The House of Boogie

It's All Facebook's Fault

2012-01-04T07:10:00.000-05:00

Years ago -- or in that dapper, desolate era known as the 60's -- hipsters roamed the planet armed with worn leather jackets, Chuck Taylor high-tops and moleskin notebooks. They carried pencils or pens of reasonable size and sturdiness and recorded their thoughts and reactions to the trials and travels and travails which they faced and which faced them.

And with the birth of The Internet, they grew up and old.

In today's nano-friendly climes, one that sees children more likely to read from a tablet than a pop-up book, there is still something called Moleskin -- but it's no longer a company which produces pocket-friendly paper-based recording devices, it's a company filled with newly-minted antiques, an iconic throwback to an era no more.

I blame Facebook.

I'll explain.

Facebook -- which is not the root of all evil or The Devil's Work or really a bad thing at all, frankly -- is to blame for our increasingly centrifugal lives spinning headlong out of control. It started with answering machines and VCR's -- too busy to be home to a) answer the phone or b) watch TV? Let a machine handle it for you, and do it on your own time. Then came cell phones. Too busy to sit home waiting for that call? Bring your 12-pound bag-phone with you and answer the call on the go!

Twenty years later, it's all about the DVR, voicemail, text messages and running as fast as possible through life rather than actually sitting back and living life. Some people missed the memo -- it's about the journey, not the destination. Because, as most of us are acutely aware, the destination is the same for us all.

So to explain my continued and deplorable absence herein, I blame Facebook. Why should one stop life when Facebook chronicles each minute of our every day in its open-source, hacker-friendly pages? Why should I bother checking into a blog that no one has the time to read? Unless I wax prophetic about RIM's demise, Apple's impending egregious mediocrity or the newest Android phone, does anyone really care? I'm sure there's a hapless, helpless soul that counts him- or herself among my regular readers sitting in clothes that are overdue for laundry, reading this blog in lieu of a favorable, worthwhile hour of reality TV (although the truth is there really is no such thing).

The point being that we've eschewed humanity in our lives and we've forgotten how to step back -- ever so briefly and/or slightly -- and just enjoyed life rather than trying to outpace it. Whether we're in New York, Hong Kong, LA, San Francisco, Boston or Miami, life's increasingly rapid pace will always be just beyond our reach, but like a fat man on a treadmill, there's no medals for trying.

In either case, my somewhat regular mea culpa with respect to my absence here isn't my own, per se -- it's just that I haven't quite perfected the art of avoiding the impending Facebook timeline from my existence just yet. I am, of course, interested in those of others -- but for my own infinite playlist, gallery, photo album and stream of nonsense, I've held back.

I'm not sure why; it's certainly not a fear of self-expression. It may, of course be a lack of intelligence or wit or knowledge or, most likely, a combination of all of these things. Or it may be some sort of revelation that, contrary to an observation by Tom Petty, too much may not only be enough, it may very well be too much.

Perspective, An Aside

2011-10-18T07:59:00.000-04:00

For RB

One of my friends is dying.

I’m not referring to the daily grind we each experience, the condition Pink Floyd once assuredly described as being “one day closer to death.”

I’m talking about someone – a peer, an equal, a person who might as well be me – slowly winding her way towards no longer living.

It’s not only sad – she’s really a sweet, funny, happy, unique person – but it’s, of course, also a reminder to us all that life is truly and genuinely fleeting. While we consciously understand this concept, when it affects someone who at ~ 35 is far too young to experience this indirectly, let alone directly, it’s a tragic if not cliched reminder that we take much too much for granted and savor each day far too little.

Far be it from me to wonder – aloud, anyway – as to why The Big Man allows this to happen. Good people shouldn’t suffer, and they shouldn’t die far too young. They should live their lives not knowing or worrying -- or being forced to care – about the finite aspect of life – they should spend their days bearing smiles, not burden. And they should be among us – alive – to radiate their positive, upbeat energy. They shouldn’t spend their youth, or whatever one can re-badge Middle Age, confined to a hospital bed, requiring assistance to walk, before the inevitable occurs and they’re no longer here to validate our memories of them.

But they do.

I’m not sure if Billy Joel’s “Only The Good Die Young” got it right, nor am I certain that Pete Townshend and Roger Daltrey don’t sometimes regret their teen anthem “My Generation” bearing the lyric “I hope I die before I get old.” But I do know that as consciously as I can bear it, it still baffles and saddens me knowing the world is losing someone far too good and far too young.

To quote Donna Summer, that's not the way it should be.

Not at all.

RIP Steve Jobs 1955-2011

2011-10-06T11:45:00.003-04:00

It was 1983. I arrived home to find two large, brown boxes awaiting my arrival on our porch. Both were from an entity known as “Computer Factory,” located somewhere in midtown on Lexington Avenue. For me, this and other stores like it would in turn become akin to what most children deem to be toy stores.

I ripped open both boxes, despite warnings from my father, to find an Apple II+, an amber-tinted CRT monitor and a C. Itoh dot-matrix printer. While one of his law partners advised him that it would take hours to assemble everything and that I should not even open the boxes without my father there, I ignored both his and my father’s warnings and had the entire system up and running in about 45 minutes.

The next foray into Apple’s vision was in 1984, a new type of computer called a Macintosh. It featured a weird, wavy box covered in taupe, a 9’ inch black-and-white screen, a floppy disk drive and 128k of internal RAM. And a mouse!

The next Mac visitor to the Boogie household was the 512k version of the Macintosh, known as the “Fat Mac” – and it was largely identical to its skinnier sibling, except this impressive bump in internal memory.

Next up was a Macintosh SE, courtesy of the CIRC/US store through GW, which forced me to leave DC for Bethesda, Maryland, to pick up my latest bounty. After enjoying a few months with the dual-floppy model, I endeavored to have a Rodime 45MB hard drive installed. It was 1988.

Once I outgrew this model, next up was a Macintosh IIci – a nice yet antiseptic box covered in toothpaste white and with no built-in monitor. That lasted several years, equipped with varieties of software that were first making their impact in non-professional computing: photo editing, desktop publishing, and the earliest versions of actual email.

After this model began showing its age, I found myself researching its replacement. Several models had already reached the market as potential replacements, but what troubled me – both as a Mac user and a Mac evangelist – was that Apple had released a machine similar to mine (called the IIcx) that was a marginal step-up from mine, and then only several months later released a machine – if memory serves me right – called the IIce, which was essentially the same thing as the IIcx except in a different shell and with a price tag $400 lower. People who had purchased the IIcx were furious that their machine was both instantly replaced and obsolete, especially given the lower price. In fact, some people had purchased the IIcx only a week or so before the IIce was released and felt cheated and disenchanted by Apple’s behavior. They demanded some sort of restitution – either allow them to trade in their newly-purchased, soon-to-be doorstops, or offer some sort of refund as a show of good faith.

Apple, after all, was known for being the un-IBM. IBM was the faceless, corporate juggernaut that eschewed the “personal” in the term personal computer. Whereas Apple not only put a face on their computers (literally, with the Macs) they were not faceless people hidden behind huge steel girders. They were the non-corporation.

This move, however, changed many peoples’ opinion of Apple – including mine.

That year, I opted for a Toshiba Satellite notebook running Windows for Workgroups 3.31. Thereafter, I purchased a Dell Opti-Posi-Tronic Something-Or-Other running Windows 95, and have since not looked back at Apple in my rear view mirror, excepting those instances where Apple has taken similar, corporate stances in the face of these types of conflicts. Apple went from a two-man traveling show – Steve Jobs and Steve Wosniak – to a corporate entity much akin to IBM, except for the relaxed dress code and the much-preferred campus-style office complex.

However, Apple’s vision of providing an alternative to IBM’s cold, hard dominance wasn’t so much akin to following a yellow brick road to a small man behind a curtain but moreso akin to Who’s Next – “meet the new boss, same as the old boss.”

Steve Jobs was a singular genius – his products and the manner in which he took Apple’s reins upon his return to the company are legendary and, without question, impressive. However, while Apple’s designs are wonderful – the iPhone and the iPad alone are two of the most omnipresent items of the 21st Century, without a doubt – my problem with Apple has and will likely always be their need for control and exclusion.

Some time ago, I found a story online about how Apple has instituted a unique power connector for internal hard drives in its notebooks. In order to function, a hard drive needs to be connected to the system with both a conduit/cable for data and power. By controlling the way power is shared with the hard drive by the system, Apple – de facto – controlled who could make hard drives for Apple computers and who could install them. I assumed there was some sort of explanation for this: perhaps efficiency or reduction of heat or something similar. But no – this was simply a way for Apple to control who and how used and manipulated its products.

This type of controlling behavior is typical of a company like Apple – underdog mentality that knows its products are good but far outnumbered. It’s the hallmark move of a company that needs to be a bit underhanded – in plain sight.

The antenna-gate issue – which marred an otherwise typical cult-like devouring of the iPhone 4 – is another typical example of how Apple does its thing. Denial and control of a situation is the way a small upstart facing insurmountable odds manages to go from small and beatable to a multi-billion dollar cult-driven empire.

None of this denigrates or takes away from Steve Jobs or his legacy. The iPhone – regardless of the fact I’ll never own one – is a solid, respectable product that has shaped the current and future interaction between people and mobile communications. It’s also likely the sole reason why Blackberry (RIM) will be out of business within 36 months. Between that and the iPod, one can’t and shouldn’t criticize Steve Jobs.

Further, it should be noted that Jobs has changed the way we perceive computers – not simply as a result of the iPad, but how he has – coupled with digital cameras and their integration into cell phones – managed to change why we need or even want to use computers. His contribution can’t be minimized to one or two simple products or their impact on our culture. His contribution can, rightfully, be categorized as incredibly significant and as much so, if not moreso, than Bill Gates’ or the integration of Google into our on- and offline lexicon.

My only issues with him, which I would have happily addressed with him directly had I had the opportunity before his untimely passing yesterday, was why he was so quick to take Windows to task for copying the Apple OS when his company lifted the entirety of the idea of using a mouse from Xerox. The second, and more crucial, of these issues was why Apple took advantage of its legions of supporters so readily. To the first, it’s clear that fomenting a sense of “David versus Goliath” was key to Apple’s success. Claiming their good ideas were lifted was and continues to be paramount to Apple’s daily mantra. To wit, they have pushed back against every major company – IBM, Google, Samsung, Motorola, RIM, et al – that they deem to be their competition. Inasmuch as their behavior is more litigious than Tom Cruise attending a cross-dressing costume gala, one can only suspect their predilection to point fingers at their competition is a result of their interest in controlling and profiting from the market rather than advance technology for “the rest of us,” which makes far better ad copy than admitting their ulterior goal – which is to make as much damn money from the consumer as possible.

The second – whether it’s a hard drive power cable, a faulty antenna, injunctions and copyrights or simply rolling out new models to the detriment of its customers –no longer surprises me. I used to be one of the believers – that Apple was different, that their products were different, that their goal was different. I used to believe they were a company designed to advance the technology, that their products were better, and that their goal was to be better, not simply turn as much profit as possible. Those assumptions and beliefs were, in fact, wrong. Apple believers usually tell me that Macs are the best-built, highest-quality machines available on the market. When I advise them that Lenovo’s customer service ratings suggest otherwise, they balk. Facts trump belief.

When Mac users tell me their main reason for buying a Mac was the nearly universal absence of virus and malware designed to attack Macs, I mention that I’ve been using a PC without aftermarket virus/malware protection for six years and haven’t had virus or malware problems simply because I am careful with my online behavior. I also mention to them that I know a dozen Mac users who, in the past year, have had their google, yahoo, AOL and/or hotmail accounts compromised. I also remind them that the future of computing is not in user-installed software but interactive online applications, which are – largely speaking – ignorant of platform.

When I revise my response and clarify that I’d rather know how to use a computer safely in an otherwise unsafe Internet community, I rarely – if ever – receive a response that demonstrates any understanding – or interest – in knowing rather than putting one’s faith in the dearth of Mac-centric malware. Essentially, faith in Apple is better than knowledge.

I don’t bother discussing the differences in hardware performance and the disparity in the vast choices and options between the PC and Mac platforms because most Mac users seem content having less choices and fewer options in what’s available to them. To their credit, they have typically suggested that they would prefer quality over quantity. To that I agree – however, invariably, when asked how he or she would accomplish a task, the typical response is “I’d probably have someone with a PC do that for me.”

As his legacy, I don’t discount Steve Jobs’ contribution to personal computing or his significance going forward as to what we can accomplish with and without computers. I only hope that in the future, the one to which his legacy contributed greatly, is that we don’t eschew knowledge for ease nor do we misunderstand capability for efficiency. And finally, I hope the least of his accomplishments is the fact he took a two-man company and built an empire; rather, I hope the most lauded of his accomplishments is the fact he took his visions and, nearly single-handedly, changed the world.

The Aftermath

2011-05-03T11:15:00.002-04:00

Now that 36 hours have passed since the US assassinated Osama bin Laden and the shock has worn off, there are a variety of factors which have been going through my head and my heart since we first heard the news. Interestingly, Kaia and I were together – we had been watching a film and Kaia’s friend called to discuss something with her but first told her to turn on the news.

So now that the shockwaves have passed and the reality has sunk in, what do we – as a nation – know – and what do we – as a government – know?

Well, the public has been informed that the mission was performed by the Navy Seals (it was disclosed that it was indeed the highly-respected members of Team Six, aka SpecWar DevGru, that carried out this particular mission). The specifics are a bit sketchy, but the brief version is the US tracked a courier that had been associated with several al Qaeda operatives to a large compound situated behind 18-foot-high walls on one acre in the military garrison town in Pakistan known as Abbottabad. Two of the more curious factors which piqued their curiosity was that the courier and his brother were living elsewhere in a million-dollar home yet had no discernible income. And further, the house they had tracked the courier to in Abbottabad was huge in comparison to its neighbors, yet had no internet or phone service of any kind. And finally, while every other house in the neighborhood routinely left its refuse out for collection, the compound’s trash was never left for collection; it was routinely burned.

When the US established a possible sighting of a large man who perhaps fit bin Laden’s description – sometime between September and December of 2010 – they put in place a possible mission which began with Seal Team Six, aka Red Cell.

The Seals, much like the British SAS (Special Air Service), are the anonymous rock and rollers of anti-terrorist, special operations groups. They operate in largely foul conditions, almost always get their hands dirty, and always succeed. Failure for these groups isn’t an option. Essentially, when there is a terrorist or hostage rescue situation that can be handled on the ground in lieu of an air strike or something similarly catastrophic, these are the groups that receive the first call. After receiving the call in connection with the mission to kill or capture bin Laden, they built a replica of the Abbottabad compound and began training for every contingency.

Team Six is the SEAL elite unit which carried out Sunday’s breach of the compound in Abbottabad. Details are scarce – at least accurate ones – but it appears it was two choppers that were sent into Pakistan. The choppers were specially-outfitted MH-60’s that were almost certainly noise-suppressed to avoid detection. The SEALs had entered Pakistan’s Ghazi Air Base from Pakistan, and they brought, among other goodies, “tactical signals, intelligence collectors, and navigators using highly classified hyperspectral imagers.” In plain English, that means they brought materials to signal success to their delivery men (eg their pilots) as well as personnel to insure any computer/data could be safely brought back to the US for review and research. The last part – “navigators with highly classified hyperspectral imagers” – refers to thermal detection equipment so they could locate all the people within the compound prior to going in. It helps to know what’s around the corner waiting to kill you before actually turning the corner.

One of the choppers experienced significant mechanical failure, so much so that the SEALs abandoned it after setting it down and (after the mission was complete) destroyed it to make sure no one would be able to loot and research the technology aboard the downed aircraft.

The raid took approximately 20 minutes, which included killing or capturing approximately 22 individuals located within the compound walls. Both bin Laden and his son were killed in the actual conflict – eg the firefight – as were several other terrorists and a woman who may or may not have been providing material assistance to bin Laden and his people. The public has been advised the woman was being used as a human shield and her death was a casualty of a fierce firefight, but this may not be accurate. It’s possible she was firing on the SEALs and, despite the political ramifications of her death, when people fire at SEALs – especially when they’re in combat mode – they respond accordingly.

At the conclusion of the firefight, the SEALs took custody of between 10-12 captives in addition to bin Laden’s body, which was flown back to their US handlers for examination and DNA confirmation. More importantly, every hard drive in every computer in the compound was removed and taken as well. Finally, because the compound’s trash was burned, the SEALs collected any papers they thought may be relevant and retrieved those along with anything else that might be used for identification and/or research.

All in all, after photographing all the bodies and the configuration of the compound, the members of SEAL Team Six returned to the chopper and were extricated from Abbottabad back to the Pakistani Air Base and were subsequently brought home.

I’ve received conflicting details about whether any members of Team Six were injured; according to public reports, none of the breach team was injured. Others have suggested several minor injuries, resulting from bin Laden’s people using Teflon-coated ammunition, did occur. Regardless, the battle scars these guys endured on Sunday are medals I am certain they will wear with pride – silently – for the rest of their lives.

While this mission was one of the most public and crucial of America’s SpecWar operations ever – at least in the modern era – I can’t help but be impressed not only with the efficiency the SEALs do their job but also the fact that these missions are run with such regular frequency and rewarded with so little public kudos and thanks. Whether these guys do what they do because of their love for America, for the knowledge that they must do it because no one else can or will, or simply because they are good – great – at what they do, it’s pretty clear that the few times we hear – publicly or otherwise – about their successes we should take the time to appreciate their efforts.

So for the members of Team Six and all the SEAL members who participated in the raid this past Sunday, as well as to all those who have expended blood and sweat in protecting America’s interests and security every- and anywhere, know your efforts are appreciated, even if the appreciation is given indirectly; keep on doing what you do.

Looking Back and Looking Forward

2011-05-01T23:54:00.000-04:00

There are varying degrees of significance to Osama bin Laden's death, but invariably they come down to perception and relevance. First and foremost, it was important that the US finally track him down and terminate him with extreme prejudice, and that significance cannot be overlooked. It may mean Obama's re-election is a certainty -- barring completely outrageous failures in other fronts -- and it may also mean that al Qaeda will slowly, eventually, disintegrate.

However, more likely it will mean that that group will temporarily be invigorated and many of the drones who have sworn allegiance to that group will intensify their efforts and planning. This past week, a major plot in Germany was discovered and prevented because some of these very morons who have pledged their allegiance to bin Laden and his group were mindless shitheads. How many of their more intelligent colleagues will join and strengthen their fight can only be anticipated, but I believe it's fair to say the next few weeks will be of significance one way or the other.

In addition to the PR bump Obama and the US military received -- rightfully -- it can't be overlooked that the entire operation sourced in ground intelligence work. See a huge house in the middle of a nondescript suburb in Pakistan. See that no phone or internet service is feeding that large compound, a house/estate large enough to accommodate 20 or more overnight guests at one time. See that they burn their garbage rather than leaving it on the street like their neighbors.

See a known terrorist/courier making regular visits to the house.

See a large man -- approximately 6'4 and very thin -- moving about the property's grounds.

See Seal Team Six kill everyone in the house, including a "non-combatant" female who the terrorists tried using during a 40-minute breach of the compound by Seal Team Six.

See America celebrate.

Don't misunderstand my intentions or feelings here; I'm glad bin Laden is now only a memory. I'm glad he's gone. It's not lost on me that on the day he was killed, people around the world celebrated Holocaust Remembrance Day, and on this day, in 1945, Allied forces in Germany discovered the corpse of Adolph Hitler, another piece of shit of epic proportions.

Let's be clear here: bin Laden was not the monster that Adolph Hitler was. He was a terrible, disgusting human being and deserved a most unsatisfying death and even moreso the most repulsive post-mortem treatment, in direct revulsion to those who respect his beliefs and his lifetime achievements. But he didn't murder 6,000,000 people specifically; he murdered, at most, 5,000 indiscriminately, because he was a disgusting human being.

I'm glad he's dead, but I still rank him below Adolph Hitler and many of his SS leadership for the above-mentioned reasons.

And more importantly, now that the US has locked onto the courier -- the one who led US intelligence personnel to the house in the first place -- and his associates, we may now get a much clearer picture as to what of al Qaeda remains. And that, hopefully, will clarify for us exactly how to eliminate what's left and leave only remains.

My thanks and praise to the members of Team Six (presumably) or whatever SEAL unit(s) that erased this group from the Earth. I am sure it was as dangerous, difficult and intense as anything they will ever see or experience in their lifetimes, and I hope -- for a change -- they receive the proper honor and respect and thanks from their nation and their government for accomplishing something that should have happened long ago. Even if today's news is more PR than significant, I hope it is clear to all that today is of monumental importance and one day we will discuss, like the generation before ours about the assassination of President Kennedy, where we were on this day, and our feelings on the subject.

While the answer to the former will vary greatly, I am sure, I have no doubt the universal response to the latter will be of relief, restrained happiness, and the satisfaction of knowing justice, on some level, has been served.

We Will Never Forget.

The Non-Existent Exile

2011-04-18T01:03:00.003-04:00

The last time I visited these pages, I was expressing my thanks to those near and dear to my family and I. Despite the delay in my follow-up, I'm here to do much the same.

First and foremost, so much has happened since November that it's almost unfair for me to expect to recount all of it in a palatable, clear manner. So rather than make a half-hearted attempt, I'll sum it up in a few words: I headed out to California, had a blast, and realized Kaia and I will be together forever.

Those certainly sound like monumental, heady, heavy words, and while in one sense they are, they aren't really, since there's really nothing new that hasn't already transpired or that we didn't already know. However, what's inevitable in the near and not-so-near future and what's as clear as yesterday, today and tomorrow aren't always one and the same. Put another way, things became much clearer and much more in focus for, I believe, us both, and I think that essentially clarified where we were, where we are and where we'll be in 30 years' time, god willing.

The non-fanfare version of the above is we finally figured out how to make a 3,000 mile distance disappear, and Kaia is now an official NYC resident. We're not yet engaged, but all that stuff is up and coming. The bottom line is we're enjoying being near each other without having to check our schedules and calendars for the next return trip or must-do item before one of us has to pack up our life and put our proximity on hold. It's very surreal to be living so close to one another, and the fact we can spend time together without having to watch the clock or feel an urgency to cram a week or two or three of life into several days is a nice luxury that doesn't quite feel permanent yet. Her place came together very quickly -- everything is now moved in, unpacked, organized, dusted off and -- like her -- perfect. There are some things missing or out-of-place -- we still haven't worked out all the details with a couple pieces of furniture and her artwork is still not completely arranged and organized -- not for lack of trying but for the sheer quantity of artwork -- but once her walls are appropriately adorned with art and various pictures of her family and her life and the two of us, she'll feel like an actual NYC resident and I'll stop wondering subconsciously about her return ticket, which I know -- consciously -- doesn't exist.

It's a very odd feeling, because we've both grown so accustomed to a momentary burst of life being interrupted by a month or two of telephones, emails, IM's and text messages. However, speaking for us both, the best part about it is that now that we're on a permanent burst of life, so to speak, everything is the same except we can actually exhale and focus on enjoying being close to one another and not on our schedules, the return trip, good times for future visits, or anything else.

The one thing which was difficult for us both was her being far from her family, but that too is being addressed. We've gotten her parents a webcam -- her sister already has one -- and they both will be able to Skype video-conference with her once she's settled in and her place is all set. We've been sending pictures of the periodic progress of her apartment to her parents so they are part of the process, but until they actually get a chance to see her and know she's happy, I think they feel a bit detached.

Unfortunately, I know the feeling.

In either case, being that this coming evening (Monday, April 18) is our first official holiday (Passover) as an NYC couple, we're going to head up to Connecticut to spend time with my family. My grandmother will also be there, and we've whipped up a bunch of converted home movies so we can (and she can) see first-hand where I came from and what I looked like as a wee lad. In other words, we're going to do the things we'd normally do as two people who would rather spend time with each other than anyone else in the world. We're just doing it in far closer proximity than we had.

So the odd, strange feeling of wondering about the next return trip, or the schedules, or the calendar being our enemy, is no longer. Now it's just a question of wondering how we'll manage to fit a lifetime together into our remaining lifetime.

In comparison to where we've been, I think we're both beyond confident that it won't be tough to figure it out.

Despite all the urgencies we've faced together while apart and together, now the only urgency is to enjoy the lack of urgency.

And that's just fine by me.

For those of you who celebrate Passover, hope your holiday is as special and wonderful as we hope ours will be.

Thanksgiving and Happiness

2010-11-23T19:31:00.000-05:00

I’ve found, by experience for sure and by observation as well, that it doesn’t take much to be happy. When we’re children, an early Saturday morning watching cartoons or a bowl of sugary cereal with the family was all it took to keep me smiling. As I got older, the happiness factor became a lot more…complicated.

But the end-all, be-all of happiness – true happiness – isn’t about an item, a purchase or some intangible acquisition that sates our mercurial, material desires. And without being obtuse, there’s no one thing that any one of us can point to that is “It” – but the hardest thing, I’ve come to realize, about being happy isn’t about the happiness itself but actually figuring out what it is that we want that will instill that intrinsic sense of happiness – satisfaction, accomplishment/achievement, and arrival, all wrapped up in one endorphin rush of happiness.

At this time of year, we all – hopefully – have something for which we’re thankful, something which makes us happy and appreciative. Despite the fact my Aunt is in the hospital recovering from a somewhat serious illness, she’s on the mend and we’ll re-do Thanksgiving as a family in January. I’m certainly thankful for that. I’m also thankful that Kaia will soon be a full-time NYC resident. And I’m thankful my family – near, far, immediate, distant – is doing well and everyone is living and enjoying life now and for the future. I’m also thankful our office relocation went smoothly and largely without incident, that nothing exploded or blew up and the new digs are an improvement on the old.

But inasmuch as I am genuinely pleased over these details, I think the crux of my happiness – as opposed to my gratitude – isn’t any of these items per se but instead that I am thankful, and I have lots for which to be thankful. On some level this is all semantic nonsense for sure, but while one could opine that he was thankful a large animal missed kicking him in the genitalia, being thankful in and of itself isn’t, for me, the reason why I enjoy Thanksgiving as much as I do. Of course the food is a key player in the overall euphoria that many of us cite when we declare our love for this particular holiday. It’s just that, for me at least, what really comes together is that – much like on a Father’s Day or a Mother’s Day or any special day meant to celebrate those we care so much about – I’m happy I have as much as I do for which to be thankful.

