you updated as news develops.
Sincerely,
Lorri
If you missed the Olbermann Coverage, this is what it’s all about: Love, man.
Healthy Body Meditations
My great friend, Jean, has a wonderful way of helping you with getting your meditation practice GOING! Her custom made meditations are designed for your specific health concerns.
And these days, we all need to take the time to take care of ourselves. Feel like running around like a lunatic? Don’t do it. Go to Healthy Body Meditations.
Namaste.
And these days, we all need to take the time to take care of ourselves. Feel like running around like a lunatic? Don’t do it. Go to Healthy Body Meditations.
Namaste.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Economic Crisis? TAX THE LDS CHURCH
Friends, the “liberal” media has been printing many stories and Op-Ed pieces about the outrageousness of gay outrage against the Mormon-LDS church. There has also been much sympathy for gay rights. However, in the name of trying to keep things simmered down, we are being told by many people to not be so furious with the Mormons. That this could backfire. There is also a holy overtone which has an oppressive undertone declaring, “Thou shalt not wag your finger in the face of God fearing worshippers.”
I say screw those Mormons and the lost golden tablets they rode into California on.
Look, I have met many (okay, about six) Mormons and ex-Mormons and I find them to be lovely people—blond and Christian in the best sense of Mountain Time affability. Let them live, love, marry and farm. I have nothing against their church any more than the rest of them. If church going helps them to get in touch with their higher selves, I say go for it. But not while stepping on my face and the thousands (and ultimately millions) of faces of tax paying, decent loving citizens.
The Mormons cannot use their church to spread lies, to scare voters into believing their children will be tortured by gay marriage education, or that churches will be denied their tax-exempt status if Proposition 8 does not pass. It’s one thing to spread these lies, gossiping on your back porch, wagging your forked tongue over your backyard fence. But to stand up in front of your congregation and push your political agenda?
Nope. Illegal. Seriously.
Below are the instructions for what you can do. This is for my rights and equal protection and for my gay, lesbian and transgender cousins and for all mankind. Read the linked articles below, then click on the one page IRS form, fill it out using the instructions below and mail it in.
We do not believe the IRS will revoke the tax exempt status of the LDS church. But if these forms inundate the IRS offices, at least it sends the message to the LDS church that they are being watched.
As someone, okay my friend Barbara Deutsch, once said, “If you don’t stand up against bad behavior, then you are basically training the perpetrator to continue the same bad behavior.”
So, it’s time to train the Mormons. Please help out. It could be you, one day, who is discriminated against by a church. Everyone acts like, “Oh, don’t fight with the church. The church is off limits.” Bullshit. They used their bully pulpits to spread lies and to attack and suppress the rights of tax paying, regular citizens.
The way is clear: we cannot allow this on earth.
After you mail in your form, please forward this blog post to everyone you know and then ask them to forward the post to everyone they know. This is the link to use for this post. You can cut and paste and forward it. Please do:
http://opentrench.blogspot.com/2008/11/economic-crisis-tax-lds-church.html
And thank you. Progress is harder than we thought it would be. But that’s just how it is.
***********************************
If it upsets you that a church can meddle with another state's political statutes, here's something simple you can do:
To report the LDS Church to the IRS, simply take 5 minutes to print these articles out and any others you can find:
Article 1
Article 2
Download a blank and fill it out yourself at IRS FORM
List the taxpayer as:
Thomas S. Monson, et al
50 East North Temple
Salt Lake City, Utah 84150
List his occupation as President and the business as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
Check the boxes for False Exemption and Public/Political Corruption.
Then in the Comments section demand that the LDS Church be fined and their tax-exempt status revoked for repeated and blatant violations of the IRS' s separate of church and state rules, and for conspiring to interfere with a state's political process.
Check Yes under "Are books/records available?" and write in "campaign finance records."
You don't have to provide any of your own personal info. Mail the form and the printed articles to:
Internal Revenue Service
Fresno, CA 93888
If these instructions are too much for you, go to YAHOO MAIL and log in as taxtheldschurch, password is equalrights. There is a PDF file there in the inbox already filled out. Download it, print it and mail it. (Don't delete the email.) And please, do not forget to forward this blog post to your friends.
http://opentrench.blogspot.com/2008/11/economic-crisis-tax-lds-church.html
I say screw those Mormons and the lost golden tablets they rode into California on.
Look, I have met many (okay, about six) Mormons and ex-Mormons and I find them to be lovely people—blond and Christian in the best sense of Mountain Time affability. Let them live, love, marry and farm. I have nothing against their church any more than the rest of them. If church going helps them to get in touch with their higher selves, I say go for it. But not while stepping on my face and the thousands (and ultimately millions) of faces of tax paying, decent loving citizens.