We tend to get wrapped up in minutiae of our lives, which seemingly become busier each day and each year – myself included – and part of that minutiae is the pursuit of useless, short-lived crap with which we adorn our lives like clutter in a shrinking room. For that I know I am guilty far more often than I’d care to admit.

But inevitably, while some religions – eg the Jewish New Year – are about seeking others’ forgiveness and giving that same forgiveness to others, what I think is interesting about Thanksgiving is it is a cultural, rather than religious, endeavor whose sole directive is not to forgive or focus on past indiscretions or problems or issues or disappointments but simply on people and things we have in our lives for which we’re appreciative.

While each Thanksgiving invariably offers us the chance to briefly surrender the appreciation of our lives and instead flip the Nissan that just cut us off in traffic the bird, or to chastise Uncle Nathan for breaking wind in the living room with all the guests downwind, the short and long of it – for better or worse – is that it’s a time for us to exercise some restraint and be thankful for what we have rather than focus on that which we don’t.

Best wishes to you and your families for a genuinely happy Thanksgiving and for a happy, healthy year.

Wrong and Right

2010-10-01T07:53:00.001-04:00

The name “Tyler Clementi” didn’t mean much to anyone until September 22d, when it was revealed that the Rutgers student, as the result of a prank performed by his roommate and fellow Rutger students Dharun Ravi and Ravi’s friend Molly Wei, committed suicide by jumping off the GW Bridge.

The story has been highly publicized on Facebook and all types of news outlets. Sadly, Clementi’s last communication was via Facebook status update: “jumping off the gw bridge sorry."

Inasmuch as this is a sad, tragic unfolding of events, and this was certainly a despicable act these two imbeciles committed, this more than not was not about technology. This was, essentially, two people treating another person like crap for their own amusement. Whether the victim was gay or asian or jewish or a little person or mentally handicapped, the fact is he was a victim. The two people who decided to play a prank on him most likely didn’t mean for him to kill himself – even if that was the unfortunate result – and at any given time in each of our lives, we have – I am certain – said or done something that has offended or otherwise insulted someone else. Even without malice, it’s more than likely that anyone reading this has – intentionally or otherwise, by commission or omission, done something that has embarrassed or otherwise made another person feel badly. Sometimes these actions aren’t so much intentional as they are not unintentional between “frenemies” – the very fact that term exists suggests that we as individuals sometime do things to “friends” that could be perceived as not particularly friendly behavior.

I am not attempting to minimize what Ravi and Wei did – because it was repulsive and inconsiderate and disgusting. Assuming some basic facts about the situation, one could surmise that Tyler Clementi was a gay man who was not openly so. Apparently his roommate was an immature, idiotic asshole who, rather than respect whatever Clementi’s sexual orientation was, he decided to embarrass him by planting a hidden camera in the room and invade Clementi’s privacy by broadcasting the private goings-on between his roommate and a male friend of his. It sort of reminds me of the end of American Pie where the main character of the film, Jim, opts to secretly broadcast his interlude with Nadia, a girl from class – and it goes horribly wrong (as anyone who has seen the film knows).

I don’t think there was the type of malice that these two idiots believed would inspire the kind of desperation in Clementi that would result in him committing suicide; however, it was obviously something which was particularly inconsiderate, demeaning, invasive, disrespectful and disgusting. And actionable.

While some people acknowledge that it was just a prank that went horribly wrong, others believe this was a hate crime. I’m not sure if it was indeed a hate crime – I think these two morons decided to take advantage of someone and they did. Would they have done so if he was African-American? Asian? Indian? Who knows. Did they know he would be so devastated by what they did that he would commit suicide? Who knows?

What I do know is their actions caused someone’s death. Whether that is murder, a hate crime or simply an unintentional act of manslaughter, I can’t say. What I do believe, however, regardless, is that they both belong in jail and, hopefully, will never forget what their callousness caused. One of their attorneys acknowledged that what they did was awful, but deep down they’re really "good people."

Bullshit, counsellor. Good people don’t poke fun at other people because of who they are. That’s something you either know or don't know. It's not learned – not at college or anywhere else – and if you don’t know better, you never will. Let’s hope they find out first-hand – in prison – what it’s like to be treated like shit by someone else for sport.

Maybe then – maybe – they’ll learn.

The New Year...Again

2010-09-11T00:26:00.000-04:00

As Americans, most of us typically take stock of our lives with the passage of each year. That is why the "New Year's Resolution" follows the sins of the triad of holidays: Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's Eve. Presumably, that is also why the three biggest resolutions people typically attempt -- mostly in futility -- are to lose weight, stop smoking and cut down/stop drinking. It would figure that the three biggest vices excoriated by society are those people celebrate and very soon thereafter attempt to shed ASAP.

However, the Jewish New Year is very different. I've addressed this topic elsewhere among these pages so without revisiting my observations on an annual basis, the dichotomy of the holiday is both celebration and reverence -- to the latter concept, reverence of the fact we have a limited time on Earth and hope that we are inscribed in the book of Life for the coming year, eg we hope we survive to the next new year.

It's at once both a celebration and a somber time for reflection and of hope. I don't speak Hebrew fluently -- I can read it but I can't really translate it, save for a few words. So invariably while I participate in a conservative service, my mind tends to focus on hoping that those I love -- family, friends, etc. -- are around a year from now. I won't fire off the litany of people and things I wish for in the coming year, but all of them revolve around health and happiness and none are about me per se. It's at once selfless and selfish; but for my limited spiritual scope, I believe that I'm optimistic, realistic and genuinely thankful for all that I have in my life: family, friends, Kaia, etc.

However, at the same time, being that 9/11 has fallen in our laps almost simultaneously with the duality of the celebration of the Jewish New Year, there's an added somber tone as well as one that's more clinical and less spiritual.

The tone and the significance of 9/11 should not need any introduction or clarification; however, with respect to the more clinical aspect thereof, I refer to the proposed burning of the Quran by a Florida church on the eve of 9/11.

My first reaction to this planned event, which was announced sometime at least six weeks ago, didn't shock me inasmuch as it made me wonder how someone claiming to be pious thought this would be appropriate. Using the rationale that Muslims -- extreme, radical muslims -- deem it appropriate to burn the US flag and to attack Americans both in foreign lands and on US soil, Pastor Terry Jones felt this was a justified -- and apparently intelligent -- move.

Obviously this decision -- before the entire world pressured the Church to cancel the proposed event -- was foolish in many ways. Most Americans at one time or another have felt rage and anger over the events that transpired on and since 9/11. And while most of us have since understood the difference between those followers of Islam who are genuinely good people as opposed to those "extremists" who have perverted the religion to advocate mass murder and suicide as a means to salvation, it's understandable that some people feel about Islam the way they do.

In tandem with this issue is the "9/11 Mosque" issue, which has similarly polarized the entire nation. While the 9/11 Mosque is actually a cultural and religious center located near Ground Zero and not on the actual site, on some level it too is a bit sensitive, especially for those who lost family on 9/11 and perhaps regard the site with a different, more intense sense of longing and loss than do many of us who didn't lose anything beyond our innocence as a nation.

When I first began reading about the 9/11 Mosque I was, overall, opposed to its creation. I felt that it was beyond insensitive and repugnant building a mosque so close to the location where Islam -- in its most corrupt, perverted form -- killed 3,000 people. However, I've changed my stance on the issue -- not because I feel differently about Islam but because the people who perpetrated the 9/11 attacks were no more Muslim than the people who perpetrated the bombing in Oklahoma City were patriots. Would anyone object to a memorial to the Constitution at the former site of the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building?

The proposed burning of the Quran, however, would have mirrored something the perpetrators of the attack would do; in fact, given the same circumstances, they would simply killed any and every person who ascribed to the beliefs contained in that text, rather than simply burning the texts. Carrying out that burning would have marked a dark and repulsive chapter in our history. One terrible, disgusting event on 9/11 is enough.

Put another way, we already have to endure -- based on law and the insanity of some peoples' beliefs -- Fred Phelps and his Westboro Baptist Church (WBC) picketing funerals. We can either come about resolutions with debate and discussion, or we can watch as Americans revile their soldiers and the people who comprise this nation. If we accede to the wishes of those who mean us harm, we can choose the latter path. Personally, however, I am thankful the Quran burning was canceled -- and not due to a proposed relocation of a Mosque or any other number of factors, but simple respect of others beliefs, despite the fact they do not coincide with those of Pastor Jones.

Is it an embarrassment that this event nearly took place? Yes. Is it of consequence that there were riots in several places, including Afghanistan and Pakistan? Yes. Is it a sad reminder that there are people filled with hate not only in those nations but here, in America, on American soil? Yes.

And in a year from now, will these problems magically disappear, especially if I hope for that result among the other new years' hopes/prayers I utter over the next week?

Not likely.

While none of us can predict the past, the one thing that is likely is these problems and issues never will disappear. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.

That, and I hope we all enjoy a happy, healthy, prosperous -- and safe -- new year.

In A New York Minute...

2010-08-26T07:18:00.000-04:00

If you've ever stood by helplessly and watch a mechanic, repairman or computer consultant work on a pricey beacon of utility within your daily existence -- a car, an appliance or a Quad-Core PC -- you know all too well the possibly sickening feeling you experience when he/she advises you that the object of his/her attention is in need of replacement, not repair.

However, when that consultant is a doctor and is advising you that the object of his/her attention is a human being -- specifically, someone about whom you care a great deal -- it's far worse. Audi keeps producing cars, GE microwaves are plentiful, and if today's PC goes tits up, tomorrow's Newegg shipment brings replacement parts with UPS efficiency.

However, less than a week ago, we were in the dubious, precarious, repugnant position of being on the receiving end of some incredibly distressing news about my grandmother. Without going into specifics, the prognosis we were given -- by a team of phsyician-assistants at Columbia Presbyterian -- was worse than grim and took an indelible toll on us all.

It was only two or three days later that this prognosis was rescinded and we were advised her condition was neither fatal nor permanent. And being that she's 90, anything unusual or different is, usually, not a good thing.

After the initial shock, sadness and disappointment we experienced as a family, both immediate and extended, elapsed and we were left to face the reality of the fact that she's 90 years old and probably won't be celebrating her 150th birthday on this earth -- at least not vertically -- we resigned ourselves to mortality, both hers and each of ours, and proceeded to ensure her situation was addressed expeditiously.

And when the prognosis was soon thereafter rescinded, I suppose the first thing we each experienced, after relief, was a strong interest in the names of the morons who made the ridiculous, irresponsible decision to suggest her time on this Earth was soon drawing to a close.

In hindsight, after enduring that particular experience, one could harbor anger, resentment and sentiments akin to vengeance.

But the truth is, beyond the relief of knowing she's going to be around for quite some time longer -- perhaps long enough to watch Kaia and I exchange vows, etc. -- I can only focus on the relief part and not the anger. I'm not sure if this confirms I'm a happy person, or that my anger management genus is still functioning, or that I'm a wuss. But overall, after the relief and gratitude and that big talk with The Man Upstairs, I think the main emotion I've experienced as of late is acknowledging our time here -- on this planet, I mean -- is too short to be consumed by anger, resentment and anything other than happiness.

I don't see my overwhelmingly pointed sense of sarcasm waning -- if anything, it gets sharper each year as if its been treated to daily whetstone applications -- but at least it's for laughs and not for the jugular...mostly.

So the next time you and/or a loved one happen to be near or visiting Columbia Presbyterian, bring clown outfits and red foam noses for the physician assistants and a big bag of questions. Inasmuch as these people think they know what they're doing, just remember -- they're playing God, but they're not even remotely accurate in their portrayals.

Tomorrow's Another Day

2010-08-05T08:14:00.002-04:00

Invariably, we humans are a curious breed; we never fail to see the optimism of tomorrow. While we rarely manage to address everything in our inexplicably busy lives today, we know with certainty that tomorrow the sun will rise in the East and, given our best intentions, we will accomplish what we've needed to address by the time tomorrow's Sun sets in the West.

Except we don't call into question whether we'll be there to witness both of these daily certainties. Of course we will; why would we even question it?

A friend of mine, Neil Dublinsky, seemed to be that type of realistic optimist. He was always quick with a smile or a good word or support, someone who seemed to get it. I hadn't seen him since September when he'd visited New York, but we'd been friends online for more years than I can remember. We'd met through J-Date, he of the moniker Hip Lawyer Man LA and me of the Boogie Booginacious moniker. We'd worked opposite coasts but we'd both benefited by the fact that we just enjoyed interacting with others and enjoying every minute of every day. Once we finally had a chance to hang out in September of last year, I'm glad to note that he was the same generous, easy-going mensch in person that he had always been in the virtual world.

Going through the myriad minutae of Facebook, I suddenly discovered he passed away this past July 25th. "Neil? No, that can't be." Somehow I just couldn't believe it. It didn't seem to make any sense -- I'd spoken to him somewhat recently and he didn't mention he'd been ill and didn't seem to be off in any way. After some digging I'd confirmed what I was hoping I wouldn't. So many people left their thoughts and prayers and sympathies on his Facebook wall, and further prepared and posted entries about their thoughts on Neal's all-too-brief life. I'm still shocked and saddened by the fact that his is a life that is no more. I want to somehow believe that I'm not in reality and that tomorrow will bring news that this was all part of some alternate reality, one that he and I will laugh about the next time we meet up in NYC, whether at Vynl or somewhere uptown or wherever. We might even commiserate about the passing of Captain Lou Albano, the famed pro-wrestling personality we both admired in the 80's. Or just muse over the intricacies and vagaries of life in general.

Unfortunately, I know this won't be so. Of course my thoughts and prayers and sympathy extend to his family and friends, and I'm sure at some point I'll re-visit his wall and read through the additional comments from his other friends equally saddened by this news as am I. And each time I think of his easy-going smile and seeming happiness in this life, I'll hope that -- wherever he is -- he's happy and at peace and sharing his smile and his genuine good nature and generous spirit with whomever he's with.

Rest in peace, Neal...as much as I'm glad to have known you I'm sad that your time here was so brief. One thing I know for sure -- whether yesterday, today or the tomorrow that is yet to come -- you'll be smiling and so will be whomever you're with.

-B-

It's Been Awhile...I Think

2010-07-27T22:45:00.002-04:00

Despite not having visited these pages in something close to five weeks -- for which I apologize -- I've been a busy Boogie. Between work, the weather and weekend entertainment -- which three categories frequently blend together in part or completely -- it's been increasingly difficult to stop by these pages for introspection and extroversion.

However, in a nutshell, what's been happening is significant -- as per usual -- so I'll try and piece together some of the past five weeks in rapid-fire mode so as not to self-induce sleep and to ensure you, the reader, manages to escape these pages unscathed.

First and foremost, work has been intense. The intensity of which I speak isn't a bad thing, mind you -- I like having a lot of balls in the air, so to speak. The problem is it's increasingly like running up a down escalator (or is that running down an up escalator?). It feels, at least after some days, that more was piled on than I was able to address and resolve.

I 'spose that's relatively worrisome, except that there are days -- and even weeks -- that typically feel like that. But I don't worry as I do catch up. The large majority of my clients are pleased or -- at the very least -- know we're doing all we can to keep their interests front and center. Several of our clients are unhappy with things we're doing for them but not with our service per se. Unfortunately, if only it were as easy as snapping my fingers, I'd have happy clients all over the place. Most of our clients aren't unhappy, but they're under pressure and relying on us to help alleviate that pressure. And we do everything we can to do so. The problem is city bureaucracy isn't as cooperative and eager to get things done as are we. Thankfully we're making progress on our most pressing matters and getting things done. And despite the fact we have many happy clients, it's our resolution of the hardest situations that pleases me the most. Put another way, it's not enough to get the little stuff done; it's knocking the most challenging stuff out of the park that is the most rewarding.

Meanwhile, I've been spending weekends trying to catch up with work and avoiding the weather. NYC in July is typically hot; this summer has been well beyond the simple hot and is approaching scorching. There's nothing wrong with a few days over 90 degrees, especially given the fact that the City dresses down on these extraordinarily hot days. However, the problem is when the subway platforms approach 115 and there are homeless guys violating public indecency codes and the waft of urine and garbage coincide with said public indecency; that makes it hard to justify the age-old "I Love New York" jingle. Further, when walking out of the apartment feels as much a chore in this weather as it does in late, frigid February, the same cabin fever sets in. Friends of mine have houses in Fire Island, the Jersey Shore, the Hamptons and elsewhere; but inasmuch as I'd love to escape the City for a weekend, it's just easier staying put, getting stuff done and moving forward...as long as the A/C is cranked, my PC is humming along without feeling like a full-tilt, illuminated space heater and I don't feel the need to get a cold compress as my first order of business for the day.

Technology-wise, I acquired two very nice items which I'm sure will be completely worthless in a year's time but -- for the time being, anyway -- make me almost as happy as my significant other. The first is the Western Digital media player known as WDTV Live +, and the other is the new Motorola Droid X.

The former is a small box that allows one to hook up a hard drive or computer to an audio/video receiver (or a TV) via HDMI, USB and/or network cable. The bottom line, of course, is that with enough cable and know-how, one can connect a hard drive filled with BluRay movies to a home theater system...which I've done. I've amassed about 600 or so DVD's and I've been loathe to reacquire these films on BluRay, so what I've done is sign up for Netflix -- every couple days they send me two of the 500 or so BluRay films I've got in my queue and I fire up the goodies and enjoy. I actually came across a site that allows one to exchange DVDs for BluRays of the same titles (eg send them The Shining DVD and, $5 later, receive a copy of The Shining on BluRay), so I have about 30 or so BluRays. I also managed to get a copy of a favorite of mine on BluRay from Amazon.com.uk called Who Dares Wins. That film is not high-brow or high quality, but it rocks me each time I watch it. It's about the SAS, so if you enjoy spy thrillers with anti-terrorist, military-esque films that kick ass and pull no punches -- and are willing to fire up a Region 2 disc -- have at it. Or give me an hour's notice and bring a six-pack of Blue Moon Ale.

The nice thing about the combination of the WDTV Live + Netflix is that one can get Netflix On Demand streaming movies. That means that anywhere from 5,000 to 10,000 Netflix films can be viewed at a moment's notice. The whole enterprise is simple, quick and painless, and for $20 a month, I'm planning on cutting my Time Warner premium channels in half.

And the other benefit of this particular device is being able to stream 1080p (HD) media with instant and immense gratification.

The second item in the two-part list, the Droid X, is a fairly significant acquisition not because of what it is but what it isn't.

I've been using Blackberry phones for five or so years now, and while they are relatively vanilla, boring and unsophisticated except when it comes to rock-solid email delivery, they are all of these things. Seeing a complete dearth of interesting Blackberry models and the increasing capability of Android phones, I finally decided to switch lanes and get one. Enter the Android operating system and the Motorola Droid X.

If you have no familiarity with this device, swing by this page at your earliest convenience. It's a relatively basic look at what this thing does. And without mimicking the campaign advertising this bad boy, the truth is these phone do everything. They handle email well -- but not as well as Blackberry -- and they do everything else as well if not better than the iPhone. I'm only really concerned with email delivery and the ability to access data sites, eg the NYC Department of Buildings (you asked). The Blackberry was woefully underpowered with respect to web access so this alternate path makes lots of sense. But much more importantly, this thing does everything else. It helps you find an address and gives you a 3-d navigation option (turn by turn), whether you're on foot, a bicycle, in a car or even underground. It serves as a book reader -- whether you're a Kindle, Nook or free-form ebook reader -- and can stream iTunes playlists fairly simply. It can find and download recipes, news, sports scores and all kinds of other data -- just like the iPhone -- except it does so quickly and without the shortcomings of a built-in battery or the ineptitude of an underpowered AT&T network. And it does all of this stuff incredibly well.

The downside, of course, is that it offers a large learning curve; however, each day I realize I was foolish to wait as long as I did to jump. If my prediction is right, Blackberry will be relegated to a corporate-only third-bit player in the smartphone market within five years if they don't do something -- quickly. And the fact that Android OS-capable phones have increased sales over the past six months at a staggering 350%, I'd be shocked if they don't overtake the entire market, including that of the iPhone.

Yes, I know the iPhone is landing on Verizon's network in January; yes, I know the iPhone has 750 million different apps, whereas there are only about 100,000 apps for the Android OS. And yes, I know the iPhone is simple. However, the Android is awesome, impresses me each day, and coupled with the software I've installed on mine, is really a solid business tool.

In short: part of not fearing technology is mastering it and using it to your advantage. Not so short: you need to know when to make changes so you're ahead of the curve rather than behind it.

Finally, I've found myself spending more and more time reading World War Z: An Oral History of the Zombie War -- it's relatively trashy and not going to challenge the reputations of Charles Dickens or Ernest Hemingway or Jackie Collins, but it is solid, well-written, entertaining, engaging, uber-creative and a far better distraction for bus commuting than the typical sounds, odors and sights common in public transportation. As should be obvious, I highly recommend it.

I also recommend "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo" -- in both book and film form. I am about to begin reading the book, and the film -- which has a foreign-language (Swedish) soundtrack with English subtitles -- was amazing. It's not an easy viewing -- gritty, intense, and somewhat disturbing -- but it's really memorable and worthwhile. The fact it's being refilmed (in English) means that you should probably see the original version now before the same people who green-lighted "Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo" destroy this masterpiece.

More later -- if not sooner -- if you promise to try and stay awake.

-B-

The Smallest World Possible

2010-06-03T06:16:00.001-04:00

Each day, whether due to the BP oil leak bleeding pollution into the Gulf, or the news about Israel’s blockade in Gaza, we’re reminded just how small the world has become.

It’s not because we receive news instantly instead of in daily or nightly feeds as was typical 20 or so years ago; and it’s not because emails, text messages and/or multimedia messages allow us to be witnesses to historical events unfolding.

It’s that where we were once isolated throughout the world, everyone is now united by one single, simple catalyst: the Internet. And while the instant appeal of this communication is a great and positive thing, it also serves to demonstrate how we all are world citizens. More importantly, it serves to demonstrate that people with common goals – be they beneficial or pernicious – who were once isolated can now commiserate and stoke the fires of their desires, good or bad.

The new “it” topic – at least for the next week or ten days – will undoubtedly be Israel’s handling of the Turkish flotillas that attempted to violate the Israeli blockade of Gaza. And while that particular incident was not a surprise for many, what will be even less so – and perhaps increasingly disappointing – is that the world will “re-up” and attempt to politically wear down the Israelis to lift their blockade of Gaza.

Another “aid” ship – this time carrying cement, toys, medical supplies and “educational materials” – will attempt to enter Gaza and break the Israeli blockade. And again, Israel has offered to permit the ship carrying these items – an Irish ship named the Rachel Corrie – to dock in Israel so Israel can a) screen the shipment; b) distribute the items; and c) protect itself from the mass influx of weapons and explosives smuggled through legitimate sources like “humanitarian missions” such as this one. The “Free Gaza Movement” organization is very vocal as they should be; there are issues in Gaza that need to be seen and examined. But the vocal aspect of their participation is to criticize Israel for its blockade, not to criticize the extremists who use these types of shipments to bring in weapons and other materials contrary to peace. Israel’s blockade isn’t intended to deny human rights to anyone, including her neighbors; if it were, then one would wonder why they would request any ship carrying aid materials dock in their port so they can handle the expense and responsibility of distributing this material.

Put another way, if the Israelis were the monsters most ignorant observers loudly proclaim they are, why would they offer to help in the distribution process?

And while we’re on the subject of asking very simple questions whose answers seem to elude the people striving for “Free Gaza,” if the Israeli blockade intended to injure the “peace activists” on those Turkish flotillas, why did the Israeli commandos who raided those ships do so carrying paint-ball guns rather than typical commando fare with live ammunition? Why didn’t they a) just fire on each ship from far enough away to avoid putting their commandos in danger? Obviously, they have demonstrated they – rightfully – are more interested in the survival of Israel than what people beyond her borders thinks. And why were “peaceful activists” armed on these vessels? And further, why did these “peaceful activists” attack the commandos? Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but as a peaceful person, if I’m a passenger on a ship en route to Gaza and commandos storm the boat on which I’m sailing, my first reaction would be to get my head down and avoid pissing them off. In fact, knowing the Israelis don’t mess around with their military, I’d be inclined to hide; my last inclination would be to attack them.

And the world is shocked that “peaceful activists” were injured or killed by a venomous group of Israeli commandos looking for blood?

Ridiculous at best; and complete bullshit at worst.

Not a shock, as per usual.

There’s a moral I learned as a child which I practice to this day: the moral is “don’t poke the sleeping bear.” Other ways of communicating this same concept is “let sleeping dogs lie,” and yet another is “don’t ripple the water.” These three phrases mean one and the same thing: don’t go looking for trouble. These Turkish ships – violating an Israeli blockade – opted to ignore Israel’s willingness to help with the humanitarian aid bound for Gaza. Israel’s blockade – unjustified to those who have nothing but disdain for Israel’s existence – is not illegal nor is it designed to mistreat its neighbors. Its goal is to limit and prevent the mass shipments of weapons – machine guns, missiles, explosives, and bomb materials – into the region. Ironic how “peaceful activists” not only attacked Israeli commandos, but fail to comprehend the rationale behind the blockade.

Even more ironic is that – since 1940 – these people who use “peace” as a war cry still haven’t learned not to poke the bear.

And frankly, only one thing is certain: they never will.

A Holiday of Thanks

2010-05-10T00:46:00.003-04:00

Being that it's May -- and not November -- some of you might be puzzled as to why I'd be going there now so far in advance of The Official Day of Thanks, aka Thanksgiving. I can run it down for you in several boring, bloated paragraphs, but I can sum it up nicely by observing as follows: I am thankful for days -- and weekends -- like these, and I take every opportunity to take a step back and say so when/if applicable.

Back to the bloat.

This weekend was different and special in a multitude of ways. First, our typical Friday night hang at Little Shop of Crafty Bastages -- at 94th and Amsterdam -- was spontaneously and suddenly canceled. Several sub-groups within the group had shit happening, and while I was ready -- post-PC office upgrade -- to make my way uptown, most everyone decided to bail, so we all opted to go our separate ways. So my substitution was an especially exciting one -- finish remote upgrade of the PC, do some additional office work at home, and fall asleep at the computer.

Joy.

Saturday was a half-free day; the morning was more work, organization and some basic planning, and the afternoon was heading to Astoria to a wine bar to celebrate Kelcey & Keith's wedding shower. Food was called pot-luck optional, so I -- like several other party attendees -- whipped up a garden veggie/spinach/tomato dip and scored two bags each of yellow and blue organic corn tortilla chips. Judging by the fact that I either made way too much or people didn't dig on it -- or a combination thereof -- I got to bring some home later and enjoy my handiwork.

But more importantly, the party was a load of fun -- the entire group was mellow and the location was awesome (props to Dallas, the party planner) and it was a load of fun and really wonderful celebrating with the soon-to-be wed couple.

I got home late and made cookies in preparation for my visit to see my grandmother and the family for Sunday's Mother Day celebration, which was also a lot of fun. We don't get together often, but when we do -- and I join, schedule-permitting -- it's always great. Today was no exception. I feel badly for people who have little or no family, and even moreso for people who don't have the opportunity to kick back with some regularity with their near/far family. Today was a lot of fun, and since my mom's having surgery this week -- and the 18th is my grandmother's 90th birthday -- being thankful for these kinds of days/weekends is appropriate. Put another way, not every day is awesome -- so when I have two or three of those days -- consecutively -- I don't miss a chance to be thankful.

We're all entitled to complain -- but I try to go 2-to-1 on the complain vs. appreciation ration. And today -- and this entire weekend -- definitely skewed that ratio -- in the right direction.

-B-

The Screen Goes Dark

2010-04-28T06:23:00.000-04:00

As our days become increasingly full and our responsibilities grow -- both to ourselves and to others -- we find, with greater frequency, that some things are more important than others, and those things which we once deemed of the highest importance become less so. As we get older -- whether it's attending junior high school or college or a first job or a new job or the birth of a child or the death of a grandparent or a parent -- we are prone to realize things aren't in black and white but in gray, and increasingly things that are important are not nearly as easily-cateogirzed as they once were.

The only absolutes in our daily existence which -- unfortunately -- will never change are the man-made constructs and the stark reality of life and death.

I came across a story on CNN.com of a 25-year old woman, Eva Markvoort, who was afflicted with cystic fibrosis. It touched me on several levels; first, because the article was posthumous. Second, it was about how terminally-ill people are using the internet to reach out to others -- both people with the same affliction(s) and those who might benefit from the knowledge the terminal patient may impart; and, finally, I had a friend who lost her battle with cystic fibrosis at a young age (typical for CF victims).

On a purely clinical level, it's interesting observing this trend within the setting of our ever-evolving existence of increased virtual social interaction and our ever-increasing isolation from non-virtual contact. Put another way, it's interesting that our lives are not only becoming less and less about actual physical
interaction but increasingly so are our deaths. We can access a literally infinite number of humans without leaving our desk chairs; and we no longer have to visit a cancer ward to see terminally ill children, adults and geriatrics from any and all walks of life.

I'm not mourning or lamenting this fact; I'm not sure if this is a good thing, a bad thing, or even how I should feel about this aspect of Eva Markvoort's story as an example of this phenomenon.

I do think it's a good thing -- within a limited scope -- that people can search online for others' experiences facing terminal illness. As a child, hearing that someone died of a heart attack or cancer or something medical (ie not via a car accident or pulling a bank heist) inspires fear of these things. However, as we get older and we learn more -- about these various medical calamities -- they become less frightening or more things with which we can either cope or at least face. In some cases, we can even defeat them.

But facing these foes head-on -- whether with or without fear -- is probably more necessary than anything else, aside from medical care and self-responsibility.

I'm not sure, again, how this newly-minted type of quasi-interaction will affect us in the future; is there really any difference between handwritten journals chronicling the end of one's life and those composed via keyboard? Whether these memoirs are on paper or on a backlit screen? And whether these journals are kept along with the other miscellaneous crap one accumulates over the course of a life and a death, in a box or a container in someone's attic, or somewhere in a blog database, searchable with keywords like metastic tumor, malignant and/or inoperable?

Regardless of my opinion on this -- if, quite frankly, I had one -- I think that part of the key to life is one's death. Dignity, above all other things, should be maintained for anyone who, essentially, sees their time on this Earth dwindling. It should be noted that while we all -- consciously and otherwise -- know not only that today could be our last day on Earth, and each day we live brings us one day closer to death. However, those whose ends are near and in close proximity can and should do whatever they feel brings them the appropriate closure. I am an optimist and while I hope I never have to contemplate these concepts for myself personally, reviewing this story forced me to do so on a personal level, which is relatively uncomfortable. It's sort of like visiting an organization that sells cemetery plots and headstones; these are not experiences we enjoy but those we must, at some point in our lives, do.

Finally, back to Eva Markvoort's story and her contribution: Whether or not we improve our ability for curing cystic fibrosis or another terminal illness is not the only factor here. Her story, on some level, is our story; absorbing her personal experience makes her life that much more important, and especially for those of us who didn't know her personally, it allows her voice to remain alive and to help those of us who need that help, whether it's for personal illness or for past experience.

Put another way, I can't bring myself to delete the names from my contact list of those people who have passed away. There are not many of them, I'm pleased to admit, but every time I come across their names -- in the list, or in archived email -- it reminds me of them and, even for a second or two, forces me to pause reflect about my memories of them and their experiences.

And, most importantly, allows me to remember them as people and not just names and pixels on a backlit screen on a soon-to-be relocated page.

A Day To Remember - 4/11/10

2010-04-12T07:39:00.002-04:00

The irony of the plane crash that claimed the lives of over 100 people, including Polish President Lech Kaczynski and several other high-ranking Polish officials, is that it happened so close to this particular day, which in Hebrew is known as Yom Hashoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day.

Directly or otherwise, every Jewish person on the planet lost someone during the Holocaust. It's particularly unavoidable knowing that 6,000,000 Jews -- as well as millions of non-Jews -- were exterminated due one individual's distrust, paranoia and twisted, grotesque vision of the world. And yet I am sure there are Jews out there -- perhaps even reading this -- whose attitude regarding this day equates to "What's the difference?"

I'm not answering the Four Questions in this space or anywhere else; but given the political situation the world is in these days -- an administration in Washington, DC, that seems headed towards forsaking -- or at least altering -- the relationship this nation has continually held with the state of Israel; the nuclear ambitions of rogue nation-states like Iran and North Korea; the nuclear -- and mass-scale -- ambitions of radical Islam, evidenced by Al Qaeda, Hezbollah and Hamas; and the general apathy exhibited by many people in this nation, both Jewish and non-Jewish -- is particular disconcerting.

The other night I had a discussion with friends about whether interrogation torture -- as employed by the CIA -- should have a place in our legit tactics. We debated -- for some time -- whether torture should be practiced or forbidden (waterboarding, psychological torture, etc.). There were six in our group and I believe I was the only one who supported the use of torture tactics in policy if the end result was the saving of lives (American or otherwise). The rest of the group was morally repulsed by the notion that torture ever had a place in our obtaining of intelligence and felt these tactics should be banned.

The reason why I bring this up -- although it didn't occur to me at the time -- was that in this modern era of gray (as opposed to black and white), how can we ensure that another Holocaust, of people or of an entire nation, not repeat itself? How can we not compare Hitler and Osama bin Laden? Despite the fact their goals are, largely, the same, what's the difference if one uses concentration camps and another hopes to somehow obtain a nuclear weapon and kill millions in one huge blast rather than over a ten-year period? Vis-a-vis torture, if we have a method which -- as repulsive as it is -- can save lives, shouldn't we explore and endeavor to use those methods which can help us accomplish this task?

Or should we aspire to a noble, proper cause, much akin to English policemen ("bobbies") walking around the streets of London unarmed?

Inasmuch as the world today is a far more disturbing place than it was prior to 1939, it seems to me that while I agree that torture is a repulsive tactic, I think we must meet the challenges we face to ensure another Holocaust -- of Jews, or anyone else -- never occurs. Prior to 1939, the US distaste for war precluded us from involvement in World War II, deeming it repulsive -- much like many today feel about torture -- yet had the US gotten involved before 1939 (without the prodding from Japan but of our own volition and on our own terms) perhaps the death of 6,000,000 would be far less, if not happened at all.

My point is not to accuse or admonish or condescend; however, whether it's war, torture or a medical tactic -- such as chemotherapy -- once we acknowledge there is a repulsive threat, we need to be willing -- and act -- to repel said repulsive threat, and be willing to do so with whatever means necessary, even if some of same are almost as -- if not moreso -- morally repugnant as the threat we face.

Never again.

The Freedom of Freedom

2010-03-24T06:56:00.003-04:00

Despite the fact Iran is speeding towards acquiring nuclear weapons and is sharing training and methodology regarding IED (roadside bombs) with their Muslim Taliban brethren, the real problem isn't found outside these four walls, but from within. To quote the Tommy Lee Jones/Will Smith film Men In Black:

"A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky dangerous animals and you know it. Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow."

This week, a judge in Mississippi ruled that an 18-year-old lesbian, Constance McMillen, can not only attend her high school prom with her girlfriend but she can wear a tuxedo if she so chooses. However, he also upheld the school's decision to cancel the event entirely.

If you hadn't heard about this particular case, Ms. McMillen indicated she would be taking her girlfriend to the prom and intended to wear a tuxedo to the event. Subsequently, her school advised her she would be barred from bringing a same-sex date and would be removed or denied access if she wore a tuxedo. The ACLU intervened and sued the school, who subsequently canceled the event.

In his opinion, U.S. District Judge Glen H. Davidson held that the school district had violated Ms. McMillen's rights by prohibiting her from bringing a same-sex date as well as wearing a tuxedo, and cited the fact that she has been openly gay since she was in the eighth grade and her attendance with her girlfriend, and the type of attire she had chosen to wear, was a statement on her part. Hence the school violated her rights.

My initial response to this first component of the decision was what had happened if she was not openly gay or bi and had dated men for years but suddenly decided to bring a female date to the prom? And further, what would have happened if she was straight but decided to wear a tuxedo and bring a male date who decided to wear a dress?

The second component to the decision is somewhat misleading and disheartening as well. The judge did not demand the school sponsor a prom because, apparently, a group of parents decided to plan a private off-school event -- called a ball -- and hold same elsewhere on the same night as the intended prom. The question as to whether Ms. McMillen is allowed to attend this event -- with her date, and her choice of attire -- remains to be seen.

So despite the fact that Ms. McMillen -- courageously, I might add -- stood her ground, the end result is she'll likely be insulted and blamed -- both locally and from afar -- for being the cause of this situation when it's the school, the community and -- frankly -- some backwards-ass country fucks -- that have created this firestorm in the first place.

This case, and the bigotry behind it, is unfortunate but not surprising. I commend Ms. McMillen for standing her ground, especially in the face of the abusive response one can only assume she'll receive. One need look no further than the pathetic, repulsive comments in response to the article posted earlier herein.

This reminds me of a case from the last 18 months wherein an interracial couple was refused a license of marriage, and similarly demonstrates -- to me -- the religious zealotry and fervor with which some people fight abortion rights. To me, whether one is opposed to the marriage of interracial couples, abortion, gay rights or anything else which opposed their own views, fervent opposition is less an appropriate response and more a revelation of fear, bigotry, ignorance and naivete. I understand people -- "dumb, panicky dangerous animals" -- want to keep a handle on their world and retain the values with which they grew up; I understand wanting to keep your world the same as it was when your parents grew up. However, the world changes and the people that fail to change along with it are not going to win their battle with entropy, change or progress; they're going to be regarded as outcasts, bigots and angry. So be it.

This debate, incidentally, touches on the larger issue of gay marriage, which has increasingly been brought to the forefront since the Bush Administration was in existence. Personally, I'm opposed to the actual term "gay marriage" only because of semantic reasons. A marriage, by definition, is a civil union of a man and a woman. I fully support a same-sex civil union which grants each member of said union the same benefits as a married couple; I just would refer to same as a marriage. But whether it's 2010 or 1910, people should not be precluded from being happy, nor should they be prohibited from spending their lives with whom -- and in whichever manner -- they wish. What is unfortunate, to me anyway, is not that we as people are so resistant to change -- we all are, on some level, for various -- and not all bad -- reasons. What bothers me most is that as Americans, we have ingratiated ourselves with the notion that we should express our opinions because we have the right to do so, but we seem to have forgotten the fact that once we have expressed our opinions, we should expend as much if not more energy on actually moving forward, whether our opinion is accepted or not. Alexander Hamilton, in The Federalist Papers, described the notion of factions and how different opinions and beliefs would naturally pit one view against another -- in both governmental issues and beyond same -- and yet, his view wasn't that we should intensively, infinitely labor on these differences, but come to some sort of understanding or acceptance and move forward.

It seems we have only mastered that first part -- the extreme arguing, bile and insulting -- and skipped over that second part, the art of compromise and accepting, rather than alienating -- our neighbor. Whether it's gay rights, abortion, race, or anything else that seems to bring out the worst in us as a nation, I don't quite understand why we haven't mastered the art of jointly expressing our opinion and our respect for others' opinions. Saying "I don't agree with what you are doing, and I don't feel it is right for me, but to each his or her own" has been replaced with "My opinion is right, yours is wrong, and I will fight to the death before I see your opinion win out over mine."

Voltaire once wrote "I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." We've gotten so busy disagreeing, preaching, protesting and denigrating others' beliefs that we've forgotten another equally important American tenet -- individual freedom.

To me, that is both unfortunate and sad, and perhaps a unique American perspective, one I hope changes some time in the future, if not in my lifetime.

A Busy Month

2010-03-19T08:11:00.000-04:00

Invariably, in life, one reaches a point where his birthday is relatively insignificant and it represents yet another day in an otherwise busy schedule and the struggle to make it out of bed.

I'm happy to announce I'm not quite at that point yet.

It all began last Saturday, March 13th. I had been informally planning a night out with a bunch of friends knowing Kaia would be in town, but I hadn't really planned much of anything out. Typically, when we plan as a group, things come together quickly and efficiently and everything works out because we're all of a similar mind: pick a place, a time, and have fun.

However, being that Kaia was in town and there was a lot of ancillary stuff happening, the night never got fully fleshed out. Friends of mine from out of town were going to be visiting NYC -- with their mom -- and I wanted to be sure I saw them as well. However, because of the way everything was progressing plans-wise, I wasn't exactly sure when we'd get down to the bar where they were going to be celebrating with friends.

Needless to say, Saturday came and the weather was monsoon-like. So instead of vigorously planning the night out, Kaia and I decided to wing it -- and since a friend of ours, Matt, spent time with us that afternoon, we figured we would make some plans for dinner -- which we did -- and opted to visit Dinosaur BBQ, at 131st and 12th.

Kaia and I had been planning to visit Dinosaur for a year or two; between that and some friends of ours telling us to run, not walk, to Dino ASAP, we decided we three would head uptown. Never mind the weather was terrible, and that every sane person on the entire island of Manhattan canceled his/her plans and opted for delivery and a movie.

We went uptown and when we arrived -- in the monsoon -- at Dino, I looked through the crowd and saw a dozen friends hiding -- SURPRISE -- amid the masses of people awaiting Dino's tasty eats. The details of the surprise came out after, how Kaia engaged the entire group via e-mail and everyone finally agreed to venture out to Dino, etc. etc. etc.

We spent the next few hours kicking back, celebrating my birthday, and overall having a lot of fun.

I didn't really expect much of anything, between the fact my birthday landed during the week and I don't do much exciting any given year; however, it was a blast having everyone assembled, despite the weather -- amazingly, everyone made it -- and I genuinely was touched by the fact that the surprise was really a nice way to pre-celebrate.

On my actual birthday, we went out to Balthazar -- one of our usual hangs -- I had way too much to drink before and during dinner -- and went to bed happy, hazy and relaxed.

All in all, as I get older, I might not get wiser, but I do learn -- and in this case, I can happily admit I appreciate my significant other, my friends and increasingly realize that spending time with good friends enjoying good food, booze and good times is far more worthwhile than anything wrapped up with a shiny bow (although they're mighty awesome as well).

Thanks to all who celebrated or otherwise acknowledged my birthday, and I hope everyone enjoyed the day near and far.

Thanks to some good friends -- and, of course, Kaia -- another year's passing isn't something to mourn but to celebrate, and leaves me looking forward to the year ahead and to March 17, 2011.

Thanks again...

-B-

The Literary Road-Block Continues

2010-03-09T07:53:00.001-05:00

Every time I absorb something new -- a book, a movie, a short story or a play -- it affects the creative process. This isn't particularly news-worthy or unique; most creative people -- or so I'd imagine -- incorporate their respective environments in varying degrees into their creative output. I think the best example of this phenomenon is that of graffiti artists; most members of this unofficial collective, I'd wager, are from urban areas. Conversely, I doubt many graffiti artists have spent their entire lives in rural parts of Iowa, Idaho and Indiana; not that there's anything wrong with any of those places; however, one is far more likely to see graffiti living in a congested area like NYC than in the rural Midwest, and exposure to something begets its influence, and so on, and so forth, etc.

In any case, I'm still in the process of writing It -- the story. The last time I had the urge to fill a shitload of pages with one collective literary bowel movement was sometime in the late 90's, and while I believe I had something, what I wound up having was victimized by timing. I was writing a story involving an anti-hero facing an international terrorist -- the latter's name was to be the name of the novel -- and part of the story involved terrorists blowing up the George Washington Bridge, among other things.

And then 9/11 happened, and fiction and reality -- sort of -- collided pretty intensely, both literally and figuratively. And I stopped writing -- fiction, anyway -- for awhile.

I began writing again a few years ago, and have since amassed what I believe is a pretty solid skeleton of a story. There are a half-dozen different aspects to the story, all of which culminate in a coming together in what I believe is something worthy of my time, although whether it's worthy of others' time remains to be seen. Interestingly, the real kick in the ass this time around isn't fleshing out the characters or constructing the interactions but coming up with appropriate names for characters. For anyone who doubts the significance of characters' names in political thrillers, consider a CIA operative who kicks ass and who can navigate a 256-bit-encrypted arms dealer's notebook PC -- in Arabic -- and who answers to the name of Orville Redenbacher.

As indicated, it's all relative.

There are other aspects of the project that are giving me fits -- how certain key plot points come together are still a mystery to me, and while some people can fabricate a novel by using an outline, more often than not I don't know what's going to happen from one chapter to the next until I actually take the time to map it out, paragraph by paragraph. I suppose I should be jealous of someone who can envision the entire sequence of a novel in his or her noggin; for me, however, the writing is almost as entertaining -- albeit inestimably fare more infuriating -- than just reading a good story.

In any event, my problem now -- far more significant than the naming issue -- is those few key plot points that still have yet to be connected and/or worked out. Every so often things come to me -- when I'm half in or out of sleep, in the shower, watching an episode of The Inbetweeners (on BBC America -- highly recommended, by the way) or even when I'm on a 4 train headed up- or downtown.

The bottom line, unfortunately, is these connected points rarely -- if ever -- seem to come to me when I can actually implement them -- or, far worse -- remember them.

So I suppose I'll continue to let the cursor blink at me among pre-fab text and worry less about what it is I'm going to say and more about when it is I'm actually going to commit to saying it.

Put another way -- in the words of Stephen King, in the forward to "Night Shift" -- a writer writes. In my particular case, I'll keep doing whatever it is I'm doing in lieu thereof.

For now, anyway.

Getting It Right

2010-03-08T00:01:00.001-05:00

When in the course of human events, a machine of such magnitude like the film "Avatar" -- a bloated, boring techno-fest of blue things running around a screen -- can steamroll its way to Oscar favoritude is sort of irritating.

However, every so often the Academy gets it right. Like they did tonight.

It's irrelevant -- to me, anyway -- that Kathryn Bigelow is the first female to win an Oscar for Best Direction. It's irrelevant that this evening could have seen an African-American win an Oscar for Best Direction for the first time.

They managed to get it right.

I didn't see all 50 films nominated for Best Picture (actually, there were only ten but it's just a matter of time before 50 wind up on the list); however, I did see Avatar (most of it, although I managed to get in some useful rest during the 2.5 hour film as well) and I saw The Hurt Locker, the latter at home on BluRay.

The Hurt Locker was and remains -- and will remain -- a memorable, powerful, intense film that will serve as a reminder of what war in the 21st Century really is: dangerous, intense, numbing, powerful and incredibly frightening. There have been incredibly portrayed films depicting war -- Platoon and Saving Private Ryan are but two of the better ones -- but The Hurt Locker grabs you by the balls and doesn't let you go until well after the credits have ceased to roll.

I'm not sure if the reason why I failed to fall asleep during The Hurt Locker was the intense soundtrack (every time a bomb exploded I felt it all around me and my couch shook) or simply the fact that the film -- and the performances therein -- were thoroughly riveting.

Overall, tonight -- for better or worse -- went according to what I had hoped. While I think Jeremy Renner's performance in The Hurt Locker was deserving of a Best Actor Oscar, I understand and agree with the choice of Jeff Bridges in that capacity, if only because his body of work -- not only in Crazy Heart, which I didn't see -- but his entire resume -- was deserving of accolade and an Oscar was well overdue. It's a shame -- just like The Hustler and West Side Story or Goodfellas and Gandhi -- that timing screws things up so badly for certain unfortunate films/performances. Had Jeremy Renner been nominated for this film last year, he would have been up on that stage -- and deservedly so.

Sandra Bullock has always been a talented, likable actress, but most of her performances have been in fluff, disposable films (not to mention Speed 2: The Waste of A Film). From everything I've seen and heard about The Blind Side, she deserved to win, and simply by her acceptance speech alone -- and not based on the fact that I've always admired and enjoyed her as an actress -- I'm glad she won. It hearkens back to Julia Roberts' Oscar win for Pretty Woman, except Julia Roberts' victory remains -- along with Marisa Tomei's for My Cousin Vinny -- somewhat out of left field. Yet, while it's somewhat of a head-scratcher, I suppose her win this evening confirms that if you are a good guy and you do good work, eventually someone -- or some Academy -- will acknowledge you for what you've accomplished. Good job.

Christoph Waltz won the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor -- at least in my eyes -- the minute I walked out of the theater after having seen Inglourious Basterds. The film was entertaining and enthralling as is typical of a Tarantino picture, but his performance was -- by far -- the most far and away deserving of an Oscar of any of the people nominated for their work in front of the camera. And Monique's win for Precious was not a shock to me, although I would have chosen Maggie Gyllenhaal simply because I had heard incredible things about her performance. I'm glad, in retrospect, that Precious received acknowledgment, however, because I heard it was a strong, powerful film. Crazy Heart might have been a strong, powerful film as well, but I'm not unhappy that Monique won because from what I've read, hers was a performance worthy of an Oscar as well.

Finally, as far as the evening goes, my favorite part (of what I saw of) the Oscars was the spoof of Paranormal Activity (starring Steve Martin and Alec Baldwin) which preceded the Academy's Tribute to Horror Films. I won't elaborate, but I actually enjoyed the two-minute skit far more than the film itself.

And finally, something I learned this evening which I never knew was that Helen Mirren has a spider-web tattoo on her hand. If there was an Oscar for a woman 65 or older who remains incredibly sexy and whose talent knows no bounds, we might have seen her tattoo wrapped around another Oscar.

Alas...until the Academy further dilutes its rules and regulations, we'll just have to wait until next year. C'est la vie.

Congratulations to the Academy this year -- despite the ten films thing -- for not fucking it up.

Two Things: Give 'Em Hell Malone & F*ck Southwest Air

2010-02-14T22:09:00.004-05:00

Being that this entry in the ongoing putrification of the Internet known as the HoB will be rather pointed, I'll try and be brief -- which means that if I were writing for a printed periodical, I'd be out of a job and collecting empty soda cans.

First and foremost, I came across a Thomas Jane film entitled "Give 'Em Hell Malone" -- which also features Ving Rhames and Elsa Pataky. Many of you know Thomas Jane from the HBO Series "Hung," and many others of you might know him from films like "The Punisher" and/or "61*." Many -- no, all -- of you will not have seen him in perhaps his best film, "Thursday," in which he stars alongside Aaron Eckhart and Paulina Porizkova. That's unfortunate -- but what's even more unfortunate is that anyone felt the need -- or that it was appropriate -- to green-light "Give 'Em Hell Malone." How anyone would allow this two-hour pile of shit to be committed to film without following it up with firing squads for the writer, director and producer(s) is beyond me.

In a word, dogshit. Complete and utter dogshit.

Now on to more rosy pastures.

Apparently, one of the more admirable people in the film business, Kevin Smith (Mallrats, Clerks, Dogma, and the forthcoming Cop Out) had a rough weekend. The other day, he boarded a flight leaving from Oakland to LA (or the other way around) on Southwest Airlines and was the victim of an incident. Apparently, the captain -- a pilot -- of the plane, prior to takeoff, left the cockpit and advised Mr. Smith that he was too fat to fly.

Again: they deemed him a safety risk because he was too heavy to fly.

Never mind that all the previous Southwest staff -- check-in people, flight attendants, baggage people -- didn't find him too heavy to fly, nor was there any problem for him to fly on his prior (Southwest) flight. But apparently he was forced to leave the plane.

Now -- coincidentally -- I posted a photo of Mr. Smith earlier last week speaking at the MacWorld Expo in San Fran, and observed that he was really ballooning. Based on the photo, I'd have to assume he was close to 300 pounds. However, despite the fact that I believe he's gained a lot of weight -- most likely due to his increasing, self-professed enjoyment of marijuana, apparently -- I can't believe an airline actually deemed him worthy of humiliation and ridicule by forcing him off a flight.

The details of the incident are sketchy -- google "Kevin Smith Southwest" for more details -- but it seems that he was comfortably ensconced in his seats (he can fit in one but purchases two for privacy) and wearing a seat belt (without an extender) when Captain Shitbird decided to have him removed. I can respect an airline that is responsible and treats its customers well (cough cough Virgin America cough cough) but what I know of Southwest is that they make decisions that are ridiculous and repulsive. The last time I read something incredibly ridiculous about SouthWest was when they decided a young girl's outfit included a skirt that was apparently too mini for their tastes and advised her she would either have to put a blanket over herself for the entire flight or leave the aircraft.