The Mormons cannot use their church to spread lies, to scare voters into believing their children will be tortured by gay marriage education, or that churches will be denied their tax-exempt status if Proposition 8 does not pass. It’s one thing to spread these lies, gossiping on your back porch, wagging your forked tongue over your backyard fence. But to stand up in front of your congregation and push your political agenda?
Nope. Illegal. Seriously.
Below are the instructions for what you can do. This is for my rights and equal protection and for my gay, lesbian and transgender cousins and for all mankind. Read the linked articles below, then click on the one page IRS form, fill it out using the instructions below and mail it in.
We do not believe the IRS will revoke the tax exempt status of the LDS church. But if these forms inundate the IRS offices, at least it sends the message to the LDS church that they are being watched.
As someone, okay my friend Barbara Deutsch, once said, “If you don’t stand up against bad behavior, then you are basically training the perpetrator to continue the same bad behavior.”
So, it’s time to train the Mormons. Please help out. It could be you, one day, who is discriminated against by a church. Everyone acts like, “Oh, don’t fight with the church. The church is off limits.” Bullshit. They used their bully pulpits to spread lies and to attack and suppress the rights of tax paying, regular citizens.
The way is clear: we cannot allow this on earth.
After you mail in your form, please forward this blog post to everyone you know and then ask them to forward the post to everyone they know. This is the link to use for this post. You can cut and paste and forward it. Please do:
http://opentrench.blogspot.com/2008/11/economic-crisis-tax-lds-church.html
And thank you. Progress is harder than we thought it would be. But that’s just how it is.
***********************************
If it upsets you that a church can meddle with another state's political statutes, here's something simple you can do:
To report the LDS Church to the IRS, simply take 5 minutes to print these articles out and any others you can find:
Article 1
Article 2
Download a blank and fill it out yourself at IRS FORM
List the taxpayer as:
Thomas S. Monson, et al
50 East North Temple
Salt Lake City, Utah 84150
List his occupation as President and the business as The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.
Check the boxes for False Exemption and Public/Political Corruption.
Then in the Comments section demand that the LDS Church be fined and their tax-exempt status revoked for repeated and blatant violations of the IRS' s separate of church and state rules, and for conspiring to interfere with a state's political process.
Check Yes under "Are books/records available?" and write in "campaign finance records."
You don't have to provide any of your own personal info. Mail the form and the printed articles to:
Internal Revenue Service
Fresno, CA 93888
If these instructions are too much for you, go to YAHOO MAIL and log in as taxtheldschurch, password is equalrights. There is a PDF file there in the inbox already filled out. Download it, print it and mail it. (Don't delete the email.) And please, do not forget to forward this blog post to your friends.
http://opentrench.blogspot.com/2008/11/economic-crisis-tax-lds-church.html
Monday, November 17, 2008
Erase the H8
Not that we like to get up at 8:30 on a Saturday morning--but oppressed gay people do what we must.
The demonstration was huge, in full force. Like the circus, I find these colorful events exciting for the first twenty minutes. Then you notice it's nothing but elephants and clown cars.
The excitement really was intoxicating, full subway cars clapping whenever more protestors sardined their way in. The mayor spoke. Local gay celebs spoke. The lawyer who is bringing this to court spoke. But the best part was the march which terminated with a visit to Phillipe, the home of the original French dipped sandwich. Inside, we ran into so many substantial, hungry gay friends that we've known for years. It was homo-coming weekend at the kitsch sandwich hole. Very tasty.
Truly, the court just needs to turn this sucker over. Then, like every other adult who has the choice to get married whenever the hell they want to, I can sleep in on Satuday mornings like I'm supposed to, knowing that I have the same rights as everyone else.
The demonstration was huge, in full force. Like the circus, I find these colorful events exciting for the first twenty minutes. Then you notice it's nothing but elephants and clown cars.
The excitement really was intoxicating, full subway cars clapping whenever more protestors sardined their way in. The mayor spoke. Local gay celebs spoke. The lawyer who is bringing this to court spoke. But the best part was the march which terminated with a visit to Phillipe, the home of the original French dipped sandwich. Inside, we ran into so many substantial, hungry gay friends that we've known for years. It was homo-coming weekend at the kitsch sandwich hole. Very tasty.
Truly, the court just needs to turn this sucker over. Then, like every other adult who has the choice to get married whenever the hell they want to, I can sleep in on Satuday mornings like I'm supposed to, knowing that I have the same rights as everyone else.
Friday, November 14, 2008
slumdog millionaire
Go see Danny Boyle’s slumdog millionaire.
Danny Boyle is one of the earth’s great living film makers. Trainspotting. 28 Days Later.
The movie is so beautiful. Go to a really good movie theatre to watch it.