Far be it from me to lecture a corporation on its strategy, but if treating your customers like shit is in your mantra and/or corporate lexicon, you're doing something wrong. Two other entities -- Blockbuster and Dominos Pizza -- make these types of value judgments about what their customers want and/or to which they are entitled, and both of those companies are just as shitty as SouthWest. Blockbuster -- like Walmart, another crappy corporate entity -- makes value judgments about which movies it will carry (or only carry certain types of films), and behold and lo, Blockbuster is going out of business (not immediately...they're on life support). Dominos Pizza's founder began speaking out about abortion and value judgments, and aside from the fact their pizza is more cardboard than quality, I will not patronize them ever again, and I hope they too hit the skids.

But SouthWest just picked on the wrong fat dude. Kevin Smith has so many fans and such a huge fan base -- on Twitter and at the View Askewniverse (his self-themed forum) -- that the next month will not be spent on PR for his soon-to-be released film Cop Out but in its place how shitty SouthWest is and why they should be boycotted.

I don't care how many "bags fly free" ads they run, any company that decides to judge people on their outfit or their weight doesn't have any place in my America. I'm not sure why or how they came to be this condescending, holier-than-thou source of all that's right (or wrong, your perspective) in America, but I know that I will never -- ever -- patronize them.

In an age where media and communication and information has real, tangible, power, SouthWest just picked on the wrong porcine passenger, and they should -- and will -- pay the price. Whether they survive this incident merely with a 20% drop in revenue or whether this begins their final descent is anyone's guess; but I know that any entity which deems it necessary and appropriate to pull this shit -- especially with someone whose opinions are broadcast to millions of people -- does not deserve to be in business, and while I appreciate the sensibility that this asshat pilot felt he was just doing his job, I can assure you that he, and every other self-aggrandizing imbecile that works for that shithole, should literally and figuratively go down with the ship.

Being that Mr. Smith has since been a non-stop tweet machine about this incident -- entitling many of his tweets and podcasts "F*ck Southwest Air," the irony in and of this particular incident is that the captain's concern that Mr. Smith's weight might bring down a plane will -- hopefully -- and ultimately -- result in the entire airline figuratively slamming into the ground.

Soon.

______

Personal note to Kevin: still waiting on that $20 from Affleck. Hope you hung in there and didn't take this incident too-too personally, and while I hope you do jettison some extra baggage, I hope it's not simply this repulsive example of corporate dimensia gone awry that's its impetus.

And finally, Virgin America rocks, even if Branson is one or two bottles short of a case.

The Non-Storm of the Year

2010-02-08T06:38:00.000-05:00

It was interesting watching last night's Super Bowl; seeing the Saints wring out a victory after a slow start was, frankly, a non-event. But the biggest non-event this weekend without a doubt was the huge snowstorm the NYC area failed to receive.

Back to the lesser non-event, last night's Saints-Colts Super Bowl from Miami. I'd been invited to a few different Super Bowl parties but had so much work prep to address before Monday I declined each invitation. The truth, however, is that I had very little interest in the game itself. I had my work finished late yesterday afternoon so it wasn't a matter of working deep into the night, but I had so little interest in the game itself that I couldn't really justify going anywhere -- given the weather -- to watch 100% of a game in which I had 0% interest.

True, Super Bowl parties rarely are really about the actual game, they're social events, and I'm not anti-social. However, on frigid Sundays with work looming, I tend to be somewhat anti-social. So pfffffffffffft.

Meanwhile, speaking of the Super Bowl, there were five actual moments that, to me, were memorable.

The first was watching "The Who" perform. Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend are in their mid-60's and, despite the fact their band, The Who, started as a statement about how youth was mistreated in the middle 1960's in London, their music is still great. And while they've lost more than a step and look like grandfathers -- and despite the absence of their long-since-departed bandmates Keith Moon and John Entwhistle -- it was a lot of fun watching them blast away for a little while between halves. Nevermind that Pete Townshend's windmill kept getting derailed by an errant jacket or that neither of them were quite able to recreate the tunes they penned forty years ago; it was fun, entertaining and a non-controversial, enjoyable interlude to a to-that-point boring game.

The second moment of interest was the Doritos commercial in which a dog in the park removed his own "bark control" collar and strapped it on a man sitting on a bench teasing him with Doritos. Not only was it a funny ad, but it was nice to see -- yet again -- animals outsmarting humans. Considering this nation's innate stupidity, I really enjoyed this ad. And no, I don't want any of your Doritos.

Woof.

The third moment of interest was the quickie ad featuring David Letterman complaining that "this is the worst Super Bowl party ever." Then the camera pans out to show Oprah trying to console him. Then the camera pans out further to a seated Jay Leno who says "He's just saying that because I'm here."

Especially given all that's happened over at NBC the last few months with Conan, Jay Leno and the barbs fired between Leno, Letterman and O'Brien, seeing Jay Leno and Oprah on CBS shilling for The Late Show was, in a word, bizarre. Funnyish and memorable, for sure, but bizarre, absolutely.

The fourth moment of interest was the Porter interception of Peyton Manning. Seeing him return the catch for a touchdown to put the Saints up -- at that point -- 22-17 -- was really memorable because the bigger the stage, the more unlikely it is Peyton Manning screws up. The Saints did a great job counteracting Indy's offense, and while credit is due the Saints as a team, that really speaks to Sean Payton's abilities as a coach. So that really pleased me, as he deserved it in a big, big way.

The fifth and final moment of the Super Bowl was the incomplete fourth-and-goal pass that sealed it.

Depending on your perspective, that could either be interpreted as a pessimistic, critical "Wow, so you remembered two plays from an hour-long, internationally-televised four-hour broadcast." However, all things being equal, it says a lot about a well-played, well-officiated, even match-up between two strong teams that I was still watching with less than five minutes to go.

So -- again -- pfffffffffffft.

And finally, and most significantly, thanks to the entire meteorological community which predicted we'd be on the receiving end of a huge snowstorm from Friday night into Saturday evening. Luckily, I was set to see my cousin and his wife for dinner Saturday night, and we discussed canceling but opted to play it by ear. We would have been pretty tweaked had we canceled only to see there was absolutely no snow whatsoever. So kudos to Scott and Maddy, and a big "go shit in your hat" to all the imbeciles who made us believe we were going to be eskimoes this weekend.

Put another way, thirty years ago I could forgive these morons for their complete ineptitude. But now that they have technology and can track a flea's fart 10,000 miles away, I'm not really clear as to why these shitheads can't figure out when a citywide swath of snow is going to hit NYC. I'm not exactly sure why they can't figure it out, but the more they predict we entrench for the Big One, the more I'm likely to suggest they're all full of shit and plan a beach picnic.

So a final -- and most emphatic -- pffffffffffffffffffffft to anyone who wears a cartoon sun pin on their lapel whilst doing a bullshit 11:27PM weather broadcast. And further, may the fleas of 1,000 camels infest on your crotch.

Happy winter, and congrats to my NOLA peeps; enjoy it now, because the Aints will go 4-12 next year ;-)

-B-

Nice MaxiPad!

2010-01-29T06:37:00.000-05:00

For the past few years -- even before the first iPhones hit the street -- Apple's cult of followers has ravenously devoured every bit of news and rumor regarding new products like flies on shit. PC users are relatively restrained over new hardware because their allegiance follows a methodology rather than one single brand, so there's never a lack of new products forthcoming. However, the opposite end of the PC-Mac spectrum is that, with respect to the PC camp, there are a lot of lousy products to the few really incredible ones, so there's very little circling of the wagons when something hits the street because it's not hotly-discussed on every blog spanning the techno-globe.

I respect both sides of these diverging paths, as I spent many years being an Apple devotee before I finally left the cult and found the non-Jesus, aka the Pentium. Consequently, I'll never knock Apple's products -- however, I'll also be brutally honest in suggesting that they're well-designed, far too overpriced, far too limited and rely too heavily on hype and the science of the cult to be seriously considered.

Having said all that, the new iPad -- which has everyone buzzing from any two world coasts one can find on a map -- is indeed a huge disappointment for those among us who believe in free thought. For real Apple loyalists, it's the second coming...not of Jesus, but the iPhone. So what if it doesn't have a camera, the ability to multi-task or flash? Most Apple loyalists will find a way to happily excuse these omissions, quite capably.

So what if they deleted a USB connector and went with a 4:3 (non-16:9) screen?

The answer to all these omissions: so what, people will buy it.

This is, for me, the core of why I would and will never buy another Apple "computing device." I have an iPod (a Touch, specifically) and for what it does, it's great. It plays music, it plays movies, and has a half-dozen useful applications. Most of them are games, and one application is a sound-soother I use every night. In the morning, I use the Touch's built-in alarm (with that nuclear warning "alarm" sound) in tandem with an iPod-compatible Sony clock Kaia got me to bring me from a deep slumber to up 'n ready for Defcon 2 in a matter of seconds.

The problem is that Apple's products -- while creatively designed -- are designed to have a specific lifespan before they're replaced by something a bit better and a bit more capable. Put another way, they fall under the umbrella of built-in obsolescence.

Anyone who disputes that should first consider how many of Apple's products they've purchased and then, two years later, subsequently replaced, either because the battery needed to be replaced, or because the new model had so much more impressive features, or because the standard -- which is also set by Apple -- had changed so drastically that replacing was the only option.

And let's also keep in mind that all technology dies; when companies coordinate that death around new products and schedule rather than forecast it, it's part of the design, not the product strategy. Hence my disinterest in owning anything of significance made by Apple.

Back to the iPad -- and we'll ignore the criticism of the name (personally, knowing they hit a home run with an iPod makes the iPad moniker sensible). Although I must admit that people have now come to refer to the 64GB model of the iPad as the MaxiPad. Love that to a point beyond which words can't describe.

In short, the device -- like many of Apple's products -- is designed for Apple, and people either worship it, have no interest in it, or hate it. Apple's strategy is, quite simply, designed to provoke an emotion, and the reason why the iPad is in serious trouble is, frankly, most people don't seem to give much of a shit. It seems like a nifty little device; that description, however, was what most people used to describe the Newton.

I believe most people who wind up buying this device will be first required to memorize -- prior to purchasing -- the litany of excuses and explanations inherent in most Apple apologists' lexicons (a good collection of same can be found here). Sure, the device doesn't have USB, but it's not supposed to be an actual PC, it's only supposed to do this. Sure it doesn't have a camera, everyone has a cell-phone with a camera, why would I want to be bothered having a camera in this device too? Sure, it doesn't have Flash; who cares, eventually flash will be a thing of the past. Sure, it doesn't have HDMI or HD capability, it's not a portable movie player.

The answer is Apple, in its closed-loop marketing strategy, is -- frankly -- insulting those on-the-fence people -- those who are neither Apple fanboys nor people who hate Apple -- by intimating that Apple will decide what features we need and make us go elsewhere for those that they omit. By omitting a camera and banning Skype from their device, Apple has essentially tried to control the mobile market rather than opening it up. By eliminating flash, Apple has let us know it doesn't care about whether flash is viable or not, and that we as users should avoid sites with flash. And by non-conforming to the worldwide mini-micro USB connector, Apple is insuring users will have to pay them an extra $35 for a power cable that would normally cost, oh, about $8 at any Radio Shack.

Put simply, when you have to make excuses before you buy something, that in and of itself tells you that you're a fool to even consider buying said product in the first place.

But -- admittedly -- I am considering buying it. Not because it's innovative, not because it's the cool new thing, or worth the money; it's none of those.

I just can't wait for the day, hopefully soon, when I can announce to a small group of clients and/or business professionals, "Excuse me while remove my MaxiPad and plug it in."

The Hurt Locker

2010-01-20T07:09:00.001-05:00

Intention is rarely the appropriate substitute for action, but being that I've been just barely surviving the last week or so, I'd been meaning to kick back and relax and watch Kathryn Bigelow's new film about an American elite bomb squad in Baghdad entitled "The Hurt Locker." Despite my initial impressions prior to viewing, and the subsequent buzz the film has received, I didn't have much in the way of expectation going in other than anticipating I'd enjoy it. I'm not sure if it fulfilled that expectation, although I must admit it will be quite some time before -- if ever -- I forget this two-plus-hour first-person visit into war-torn Baghdad.

I won't be delving into the key plot points as there are few thereof and doing so would ruin the visceral experience the film provides. Suffice to say that this film's intent is to allow the viewer a glimpse into a month or two in the life of a unit that is sent out to find and disarm Iraqi IED's (improvised explosive devices) that have claimed so many American soldiers since the US landed in Iraq. Part of the film's intensity, certainly, stems from the fact that bomb diffusal in its very definition is tense, dangerous work. Clip the wrong wire and you'll wind up in hundreds of pieces, as will your colleagues and, likely, any civilians within 100 yards. Add in the element of extreme heat, the weight of anti-explosive gear, the language barrier, fatigue, and being surrounded -- and watched -- by people who may be friends or foes, and the element of tension is ratcheted up tenfold. And while I laud Bigelow's directorial style, the real credit goes to her decision to simply record the action rather than comment on it; the action in this film needs no directorial tweaking or embellishment a la Tarantino or Scorcese. She is able to say everything about the events of this film without really saying anything at all. Put another way, the film succeeds because the inherent intensity is in what's happening, not how it's filmed, and many directors seem to not be able to get out of their own way. Bigelow, in this particular film, didn't have that problem, and the film succeeds as a result.

Beyond the sheer tension and frankness of what the viewer experiences, part of the reason this film succeeds so easily is its soundtrack. I viewed this film in BluRay format, and, for the most part, the picture stays clear. There are parts of the film that are hazy, grainy, dark and/or out of focus -- all in keeping with what's happening with James, Sanborn and Eldridge, the three main characters -- but the sonic landscape of this film is immense and startling. The explosions are front and center and will shake you loose from a comfortable sitting position should your system allow it. Watching this film without a solid sound system will definitely detract from the experience, but it's certainly not a key ingredient to absorbing the entire experience.

While this film, overall, depicts the life of a mobile bomb squad in Baghdad, a large aspect of the film is not simply about portraying the day-to-day activities thereof but to demonstrate how the lives of these men are affected as a result. The three actors -- Jeremy Renner, Anthony Mackie and Brian Geraghty -- who portray, respectively, James, Sanborn and Eldridge, are excellent in their frank performances. I found myself wondering what I would do in certain situations depicted in the film -- both in combat and out -- and I give credit to these three guys in their ability to seamlessly allow the viewer what feels like an authentic glimpse into something that's actually happening.

In a nutshell, the story, the performances and the dark, intense visceral starkness of the film's pace is not only commended but memorable, haunting and top-notch.

Incidentally, I would urge anyone interested in seeing this film to avoid anything disclosing the cast or any details about it prior to viewing. I can't say I "enjoyed" this film, because it was and remains as frank, dark and disturbing a film about modern war as there may be, including Full Metal Jacket, but a large part of this film's success lies in the not knowing what's beyond the next hill, the next corner or the next half-mile of highway.

Put yet another way, anyone who has an opinion on America's role in Iraq should find a way to see this film, as graphic and disturbing as it is.

And for Kathryn Bigelow -- whose last big project was "Point Break" -- I can only say I'm impressed and am glad I got an opportunity to see this film.

The Venom and The Cure

2010-01-13T07:42:00.000-05:00

Inevitably, some adolescent boy -- say, 13 or 14 years old -- who's been watching baseball since he was young and playing it since he could hold a bat, watched over the past 24 hours as Mark McGwire came out of the closet and admitted he had used performance-enhancing drugs (aka steroids) while he was a professional baseball player.

And in yesterday's admission that surprised no one -- despite all the press coverage thereof -- I'd imagine the aforementioned kid seeing McGwire's confession as hollow, empty and more than 90% bullshit.

For those of us who are human -- and that accounts for everyone that doesn't get paid to model, play a professional sport or attend red-carpet-preceded gala events -- seeing this sort of thing gets mighty old mighty quick.

When Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa were tag-teaming the soon-to-fall single-season home run record over the summer of 1998, I think most baseball fans were mesmerized. Both of these guys seemed like good, normal people -- in direct contrast to the later success of Barry Bonds -- and they achieved great things for the game of baseball. I remember seeing McGwire's record-breaking home run clear left field and being almost in awe, akin -- almost -- to seeing the Rangers' Stanley Cup-winning endeavor in Game 7 in 1994.

Unlike that Ranger Cup victory, the McGwire-Sosa achievements of 1998 were a sham.

Years later, in 2005, when Big Mac was called to testify before Congress regarding performance-enhancing drugs, he didn't deny using same while he was a player; he just refused to answer any questions, declining to "discuss the past."

It was clear what his denial signified: he had taken steroids.

Yet he never admitted doing same, until yesterday. What's sad is that we don't know if he admitted same now because he wanted consideration for the Hall of Fame or acceptance regarding his newly-awarded Batting Instructor title with the Cardinals.

Yesterday's admission, for me, didn't really clarify anything or answer any questions I'd had -- I'd long ago realized Big Mac had been cheating when he broke Roger Maris's single-season record -- and what really was disappointing was the fact he claimed steroids didn't help him hit home runs. Of course, that's not true: taking steroids allowed his body to recover from injuries that might have curtailed or ended his career, and allowed his body to bounce back day to day. But why should we quibble or nitpick now that a cheater's come out of the closet?

I was a big fan of Mark's as he made a run towards the record, and despite the fact that he's a cheater and a liar, I really enjoyed seeing he and Sammy Sosa (another would-be juicer) make the run for the record.

I just wish they would have been satisfied with their best, instead of cheating in order to appear to be the best.

And I hope their cheating doesn't inspire legions of kids to copy their actions on the field; for some strange reason, what players do on the field seems to have much more significance than what they say or how they apologize off the field.

Guess we'll know in 15 or so years from now. That is, if we still want to know...

The Year of The Non-Enema...Hopefully

2010-01-04T08:02:00.000-05:00

Being an eternal optimist does have its privileges, but it also – definitely – has some drawbacks as well. My intention was to spend a bit more time here, the HoB, in 2009, as well as the forthcoming year, but since that didn’t work out at the tail end of the year, I’m hoping to make up for it in this coming year. Whether or not I come through on it is relatively irrelevant; the intention is there, and it’s the thought that counts.

Okay, I’m calling bullshit on myself. But that’s neither here nor there.
Invariably, regardless of what I get done, there are always seemingly some loose ends that need tying up, so perhaps a recap of the past ten or so days is deserved and warranted – or at least one of those.

Post-Christmas, Kaia came in as both of us had some down time from work and we figured we could use some in-person time together. I wound up heading to the office – despite being off – for a couple days in the pre-New Year’s week; the truth is I could have just as easily gone in every day, as I haven’t had an actual week-long respite from work in so long I forgot what it feels like being off of work.
Be that as it may, I had a nice week being off and being with Kaia. We basically did very little above and beyond seeing and spending time with friends, watching the variety of movies I’ve amassed over the past several months (500 Days of Summer, I Love You, Man and Inglourious Basterds) and enjoying the snow despite the otherwise abusively cold weather.

We had a few mini-gatherings at my place with friends, just chilled out, and enjoyed the holiday.

And now it’s back to work.

In retrospect, despite the week off preceding Thanksgiving, I think it’s clear that the reason why I’ve avoided taking any time off is because the day I inevitably return to the office undos all the good I’ve done with any time off, so it all seems to cancel itself out and be something other than worthwhile. I’m not complaining, of course; but certainly, the first Monday back from a nice, juicy vacation is about as exciting as a crushed-ice enema and a barium milkshake.

Whether that characterization applies to you, the reader, is a non-issue; even more importantly, I don’t need to be apprised as to whether it does or does not apply to you. Thanks in advance for observing this policy ;-)

Happy new year, happy 2010, and I hope that this is a happy, safe, healthy and wonderful new year for you, your friends and your family near and far!

And may it be one without any enemas or chalky milkshakes of any kind, for any of us ;-)

-B-

King Of The Hill

2009-12-14T06:39:00.003-05:00

Barring any last-minute change of heart, I am fairly confident this won't be my final HoB post for 2009.

Then again, my honest intention is to swing by here at least a few times a week and let you, the reader, take a peek at the slow, painful destruction of what gray matter I have left...put another way, I envision something akin to the polar opposite of watching paint dry...

Except with very little paint, and even less excitement.

Having said all that, I've got a built-in excuse -- I've been so busy that I'm feeling increasingly like a pinball going from one gravitational bumper to another. But, in fairness, that's not to say I haven't smiled here and there between those bumps.

Since my return from the Land of Thanksgiving, I've been incredibly inundated at work with legitimate balls-to-the-wall priority projects. Some of these said projects are high priority because they've been pushed to the back burner far too often or simply because they involve high-stress situations (deadlines) or high-stress clients (clients who are either under immense pressure on their respective ends or simply clients who are difficult people and exist, in part, to make sure my existence is as miserable as theirs).

Whatever the reason, the collective shit hit the collective fan over the past ten or twelve days and I was the one assigned to keep the fan shit-free, as is increasingly typical.

Well, the fan got a little bit o' the brown stuff, but I managed to scrape it off before the mess got overly difficult to handle and cleaned it up as good as new...or as good as can be expected.

And in the process I managed to pull a few rabbits out of my hat, which, I'm actually happy to admit, I didn't think I could do. I've heard it said that you find out most about a person when he or she is under the most severe adversity, when he or she is faced with immense pressure. Based on that logic, I found out a lot about myself, I must admit, I didn't know.

My apologies for suckering you into a convoluted self-shoulder-pat on the back, nothing to see here, move along...

But in the meantime, all is not particularly perfect in Boogie-Ville. I've been in the process of working on my corporate website re-launch (which should arrive sometime around the first of January) and our corporate e-mail migration. The former is self-explanatory -- hopefully -- and the latter refers to us switching our corporate e-mail to a new server. Fortunately, the new hosting entity won't be as limited as its predecessor; unfortunately, that migration process took from 11AM to 1AM last Sunday (not yesterday) and the kinks are still working their way through the system. So invariably, beyond the simple changing of mx headers, which are the internet's way of communicating to e-mail servers around the world where your e-mail should eventually arrive, there were lots of issues for which I was prepared but hoping would not appear.

They did.

In either case, a consultant and I fixed many of the issues and everything got resolved. Put another way, I'm far from concerned that things won't get resolved -- I have that "everything will work out properly" mechanism in my psyche and my daily life, but eventually, the continued focus required to balance so many flaming knives is difficult. Juggling one flaming knife is easy, but the more there are in the air, the harder it is to make sure none of them land, business-end first, in your foot.

So endeth the psychology of flaming knives.

In either case, the other stuff I'm handling -- filing some paperwork with a City agency to comply with a judge's order on behalf of a client, assembling the layout, content and art for our new site, and dealing with a couple of other stressful, high-pressure situations -- is, after all, par for the course.

That, and the Giants are playing atrocious football.

On the other side of the coin, last night's season finale of Dexter really kicked ass...it was the kind of electric finale that the Sopranos and Seinfeld wished they owned... And this was only the season-ender. If you have Showtime and you're not squeamish -- the show, after all, focuses on blood and a serial killer masquerading as a police scientist and a loving husband/father -- I highly recommend a full viewing. Really, really intense, worthwhile TV.

I was hoping to wind down a bit this week, but since I'm going to be out of action Friday to focus on completing our website, I've got to insure everything gets done this week in four days instead of five. Between that and assembling all the new PC parts -- motherboard, power supply, RAM, graphics card, an array of drives and the ever-popular Thor's Hammer CPU cooler -- my guess is I'll be doing a lot of sleeping with my eyes open as per usual.

Oh well...at least I didn't get anything crappy for Chanookah this year..like a dreidel, socks, or socks with a dreidel motif. And if you happen to celebrate Chanookah, hope yours is a celebration and festive. If you don't, here's to hoping whatever annual gift-giving ritual you observe -- Christmas, Secret Santa, the Kwanza-Fest or Festivus -- rocks your world and makes you happy to be alive...

In the meantime, I'll be back at some point soon, so keep your eyes peeled for more gray matter meltdown.

And please, no flash photography ;-)

Thankful To Be Thankful

2009-11-24T06:53:00.000-05:00

What’s most enthralling about Thanksgiving? Is it the time with family and friends, the belt-loosening food-borne ecstasy, the concept of comfort and relaxation, the fact that we don’t need to make excuses for not working, or is it a combination of all these?

I think it’s certainly a combination of these, but I think it’s also a chance to step back and acknowledge the things for which we’re thankful; that in and of itself is a good thing. Especially being that we live in this particular nation, too often we’re overwrought with schedules, things that should have already been done, things we’d like to do but for which we fail to find the time, and the inevitable fact that we complain about those things which are not satisfactory. This holiday is about taking all of that stuff – the ulcers, the insomnia, the headaches, doctor bills – and tossing it all out the window, if even for a day or a weekend.

The thing about Thanksgiving – for me, at least – is that it’s really just about smiles and relaxation. There’s no exchange of gifts – not really anyway – so there’s no chore-based grind of having to pick out gifts for every- and anyone who might cross your path the day before, the day of, or the day after the holiday. To wit, the day after Thanksgiving is known as the biggest shopping day of the year and labeled with its very own specific name – “Black Friday.” Personally, I can’t foresee spending one of the nicest days of the year and then shitting all over it by waking up at 4AM to buy crap at low prices, but I’m clearly in the minority as this phenomenon grips the country tighter than UFO’s over trailer parks, so what do I know?

Inevitably, what I think I enjoy most about the holiday is the lack of pressure and aggravation that’s otherwise inherent throughout the year. I like not having to abide by any real schedule – other than cooking times and football – and I like the meandering, laissez-faire aspect of the entire holiday. Air travel excluded, is there anything better than enjoying your existence and not having anything to do but enjoy comfort food and the company of people who make you happy? I really don’t think so.

There are some exceptions – the fact that, usually, the Detroit Lions play on Thanksgiving is a black mark on the day, as the Detroit Lions are among the worst football teams – nee, sports franchises – in history. That, and in the inevitable rush to be around family, you have to attempt to tolerate people who are typically intolerable and whose behavior is consistently abhorrent and pathetic. But these minor issues aside, being thankful is very rewarding. After all, if you have issues with the two aforementioned issues, change the channel or your plans and skip the complaints.