It starts out pretty violent and you think, OH NO! But though there is violence throughout, really, this is a fairy tale. OH NO! But really, it’s about a really amazing pair of brothers who survive being orphaned. The early scenes got me the most. I was very close to my brother growing up and there was always a sense of surviving by helping each other out.
What happens is, and I’m not ruining anything here, Jamal wins the top prize of India’s Who Wants to Be a Millionaire but the cops think he cheated because it is implausible that a kid from the slums could know such answers. But then, the movie shows Jamal’s life, in flashback, through very fabulous filming and how it is that he knows the answers. And it’s not from simple accretion of knowledge. He also gets answers right by searching into his understanding of people, of the host of the show, his native intelligence. It’s a brilliant conceit, based on a novel. At times we get a little bogged down by this conceit, but not much.
Over time, the flashback careens into the present story and we get to the final round of the game. And Jamal wins. Again, not a spoiler. You know that up front. And there’s a girl involved. And guns. And mobsters. And lots of slum shots. And India today, changing faster than ever. Beautiful. Beautiful. Chaotic, fantastic, Democratic, messy India.
But really, what I loved mostly were the two brothers surviving childhood.
And: That Danny Boyle can really make a movie. Man.
Go to the website. It’s quite something. You can get lost in it for a week.
slumdog millionaire
And then go see the movie.
Danny Boyle is one of the earth’s great living film makers. Trainspotting. 28 Days Later.
The movie is so beautiful. Go to a really good movie theatre to watch it.
It starts out pretty violent and you think, OH NO! But though there is violence throughout, really, this is a fairy tale. OH NO! But really, it’s about a really amazing pair of brothers who survive being orphaned. The early scenes got me the most. I was very close to my brother growing up and there was always a sense of surviving by helping each other out.
What happens is, and I’m not ruining anything here, Jamal wins the top prize of India’s Who Wants to Be a Millionaire but the cops think he cheated because it is implausible that a kid from the slums could know such answers. But then, the movie shows Jamal’s life, in flashback, through very fabulous filming and how it is that he knows the answers. And it’s not from simple accretion of knowledge. He also gets answers right by searching into his understanding of people, of the host of the show, his native intelligence. It’s a brilliant conceit, based on a novel. At times we get a little bogged down by this conceit, but not much.
Over time, the flashback careens into the present story and we get to the final round of the game. And Jamal wins. Again, not a spoiler. You know that up front. And there’s a girl involved. And guns. And mobsters. And lots of slum shots. And India today, changing faster than ever. Beautiful. Beautiful. Chaotic, fantastic, Democratic, messy India.
But really, what I loved mostly were the two brothers surviving childhood.
And: That Danny Boyle can really make a movie. Man.
Go to the website. It’s quite something. You can get lost in it for a week.
slumdog millionaire
And then go see the movie.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Elders Now
What this culture sorely lacks is elders. Smart, removed, wise elders.
We all know if you get too far left or too far right (especially too far right), you run into trouble.
If we had elders who could watch over us, elders who are removed and dispassionate and simply wise, we could ask them to help us. To keep us moderate. To temper the worst in us, especially when we think it is the best in us. The elders could advise us since they have already seen it all.
The elders could say, “Listen, you can’t get too greedy, because when you do, you are too busy trying to collect instead of trying to create. So your products suck. And eventually everything collapses.” They could say that to GM.
Or, the elders could say, “Listen, don’t get too communist with these corn growers. Because then, all you have is a lot of corn. And you’re going to use the corn, for sure. And people get really fat from corn.”
Elders could warn Obama, “Don’t spread yourself too thin, you thin man. Start with two, at most, three programs. And nurture them like crazy. And get everyone on board, focused. If you try to do too much at once, you’re going to make a mess of things.”
Elders could tell Sarah Palin, “You should go back to school. In your case, this would mean keeping very quiet and reading many many books that we will supply.”
Elders could have stopped Nixon. “Spend more time in China. Less with that tape recorder obsession. Obsessions always end in tears.”
Wise, dispassionate elders could have told Hillary Clinton, “If you want to win this one, you better stop acting like you deserve it more than anyone else. People get turned off by that sort of thing.”
Elders could have told G.W., “Though God might be your thing, you have a job to do. If you get too caught up in the clouds or in your holy hunches, the world will fall apart all around you. You act too much by “Godly” impulses and you start playing God. And that’s a holy shame.”
Elders. We need elders.
We all know if you get too far left or too far right (especially too far right), you run into trouble.
If we had elders who could watch over us, elders who are removed and dispassionate and simply wise, we could ask them to help us. To keep us moderate. To temper the worst in us, especially when we think it is the best in us. The elders could advise us since they have already seen it all.
The elders could say, “Listen, you can’t get too greedy, because when you do, you are too busy trying to collect instead of trying to create. So your products suck. And eventually everything collapses.” They could say that to GM.
Or, the elders could say, “Listen, don’t get too communist with these corn growers. Because then, all you have is a lot of corn. And you’re going to use the corn, for sure. And people get really fat from corn.”
Elders could warn Obama, “Don’t spread yourself too thin, you thin man. Start with two, at most, three programs. And nurture them like crazy. And get everyone on board, focused. If you try to do too much at once, you’re going to make a mess of things.”
Elders could tell Sarah Palin, “You should go back to school. In your case, this would mean keeping very quiet and reading many many books that we will supply.”
Elders could have stopped Nixon. “Spend more time in China. Less with that tape recorder obsession. Obsessions always end in tears.”
Wise, dispassionate elders could have told Hillary Clinton, “If you want to win this one, you better stop acting like you deserve it more than anyone else. People get turned off by that sort of thing.”
Elders could have told G.W., “Though God might be your thing, you have a job to do. If you get too caught up in the clouds or in your holy hunches, the world will fall apart all around you. You act too much by “Godly” impulses and you start playing God. And that’s a holy shame.”
Elders. We need elders.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Miss Information
What irks me into anger is the opinion I read of some religious yokel who stated, and I quote loosely, “Gay marriage is not a civil rights issue. Black people have no choice. They are born black. But gay people choose to be gay.”
This insults everyone.
First of all, I have never met a single Gay person who has chosen to be Gay. I have met some Gay people who have chosen to repress their sexuality and turn to food. This renders them elephantine and certainly date-free. I have met Gay people who took a long time to come out of the closet. This is not a problem, just a journey. But to say that someone chooses to be gay? No wonder there are so many homophobes. They must wake up each day and wonder, “Is today the day I’m going to act on my minor homo-erotic impulses and choose to become a big devil-worshipping homo?”
And even if being gay was actually a choice, well, is it such an awful choice? Considering overpopulation? Actually, given the state of our air, living a gay lifestyle is probably the sanest choice. But friends, you, the Miss Informed, it is not a choice.
Further bad taste:
Saying that Black people are born Black so they have no choice, while being true, just sounds kind of tacky and ill stated.
But let’s move past the victimization of Black people for a moment, which I would never deny or pretend has not been absolutely horrific in our country. Black Americans were treated the worst way possible. And when I imagine slavery, I am filled with murderous rage. I hate it when someone tells me that I have to get up before 10 AM. I cannot imagine someone threatening to whip me if I balked at having to plow the back forty. So, yes, the deal for Black people was rotten and the prejudice, especially in the deep south, let’s face it, has been almost insurmountable. But during the last forty years, at least ideologically, if not materially, it has gotten better. I believe the material will come. Though I do not deny that when you run the numbers on Black wealth compared with White wealth, any human accountant hangs his head in shame. It’s disgusting.
Black people and all Women, with the support of all kinds of other people, have fought like hell for full, equal citizenship in every way. And it has been won. Again, only ideologically. But still, it has been won. So WHY THE FUCK on earth are Black people so against Gay people sharing the same rights? I have to tell you, we Gay people are pretty furious about this. Though the original statement of the religious yokel above made no mention of Black ideological violence against Gay people, I had to add it here. The question of civil rights for Black citizens compared with Gay citizens is no longer the immediate discussion. The real trouble, now, when considering Black citizens and Gay citizens is that Black citizens, by a large majority, want to disenfranchise Gay ones, which eclipses the whole discussion. SHAME, shame, SHAME on you, Black Homophobes who hide behind the cloak of religion. You can’t do that. You must stop it. Today.
This insults everyone.
First of all, I have never met a single Gay person who has chosen to be Gay. I have met some Gay people who have chosen to repress their sexuality and turn to food. This renders them elephantine and certainly date-free. I have met Gay people who took a long time to come out of the closet. This is not a problem, just a journey. But to say that someone chooses to be gay? No wonder there are so many homophobes. They must wake up each day and wonder, “Is today the day I’m going to act on my minor homo-erotic impulses and choose to become a big devil-worshipping homo?”
And even if being gay was actually a choice, well, is it such an awful choice? Considering overpopulation? Actually, given the state of our air, living a gay lifestyle is probably the sanest choice. But friends, you, the Miss Informed, it is not a choice.
Further bad taste:
Saying that Black people are born Black so they have no choice, while being true, just sounds kind of tacky and ill stated.
But let’s move past the victimization of Black people for a moment, which I would never deny or pretend has not been absolutely horrific in our country. Black Americans were treated the worst way possible. And when I imagine slavery, I am filled with murderous rage. I hate it when someone tells me that I have to get up before 10 AM. I cannot imagine someone threatening to whip me if I balked at having to plow the back forty. So, yes, the deal for Black people was rotten and the prejudice, especially in the deep south, let’s face it, has been almost insurmountable. But during the last forty years, at least ideologically, if not materially, it has gotten better. I believe the material will come. Though I do not deny that when you run the numbers on Black wealth compared with White wealth, any human accountant hangs his head in shame. It’s disgusting.