So in the spirit of the holiday, my perspective – especially this upcoming season – is to be thankful about being able to be thankful. Perhaps it’s corny, perhaps it’s sort of naïve, but I’m glad to be in a position to not complain. I suppose I could, but especially given the time of year, I can’t. I’m happy to count such good people as friends, and I think – inevitably – I’m most thankful that I can look forward to this holiday – and the coming season – and know that I really have it lots better than I sometimes believe I do.

And, for that – among other things – I’m most thankful.

#27

2009-11-05T00:22:00.004-05:00

Now that the season's over after the Yankees -- finally -- returned to and won the World Series (their 27th), I must say that it brings back a variety of memories, all of which are great.

I remember the rush of fans on that first night in 1996 when the Yankees -- and a kid in right field named Jeffrey Maier -- won their first playoff game en route to their first World Series since the Reggie Jackson era. I remember my father and I being swept along with the jubilant crowd and acknowledging the danger and the euphoria and knowing I didn't want it to stop -- ever.

Sometimes that ebullience slows or seemingly disappears altogether. Last season, the Yankees -- in their final season in the House That Ruth Built -- didn't even make the playoffs. And yet, here we are yet again, celebrating another Yankee World Series win.

I'm not sure what is most exciting about this 2009 World Series win. It could be simply the fact the Yankees won. It could also be that they -- perhaps -- shed the "choke" label that so many of their detractors directed toward them. Seeing the "old guard" -- Jeter, Posada, Pettitte and Mariano -- flanked by the "new" guard -- Teixeira, Damon, A-Rod and Matsui -- jumping around near third base like little kids -- it's hard to put into words how it brings me back to my days as a yoot, celebrating a huge victory as if there were nothing better in the world to celebrate.

I think, because baseball is handed down from parents to their kids (at least on some level), this is a celebration that I can share with my dad (and my mom to a lesser degree). But most importantly, I think I share the mentality with my fellow Yankee fans that this is my team and vicariously, on some level, I was down on that field, jumping around and celebrating.

I go back to the private tour we had of the Stadium earlier this season -- the field, the dugout, the clubhouse, the trophies -- just a few of them -- and it feels great celebrating this victory, even if it's an hour or two away from the 100,000 or so people assembled to celebrate the Yankees.

It would feel the same regardless if I was in Yankee Stadium or in Italy, frankly; it's a part of me that can celebrate something that links all Yankee fans around the City and the world.

After the fact, of course, it's irrelevant -- and a bit entertaining -- going back to read and review the trash-talk directed at the Yankees: the criticisms regarding their payroll, the fact they're "chokers," or the miscellaneous "nicknames" bestowed upon them by fans of other teams. I was impressed by the fact the Phillies played a solid World Series and are certainly a respectable team. Referring to them as "Philthies" or something similarly fifth-grade-esque would and will probably say far more about my knowledge of the game and maturity than anything I could impart about the Phillies. So I'll just leave it at congratulating the Phillies and their fans on a good season and wish them luck for a rematch next year.

I think it's interesting seeing how much the Yankees polarize fans of other teams. In fact, I think the Yankees -- more than any other sports franchise -- get more anti-fans and more anger and bile than any other franchise. I think that that's a good sign: it means they're doing something right.

And hopefully they'll continue doing something right, continue winning World Series after World Series, and keep pissing off trash-talking "fans."

The parade, of course, is Friday downtown. And the title defense begins Saturday ;-)

GO YANKEES!

Back In The High Life (God Is A Yankee Fan)

2009-10-26T06:52:00.001-04:00

Whoever said that God must be a Yankee fan was indeed a smart individual. And I'm sure it wasn't me who first made this initial observation, although I have since repeated it many times.

In the interest of brevity, I'll simply state how entertaining it is watching the Yankees churn through the playoffs. That observation may not be sophisticated, impressive or particularly note-worthy, but each time I see detractors critique the Yankees for their off-season acquisitions, their professionalism or a multitude of other complaints, it actually entertains rather than irritates.

In dispatching the Angels, not only did the Yankees accomplish something they've been attempting since 2003 -- gain entrance to the World Series -- but they managed to irritate everyone that labeled them as "chokers."

Each time I hear the hardcore fans in any stadium deride another team en masse -- including those in Yankee Stadium -- I cringe. I remember earlier days when booing was a relatively light-hearted affair. Even in 1996, the year when Roberto Alomar spit on an umpire and was mercilessly booed by the Yankee Stadium crowd, it wasn't an evil, angry mob of people, it was just a bunch of fans expressing their opinions. With each passing year, however, it feels -- or at least appears -- that being a fan isn't so much about cheering for your own team but deriding and rooting against another team. I'm not sure that phenomenon is inherently American -- after all, the term "football hooligan" originates from the UK and its European brethren -- but it disappoints me, on some level, knowing that the Yankees winning and reaching the World Series makes some people feel as shitty as them doing so makes me happy.

Put another way, when did being a fan morph from rooting for a team to simply rooting against another one spewing bile, anger and disgust? When/if my team(s) loses, I don't feel the need to criticize the other team or somehow minimize their accomplishes by ridiculing the names of the opposing team, its players or the city in which said team originates. So anyone that feels it's appropriate to use the labels "Skankees," "Red Sux" or something similarly creative, try focusing on your anger and the cause of the derision rather than simply focusing your derision, blame and unhappiness on something other than your own unfortunate dysfunction.

Oh...and go Yankees!

24-7

2009-10-18T01:18:00.002-04:00

Nothing ever indeed goes as planned. That's not to say that making plans is a bad thing, but it's how you roll once your plans hit the toilet that leaves its mark.

We had originally planned to do some fall fun out of the city, including another visit with friends to the Woodbury Commons Outlet in Harriman, a visit to an Apple/Pumpkin Orchard for some bushel-fulls, and wrap it up in Sleepy Hollow with even more friends at the local Haunted House in celebration of Halloween. We set everything up -- including the schedule -- and then the shitbird meteorologists went and screwed it all up.

We were going to have a terrible storm, including low temps, driving rain, and even -- possibly -- snow. So we opted to skip out on the plans and rethink our Saturday.

Of course, it was incredibly cold the last few days in NYC; winter was near and the storm on Saturday theory made lots of sense.

Except it never happened. There was some rainy drizzle throughout the afternoon and evening, but not only did the weather fail to meet the hype, the Yankees were able to play both Friday and Saturday night games with very little real interference from the weather.

Having said all that, rather than an outdoor-filled fun Fall day, we wound up reworking our plans. We slept in and hung out until early afternoon, headed down to Soho to hang with friends (Mercer Kitchen, North Face, Kid Robot, etc.) and then wound our way to midtown to see Paranormal Activity.

And then, to wrap up the evening, we watched the Yankees beat the Angels in Game 2 of their ALCS (in 13 innings).

First of all, we had a blast, even though everything became a bit disjointed. We only had a few hours to hang with friends in Soho at Mercer and Kid Robot, etc., but we had a nice -- albeit brief -- hang. Then we headed to 42nd and 8th to see the film.

Without revealing any spoilers, the mini-review is in: entertaining, not nearly as intense as Blair Witch, but fun nonetheless; and some free advice -- don't see it in a theater where the people are completely obnoxious douchebags, better to skip it than see it in a crowded, crappy theater.

Finally, we made our way back home and watched -- well, I did -- the Yankees pull out a 4-3 victory in 13. Granted, Kaia's still doing the post-jet-lag recovery, and I was more than happy celebrating silently and watching yet another pie-in-the-face care of AJ Burnett.

As I write this and wrap up, Kaia's sleeping quietly, Fox's postgame coverage is humming along quickly and I'm ready to head to bed and enjoy yet another day. I won't mention the Giants/Saints as we're likely going to be floating around again tomorrow, and I figure if I plan on watching the game, said plans will go to shit yet again. I learn from my mistakes ;-)

Despite the fact our plans went to shit, we had a great time with great people and had a nice day. Hopefully our plans will get fouled up more often. While we were all disappointed everything didn't unfold as we'd hoped it would, it really couldn't have gone any better. So aside from the assholes shouting during the film, everyone made today a great one for us, and we look forward to making Plan B our main option again soon ;-)

-B-

Gomorra - The Inside View

2009-10-10T22:13:00.007-04:00

Increasingly, with the increasing immediacy of the sharing of data and images and with the world seemingly becoming smaller each day, we seemingly benefit from an influx of knowledge and information that once crawled along at Amish pace but which now cruises towards -- and, invariably, past -- us at highway speeds. As a result, it's likely beyond our capability to process worthwhile nuggets of significant news that get lost among the varied and repetitive garbage we face each day. To wit, most of us could recite with relative precision the details surrounding Michael Jackson's death and his internment(s); how many among us could discuss the details of Robert McNamara's life, if not his death?

I happened upon the film Gomorra almost by chance. I'd seen its placard advertised in a small, independent theater that always features foreign-language films that are invariably about things with which I'm unfamiliar. Whether or not these films have value to me is largely irrelevant, because I typically avoid them. I do so not because they're not worth seeing, but because the hours in a day seem fewer and fewer and I find myself with decreasing interest in chasing something down which might be so weird I'll regret bothering in the first place. However, when I see awards from Cannes bestowed on a foreign-language film that happens to catch my eye -- and I get an opportunity to see such a film -- I try and go out of my way to do so.

I'm glad to say Gomorra proved extremely worthwhile.

I obtained a copy of Gomorra on Blu-Ray awhile ago; with Kaia heading from NYC to Europe this afternoon, I had some work to finish and then I found myself in the odd situation of being in limbo. Not having her here this coming week will be a bit strange, but when she heads out on a weekend, it's sort of like time stands still until I know she's landed where- and whenever said landing occurs. I didn't feel like heading out tonight -- between hockey, work, her flight and a half-dozen other factors, I didn't think much about doing much of anything, frankly -- so I finally fired up this film.

First, the title of the film -- Gomorra -- is a veiled reference to the twin biblical cities of Sodom and Gomorrah which, in theory, were destroyed by God for their extreme, brazen wickedness. The play on the title of the film is in direct reference to the mafia in the region of Naples known as La Camorra; if you've ever considered visiting Naples in person, avoid seeing this film until you've done so. Failure to heed this advice will likely kill your desire to visit Naples and, perhaps, Italy in general.

When I think of "mob films," three in particular come to mind: The Godfather (the first and its sequel) and Goodfellas. Gomorra, however, bears neither the polished elegance of the Godfather films nor the raw charm and charisma of Goodfellas. What it features, aside from an entirely Italian dialogue (with English subtitles), is a stark, intense depiction of life in Naples under the Neapolitan mob. It tells a variety of stories: of children growing up and learning to be criminals, of people attempting to avoid making deals with the devil -- in the form of Camorra enforcers and local bosses, and the stark, intense nature of crime, money, drugs, toxic dumping and people treating one another in repulsive ways. The film is, in some ways, an ode to off-kilter story-telling as nowhere in the film is the term Camorra used. However, it demonstrates -- with frankness -- the lives of the people the Camorra destroys, either by leaving them or their family members as corpses, imprisoned, or even worse, in the path of this criminal machine.

I wasn't aware this film was focused on the Camorra, and frankly I wasn't aware of the Camorra's formal existence until after seeing this film and reading about the subject matter in detail afterward. However, knowing that the events depicted in this film are, relatively speaking, commonplace is disconcerting, to say the least. We all know, in general, of man's inhumanity to man, and we know these things take place with regularity. However, this film's dark, unyielding depiction of these events is intense and troubling. Further, few -- if any -- of the characters in this film are "good guys," and none of the people herein are people you'd really want to meet. However, the film shows their lives in such plain, unbiased detail you can't help but be amazed and disgusted by the events as they unfold.

In hindsight, the sheer intensity and disturbing imagery contained herein make me glad I watched this film alone and without Kaia. There is a lot of blood, but that's not really the troubling imagery which I referred to earlier. The imagery is knowing these repulsive things are happening out in the open, under dark, ominous, sunless skies in a place that I always believed to be an ideal destination. Part of the film addresses the Camorra's penchant for illegally dumping toxic waste throughout Italy. Aside from the fact that the agent profiting from this activity shows no concern whatsoever for the lives he adversely affects by doing so, it forces us into these untenable positions. What if we're offered silver, for complying with -- actively or passively -- criminal behavior, or lead for refusing to be complicit? The film shows -- in remarkably nonjudgmental fashion -- these situations and demonstrates, in a subtle way, that there is no easy answer and no easy solution.

The film is intense, encompassing and essentially forces the viewer to be a witness to this brazen, repulsive behavior. The biblical comparison aside, it's an impressive feat for a film to educate and enlighten about material so dark and disturbing without being condescending or judgmental, and that in and of itself is reason alone to see it. The fact it's riveting in its stark depiction of these lives and this activity is yet another. None of these actors -- many of whom were "real" people and not actually actors -- are or will be household names. Yet, the story they all work together to tell will remain with the viewer for some time. It's far easier to wag a finger or read an article about how a criminal machine like the Camorra sucks in its prey and predators alike. It's far more difficult to ensnare the viewer with this type of "insider" bird's eye view. I'm glad to conclude director Matteo Garrone has not only attempted the latter but succeeded with stellar, if not disturbing, results.

A Little Extra Change

2009-10-07T07:19:00.001-04:00

Unfortunately or otherwise, being that we're -- for a little while longer -- on separate coasts, Kaia's excursions into or through NYC are always pleasant events. Despite the fact they -- like everything else in life -- typically occur at peak busy seasons, having her in town is always -- without question -- far better than not having her in town.

Having said all that, we typically have our arrival routine down pat. Almost always, rather than have me meet her at JFK -- which is certainly more than fine with me -- she likes a little down time in the form of a typically eventful cab ride. Either the driver's BO is legendary -- a feat many of us have experienced, no matter the weather or the open-window jaunt that rarely helps to ebb that flow -- or the traffic is similarly legendary, and nearly as offensive.

However, last night's journey was one for the books.

Apparently, Kaia's driver had some issues. First, the ride should have taken less than a half-hour from JFK at midnightish to my place right off the Triboro. Somehow, it took longer. Being that said driver wasn't sporting legendary BO or something akin thereto was a plus. Nor was his cab replete with smells only sanitation engineers could accurately describe.

Unfortunately, however, the ride did have a quasi-lasting impact. Apparently, the flat-rate fare thing needs to be more indelibly explained to people possessing questionable literacy skills.

Turns out that the "Flat Rate Fare" from JFK to NYC is $45, and apparently that does not include tolls. However, each trip we've taken from JFK to my building has never required us to pay tolls. Until, however, last night.

Kaia kicked the driver a $50 because that's all she had handy in cash. Upon her arrival, the driver -- after inexplicably going a block and a half further than necessary -- turned around and stopped in front of my building. Unfortunately, the dispute resulted when she handed him a $50 and he killed the meter -- and then demanded payment of the toll across the Triboro. By doing so, he effectively made it impossible for her to take back the $50 and pay for the ride, and the tolls, with a credit card. I had no cash on me and my wallet was safely ensconced in my apartment, so neither of us had any cash beyond the $50 said driver had already pocketed. So his demand of additional funds, plus a gratuity for his extra-genius-like driving, odor and personality skills.

Since there was no extra money to be exchanged, said driver was -- clearly -- tweaked. I can't blame him to some degree; apparently, the "flat rate to NYC" does NOT include tolls.

However, since neither of us -- as indicated above -- has ever been asked to pay said tolls, it was our natural suspicion that the guy was jerking us. So we gave him the $50 and wished him a good night. He wasn't satisfied, however, and -- well after midnight, with both of us weary from the day, the night, her from the flight and me from work -- he wanted to have a discussion about the entire incident.

Neither of us, frankly, were interested in extended discourse, and we wished him a good night. Apparently his logical next step was to hurl the change -- something in the range of about eighty cents -- in our direction at my building. None of the change hit us or the building, but we figured that for a money-conscious driver, throwing change at customers isn't the ideal way to move forward.

A recommendation for the prospective cab driver: if you enter into a dispute with someone, throwing a temper-tantrum -- and change -- at said customer is generally the wrong way to go about handling the matter. By law, technically, he's guilty of assault. Frankly, he saw neither of us wasn't trying to screw him, and had he said "Look it up online, you'll see you're responsible for the toll." Had he done that, I would have gotten his medallion number off the receipt which I insured we kept, and I would have found a way to kick the guy a $20 after the fact. However, had I decided to return the favor -- and the change -- his way, I'd call the Taxi Limousine Commission and let them know they have a kook behind the wheel.

I'm sure they'll get right on it and insure he stops driving. Right after, of course, they manage to track down Santa's sleigh as it crossed over the Queensboro.

So a few morals to this extended story. First and foremost, before you hit the road in a cab, make sure you know for what he or she expects you to pay. If something sounds off -- say, a dashboard air freshener charge -- you're probably being jerked. If it sounds a little questionable, check it out online if you have 'net access on your phone, and if not, consider the time of day/night and decide whether you want to wait for another cab or just go along with the bullshit rather than waste any more of your time. And finally, if and when possible, try and use a credit card in your payment so you can dispute any extraneous charges. I used to avoid charging cab trips, but invariably it's a lot easier disputing/canceling a charge than trying to track down Bocephus the Magnificent, aka Ned from Eastern Romania, in some midnight to 8 shift in a taxi garage in Queens in an effort to get your fiver back in your pocket.

Otherwise, it's nice having her home and it's even nicer knowing that we have some spare change floating around. Nothing like having a little extra change.

Oh, and for those of you hoping for salacious details about her first night in NYC, you'll have to wait and see the movie.

Hockey, Football and A Chilly Fall

2009-10-05T06:51:00.000-04:00

Cliches aside, the grass is indeed greener on the other side...especially if the owner of the property on the other side of the fence has a dog who shits a lot.

Invariably, the Fall is typically -- in these post-Bush days of global warming and weird weather -- a short-lived affair. More often than not, we experience sultry summer days well into the second week of October and then bickety bam -- like a Zombie-fied Emeril Lagasse cooking some brain stew, Winter arrives before Fall has had its chance to come and go. We're moving from shorts and medium-weight t-shirts to jeans, boots, down jackets, scarves and knit hats with silly logos.

Not so this year. This year Fall is slow to arrive and the progression is actually nice. Rather than going from summer to winter in a few scant days, Fall has apparently dug in like an Alabama tic and we've got a few weeks -- if not more -- of an actual fourth season. When people from other regions -- say, Idaho -- speak well of New York and the changing of the seasons, this is of what they speak. Nice to see it's actually coming to pass for a change.

Speaking of passing, hockey season and football season are both newly-arrived to herald the onset of cooler weather. The New York Giants have won their first four games and the New York Rangers -- well, they're not yet mathematically eliminated from playoff contention yet. As the baseball season winds down with the Yankees well-situated to return to -- and, dare I say, win -- the World Series, I can't help but in some small way focus on the meaningless Ranger games now that every pitch of the baseball season has long-term significance.

Football season is quick. Baseball season is not. Entourage on HBO -- that goes by in a flash, as did True Blood. And I know in eight weeks from now when Dexter wraps I'll be wondering how the entire season of that show skipped past me without me even noticing it.

In either case, without making any pithy, snarky, cranky observations, I know I'll be bitching before November about the weather. I know there will be snow or some other form of non-human-friendly weather littering my commute to or from the office with obscenities and the smells of New Yorkers sweating beneath their winter gear and I know I'll bitch about it. However, in the meantime, I'm just going on record here and now to indicate that the cooler weather is a nice thing every so often...until -- like a houseguest with awful body odor and a penchant for Polish polka tunes -- it's stuck around for far too long and we all wish it would just go away.

To wind this particular post down, I opted not to quote Yoko Ono's "Is Winter Here To Stay?" but I felt that would be an affront to all good decency, even according to my twisted, limited definition thereof.

Stay cool.

Hockey, Blue Dick(s) and $20/$40 + Two Hours from Ben Affleck

2009-10-02T00:08:00.001-04:00

We headed to Union Square to attend Kevin Smith's book signing at Barnes and Noble and I have to admit I'm mighty impressed.

If you didn't know, Kevin's the writer/director behind Clerks, Mallrats, Chasing Amy, Dogma, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Zack and Miri Make a Porno, and -- um -- Jersey Girl.

Among other things, Kevin's also behind a variety of other things, including two great books, the View Askew forum, and -- to be frank, in my humble opinion -- the building of the careers of Jason Lee and Ben Affleck, for starters. His cinematic style is straightforward and blunt, but his stuff is extremely solid in a way that belies the humor and the lightness of his material.

And despite the fact he'd most likely react to the following by telling me I'm completely full of shit, I think he's an incredibly talented filmmaker.

But at the core of what impressed the hell out of me was not his resume, his films or the fact that the terms "finger-cuffs" and "Berserker" are indelibly stamped on my brain much like his signature is tattooed on several peoples' asses (a story for another time), but that the guy is normal. He's not overly infatuated with his essence or his own presence. In fact, he's not even remotely self-impressed. He's a hockey fan -- he and I were talking about Theo Fleury and Brendan Shanahan and the reality of being a fan (torn between two lovers indeed, he of the Edmonton Oilers/New Jersey Devils triangle and me of the Rangers/Red Wings triangle) and the long-term significance of Billy Crudup's exposed penis in Watchmen.

Blue.

In either case, I thumbed through both his books and -- with no surprise at all -- was impressed yet again by the fact that this is a bona-fide dude. He's not some machine, he's not an eclectic, eccentric weirdo with an oddball film fetish and an encyclopediac ability to quote Scorcese -- which, incidentally, may or may not be a good thing -- he's just a really good guy who makes really good films.

So inasmuch as we three had a blast, it wasn't because we got a chance to meet someone famous but that we met a guy who was even cooler and more fun to hang with than we'd expected, and in this day and age of the reality being so much worse than the expectancy, that's far more than that for which we could have hoped.

However, I still expect $20 and a couple hours from Affleck -- and an apology if/when possible. And btw, to The Man, if you're reading this, you're pretty funny too. In the immortal words of Brody, we can smell our own ;-)

And here's a link for a mutual hockey fan.

Thanks to Kevin and the staff of Barnes and Noble Union Square for being awesome.

Celebrating The Season

2009-09-27T17:36:00.003-04:00

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of life is the duality and the contradictory ironies that somehow fail to escape my observation. Or perhaps it's mixed martial arts bouts rebroadcast on late-night secondary Showtime channels.

More than likely, I find the innate concept of the Jewish New Year to be a ultimately mixed message. On the one hand, like the Gregorian New Year, we're supposed to "celebrate" the passage of one year and the arrival of another. And yet, on the other hand, with the new year comes the responsibility of observant Jews to ask God and our friends, family and acquaintances for forgiveness for our sins, transgressions, mistakes and anything which adversely affected anyone we know and/or about whom we care.

More importantly, we are taught that we ask for health and happiness for those about whom we care for the coming year: for health, happiness, success and a sweet year. This is the significance behind apples and honey, both of which represent sweetness. There's a Jewish blessing known as the Shecheeyanu, which sanctifies something new, and this blessing is a quasi-staple of the coming year for obvious reasons. That is why many Jews also try to sample a new (non-everyday/exotic) fruit. So each year we bring in the new year with something different that is new and sweet.

I'm not sure if I buy into that new fruit concept, but unless the new fruit is durian, I won't protest this custom beyond perhaps the lift of an eyebrow.

In either case, with the perspective of an adult, I'm invoking this final stage of the celebration of the new year with family and "celebration." But the celebration will actually be optimism. The seriousness of tomorrow's observance and the significance it has, for me personally, isn't something I can necessarily convey through words. Suffice to say it's a holiday which feels like equal parts obligation, responsibility, solemnity and hope for the future. It's unlike any "celebration" I've participated in in any other aspect of my life, including graduations, milestones, or even my bar mitzvah.

Part of the forgiveness aspect -- ie asking those who we've wronged over the past year for forgiveness for said transgression -- is legit. A new year -- whether celebrated in January or sometime in September -- is a good time to reflect on the year that's past and the year that approaches. But the other aspect -- praying for health for ourselves and those we love -- is, at least for me, very significant. I'm not sure if that significance has come with age, experience, pessimism or reality -- or the verisimilitude of some or all of those things -- but it has increased power and ownership of my mind these days. And frankly, I think that's a big chunk of what this holiday should signify. Acknowledgment of the past and acceptance and optimism for the future aren't necessarily stereotypical hallmarks of Jewish existence in this country or this world, but I think that's what I feel this holiday embodies.

Whether I'm right or full of shit is, frankly, secondary. I'm sure I could assemble a room filled with scholars who could verify my opinion or spend a week ridiculing same. Regardless, part of why faith is what it is is that it -- at some point -- defies black and white factual confirmation. So I'll "celebrate" this coming new year with the optimism that I try to celebrate each day, and I'll acknowledge those mistakes I've made this past year, and I'll genuinely try to be a better person, friend, lover and human being. I can't promise I'll be any more courteous as a driver -- given yesterday's interstate expedition, I'm far too honest with respect to those who don't belong on the road -- but I do pledge to resist flipping the bird to nuns wearing coke-bottle glasses and instead pray they restrict their driving to bumper-car structures and not the nation's highways.

In essence, and in all sincerity, the duality of this soon-to-conclude holiday period doesn't so much puzzle me as it does strike me in its ironic contrast. And while that isn't the bulk of my focus, I think that's part of what I'll continually focus on -- perhaps for the rest of my life. But first and foremost, and most importantly, I'll extend my most sincere and optimistic hope for the future, for the health and happiness of those people -- family, friends, etc. -- about whom I care. And I'll give thanks for each day I wake up happy and go to bed happy, and I'll continue to try and make others around me smile whether they want to or not.

Best wishes for a happy, healthy, sweet and successful new year to those reading this message near, far, here and no longer here.

-B-

Patriotism and The Damage Done

2009-09-21T06:07:00.001-04:00

What is the definition of patriotism? Wiki defines it as the love of and/or devotion to one's country.

CNN reported on the arrest of several individuals suspected of participating in and/or plotting a terrorist attack, perhaps in the New York area, and indicated they had arrested a Denver man, Najibullah Zazi, and his father, Muhammed Wali Zazi, for these crimes. The former is 24 years old and admitted traveling to Pakistan to train with al-Qaeda operatives. In addition, he traveled from Colorado to New York in a rental car in which he brought a notebook computer containing downloaded information and handwritten notes containing directions on how to make improvised explosive devices (bombs). In his interviews with the FBI, he suggested he mistakenly downloaded these plans on the Internet. He didn't explain how this incorrectly-downloaded information was e-mailed from his account to two other individuals. Father Muhammed Wali Zazi is 53 and is accused of making false statements to the FBI.