Black people and all Women, with the support of all kinds of other people, have fought like hell for full, equal citizenship in every way. And it has been won. Again, only ideologically. But still, it has been won. So WHY THE FUCK on earth are Black people so against Gay people sharing the same rights? I have to tell you, we Gay people are pretty furious about this. Though the original statement of the religious yokel above made no mention of Black ideological violence against Gay people, I had to add it here. The question of civil rights for Black citizens compared with Gay citizens is no longer the immediate discussion. The real trouble, now, when considering Black citizens and Gay citizens is that Black citizens, by a large majority, want to disenfranchise Gay ones, which eclipses the whole discussion. SHAME, shame, SHAME on you, Black Homophobes who hide behind the cloak of religion. You can’t do that. You must stop it. Today.
Monday, November 10, 2008
This Blog Entry is Brought to You by
GRIEF.
I am lucky. When I have a big emotional thing going on, I just get worn out.
I can barely keep my eyes open. I just want to sleep.
And then, I do. For like ten hours.
I hear stories from all sorts of people who have trouble sleeping, especially when they are upset. Me: I just conk out. And for that I am grateful.
So my natural response to our just deceased cat? Nighty night.
Nighty night.
I am lucky. When I have a big emotional thing going on, I just get worn out.
I can barely keep my eyes open. I just want to sleep.
And then, I do. For like ten hours.
I hear stories from all sorts of people who have trouble sleeping, especially when they are upset. Me: I just conk out. And for that I am grateful.
So my natural response to our just deceased cat? Nighty night.
Nighty night.
Sweet Puss, Oliver
Adam said it Best:
Dear family and friends,
It is with great sadness that I report that Don and I put our beloved cat Oliver down today. His health had been declining for several weeks and he stopped eating about 10 days ago. His quality of life was rapidly deteriorating and we decided it was best to do it now before it got too bad. Never an easy decision, but we both feel it was the right one. He was 16 1/2, and he died peacefully in my arms, purring right up until the last moment. He was an incredible pet -- so friendly and loving and beautiful. He gave and recieved so much love during his life, and that is a beautiful thing. He will be sorely missed. Goodbye, my boy.
Dear family and friends,
It is with great sadness that I report that Don and I put our beloved cat Oliver down today. His health had been declining for several weeks and he stopped eating about 10 days ago. His quality of life was rapidly deteriorating and we decided it was best to do it now before it got too bad. Never an easy decision, but we both feel it was the right one. He was 16 1/2, and he died peacefully in my arms, purring right up until the last moment. He was an incredible pet -- so friendly and loving and beautiful. He gave and recieved so much love during his life, and that is a beautiful thing. He will be sorely missed. Goodbye, my boy.
Friday, November 07, 2008
I'm Really Different (Now) !
I’m Really Different (Now)!
A Musical Performance Piece, with comedy by Karen Kilgariff and Music by Don Cummings. And a guest.
Friday, April 3 @ 9PM.
The Little Room at the New Largo
366 N. La Cienega Blvd. Los Angeles 90048
No Reservations taken. Sixty Seats. Come on.
Ten bucks.
New Material.
Remarks:
“Karen is so funny. The music is great. I’m coming back.”
A Musical Performance Piece, with comedy by Karen Kilgariff and Music by Don Cummings. And a guest.
Friday, April 3 @ 9PM.
The Little Room at the New Largo
366 N. La Cienega Blvd. Los Angeles 90048
No Reservations taken. Sixty Seats. Come on.
Ten bucks.
New Material.
Remarks:
“Karen is so funny. The music is great. I’m coming back.”
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Crazy 8
The Mormon Church, Focus on the Family, The Knights of Columbus and the American Family Association along with a bunch of other moronic bozos pumped forty million dollars into the airwaves of California to terrify people (about their children, mostly) into voting YES on Proposition 8.
Fuck them all.
During a civil rights fight, sometimes you have to behave like Martin Luther King Jr., and then sometimes, you gotta go full Malcolm X.
When I was in college I used to say, con motto, “I understand the fury of black people. If I was black, I’d be out of control with anger over being so oppressed. I’d wreak havoc.”
What I was really saying without realizing it was that I was a furious oppressed minority. But it was easier to see it as something outside of myself. For surely, a white guy at a nice college had no reason to be upset. But I was.
And I am.
To have those MMU’s, THE MISERABLE MORMONS OF UTAH, march into California to aid in getting the votes to add an amendment to our constitution to legally discriminate against gay couples is something that cannot be taken like a gentlemen. This now means war.
There is much hope. There is a law in California that states if the constitution is AMENDED, it can be done so by a simple majority referendum (which is ridiculous, but as we have seen, true). However, if the constitution is revised, which in this case it has been REVISED because it removes equal protection for certain citizens, then the only legal course for this REVISED CONSTITUTION action is through the legislature and NOT by referendum.
Legal teams friendly to the equal protection of gay people are moving forward using this tact to beat away this new REVISED constitution parading around as if it were solely an amendment. The response from the terrified religious right? “No fair! You can’t do that! That’s why we did all this and spent all this money! So you can never be heard from again!”
What do they think? The legal battle is over? Really? This will not end until gay marriage is legal in the State of California. I always remember a weird little story about a dog and a rabbit. The dog is running toward the rabbit because it wants to eat it. But the rabbit runs even faster away from the dog because it wants to live.
Gay people want to live. We will run faster and we will win. A hard rain is gonna fall on you, you wretched dogs, and you will go hungry.
My advice:
Miserable Mormons: Stay out of our state.
Knights of Columbus: Go choke on your sauce. Being of half Italian heritage, having even been given some strange awards by your organization in high school for having this boot blood, I once entered your strange hall and I immediately despised your creepy, moldy VFW stench and your peasant, backward parochialism. You make me embarrassed to be Italian. Stay out of our state.
Focus on the Family and The American Family Association: Your children, probably about ten percent of them, are gay. Gay as geese. Gay as ganders. Gay. How nice of you to discriminate against your own children, you vile ideologues. Stay out of our state.
Total war.
For the more than ten million voters who voted YES on proposition 8: You go to bed every night now, understanding that you have reduced your being. You are now smaller. And for this smallness, you will have less. When less comes your way, know that it is a physical manifestation of your decrease. So, when you are in pain due to your decrease, know that this pain was cause by your filling in the YES dot on the ballot card, along with the other small things you do every day that manifest your smallness, you small, scared beasts.
For the almost ten million voters who voted NO on proposition 8: Thank you. Thank you. I have met so many people, most of them straight people, who are as passionate as I am, even more so at times, about the equal rights of every human being in the great State of California. My neighbor still has his NO ON PROP 8 sign up on his lawn, next to a burning candle. It is a kind of vigil, I assume. Thank you, neighbor. Thank you, everyone. The numbers are closing in. It is tight. And soon, with legal action, and any other action we have at hand, we shall overcome.
And if I see any of you miserable Mormons crossing our state line again to spread your hatred, I am going to slap you fucking senseless with a recently used ten inch dildo.
Fuck them all.
During a civil rights fight, sometimes you have to behave like Martin Luther King Jr., and then sometimes, you gotta go full Malcolm X.
When I was in college I used to say, con motto, “I understand the fury of black people. If I was black, I’d be out of control with anger over being so oppressed. I’d wreak havoc.”
What I was really saying without realizing it was that I was a furious oppressed minority. But it was easier to see it as something outside of myself. For surely, a white guy at a nice college had no reason to be upset. But I was.
And I am.
To have those MMU’s, THE MISERABLE MORMONS OF UTAH, march into California to aid in getting the votes to add an amendment to our constitution to legally discriminate against gay couples is something that cannot be taken like a gentlemen. This now means war.
There is much hope. There is a law in California that states if the constitution is AMENDED, it can be done so by a simple majority referendum (which is ridiculous, but as we have seen, true). However, if the constitution is revised, which in this case it has been REVISED because it removes equal protection for certain citizens, then the only legal course for this REVISED CONSTITUTION action is through the legislature and NOT by referendum.
Legal teams friendly to the equal protection of gay people are moving forward using this tact to beat away this new REVISED constitution parading around as if it were solely an amendment. The response from the terrified religious right? “No fair! You can’t do that! That’s why we did all this and spent all this money! So you can never be heard from again!”
What do they think? The legal battle is over? Really? This will not end until gay marriage is legal in the State of California. I always remember a weird little story about a dog and a rabbit. The dog is running toward the rabbit because it wants to eat it. But the rabbit runs even faster away from the dog because it wants to live.
Gay people want to live. We will run faster and we will win. A hard rain is gonna fall on you, you wretched dogs, and you will go hungry.
My advice:
Miserable Mormons: Stay out of our state.
Knights of Columbus: Go choke on your sauce. Being of half Italian heritage, having even been given some strange awards by your organization in high school for having this boot blood, I once entered your strange hall and I immediately despised your creepy, moldy VFW stench and your peasant, backward parochialism. You make me embarrassed to be Italian. Stay out of our state.
Focus on the Family and The American Family Association: Your children, probably about ten percent of them, are gay. Gay as geese. Gay as ganders. Gay. How nice of you to discriminate against your own children, you vile ideologues. Stay out of our state.