Yet another of the arrested is an Imam in a mosque in Queens, Ahmad Wais Afzali, who, in a remarkable coincidence, very closely resembles porn star Ron Jeremy. He was arrested because he tipped off the father and son and lied to investigators on several key fronts.

The question isn't whether these people are interested in performing some sort of attack on the US. It's pretty clear they are. Why are they only -- currently -- facing 8 years in prison each?

Neither here nor there. Whether they are facing 2 days, 2 years or 2 life sentences is, in part, irrelevant. What is far more relevant is that they are naturalized legal residents; all of them are foreign-born; and all clearly have pernicious, malicious intention with respect to this nation.

On the one hand, I suggest we drop these three in a hole and forget about them for 30 or 40 years. We could easily deport all of them, but as we've witnessed with prisoners who the Israelis have been coerced into freeing, these people won't stop until their destiny -- ie martyrdom -- is achieved. Whether said martyrdom is achieved in Israel or America or Pakistan or Afghanistan, their aim is to kill Americans and other Westerners or, if at all possible, Israelis.

The more difficult question to answer is why this is happening. By this I mean why we welcome people who have every intention of destroying it. Of course, for every 1,000 people who want nothing more than to become Americans and slice off their chunk of the American Dream, there's one or two or -- who knows how many -- people who would like to destroy that pie. It's relatively mystifying how the US seems to overlook so many of these people, and since these are ongoing investigations, there's no way to determine how many of these people are under surveillance, how many of them are given a short leash to determine who they're contacting outside the nation, and what their specific plans are.

At once, it's both unsettling and irritating that this problem still continues despite the very visible and very real lessons learned -- perhaps -- on 9/11.

Inasmuch as I would love to let the FBI and the CIA run free, damning the Constitution in the process, and let slip the dogs of war, I can't completely rationalize this, given the past ineptitude of the FBI and the overzealous charges of the CIA. However, it seems fairly simple: watch every mosque in this nation -- from a distance -- and assume every mosque, from Los Angeles to New York -- shelters one or more individuals who are focused on more than their daily prayers while at these mosques. Sound unfair? Perhaps. I'm not advocating destroying mosques and/or decimating the US Muslim population. Nor am I giving the FBI license to kick down the doors of every mosque in this nation.

However, it seems to me that these individuals are -- eventually -- going to find the seam in the defense, so to speak, and fall between the cracks. I refer to these types of individuals, hiding in plain sight. Inasmuch as I respect the Constitution, can we continue to ignore the obvious warning signs in the name of absolute religious freedom? Are people whose lives mean nothing beyond their intent to commit suicide by blowing up buildings, landmarks, train stations, and -- ostensibly -- as many Americans as possible?

The 9/11 hijackers spent an inordinate amount of time living among the US population, as did these recently-arrested individuals. As their replacements become more sophisticated and continue to take advantage of our freedoms, it seems to me that the only real solution is for the US to take an increasingly proactive role in rooting them out. If they're hiding in plain sight -- mosques, prayer groups, clubs and associations -- focus on these and never relent. Those Muslims who have love and respect for the American way of life will understand and -- in the long run -- appreciate that these people who hide among them have tainted their religion, not embodied it, and those Muslims who cry most foul more than likely support the talk of jihad and its lust for blood, not peace.

Invariably, the mixed messages are more clear, and simultaneously fuzzy, with each passing day. And the more we wait, the more their numbers increase.

Put in far more simple terms, if you know you've got a roach issue and can see them scatter when the lights are turned on, the solution is relatively easy: turn the light on, keep it on, and spray in every crevice until the problem ceases.

Or until the spray runs out.

The Time of The Seasons

2009-09-18T07:01:00.001-04:00

Unless you live in an ultra-orthodox Jewish neighborhood, the pinnacle of holiday-dom in this nation seems, most naturally, marked by the period between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day, with the obvious high points being those two holidays and Christmas serving as the main trio. With the exception of Halloween and Mother's Day, these three are most likely to inspire people to spend their money on greeting and holiday cards more than any other.

Not coincidentally, this time also marks the passage from Summer and Fall into Winter, unless you live in Australia, where things "down under" are completely upside down, both literally and figuratively. Incidentally, this begs the question "Do people in Australia refer to the rest of the world as Up Over?"

But I digress.

If you're a member of the Jewish faith, you also likely celebrate -- or at least acknowledge the arrival of -- the Jewish New Year, which is an eight-day period beginning with a two-day celebration known as Rosh Hashanah and culminating in a day of fasting and reverance known as Yom Kippur, also commonly referred to as the Day of Atonement. The Jewish New Year, unlike this nation's observance of New Year's Day, is not merely a holiday from work and responsibility and a celebration of alcohol, parties and public drunkenness. In its place, it is a time for Jews to be thankful of their families and friends and look to the coming year for health, happiness and success. The general concept is that by demonstrating our forgiveness to those that have wronged us over the course of the past year, and by asking forgiveness of those we have wronged over the course of the past year, we -- and those about which we care -- will be inscribed in the Book of Life for another year and will, god willing, be with us for another year.

Invariably, during my observance of these holidays, I alternate between celebration and thoughts of the future; while another year passes, my personal observance lends itself towards wishing my family and friends a healthy, sweet, happy year, and invariably I find myself wondering why we spend so much time focusing on these wishes and prayers only once or twice each year and not more frequently. That is not to say I don't do so with regularity -- in fact, I do find myself keeping my virtual fingers crossed with respect to the health and happiness of my family and friends -- it's just that, I suppose, we shouldn't so much focus solely on these wishes so rarely but we should do so all the time. I guess, in the guise of the "simple son," that this holiday period isn't the sole time of reflection but a time of sole -- and soul -- reflection. That is, I think these days aren't meant to be the only time we absolve others -- and ourselves -- of our transgressions, but days during which that is our only focus. We shouldn't observe these days as our only opportunities to thank The Man Upstairs for what we have and wish, hope and pray for the same or better in the coming year; we should take this time to focus only on letting The Man Upstairs know that we're thankful for our lives and those of our families and friends. And even if we haven't made many inroads on things we apologized for from last year, each year is a clean slate filled with optimism, hope and positive change.

I think, among my other transgressions, my main goal is, simply, to be more thankful and appreciative of those I care about -- family, friends, etc. -- not just during these High Holy days but throughout the year, each and every day.

So on a personal note, if I've made any mistakes or wronged anyone reading these words, I apologize. And if you've done the same to me, it's already forgiven.

Here's hoping the coming year is happy, sweet, healthy, successful and memorable -- in a good way -- for us, our families, our friends and for those people about whom we care.

Happy New Year!

-B-

Built for Speed

2009-09-13T19:56:00.004-04:00

The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.
Any fool can do it...
There ain't nothing to it...
Nobody knows how we got to the top of the hill...
But since we're on our way down,
We might as well enjoy the ride.

James Taylor, Secret O' Life

Not sure where the time goes, but there's seemingly so much happening these days -- in a good way -- I barely can keep track.

First, Friday wound up being a busy day. There was rain, but mostly, there was a lot of work. It was a quiet day -- few, if any, clients calling me -- but there was lots of paper and e-mail to power through. I got about 90% of what I needed done before the weekend began.

Friday night I met friends at Make, a paint-it-yourself pottery place on the West Side. Well, actually, to clarify, Make has both Upper East and Upper West locations, but the location where we meet is the on the Upper West Side. Not sure why, but that's that, and I have no issue jumping on a bus and crossing the Park. I know as a true New Yorker I shouldn't be crossing the Park, and I know I should spend my non-working, waking hours on the East Side, but the truth is it's not a big deal once a week to cross the Park and hit the West Side to hang out with friends.

Soooo...Friday night, I hit Week 2 on my current Make project, a skull covered by a Van Halen-esque fire-engine red with black and white stripes. It might be completely awful, but it's a lot of fun after another long, tiring week to kick back for a few hours and do something mindless and relaxing.

Saturday was a busy, busy 24 hours. I did some work early after waking up well before my usual time and then met friends in the early afternoon in Soho for a few errands. We hit North Face and a few other stops, including Kid Robot, the Morrison Hotel Gallery, the Apple Store, etc. It was still kinda rainy so we didn't spend much time dawdling, but there were enough people on the street -- throngs, actually -- so that we didn't feel like we were just going through the motions of running basic, boring errands.

By the time we finished up, we raced home to get ready to meet back up in midtown for a party for a friend in from out of town. The town, incidentally, is Sydney, Australia. Naomi -- aka Gnomes -- is in NYC for a week so a friend got a bunch of friends to hang out and make sure she had a blast, which she did. To elaborate, we all did. A little alcohol and a lot of fun go a long way to make for a great weekend.

But, in the immortal words of Ron Popeil, wait -- there's more.

Today, Sunday, was Grandparents Day, so I met up with my family to spend the day and hang out with my grandmother in Riverdale. The day was perfect -- no rain, and despite a bit of heat I thought we'd left behind, some humidity in the sun -- we had a blast. The facility in which she lives, the Hebrew Home, had Bowser (of Sha Na Na fame, or infamy, depending on your perspective) and his current band entertain the entire crowd of 5,000 or so people. Since there were a lot of kids and older folk in the audience, it wasn't my style -- it was a tad vanilla -- but overall the people in attendance, as well as the residents of the facility, seemed to really enjoy the day. And we got a surprise visit from NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg, which was a bit surreal. Being that this is campaign time, it made sense, but seeing the Mayor only 10 steps away was odd, especially given the circumstances.

Post-celebration, I hit the train and came home to catch the second half of the Giants-Redskins game. I'd missed the early NFL games, which is okay, but missing an entire Giants game -- especially the first game of the season -- would have really been irritating. Seeing the second half -- and the fact that the Giants won -- made it all worthwhile.

I think, given that tonight is the True Blood finale (as well as another episode of Entourage), I'm not quite ready for the new NFL season. But once I began watching today's second half, I was quickly reminded why I love watching NFL Football, especially the Giants.

Finally, tonight, I've got a wind-down ahead of the True Blood finale, and -- hopefully -- getting to bed after Entourage, because I've got a deadline this week and plenty of other stuff to handle in addition.

I guess it is true that time really does fly when you're having fun. I guess I just wish I had more time with which to have more fun ;-)

-B-

The Significance Of The Past Tense

2009-09-11T07:38:00.000-04:00

Every so often we hit a speed bump in our daily lives that shakes us out of our collective busy-ness. Sometimes those speed bumps are obstacles and present us with situations that require solutions. At other times, these are things which jolt us and remind us that we're only here for a limited time.

Today being 9/11, I can't help but notice the somber awareness we as a country feel. Some of us, I'm sure, dismiss 9/11, but for the majority of Americans, I believe the acknowledgment of what today means is daunting and significant, not only in terms of politics and our existence as Americans -- no matter what city, state or even country we call home -- but as human beings.

The fact that it's raining and gloomy aside, today always seems to be a day of reflection and recollection and acknowledgment, and though I invariably find myself taken back to that morning eight years ago -- smoke pouring skyward down 3rd Avenue, watching the second tower fall on live TV among 30 or so other horrified, angry people in a doctor's waiting room -- I continue to come back to the sadness most of us feel and the empty, quiet reflection we've endured since that day.

I don't wonder when there will be peace in this world, and -- frankly -- I scoff at the notion when people suggest it's possible. But on this day, among several others, I at least acknowledge that there are times for reflection, discussion and meditation, and there are times for action, response and perseverance.

Put another way, hindsight is only 20/20 if you have the balls and the focus and the direction in which to act.

-B-

The New Weight Gain 4000

2009-08-30T19:16:00.000-04:00

When in the course of human events we Americans find ourselves in need of an additional 30-50 pounds of pure fat to be added to our already-obese soon-to-be carcasses, there exists an industry who is only happy to solve that stretch-mark-inducing need. Today, that industry is the fast-food industry, and that product is Kentucky Fried Chicken's Double Down.

I've made plenty of observations about this nation's greatest achievement, that of the 2,000 calorie snack, on many occasions (here and here, for starters) but this newest of prizes reminds us that too much is never enough. Too much cholesterol, too much fat, too much sodium, too much heart disease, and too much weight. What's an extra 100 pounds anyway? It worked for Henry VIII, why not Middle America?

Click here to be introduced to the sandwich that will put you in your grave.

And be sure to bring your insulin, your Lipitor and your Slimfast with you next time you visit KFC.

Send In The Bastards

2009-08-29T09:57:00.000-04:00

When one identifies reasons he or she enjoys seeing movies in the theater, numerous factors typically reach the top of that list. Good film is entertaining, memorable, elicits emotion and tells a story in an interesting way. Further, good films almost always involve characters one could either completely welcome into his/her life or be completely unwilling to do so. But invariably, the character(s) in good film are ones we either love or love to hate.

These factors apply universally and perfectly to the latest in the line of Quentin Tarantino achievements, Inglourious Basterds.

The film has received a thorough round of praise from most film pundits, critics and online observers, so hopefully nothing cited in this space will have any bearing on those who have not yet ventured to the theater to experience this 2.5-hour explosion of World War II themed-flight of fancy. And inasmuch as I'm a strong proponent of home theater viewing of films, this is one that deserves to be viewed in a quasi-auditorium in honor of its final act.

Please note that the following will disclose some facts about the movie that you might want to avoid until after you've seen same. Please also note that this film could, informally, be labeled as the world's first "Jewish Fantasy Revenge Porn" genre piece.

---

Broadly speaking, this is a World War II film which commences in 1941 France. However, much of it is a character study so the typical shots of legions of German soldiers and of mutilated corpses, brutal combat and the atrocities of the Holocaust are forsworn for far more intimate, small settings. In their place, the study of the various -- and limited number of -- characters provides a good chunk of the pace of the film. And while the bulk of the film could take place in a soundstage much as did Tarantino's first, Reservoir Dogs, this particular film's sets are so vivid and authentic in feel it would be a surprise if any of these sets were not somewhere in the French countryside or in Paris itself.

The "main" character herein is Lt. Aldo Raines (Brad Pitt), a fast-talking part-Apache Southern boy whose penchant for killing Nazis and having his underlings recover Nazi scalps at his behest is only superceded by his penchant for snappy, descriptive dialogue. Despite the fact that Brad Pitt is a media icon and makes as much news for his personal life as his on-screen projects, this movie is made with his persona and his on-screen charm. His performance in this film, without a doubt, seals the deal and puts this way over the top.

Raines leads a group of eight soldiers into France to secretly fight Nazis and/or put the fear of God in them by disfiguring them in a very memorable way. This group is known as the Bastards (both by their superiors and their Nazi counterparts). Essentially, their main function -- in the limited, skewed accuracy of this film's self-defined zeitgeist -- is to search for groups of Nazis, kill all members of each group they encounter but one, and leave said survivor scarred and scared to tell the tale (much like the trail of corpses and lone survivors from Oliver Stone's "Natural Born Killers," also penned by Tarantino).

The Basterds are a crack group of Jewish-American soldiers who have gained a reputation among the Nazi hunted. There's the "Bear Jew," aka Hugo Stiglitz (portrayed by Til Schweiger), Sgt. Donny Donowitz (portrayed in a rare turn in front of the camera by Eli Roth), Lt. Archie Hicox (Michael Fassbender), Pfc. Smithson Utivich (The Office's B.J. Novak) and Pfc. Omar Ulmer (Omar Doom), among others. These Jewish fighters, as led by Raine, gain notoriety for their ferocious, fear-inspiring, merciless success at killing and mutilating Nazis.

There's more to the story, of course, then simply these soldiers' quest to alter the war's outcome -- one Nazi scalp at a time -- but this wouldn't be a Tarantino film if there weren't. There's the story of Shoshanna (Melanie Laurent) and her meticulous dalliance with Nazi war hero Frederick Zoller (Daniel Bruhl) to effect a spectacular and memorable conclusion, both to the war and the film. And finally, and most notably, there's the so-called "Jew Hunter," Col. Hans Landa (Christoph Waltz). There are numerous other characters herein, including Mike Myers as General Ed Fenech and Diane Kruger as famed German movie star Bridget von Hammersmark, but for the most part, the actors here are relatively unknown and each is, predictably, excellent.

There are three specific components to the film's plot, divided up into five chapters, and the film is relatively bold and brash in its portrayal of the events of World War II. Clearly the Holocaust, specifically the Nazi intention to rid Germany, France and the rest of Europe of Jewish presence, is a significant component to the story. But so too is the notion of revenge, as this aspect of the film commences and concludes the film. And finally, the retelling of the actual facts of World War II are rewritten in an almost cartoon-like way, but in very entertaining, memorable fashion.

Put another way, the three separate stories -- much like Pulp Fiction, Tarantino's greatest Opus, had separate sub-plots that simultaneously intertwined by the film's conclusion -- come together like a tangle of separate highways that culminate in one huge epicenter. The film's conclusion herein is satisfying both in terms of its plot and its style, and as per usual, Tarantino focuses on each frame of film in telling his story.

At times, the film is humorous; actually, it's frequently very humorous. Despite the violence, gore and over-the-top brutality in parts, it's a darkly comic turn for Brad Pitt and a subtle, restrained performance for the so-called Jew Hunter, Col. Hans Landa (again, portrayed by Christoph Waltz). Frankly, inasmuch as Brad Pitt's portrayal of Raine is excellent and completely on point, Waltz's portrayal of Landa is so impressive and so memorable that one could easily say he stole this film. Each time Waltz appears his presence and charm capture the viewer without fail, and, frankly, seemingly without effort. And his ability to portray Tarantino's impeccably-crafted dialogue -- with equal parts of humor, charm, humor, exacting detail and icy-cold analytical, sinister logic for which the Germans, especially the Nazis, are known -- is completely and thoroughly rewarding.

Frankly, I'd be shocked if Waltz fails to capture an Oscar for his performance in this film.

Overall, from the first frame to the appearance of the final credits, this is a meticulously-crafted ode to World War II films in general (although The Dirty Dozen is certainly at the top of that list). However, what I found most entertaining about it was that Tarantino completely side-steps worry vis-a-vis factual accuracy and instead created his own world. The appearance of Hitler, Goebbels, Goering and other members of the Reich's echelon herein is at times silly, if not simply inaccurate, but by the film's conclusion it is clear that the liberties Tarantino took with respect to history are done not out of laziness but sheer entertainment. At some point during the film -- probably less than twenty minutes in -- you're made to understand facts are secondary here, and the only real notion to which Tarantino follows is his adherence to the art of cinema and entertainment. There are two -- among at least a dozen -- scenes (whipped cream and strudel, and Laurent's red lipstick, dress, etc.) -- where Tarantino's camera dotes on his subject in an almost imperceptible way, except the perception of his focus reminds us that facts and dates and history is secondary, and the only real exposited significance from this film, as per usual, is not the destination itself but the journey thereto.

The only real criticism of this film, if any applies, is its overwhelming length. At 153 minutes, it feels heavy. However, especially given that the bulk of modern films barely clock in at 90 minutes, I came to the conclusion that this film is much like a special meal for a holiday or an event as much as most meals are disposable, forgettable and merely performed out of nutritional requirement. This film is a celebration of film, character study, plot and the interspersion of genres, themes and even the music in film (Sergio Leone-spaghetti westerns are invoked in this film's sonic landscape). And in his deliberate misuse of terms and spelling and historical accuracy, I think Tarantino specifically went out of his way to demonstrate the only real requirement a film should fulfill is to be entertaining. This particular film, with its many transgressions in terms of factual errors/mistakes, musical overlapping, and -- in many cases -- downright silliness, is nothing if not entertaining. To wit, the film's title is even misspelled -- intentionally -- and yet the film is engaging, completely memorable, and perhaps Tarantino's best. So whether that suggests it's a great film or not; or whether Tarantino fully worships the world of film or is thumbing his nose at those whose overaching attention to detail precludes said films from actually being worthwhile of viewing, is debatable. Somehow, I think "Nation's Pride" won't be much of a worthwhile viewing, but this film, for sure, is not only a worthwhile film, but will be one that generations will be viewing and studying for years to come.

Black and White and Red and Blue and Black and Blue

2009-08-20T21:00:00.003-04:00

When Obama was elected there was a huge sense of accomplishment throughout this country, not because his victory represented some much-needed change in the country's current political and economic climate, but because of the fall of a notable, long-standing racial barrier.

Many talk-show puppets, newspaper and magazine article heralded the election of a black man to the nation's highest office, and frankly, while I understood this sense of national accomplishment -- or simply our ability to, finally, get rid of a stigma on our racial potential as a nation -- my feeling was that the country acted properly by choosing Obama. I wasn't and I'm not a huge proponent of his, but in contrast, McCain was by far the wrong man for the job that Obama faced this past January.

Whether or not his policies will be successful long-term can't be answered now, but frankly, I'm not unhappy that he won the election. For me, the essential truth is that whether he was black or white or blue is irrelevant; I believed and continue to believe he's making far more progress than any concerns I may have vis-a-vis the US-Israel relationship as well as those relating to our long-term military and economic conventions.

In either case, while we may celebrate as a nation the fact that he was our first black President, or that we as a nation, largely speaking, made the right choice, is secondary. Of paramount importance was that the belief -- or hope -- that his election would make great strides towards removing or eliminating racial barriers might be short-lived, as evidenced by this story.

It's only been seven months -- to the day -- of his election, so perhaps we can't expect very much yet. But at the same time, people who have hate in their hearts -- whether for Obama or for other minorities or for anyone unlike them -- will either learn to shed themselves of that hate or they will be consumed by it. The above-linked story, of course, is absolutely repulsive; and what I think the suspects mentioned therein have yet to realize -- and will probably never gain the ability to do so -- is their actions, truly, are an embarrassment to the country and to humans in general.

I hope one day these types of incidents are a thing of the past, but I doubt any of us -- myself, anyone reading this, or our grandchildren -- will be alive to celebrate that day.

The San Francisco Treat

2009-08-11T06:13:00.005-04:00

If you are a sarcastic, jaded, observant and diligent New Yorker like me, you'll probably hear yourself, at one time during your lifetime -- if not more often -- announcing to the world that you could never consider living anywhere else than The Big Apple.

Well, that's not exactly true; anyone who calls New York The Big Apple is most assuredly not from here.

But otherwise, it's the kind of place that locks you into its gravitational pull and holds you down and thrills you in oh so many ways.

And yet, a good chunk of New Yorkers manage to see the world beyond the five boroughs and find themselves enchanted with places near and far. Some are partial to Mexico, others enjoy the various burghs throughout the state of Florida, and many recall their time in Europe with fondness.

No one ever seems to feel this way about Pittsburgh, incidentally, but that's a non-issue.

However, I have yet to come across anyone with anything negative to say about my second-favorite city, San Francisco. And as last night's No Reservations (Tony Bourdain) subtly suggested, there is absolutely nothing about San Francisco that should or could ever be changed or replaced.

Without divulging details that are better absorbed first- or, more accurately, second-hand, I obviously have a penchant and a bias towards this incredible city of small neighborhoods and large views, of healthy organic living coupled with sin and beef-on-a-stick dressed-down culinary fare. The fact that this is Kaia's domain -- and, no matter how long she lives in New York, always will be -- is pretty much a capper on why I love it there.

I've spent far too little time in the City proper. As Tony Bourdain demonstrated, it really is a city of contradictions. Inasmuch as the city can be regarded as a granola-friendly enclave for organic, healthy living, there is as much alcohol flowing through the patrons of the myriad bars and restaurants as there is in New York, except it -- seemingly -- is done in a more creative way. That same notion applies to the food of San Francisco. New York has nothing to apologize for to any other city, but if it had a slighter younger, chip-on-its-shoulder sibling, it would be San Francisco. The food in and around the city is among the best -- and worst (in a good way) -- there is in this country, and perhaps, in this world. My experience is limited, unfortunately, but based on what I saw last night, I'm reminded that it's been far too long since I last set down at SFO to spend some time with my other half in my other city.

Without belaboring the obvious, I think the whole essence of why San Francisco is as much a contradiction as New York is evident in the various neighborhoods which comprise the city. There is Pacific Heights and there is the Mission. In New York, we have the Upper East Side and we have the South Bronx. We -- like San Francisco -- have highs and lows, the middle and the extremes, and while San Francisco's weather remains relatively even-keeled and in balance, ours fluctuates wildly. And in case you haven't heard, their geologic patterns lend themselves to occasional fluctuation from time to time.

In either case, I'm not sure how one becomes homesick for a place in which he has spent far too little time, but between last night's show and what's waiting on the other end of a six-hour run on a commercial jet, that's where I'm at.

Although I could use a little Izzy's or perhaps a visit to The House of Prime Rib, I suppose I'll settle -- happily -- for some time with my other half and admonish myself for suggesting that anything else even be included in the same sentence or with the same regard.

In either case, I would be remiss if I, like Tony, failed to convince anyone coming across this to consider a trip west and a few days in a completely compelling reason to overcome one's fear of air travel, the economic obstacles for traveling, and, most importantly, seeing the world through a kaleidoscope of lenses rather than just one or two basic colors.

-B-

Morning Has Broken

2009-08-10T06:52:00.002-04:00

Invariably, I try not complaining but it really does me no good -- it stands to reason that the better the weekend, the worse it will be come Monday morning, and this week's example appears as if it will meet or exceed that semi-self-fulfilling prophecy.

First, the weekend began on a high note: I headed over to the West Side to hang with friends at Make, that pottery place where you pick out and paint your own pottery. Between the fact that there is good wine, good tunes, good people and an endless array of a la carte dining and creative options, it was a blast, and it was good seeing both Dave and his brother, Matt, to whom I owe mediocre sushi.

I finished at Make -- the project is a frame for my grandmother -- and actually spoke to a friend on the way home who mentioned he'd be in the City early Saturday and asked if I wanted to meet him for a skate. So we made plans for the next morning, I got up and out relatively early -- 11AM without a hangover on a weekend is par for the course -- and did a bit of skating before coming back to Casa de Boogie and celebrating the difference between animals and humans. No, not opposable thumbs -- air conditioning.