Total war.
For the more than ten million voters who voted YES on proposition 8: You go to bed every night now, understanding that you have reduced your being. You are now smaller. And for this smallness, you will have less. When less comes your way, know that it is a physical manifestation of your decrease. So, when you are in pain due to your decrease, know that this pain was cause by your filling in the YES dot on the ballot card, along with the other small things you do every day that manifest your smallness, you small, scared beasts.
For the almost ten million voters who voted NO on proposition 8: Thank you. Thank you. I have met so many people, most of them straight people, who are as passionate as I am, even more so at times, about the equal rights of every human being in the great State of California. My neighbor still has his NO ON PROP 8 sign up on his lawn, next to a burning candle. It is a kind of vigil, I assume. Thank you, neighbor. Thank you, everyone. The numbers are closing in. It is tight. And soon, with legal action, and any other action we have at hand, we shall overcome.
And if I see any of you miserable Mormons crossing our state line again to spread your hatred, I am going to slap you fucking senseless with a recently used ten inch dildo.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Monday, November 03, 2008
Young Frankenstein
PLEASE VOTE. Though it would make perfect sense to write about Election Day Eve, I have one more play to write about before I leave New York City to return to Los Angeles for the election night party, and the monster is Young Frankenstein.
Look, I just went because it was a family thing. Two kids coming, one nine and one ten years old.
What do you take these boys to see? Mary Poppins? They had no interest. Spamalot? The parents had already seen it. Billy Elliot? But wouldn’t that look like I was pushing ballet on the boys?
Halloween weekend, Young Frankenstein it is!
Because of the New York Marathon, no one was in town so getting tickets at TKTS was a breeze.
Oh Readers! Young Frankenstein was hilarious. So much better than The Producers, which I experienced as pure pain.
Susan Stroman directed the scary hell out of it. There were physical bits that worked exceptionally well, including physical comedy that tickled one into tears.
The biggest comic role, Igor, was played by Christopher Fitzgerald with a perfect touch and like the rest of the cast, not as an imitation of the original actors from the movie.
Roger Bart as Dr. Frankenstein was perfectly pleasing. I actually worked with him years ago. He was a pleasant chap then and a highly watchable one now. He had such long cool hair when we were in our twenties. Easy going, breezy guy.
Beth Leavel as Frau Bucher hit the right notes. Kelly Sullivan as Inga did what she could with the role. Michele Ragusa stayed so far away from Madeline Kahn in this characterization, you wish she hadn’t.
An added bonus for me was the show was written by Thomas Meehan along with Mel Brooks. Thomas Meehan is from my home town and he wrote, gasp, Annie. On career day in high school, I went to hear him speak about how he wrote Annie---just a handful of us in a classroom. He was speaking again during the afternoon and on career day, you either went in the morning or the afternoon to your chosen event. But I had to go twice, so I could hear him speak again. I went to my French class and told my teacher I was cutting her class to go hear Thomas Meehan, for a second time. She was fine with that.
Look, you can get tickets half price, easily, for Young Frankenstein. And it is worth it. Sure, if you know the movie it is a greater experience. And the music, well, it is not memorable. Actually, there are a couple of times when the singers melted into very close harmonies. One could have enjoyed even more of that. I mean, if you’re going to write a musical, why not write some cool music?
But, frankly, it was all about bits, this play. And they were good bits, well executed, snappy and very funny. Light as a feather. The play felt even faster than the movie.
Lighting techniques were used that made the set seem half stage, half movie, which worked to the show’s advantage. Lightning, too. Huge castle sets. A roll in the hay that flew through the woods. And my, what knockers.
Look, I just went because it was a family thing. Two kids coming, one nine and one ten years old.
What do you take these boys to see? Mary Poppins? They had no interest. Spamalot? The parents had already seen it. Billy Elliot? But wouldn’t that look like I was pushing ballet on the boys?
Halloween weekend, Young Frankenstein it is!
Because of the New York Marathon, no one was in town so getting tickets at TKTS was a breeze.
Oh Readers! Young Frankenstein was hilarious. So much better than The Producers, which I experienced as pure pain.
Susan Stroman directed the scary hell out of it. There were physical bits that worked exceptionally well, including physical comedy that tickled one into tears.
The biggest comic role, Igor, was played by Christopher Fitzgerald with a perfect touch and like the rest of the cast, not as an imitation of the original actors from the movie.
Roger Bart as Dr. Frankenstein was perfectly pleasing. I actually worked with him years ago. He was a pleasant chap then and a highly watchable one now. He had such long cool hair when we were in our twenties. Easy going, breezy guy.
Beth Leavel as Frau Bucher hit the right notes. Kelly Sullivan as Inga did what she could with the role. Michele Ragusa stayed so far away from Madeline Kahn in this characterization, you wish she hadn’t.