Saturday night was a friend's belated birthday get-together, a small gathering of friends at the Boat Basin Cafe on West 79th. I'd been there years ago and actually forgot about it, as it's as close to the Hudson as one can be without actually being in the Hudson. Despite the fact that it was remote and far out of the way, it was easy getting there and we wound up staying 'til the late hours of the morning, around 1-ish, if memory serves me correctly. Aside from the problem I had with what might have been bad-ish tuna, everything was a blast and it was great seeing some old friends whom I hadn't seen in awhile, reminiscing about others, discussing the world's most irritating words and/or expressions, and, of course, meeting new people. And the fact that we got a chance to see a couple rats kicking it old-skool-style down by the water reminded me that, especially in summer, late-night weekends is the best time to do your best rat-spotting, if that's your sort of thing. Hence the reason why so many people escape the City on the weekends and make their way to the Hamptons, Fire Island, or Yankee Stadium...which leads me to my next point...

The Yankees managed a pretty impressive four-game sweep of the Red Sox this past weekend. Not only did they play good baseball, they outpaced the Red Sox in every aspect of the game: pitching, defense, hitting, baserunning and -- most importantly -- victories. Several friends are Red Sox fans -- I know, what the hell am I thinking, associating with Red Sox fans -- and have mercilessly given me shit regarding the fact that Boston has been the better team over the past few years. Not only did the Red Sox win their first 8 games this season against the Yankees, but they've managed to win a couple World Series since the Yankees last did so in 2000. Between those facts and the new Stadium, I subconsciously wondered whether there was any truth to that "Reverse the Curse" supposition. Unfortunately or otherwise, the Yankees' foul play -- no pun intended -- lent credence to that possibility.

Well, I'm happy to say that this past weekend -- coupled with the recent revelation that David Ortiz admitted to having used performance-enhancing drugs -- remind me that the only way the Red Sox will ever be better than the Yankees is by cheating. The fact is that if Manny Ramirez -- now with the Dodgers -- and David Ortiz hadn't cheated, it's pretty likely that the Red Sox would not have gotten the production from them they did. Red Sox fans are quick to point out that Alex Rodriguez used steroids -- knowingly or otherwise -- but they are much less quick to admit that his steroid use had no positive effect on the Yankees' successes. Many Yankee fans, in fact, are not A-Rod fans -- even after his game 2 heroics Friday night. And they very quickly point out that Roger Clemens was also a steroid user whose involvement with the Yankee World Series could be cause to put a black mark on the Yankees' success from 1996-2000. Personally, I think anyone who compares Roger Clemens to Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz, let's remove all three from the equation. Delete Roger Clemens' stats from the Yankees and delete those of Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz, and let's see where each team would be.

Thought so. Moving on...

I finished the weekend in grand style: another brief skate down by Carl Schurze Park, some basic quickie errands, some work at home -- thank god for A/C -- and then we wound it all up with True Blood and Entourage, which is always a great way to say goodbye to the weekend and begrudingly accept Monday morning's impending arrival.

And as I indicated earlier, I can't wait for it to be Tuesday, or Friday night, for that matter -- so I can get back to doing it all over again.

I'd wish you a happy Monday, but there ain't no such thang ;-)

This Ain't Norman Rockwell's America

2009-08-05T07:49:00.001-04:00

I suppose I should admit I am wrong when, in the rare case, I am.

And in this particular case, I have to admit I am wrong. Based on this link, it is clear that there is a family in America that is more fucked up than my ex's.

Read at your own risk.

Incidentally, whether or not my ex's father ever hit on his daughter(s) remains open to speculation, depending on who you talk to and the level of sobriety involved. The only fact that cannot be disputed is he contracted herpes not from a toilet seat, as he claimed, but from a prostitute (in hindsight, certainly, there is not much difference).

Good times, man, good times.

-B-

Two Weeks on Tour

2009-08-02T10:01:00.000-04:00

It's been a couple weeks since I first received Blackberry's newest Verizon Wireless model, the 9630 (aka the Tour) and, as per usual, it's a mixed bag but, for the most part, I'm glad I opened this bag.

Before proceeding, it should be noted that the choice of devices for Verizon Wireless users has been somewhat limited in comparison to those offered by its main competitor, AT&T Wireless. The former has, in my judgment, the better network, but AT&T has always offered more phones -- including Apple's iPhone -- and while each carrier's rates have been slowly approaching one another's, AT&T has, for the most part, been a bit cheaper in terms of monthly use/subscription.

However, being that my interest in a mobile carrier has been quality of service, I've been relatively happy to stick with Verizon in the NYC metropolitan area. Since I manage our business contract -- which umbrellas four separate lines, including mine -- if any of us had issues with Verizon's service, I'd hear about it. And since I don't hear about it, I'm assuming that the other three lines on the contract are as trouble-free as is mine.

In either case, beyond the network quality issues, the main focus of this review should be the phone itself. Without further ado...

The phone specifications are fairly sophisticated. As per Verizon's page dedicated to the Tour, the Tour is not only a CDMA device compatible with VZW's domestic network, it also can do quad-band (ie GSM), meaning that it works elsewhere beyond North America. In plain English, it can do Europe, hence the "Tour" moniker.

Beyond that significant fact, there are some other interesting things to be had for the Tour user: it features 256MB in both Flash and RAM, up from the 96 MB Flash and 32 MB RAM featured in the last Verizon Blackberry, the Curve. Speaking of the Curve, the Tour bumps the graphics ante from the Curve's 320x240 pixel screen to 480x360. Even though the screens on these devices are about the same size dimension-wise (about 2.5"), the screen is noticeably sharp and clear.

The Tour is sized much more similarly to the Curve then the newest AT&T Blackberry, the Bold. The two devices, when placed next to one another, look remarkably similar, but the Tour is not as wide and a bit deeper. Essentially, if you've held a Verizon Curve you'll feel right at home with respect to the size of the Tour.

The keyboard is either a regression or a progression -- depending on your perspective -- to the 8800-series Blackberry models (the silver "world phone" from Verizon or the 8800 offered by AT&T). The keys are quasi-sculpted and slanted, so the left side of the keyboard -- everything from the 'T' down and to the left -- slopes slightly leftward and everything from the 'Y' down and to the right slope slightly rightward. This is a distinct change from the smaller keys featured on the Curve, and it will take some getting used to for people who punch out lots of e-mails on their Curve keyboards. The keys have good response -- but not great -- and there will be typos which will decrease as does the user's time with the Tour increases.

As far as battery life is concerned, that -- currently -- is a mixed bag for several reasons. I was using a Seidio enhanced battery in my last phone, the Curve, and noticed an increasingly tangible drop in effective charge. At first I was getting 36 hours between charges, including a 100 or so minutes of daily talk time and lots of e-mail/net usage. That dissipated over the tenure of my use of the Curve. However, the Tour, with its stock RIM battery, is requiring more frequent charging -- in fact I doubt I'll last through an entire, typical day without a minimal charge. Why? First, the Tour's screen is more graphic intensive; second, I've rarely, if ever, had the phone's audible features enabled in favor of vibrating alerts; and third, and most importantly, as is typical with many Blackberry releases from Verizon, the first version always requires some sort of tweaking of the phone's software before the battery life begins settling into a typical pattern. Put another way, I hope that this limited battery life is not typical to what this phone will be delivering. I've enjoyed not having to concern myself with keeping a spare battery in my work bag since I began using a Blackberry and I'm hoping that trend continues.

As for usability, while the iPhone 3G was released to much fanfare and a celebration of Apple's inclusion of "cut" and "paste" into the iPhone's software, Blackberry, as per usual, lets Apple celebrate loudly and just keeps improving their software. To that end, the e-mail aspect of the Tour -- which is the crux of using a Blackberry (and a smartphone in general) -- now includes the ability to view mail in HTML format (ie graphics, pictures, and formatting) as well as the ability to request delivery/read receipts with sent e-mail. This doesn't seem like much of an improvement to people who celebrate finally being able to cut and paste text from one place to another within the applications on their iPhones, but for people who communicate in the business world, HTML-viewable mail (to a degree) and read/delivery receipts (significantly) are important aspects of business communication, which, with all due respect to iPhone users, is where the Blackberry leaves the iPhone behind.

As for entertainment and games, the Tour is packed with a bunch of non-productivity 'ware. There's a half-dozen games included in the shipping model, including Poker, Solitaire, Sudoku and some others, and Slacker Radio also is included with the Tour. A variety of free instant messaging software is also included -- Yahoo, MSN, GoogleTalk, AIM -- as well as the mother of all IM cell applications, Blackberry Messenger.

There's a lot of other useful things packed into the Tour, including a Password Manager, a Maps application, a Media manager (for photos, voice notes, music and video), but the main focus of the Blackberry are the four key applications: the address book, the task/to-do list, the calendar, and the notepad. In addition to these two are, obviously, e-mail and the browser.

There are some interesting tweaks to the e-mail application -- in addition to the above-mentioned read/delivery receipt aspect. It's a bit easier to prep mail with built-in, on the fly spell checking, but as with any device, that can be more of a hindrance than a help. The calendar is a bit better laid out than in the Curve, but it's relatively familiar and effectively simple.

Something which should be noted is the inclusion of a 3.2 megapixel camera which is an improvement over the 2.0 megapixel camera included in the Curve. What's far more significant, however, is that a) the Tour includes image stabilization with the Tour's camera software, and b) there is a version of the Tour that omits the camera entirely. The price of the non-camera Tour is the same as the Tour which includes the camera, so that eliminates the suggestion that RIM wanted to be considerate of its customers by saving them some money off the $200 list price of the Tour. The reason why there is a non-camera model of the Tour is because many Blackberry users -- business users -- find themselves in situations where having a camera-phone is prohibited, so by removing the camera from the device permits them to remain in contact with people without having to surrender their phones at security checkpoints or in addition to the execution of NDA's. Put another way, it's a fairly smart move on their part to show consideration to those business users who resent having to surrender their phones on a regular basis.

As for the design, the fit and finish on the Tour is superior to the Curve's fit and finish. The Tour feels a bit heavier and substantial than the Curve -- in this case the added weight being a good thing -- and it feels solid. The screen and keyboard are bisected by the control panel buttons of send, the command/blackberry button, the control ball (aka the pearl), the back and end buttons. There is some light which peeks through from the sides of these buttons, but everything -- including the light-wheel circling the pearl and the keys -- is evenly and well lit.

One distinct negative which I encountered immediately was the charging/data port, which on the Curve and previous Blackberry models was a mini USB port, has been "upgraded" to a USB micro port. That means that cables for data/charging that worked with prior Blackberry models won't work with the Tour. However, inasmuch as needing a new cable or two is a minor inconvenience at best, the real problem is that the USB micro port is smaller than the mini port on the Curve and, as a result, it takes some effort to insure the cable for data transfer/charging is inserted properly into the Tour's right side. It's not a major problem, but the fact is that over a six-month period of daily charging and semi-regular data transfer/backups, that rough insertion/removal could affect the port and the phone's ability to charge in an adverse way. I don't know why the change from mini to micro was implemented, but I'm not a fan of the decision. The solution is to buy a charging cradle ($30 MSRP, as seen here), which merely requires a drop-in of a "naked" Tour (ie without a case) and the phone's displays immediately shows an analog clock signifying the charging process is in effect. The difference between the cable-wrestling versus the silky-smooth connection once the Tour lands in its cradle is very noticeable. Of course, in order to perform data sync/transfer and/or backups still requires the cable, but this charging solution is far more reasonable in everyday, drop-in/grab-to-go situations.

Overall, being that this phone is designated for use on the Verizon Wireless network and that the newest Blackberry models typically are released for AT&T and T-Mobile (like the newest Curve, the 8520, seen here), the Tour isn't a smartphone that is particularly exciting or incredible. It's not revolutionary, it's evolutionary. It's a solid improvement in every way (save the USB mini-micro port) over its predecessor, the Curve, and I feel it's as good if not a better option than AT&T's Bold.

The next wave, incidentally, of Blackberry models will likely incorporate the above-linked Curve 8520 trackpad, which makes a lot of sense (it will get smudged but it will have far fewer issues than the pearl's propensity for oil and grime to foul up the rollers/sensors). Knowing that there is another, "newer" phone on the horizon may or may not

The House of Boogie Flickr Site

http://estore.vzwshop.com/bbtour/

Who Will Watch The Watchmen?

2009-07-26T20:05:00.003-04:00

After what seemed like forever, Zach Snyder took the reins and managed to put The Watchmen on film. And thereafter, after much ado, I managed to score a copy of same on Blu-Ray.

I won't bother going into detail about the significance of the original graphic novel upon its release (nor in its continued longevity) nor the plot highlights nor the story nor any of that; nor will I parrot much of the same tidbits on-screen and online movie critics did with respect to the film version of this story. It's neither relevant nor an efficient use of space.

Having said all that, I was mostly impressed at the scope and the magnitude of the film. It was, more or less, engrossing and entertaining, despite its three-hour run time, and the effects and the fact that it very closely mirrored the novel itself -- in some cases, frame by frame -- really blew me away.

I don't remember the last time I saw a film and was so engaged and locked on for so long. It's not only because this film ran far longer -- almost double -- than most films do these days. It's that the story, coupled with the imagery and the far-reaching aspects of the project as a whole -- really captured and commanded my focus, sort of like watching one of the Godfather films for the first time.

It's the antithesis of a simple retelling of a comic book. But the Watchmen story -- a "graphic novel," if you will -- wasn't just another comic book. It dealt with sophisticated, adult themes: nuclear annihilation, rape, kidnapping, pornography, religion, the slow but steady decline of American society, and geopolitical unrest that genuinely threatened the human race as much, if not moreso, since the Cuban Missile Crisis. And those just top the list of this story's general themes.

The fact that the story is set in or around 1984 isn't particularly relevant, nor is the fact that Richard Nixon remained president (five terms, actually) since his initial term following Kennedy's assassination. Essentially, the film is as strongly tied to the novel as is any film you're likely to see.

Essentially, why it took so long to commit this story to film is that no one could accept the responsibility of projecting the entire breadth of the Watchmen story into a film without sacrificing packets of the story, which were critical to understanding it in its proper, massive scale. I'm not really sure how Zach Snyder, the director, managed to do so, but he shoehorned the entire story -- or the majority thereof -- into the three-hour run time. Some of the story, especially in its filmed form, was a bit ridiculous. But because this film features grown adults running around in costume -- replete with capes, masks, etc. -- the suspension of disbelief is a requirement for this film as much as 3D glasses are for a movie filmed in 3D.

Overall, if at all possible, I recommend viewing this film in Blu-Ray only because 90% of it is shot in partial or complete darkness, much as was The Dark Knight. It's not hard to see what's happening on screen but because Zach Snyder celebrates the details as he does, missing a third or more of same due to a poor source -- even a standard DVD -- will detract from the overall experience. Also advisable is viewing the movie in a proper setting with a system that can handle the dynamics of a film source that features whispers and explosions. This film makes extensive use of CGI (as much if not moreso than did his previous film, 300) but a good chunk of the CGI in this film was an ancillary but valuable part of the film nonetheless. In 300, none of the film was shot outdoors -- the skies and the surroundings were all CGI. In this film, there are endless uses of CGI but they're more in keeping with the Watchmen world (eg a New York seemingly ready to feed on itself in the absence of law, order and sanity).

I was and remain very surprised this film was green-lighted; inasmuch as I did enjoy it I could have predicted it would be a relative failure at the box office. How this could compete for dollars with any generic romantic comedy featuring Kate Hudson, Jennifer Garner, Sandra Bullock or Anne Hathaway is rhetorical; it can't and won't. What it is, however, is an epic portrayal of an epic story that spans decades and features an extremely solid cast (Malin Akerman, Billy Crudup, Matthew Goode, Jackie Earle Haley, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Patrick Wilson, etc.), revolutionary effects, a solid story, and, overall, will likely stay with you long after you've seen it. However, it's the kind of film that requires a commitment from the viewer, and I would advise anyone who hasn't read the novel to either do so prior to viewing or not bother at all. It's an intense retelling of a story that I really enjoyed, but it's not for everyone and while I'll view this film again, it's not the kind of easily-watchable film that will endear it to many.

But to answer the question "Who Will Watch the Watchmen?" count me in.

Someday, After A While

2009-07-06T09:38:00.002-04:00

Despite the glut of repetitive coverage for the quickly-rising number of dead celebrities reported over the past few weeks, with a specific nod to Michael Jackson's shocking death, there's an article memorializing Robert McNamara, who died this morning at the age of 93, and there will likely be nothing further mentioned on this topic by any of the large news outlets, simply because the coming days will see far more Michael Jackson tribute/coverage and real "news."

However, McNamara wasn't a second-rate plug-in political hack like Karl Rove or Dick Cheney or Joe Biden. McNamara was a tough and bright guy who took us from the crusty, artificial sheen of the 1950's into the modern era. Not only did he revolutionize the way the military-industrial complex interacted with its civilian counterparts, he took the entire system into the then-emerging world of computers and organized the US military into something not just mighty but relatively efficient.

And of course there are a couple of other issues with which he had direct involvement: Cuba and Vietnam.

While most relatively alert Americans have a concept of these terms within the scope of their nation's history, far too many regard those two nations as, respectively, a tourist destination of the future (or a good source of spanish-speaking major league baseball pitchers) and an excellent source of knowledge for southeast Asian cuisine.

In the Kennedy Administration, McNamara was tabbed -- from his post as President of Ford Motor Company -- as Secretary of Defense. He shepherded the US through the botched Bay of Pigs invasion and the subsequent fallout and guided the nation's policy on Vietnam -- incorrectly receiving much of the blame the US military wound up receiving.

As to the former, to paraphrase, he suggested it was mere luck that Russia and the US didn't engage in a nuclear war over Cuba, and the latter, he said, was a failed political state during the administrations of both Kennedy and Johnson.

"External military force cannot reconstruct a failed state, and Vietnam, during much of that period, was a failed state politically. We didn't recognize it as such."

Rarely do public figures these days acknowledge their mistakes. Far fewer learn from them.

In retrospect, his death at 93 is certainly anticlimactic, for sure; it's ironic that the man who led Kennedy and the nation through such turbulent times and outlived so many of his peers was relegated to a footnote in the wake of posthumous Michael Jackson coverage.

Incidentally, there won't be a test, but if you have any interest whatsoever in the Cuban Missile Crisis, Kennedy's assassination and extremely good interpretative historical fiction, the James Ellroy novel American Tabloid (2001) is a must-read. It doesn't do much for McNamara's legacy, and he will likely be remembered with increasing respect the further this nation progresses past the haunted legacy of Vietnam. Unfortunately, by relegating his passing as a mere footnote in the wake of Michael Jackson tribute coverage is extremely unfortunate and somewhat disappointing, but, if nothing else, patently American.

As I mentioned above, while the press spews forth multiple orgasms in the form of Michael Jackson coverage, it seems at once simultaneously wrong and disturbingly appropriate that one of the men who guided us here is regarded with so little significance to the modern America to which he contributed as we glorify relatively insignificant entertainers from the country, or the semblance thereof, which has emerged.

The Blast from The Future

2009-07-06T01:25:00.004-04:00

As per usual, we had a kickin' weekend. We watched the fireworks, we spent the entire weekend together, we hung out with friends, we painted and prepped pottery, we watched Bride Wars and Role Models (I didn't get a chance to copy the Blu-Ray for Rachel Getting Married onto the drive) and, invariably, we both agree with the reading from a gent in SFO that our plans for the near- and not-so-near future are dead-on. The one thing that I regret is that she and I didn't meet ten or more years ago. Had we met so long ago, we could have been approaching our second decade instead of only five years, and neither of us would have had to put up with the trash -- aggravation and the (in)significant others that we did. Which leads me to wonder whether we appreciate one another because we're a perfect fit, or because we realized that we wasted so much of our time with such shitty people? I think the answer is, in both our cases, irrelevant...once you've wiped shit off your shoe, why bother contemplating it or remain irritated you stepped in it in the first place?

Meanwhile, we had a blast at home -- pardon me if that sounds prurient -- and if you want to get a good idea of how much fun we had alone, together, after dark, in the privacy of our little abode, here's something...interactive... (yes, it's NSFW) ;-)

Enjoy, and happy (belated) 4th ;-)

-B-

2009-06-29T21:14:00.003-04:00

About ten days ago, I committed a cardinal sin, especially for someone who calls himself a Republican: I wasted my time arguing with someone who skips facts and goes right to criticism, name-calling and finger-pointing. Invariably, I find myself in this position with regularity because of several reasons, most prominent of which is due to the fact that I rarely take a position until I've drenched myself in as much fact as possible. In general, whether wrong or right, I find it's better to make an educated guess once I've opted to become educated.

Unfortunately, the scope of this particular argument to which I refer above was Obama's limited reaction to the implosion resulting from Iran's "election" which maintained President Ahmadinejad. Rather than bother rehashing the facts, let's assume that the election was a complete joke, and that two-thirds of the nation of Iran has had it with Ahmadinejad, the symbol of lies, control and dictatorship.

The post-election demonstrations that resulted in bloodshed, unrest and, in some cases, death, was notable in that it was the largest such show of dissent by the people of Iran since 1979, the year there was a revolution which overturned the leadership of that nation.

The original premise that started the discussion was that the people of Iran largely support the West and are not anti-Israel, and are in fact opposed to terrorism and suicide bombing.

And it went downhill from there.

I won't bother rehashing the back and forth, as it was nauseating to experience it first-hand and even moreso when I posted the entire text thereof on a Facebook page. I didn't do so to prove a point or to vindicate myself in bothering making the argument with the other person; I did so to make sure my points were clear and that I wasn't clueless, as I suspected the other person with whom I was arguing.

Once I had a variety of people review the text, I was a bit relieved, because most of the people with whom I shared this reacted in much the same way I did, ostensibly suggesting the person with whom I was arguing had absolutely no clue what she was talking about and was merely spewing anger and hate at Obama for, ostensibly, no reason that any sane person would be comfortable to determine.

In either case, I came across two articles which I think are useful in the context of part of that particular discussion, was the premises I suggested supporting Obama's restrained response to Iran's implosion. Rather than go rushing in as the Big Powerful USA and dictate to the people of Iran the direction their nation should go, which was already perfected in the 70's with disastrous results, which is what my discussion partner demanded Obama do, my supposition was that by allowing the people of Iran to choose their own path -- even if difficult, painful and circuitous -- we would eventually gain better results. Of course, this was met with scoffs, ridicule and more name-calling and derision. Considering that the person with whom I was arguing seems to skip using facts to support her position, it makes a lot of sense that these other options were her main supporting cast.

The first article I came across discusses the notion, put forth by a Afghan cleric, of how suicide bombing in certain situations is acceptable. Never mind that my discussion partner downplayed the fact that most Iranians, who are Muslim, would probably agree with this cleric in his theory. What is most disturbing about this statement is it was offered up by the son of another Afghan cleric who, after decreeing that suicide bombing is wrong, was killed by a Taliban suicide bomber. Beyond the irony of the situation, what's really disturbing is that the son, by way of the article, indicates one very cold, chilling point of view: "suicide bombings in Afghanistan against U.S. and NATO troops are justified because they are invaders killing Muslims."

Next up, this article discloses the fact that Iraq as a nation is celebrating the deadline for American troops to begin their gradual withdrawal from that nation.

What these two articles share in common is that we are still in the business of "doing good," even for people that clearly don't want our help or assistance. Celebrating the US exit from a nation and earmarking our troops for suicide bombings simply because we don't belong involved in their affairs are two pretty stark, strong statements. And frankly, while I don't suggest we turn our back on the strife in Iran or other hot parts of the Middle East, I can't particularly understand why, given these facts, anyone rational or sane -- significant caveats, I know -- would advocate involving ourselves in the natural progression of events in or outside Iran.

Inevitably, I think it's clear that people who want to criticize Obama will do so regardless of the facts or the long-term successes or damage he achieves or inflicts. The fact is, although I'm not a huge supporter of his, I can't really fault much of anything he's been doing. I continue to be leery of his treatment of Israel, but thus far he hasn't done anything to warrant my criticism or scorn, except to say that his mere presence has given license to foolish, right-wing nuts who feel satisfied by exerting their anger and frustration -- for whatever the reason -- and who use him as a target.

In either case, aside from the universal fact that Muslim nations will always detest, resent and be hostile toward and suspicious of any involvement by Western nations in their affairs unless it saves them from a worse fate, what I've learned in all of this is the following: when you ask someone to explain their anger, frustration and/or their overall depression and their answer to same is by insulting or chiding you for asking the question, you're better off ignoring their disdain and advising them to seek qualified professional help. And, much like with many nations in the Middle East, it's advisable to learn from one's mistake(s) and get the hell out of the way and staying out of the way forever.

Hope is found in the darkest places, but not in Powder Blue

2009-06-28T00:31:00.005-04:00

What do you get when you combine these actors -- Jessica Biel, Forest Whitaker, Ray Liotta, Lisa Kudrow, Patrick Swayze and Kris Kristofferson -- in a hotly-anticipated, straight-to-DVD release? You get a long waste of a film called "Powder Blue."

The tagline for this film is "Hope is found in the darkest places." After watching this movie, it's pretty safe to say it wasn't in this film, that's for sure.

First and foremost, anyone reading this may recognize this film as Jessica Biel's first foray into "serious" film; she plays a stripper and single-mother (one character). And yes, I had as difficult a time writing that without breaking out laughing as you did reading it. The film's release was anticipated by men around the world because this marked Jessica Biel's first nude scene. Unfortunately, even her bare boobs didn't bring this back from the abyss.

Disappointment, I think, should be this film's hallmark, and not (merely) because the film fails despite the aforementioned bare boobs. Anne Hathaway had a similarly awful first step towards movie drama mixed with nudity in "Havoc," and this film had a far better cast (and you could understand most of the dialogue herein, whereas in "Havoc" the majority of the film is in 'ebonics' and even if you wanted to know what was being said, there was so little of value there it wasn't worthwhile finding an online Ebonics to English translator. Put another way, shit is shit no matter what language is being spoken.

With a cast of heavy hitters, this film should and could have been better. To be completely fair, it wasn't an awful film, it was a film based on an awful story. "Dark" films are not to be avoided, and this film -- on certain levels -- qualifies as dark. The point being that there's so much depression happening here that by the time the climax arrives, the viewer has, most likely, reached the point of not really caring. I won't spoil any of the theoretical surprises, but I can say that the performances were fairly solid -- Forest Whitaker, for sure -- but the story, which is interspersed between the lives of these disparate, desperate characters, is scattered and it almost seems like the action is following one story of modern pathos to another.