An added bonus for me was the show was written by Thomas Meehan along with Mel Brooks. Thomas Meehan is from my home town and he wrote, gasp, Annie. On career day in high school, I went to hear him speak about how he wrote Annie---just a handful of us in a classroom. He was speaking again during the afternoon and on career day, you either went in the morning or the afternoon to your chosen event. But I had to go twice, so I could hear him speak again. I went to my French class and told my teacher I was cutting her class to go hear Thomas Meehan, for a second time. She was fine with that.
Look, you can get tickets half price, easily, for Young Frankenstein. And it is worth it. Sure, if you know the movie it is a greater experience. And the music, well, it is not memorable. Actually, there are a couple of times when the singers melted into very close harmonies. One could have enjoyed even more of that. I mean, if you’re going to write a musical, why not write some cool music?
But, frankly, it was all about bits, this play. And they were good bits, well executed, snappy and very funny. Light as a feather. The play felt even faster than the movie.
Lighting techniques were used that made the set seem half stage, half movie, which worked to the show’s advantage. Lightning, too. Huge castle sets. A roll in the hay that flew through the woods. And my, what knockers.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Kindness
Kindness, written by Adam Rapp, now playing at Playwrights Horizons, is a somewhat absurdist, somewhat naturalistic mysterious murder but not murder play. In a world of sharp alienation and uncaring discord.
What saves the day? Ultimately, there is kindness, which is what this play is all about. Not some feel good kindness, but a bigger kindness, the forgiving kind. A cancer ridden mother who has no energy to try to understand her son and a scorned society girl who is going nowhere except perhaps one day to prison, surround a young man who is quite removed from and saddened by his life.
The society girl kills for cash and eggs on the son to kill his own mother.
If he were to kill her, would it be an act of kindness since he would be putting her out of her misery? Or would it be an act of kindness to not kill her, to let her live the remaining days of her disease ridden life, miserable, vulnerable, coughing up blood. You decide.
I keep seeing plays that have ambiguous endings. Must be the echo effect of a bunch of MFA teachers from ten years ago who are afraid to commit to a point of view for fear of appearing foolish, or maybe they don’t think people should know each other. A shame thing.
But this play, well, Adam Rapp has a special way of making it his, even with the ambiguity. It is not MFA progeny. It is his voice. True and despairing and very funny.
The acting in Kindness is wonderful. Across. Adam Rapp directed and it reminds me that directing one’s own material is often a perfect idea.
The play, while very funny in spots, left me somewhat cold, but then, after the final moments, left me crying my eyes out as I walked along Forty-Second Street beneath the circus lighting of all the urban redevelopment.
This mother/son play, the relationship really beating at the heart of the thing, is simply sad. And though many theatre goers I observed leaving the building had the look of smug subscribers who were thrilled they get to be audience members of such “edgy” “smart” fare, I just thought it was so Fucking sad.
Then I had Moo Shoo Pork.
But then I still thought it was so sad.
I survived the Moo Shoo.
And twenty-four hours passed and I still think it is so sad.
What saves the day? Ultimately, there is kindness, which is what this play is all about. Not some feel good kindness, but a bigger kindness, the forgiving kind. A cancer ridden mother who has no energy to try to understand her son and a scorned society girl who is going nowhere except perhaps one day to prison, surround a young man who is quite removed from and saddened by his life.
The society girl kills for cash and eggs on the son to kill his own mother.
If he were to kill her, would it be an act of kindness since he would be putting her out of her misery? Or would it be an act of kindness to not kill her, to let her live the remaining days of her disease ridden life, miserable, vulnerable, coughing up blood. You decide.
I keep seeing plays that have ambiguous endings. Must be the echo effect of a bunch of MFA teachers from ten years ago who are afraid to commit to a point of view for fear of appearing foolish, or maybe they don’t think people should know each other. A shame thing.
But this play, well, Adam Rapp has a special way of making it his, even with the ambiguity. It is not MFA progeny. It is his voice. True and despairing and very funny.
The acting in Kindness is wonderful. Across. Adam Rapp directed and it reminds me that directing one’s own material is often a perfect idea.
The play, while very funny in spots, left me somewhat cold, but then, after the final moments, left me crying my eyes out as I walked along Forty-Second Street beneath the circus lighting of all the urban redevelopment.
This mother/son play, the relationship really beating at the heart of the thing, is simply sad. And though many theatre goers I observed leaving the building had the look of smug subscribers who were thrilled they get to be audience members of such “edgy” “smart” fare, I just thought it was so Fucking sad.
Then I had Moo Shoo Pork.
But then I still thought it was so sad.
I survived the Moo Shoo.
And twenty-four hours passed and I still think it is so sad.
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