This film's title will be the answer to the trivia question "What movie did Jessica Biel first bare her knockers" -- but the real question should be how an assembly of such talented actors and actresses (and I'm not sure if, or where on, the list Ms. Biel should be) managed to get roped into doing a film this, at best, mediocre.

Chickenfoot: The More Things Change...

2009-06-18T21:56:00.001-04:00

About a year ago, when Van Halen announced a world tour that would -- for the first time since the early 80's -- include David Lee Roth and not Sammy Hagar or Gary Cherone on vocals, it was pretty clear that hell had frozen over yet again. The first over-frozen hell was The Eagles reuniting for 20 farewell tours, and of course seeing Pink Floyd -- David Gilmour and Roger Waters -- on one stage for Live 8 was a similar cooling.

The fallout from the post Sammy Hagar era of Van Halen was the band's long-time bassist, Michael Anthony, left along with Sammy Hagar and the two of them formed a band with the rest of Sammy's old (and new) bandmates called "The Other Ones." That project, to my knowledge, pretty much went nowhere.

Then out of the ether came news that Sammy and Michael joined up with a guy who plays guitar named Joe.

I believe I've mentioned my all-out respect for Joe Satriani in these pages before. If not, I'm remiss.

Joe Satriani is among the most incredible guitarists ever to walk this -- or any other -- planet. He's capable of eliciting and inciting more incredible noise from a six-string than anyone before him, and his way-out-there approach to making music on every level is pretty much indisputable. Put another way, the guy fucking wails. I've seen him live six or seven times throughout venues in NYC from opening to Stevie Ray Vaughan to packing the Beacon to Roseland to other similarly-sized houses.

So when I discovered he was joining with the aforementioned Sammy and Mike and drummer Chad Smith to form a new band called Chickenfoot, I scored a copy of their eponymous debut and I have some reactions, which is to be expected.

First and foremost, anyone who listens to this album is going to instantly compare Joe's work with Eddie Van Halen's. Both are, without question, incredibly talented and solid songwriters. The difference is that Eddie's style is distinct and tunnel-visioned. Basically, there's little chance you'll mistake Eddie Van Halen's playing with someone else's, much in the way you could never mistake Eri Clapton or Jimmy Page or Jimi Hendrix with some miscellaneous axe-slinger.

Joe's style isn't nearly as simple to discern because he's so adept at being all over the place and doing anything that strikes him as doable. The guy's style is eminently fluid and all over the place from song to song, but once he finds a mood, a tone and the aim of a song, he's dead on target. But he can just as easily do a sappy ballad with quasi-acoustic guitar parts to crushing the listener with tone and attack.

So when this collection of 11 tunes reached my iPod I was excited because I like Sammy both as a person and a vocalist, and I apotheosize Joe in every way one musician can another. I had a chance to meet and (sort of) play with him, and there's something quite humiliating knowing that if I spend every hour of the rest of my life dedicated to becoming a better player, I know I'll still never reach the edge of the mountain on which Joe stands at said mountain's peak.

Having said all that, the album -- musically -- cooks. There's really no better way to describe it. For the most part, the guitars are aggressive and loud and the songs are bold and in your face. Sammy's vocals are strong as per usual, and the overall expression of the album is a scowl, without a doubt.

There are some problems, however.

Inasmuch as I'd love to love this album, it's not going to withstand the test of time as a daily listen. Some of the tunes are really solid, but at issue is the questionable lyrics. Essentially, it's -- for better or worse -- the same thing that plagued Sammy's limited tenure as David Lee Roth's replacement. These tunes have some measure of humor but, for the most part, they fall a tad flat with lyrics that should be edgy and instead come across as quasi-generic. No one expects a modern band to write the next Stairway to Heaven or You Can't Always Get What You Want, etc., but a good chunk of these tunes are disposable, lyrically speaking. A lot of it sounds like "5150" -- which is both a compliment and a knock.

Examples of this are "My Kinda Girl," which feels like the Hagar-era Van Halen's version of Donna Summers' "She Works Hard For The Money" mixed with "Summer Nights" or "Dreams." Another Chickenfoot tune, "Oh Yeah," lyrically, is repetitive and leaves the listener thinking to him- or herself, "This song isn't over? Oh no."

Musically this album is tighter than a Bavarian bank vault. Joe's guitars and everything under that umbrella -- tone, the mix, the playing -- is spot on, as per usual. Most of the album, like the Van Halen stuff featuring Sammy, is solid, straightforward rock. There are a couple of limp tunes that can be categorized as "love" songs -- on this record, the aforementioned "My Kinda Girl" is closer to that than anything else, as well as "Learning to Fall" and "Future In The Past." These feel relatively akin to 5150's "Dreams," "Love Walks In" and "Summer Nights" or 0U812's "When It's Love" or "Feels So Good."

Make no mistake, the musicianship here is really tight and solid; it's somewhat akin to shopping for a Ferrari and coming home in a Vette. It's not quite what the doctor ordered.

There are some pretty stellar, noteworthy high points to this album. The disc's first two songs, "Avenida Revolution" and "Soap On A Rope" are both heavy on attitude and wham. "Sexy Little Thing" is a tad generic but a good, grooving tune. And finally, "Down The Drain" is a great Satriani-esque funk that would have been better without the sentiment of lyrics. Had these guys left that last one as an instrumental it would have likely been the best track on the album.

That, in a nutshell, is actually a good description for the entire disc. It's solid, but the lyrics -- not the vocals -- compromise these tunes rather than compliment them. I think Sammy's vocals are pretty much flawless, and pair well with Joe's multi-faceted attack.

Put another way, it's hard to listen to this stuff as a centerpiece for your attention; as background music, it's great. But front and center, it's difficult to not want to hit the track skip button.

An interesting addition to this album, the track "Runnin' Out," is clearly about the environment and conserving what we've got before it -- duh -- runs out. Problem is, the real concern after listening to this disc is that, lyrically speaking, these guys are running out of ideas.

Thankfully Joe's got plenty of packages of strings from which to choose. Let's hope he keeps on burning through them; as long as he does, I'll be listening.

As for this album, I give it a limited recommendation, so long as the listener expects mindless drivel paired with balls-to-the-wall tone and endless riffing. It's very much deja vu; it leaves you with a similar wind-down that Sammy's Van Halen stuff does, as well as pretty much everything he's done before or after. It's worth a listen and, with Joe's guitars driving this project, worth more than just one listen.

Pro or con, caveat emptor.

-B-

The Remains of The Day

2009-06-16T06:36:00.001-04:00

It's always the same.

I find myself observing the world through what I believe are relatively unbiased, logical eyes, and try and ruminate on things prior to reacting to them. In a world this busy, this chaotic, this overloaded by everything and everyone, reacting too quickly can be and usually winds up being erroneous and regrettable.

However, after seeing a day's worth of unrest exploding on the streets of Tehran, I've essentially reached the point where I'm not sure how anyone can believe that the recent election for the Iranian presidency -- which are the focus of the massive protests, unrest and violence -- were anything but a ridiculous example of fraud.

The leader of Iran, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is, as I've indicated earlier herein, one of the World's Great Assholes. He has publicly questioned whether the holocaust ever happened and has repeatedly called for Israel's destruction. Further, he has repeatedly suggested that Iran's nuclear program is one deigned for civilian energy, not for military use. Unfortunately, he has also denied that Iran has supported -- with funds, weapons and protection -- Hezbollah and Hamas. Basically, everything that he says is complete bullshit.

So by virtue of the fact that the election results picked him as the clear winner -- by a 2-to-1 margin -- it's relatively obvious that there's something amiss. Why? Because 2/3's of Iran is under the age of 30, and that demographic overwhelmingly favored Ahmadinejad's challenger, Mir-Hossein Mousavi, a guy who ran on a platform of reforming the rigid, heavy-handed control of the traditional leaders of Iran. How is it that half of Iran is comprised of eligible female voters who undoubtedly supported the challenger, yet 2/3 of the vote favored a man, Ahmadinejad, who supported restricting womens' rights, including voting and being unescorted during the day and night?

It's clearly and patently ridiculous that the Iranian people would vote for Ahmadinejad, and the massive protests through Tehran and some other large Iranian cities suggest that the people have had enough, as has the rest of the world.

Why is any of this relevant at all, and why did I bother committing these thoughts herein? Well, first and foremost, if this bullshit election result stands, I worry about the state of Israel. If there is only dictatorship in Iran -- and frankly, even before the election was held, I never doubted that somehow Ahmadinejad would "win" -- then what is to stop a nuclear-equipped Iran from targeting Israel? A man like Ahmadinejad, who is either completely crazy or completely overtaken by his adherence to the old guard -- the old guard that has managed to create war between Jews and Muslims for millenia -- would have absolutely no hesitation, on a moral level, in attacking Israel.

Before we start considering Israel's demise an inevitability, the fact is that Israel won't permit Iran to weaponize plutonium. As much as North Korea enjoys jerking our government with threats of weaponizing plutonium, once Israel is convinced that Iran is ready, willing and able to do just that, there's little doubt their nuclear reactors will be reduced to dust.

That, of course, eliminates the initial threat of nuclear attack by an unhinged, crazy dictator. However, that will likely usher in other problems, including suggestions by other nations -- both in and outside the Middle East -- that Israel is the aggressor in this ongoing, eternal conflict, and regardless of her right to defend herself, Israel will be yet again castigated for attacking her neighbors. Soon thereafter, expect suicide attacks, random missiles, anti-Israeli protests from New York to Washington to Damascus to Beirut, and light the fuse on another year or five of things that make heroes and martyrs out of repulsive examples of human beings like James Von Brunn.

The world is getting increasingly smaller; I'm not sure if this is becoming clearer to me because I am more mature or because I'm not foolish enough to miss the signs of this phenomenon. Unfortunately, with Obama's public overtures to Muslim states, I wonder what will transpire from this false election. We have to assume the result will stand, despite Iran's Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei publicly calling for some sort of bullshit investigation; after all, it is the traditional men of power in Iran who want to keep that maniac, Ahmadinejad, in power in the first place. However, with the protests continuing, despite clear and present danger to each person ballsy enough to challenge Iran's security forces, it's clear that the people of Iran are increasingly realizing that they need to challenge authority rather than continue accepting it.

Personally, I think the majority of Iranian people are good, decent people. I am confident most people there are anti-Israel, simply because they have been taught to be anti-Israel from birth. It's a cultural and governmental socialization that competes with our respect of laws, justice and government. However, with this latest example of dictatorship, I think the people of Iran are quickly realizing that they are being controlled, not governed, and I wish -- if not hope -- that the real results of this election comes to pass and Ahmadinejad is put in the past tense. Frankly, I could care less about the people of Iran. My interest is selfish; getting rid of Ahmadinejad would restore some balance to the region, it would increase the safety and security of the people of Israel, and it would -- on some level -- reinvigorate the ability of Israel and her neighbors to legitimately restart some discussions on a bona-fide demilitarized two-state solution.

I'm not naive enough to believe any of this will ever happen -- not now, and not in the future -- but being hopeful is about as good as it can and will get until the aforementioned peace becomes reality.

Put another way, we will never be in a position to achieve the unthinkable until we begin to think it's possible to achieve it.

Reevaluation and Revolution and De-evolution

2009-06-05T04:34:00.006-04:00

I came across an article by CNN's Jack Cafferty regarding Obama's trip to the Middle East and the President's revamped strategy for the region, ie reaching out to the Muslim world, and I found much of the trip, and the reaction to Cafferty's comments, to be pretty disturbing. Obama's trip to the Middle East was significant because he clearly attempted to demonstrate to the Muslim world that he intends to change the dynamic between the US and Arab nations -- by quoting the Quran and by snubbing Israel during this trip -- and the comments that followed the article are equally if not more disturbing than the actual events on which the comments are focused.

But what concerns me even more is the fact -- or my assumption -- that Muslim nations have always spoken out of both sides of their mouth, depending on what suits them best at each particular juncture. Israel, in contrast, has typically been straightforward. Arab nations have always publicly proclaimed their love for peace but ignored and nurtured extremists who have received protection and -- in many cases -- funding and support from the very nations who publicly claim to decry their violent actions. The only real exception to this, of course, is Egypt; Anwar Sadat's assassination, unfortunately, was its legacy.

In either case, many of the comments in the linked article seem to denounce Israel as a selfish, bully of a nation that has been unwilling to accede to US interests and repeatedly behaved in contradiction to US interests in the Mid-East. Of course, none of these comments -- or the biases of the people making them with increasing honesty -- account for the fact that supporting nations who accept or use terror and extremism is a mistake. Nor do they have any basis in fact. Whether it's Saudi Arabia, Iran, Lebanon, Syria or Libya, it's clear that Obama -- and the individuals behind these comments -- would rather sacrifice or at least temper our relationship with Israel than lessen our commitment to the Muslim world by withdrawing our need for their only international contribution -- oil. Assuming we are able to significantly reduce our dependence on oil in the Middle East, our support for the only democracy to ever survive -- and thrive -- in that region will continue to be our only true and honest ally in the region. What will happen when the duality -- the two-faced nature of many of Israel's neighbors -- is demonstrated post Obama's new treatment of these nations? Will we continue to reach out to the Muslim world, or will we in turn see their behavior as the rule rather than the exception? And will the people who decry Israel's existence and/or "selfish" behavior ever figure out that Israel -- the so-called "bully" is a state the size of Rhode Island surrounded by neighbors in totality are ten times the state of Texas who -- combined -- would just as soon see it wiped off the map as a legitimate reason to maintain its self-preservation? Or will they continue to support and hope for peace among nations that sponsor and breed hate and extremism?

I think the answers to both of these questions are evident. Unfortunately or otherwise, the more things change, the more they stay the same. I'm thankful on the one hand that the comments were as honest and frank as they were; but I'm equally disappointed that the authors of those comments have very little understanding of the situation, and, for the first time in sixty years, they seem to have an ally in the White House. And that, frankly, while not a surprise, is very disturbing indeed.

Pop Goes The Culture (Movie Night Part II)

2009-06-02T06:39:00.000-04:00

The film "Doubt" was written and directed by its original playwright, John Patrick Shanley. It's heavy on catholic imagery and overtone, and while it is set in 1964, it, for better or worse, could easily -- with few tweaks -- be a story in today's headlines.

The plot focuses on a priest (Phillip Seymour Hoffman) at a Bronx Catholic school who is accused by the school's iron-fisted, uber-disciplined principal (Meryl Streep) of molesting one of the school's male students. That, essentially, is it; I won't elaborate much because this story plays out both as a drama and a mystery and uncovering either prematurely would ruin the experience, if just a bit. The tension ratchets and soars with the film's two stars (with a surprisingly strong performance from Amy Adams as well). The film comes alive with Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Meryl Streep, and frankly, both give incredibly vivid, impressive, colorful performances. This is especially interesting given the muted, restrained color palette Shanley uses to frame the story.

The film's themes are, among others, perspective and perception, compassion, relationships and the role of religion and faith in a society where these values are slowly beginning to erode. After President Kennedy's assassination, many people felt lost and isolated -- an early point of the film on several levels -- and that is why the story is as powerful, on several levels, as it was.

It could been another "Class Action (1991)" the awful movie starring Gene Hackman and Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, about an auto industry cover-up that pits father and daughter on opposite sides of a big-time judicial fight. That movie featured incredibly solid performances from its two stars as well, but the crux and the drama was limp and forgettable (except to those who suffered through it).

Not so in Doubt. This film used symbolism and imagery to make subtle yet lasting points. Essentially, both Phillip Seymour Hoffman and Meryl Streep interact with the film's characters -- including one another -- in whispers and shouting and everything in between, and the fact is this film communicates with the viewer in similarly varied tones. Whether the volume is to the top or barely audible, the drama and the competing core values of discipline, compassion and humanity are front and center. I found some of Shanley's symbolic action to be particularly effective and appropriate.

This is not a flowery, happy, warm film. It is as cold and stark as the weather outside the Bronx parish in which the school is located.

However, seeing it, and contemplating its message -- both literally and figuratively -- was rewarding. I suggest viewing it with someone who will enjoy discussing the film after viewing, as I think Shanley's message is secondary to the characters in the story and instead focuses squarely on how these values, especially within the umbrella of organized, strictly-defined religion in particular, can exist in a society like the mid-1960's, a society whose discipline is waning on both personal and institutional levels, in the face of transgression. I think the film's main question is to investigate how we as individuals can balance what's morally right with the human need to share love, compassion and interaction with our fellow man, and still maintain discipline, order and our beliefs.

Pop Goes The Culture (Movie Night Part I)

2009-06-01T20:05:00.001-04:00

As we ebb towards the flow of pop culture and miscellany which increasingly seems to occupy our inexorably faster-paced existence, there seems to be something which wakes us from the otherwise autopilot-guided existence and forces to take notice.

The movie "Fanboys" isn't necessarily it, but it is definitely worth considering for that "wake up out of your stupor" trance that the balance of pop culture and worthless information brings. There will always be a full plate of things to distract us from our daily lives, and there will always be more and more information that we need to process -- whether for personal or professional reasons -- but inevitably, we must pick and choose from them, and in doing so we can determine, by which items and/or crap stays with us long thereafter, which things were worthwhile and which should have remained in the "crap" bin for posterity.

The movie "Fanboys" is something of an anomaly. It's a stocked cabinet filled with Star Wars geek humor, the celebration of all things Nerd, and -- if that wasn't sufficient -- a full-on variety of how to make an entertaining -- if relatively stupid and low-brow -- film.

This particular film's cast is a veritable who's-who of Judd Apatow alums as well as a smattering of otherwise perfectly-cast plug-ins, all of which works perfectly. Assuming you've seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall, The 40-Year-Old Virgin and Clerks, and managed a viewing of the HBO Series "Eastbound and Down" (Danny McBride) you'll be perfectly-equipped to view this film with "I know that guy!" left and right.

That's not necessarily the sign of a good film, mind you, but when a film manages this many "that guy was in X or Y," that in and of itself will be an interesting side dish to the otherwise main entree, which is the film itself.

In any event, moving on to the film itself, the plot centers on a group of five friends. The main character works in the "real" world as a car salesman with his brother and father, and his friends have spent their post-adolescence fawning over the cult of Star Wars. The film is set about a year prior to the release of The Phantom Menace, the first of the second trio of Star Wars films, and the friends decide to take a trip to George Lucas's Skywalker Ranch in San Fran to score a print of the movie prior to its release.

I could go further into detail, but there's really nothing you need to know other than it's about geeks and Star Wars. I could list the actors that participated in this film in large, small and ridiculously funny ways, but the real point of this is to insure that you, the reader, are able to enjoy the film with the same uninformed, "I know this will be good but I don't know much about it" sort of way.

The plot is relatively simple, but the entirety of the film is solid, entertaining and will land among other niche comedy 'classics' like "Fast Times at Ridgemont High," "Office Space," "Superbad" and "Forgetting Sarah Marshall." This is one of those films that captures its genre and its subject perfectly. And frankly, part of why this film works on so many levels is its cast is dead-on perfect (here's the film's profile at IMDB.com).

The names Sam Huntington, Dan Fogler, Chris Marquette and Jay Baruchel shouldn't be too much of a draw. Kristen Bell, however, is, especially given the target audience of Olivia Munn fan club members. Add to that a variety of cameos and great inclusions -- especially Seth Rogen in three different roles -- and this is really a "perfect little film."

As summer approaches, the new Terminator and Star Trek films are definitely worth seeing on 40-foot screens with 50-channel THX-certified ultra-powerful sound systems. But I am glad I managed to view this film (in Blu-Ray, natch) and don't feel so badly missing the aforementioned summer blockbusters. And frankly, Fanboys rips into everything that those two movies hold sacred with hilarious results.

One final note, before you're commanded to go forth and buy/rent/steal a copy of Fanboys for your own personal viewing: you should keep in mind that you will need a quasi-working knowledge of the Star Wars and Star Trek films/shows/etc., and further, you should also be prepared with a decent working knowledge of Rush, pop culture, geeks, and in a final touch, in the film's final scene, a modernized ode to Rocky Horror.

Now go and get a copy and thank me later.

-B-

Hot Rap...to Go

2009-05-30T10:41:00.005-04:00

This is a complete non-sequitir and has no intrinsic value whatsoever (which pretty much describes everything that gets approved for publishing here at the HoB), but I was recently delving through a pile of 80's tracks for a friend and came across the Tone-Loc track "Funky Cold Medina." Then, this morning, I came across this story, and while I'm rarely one to focus on (at best) B-list news, I figured it was too much of a coincidence to pass up.

Not sure what else to say, except, to Mr. Smith, lay off the Funky Cold Medina and avoid doing the Wild Thing until your doctor(s) advise you it's safe to do otherwise.

And no more visits to the Capt'n Fun Beach Club. And that goes double for Snoop-Dogg and any other self-respecting performer (strippers and aging pornstars excluded).

Now back to your regularly-scheduled programming.

An Angel With a Broken Wing

2009-05-27T06:42:00.001-04:00

I'm not sure if there is any significance to people who rarely remember their dreams, but I seem to be one of those people. I know I dream because every once in awhile I'll wake up and remember something from the overnight recharge session but rarely, if ever, do I actually come away with anything resembling cohesive thought or experience. That can be said, on occasion, of my waking hours too, so neither here nor there.

In either case, I had made some progress in the story on which I've been working, and several major plot points came together pretty well. Since I've been working on this same story now for a couple years, I was kind of pleased about that -- and using the term "kind of pleased" is a big, big understatement.

In either case, in the dream I remember the woman who played the wife from "The Frighteners," a Michael J. Fox comedy about ghosts and the supernatural. Essentially, from what I remember, she was in the dream and was the female character from my novel, only she winds up getting killed -- which is odd, because originally, in my novel, the female character doesn't die.

After ruminating on this a bit I decided to tinker further and I actually made even more progress.

I'm not sure hat the final draft will resemble, but I'm getting there. And I'm not sure if dreaming about the story means it's running loose around the hallways of my mind -- or how much room there actually is up there around which to run loose -- but I was pretty jazzed about the fact that it's on my mind even when I'm sleeping.

Either way, I remember -- in the dream -- her with the sub-head of "Angel With a Broken Wing" and somehow, Shakespeare (Hamlet, actually) got into the mix with ""To sleep, perchance to dream -- ay, there's the rub."

I guess it could be worse -- I could be dreaming about flatulent puppies or a rabid client that never leaves my office.

Although it's quite possible either or both of those might be more interesting than the eventual product of my latest (recalled) dream.

Green Day In The Park

2009-05-23T11:59:00.000-04:00

Or...wound down and wound up.

About a week or so ago I noticed a new announcement from Green Day, a band which I've been listening to for awhile. They were about to release their latest album, 21st Century Breakdown, and indicated that they were going to appear on Good Morning America live on Friday, May 22nd, as part of a media blitz that included appearances on the Steven Colbert Report (Comedy Central) and the Late Show with David Letterman. Considering that Robert Plant and Led Zeppelin are long since past new releases, I've sort of gotten past the anxious excitement of midnight madness sales involving a new album release a la U2, etc.

So when the release date whipped by me I didn't even realize I'd missed it -- I've been slammed with work for the past few weeks, been generating new business as well as a shitload of work from current and past clients, and haven't had the mental energy to focus on personal shit.

Then a Facebook friend mentioned something about the new Green Day album -- four days after its release -- and I suddenly realized I needed to get a copy, which I did. And I was pretty impressed with 21st Century Breakdown.

First and foremost, their last offering, American Idiot, was far more melodic and user-friendly than anything they'd released prior. American Idiot is a more cohesive, stronger concept album addressing the problems American society faces than the two-plus minute songs they'd offered prior, and 21st Century Breakdown is even moreso, except in addition to decrying politics, organized religion and isolation and loneliness, Green Day also works the economy into the mix -- all while remaining true to the trifecta of melodic rock, catchy ballads and angry, three-chord energy.

In a nutshell -- without going song by song, which is completely unnecessary -- I had some work stuff on my plate so while enjoying the album would be a long-term activity, the short-term -- ie going to see the free show in Central Park, courtesy of Good Morning America -- would not be feasible.

I thanked my friend for reminding me to get the album and let him know I enjoyed it, and he agreed with me that it was more than just worthwhile. Then he started pushing me to go to the show with him -- in a good way -- and after some rearranging of my schedule I decided I could manage it. The only real problem was the show was -- in theory -- scheduled for 8:30AM and that the gates on 69th and 5th would be opening at an ungodly 6:30AM.

Holy shit.

Waking up at 5AM for a concert isn't usually how I roll -- in fact, the last time I woke up at 5AM was for a surgical procedure. I'd more sooner get to sleep around 5 than wake up that early.

Somehow I managed it, and I met two friends, Jon and Aaron, and we strolled with the crowd into the main pavillion where the show was to take place. A Good Morning America producer asked us if we wanted to be on TV and advised us we wouldn't miss any part of the show, and that we would be able to participate in some segment entitled "Crafts for Cash."

Kooky.

We milled around with a mix of families, kids, adults, punkers, stoners and Good Morning America personnel for the better part of forty-five minutes...snapping pictures of the stage and the crowd and the park, we killed some time. Then the band made their way to the stage for a soundcheck. That was pretty much the last moment we opted to participate in the Good Morning America segment. With the rest of the crowd, we pushed forward and spent the next few hours watching the band perform a half-dozen songs between the sound check, the on-air segments -- which were quasi-heavily censored -- and weather updates from a far-too-chipper Sam Champion (the weatherman).

All in all, it was a blast -- despite the ridiculous hour, it was among the better concerts I've seen. It was short and sweet -- the band only played for about an hour -- but we were maybe 20 feet from the stage and got to see one of the biggest bands in the world right now -- for free, natch -- and it was great, despite the daylight, enjoying watching them burn through a mini-set that showed them having a blast. The 100-plus photos are here, for those fans who couldn't make it to the show (or didn't hear about it until after the fact). Plenty of these pics are redundant and/or out of focus, but that pretty much -- accurately -- reflects the true flavor of being there in the first place.

Incidentally, one of the reasons why I wanted to see these guys in person was to confirm something I really knew awhile ago; essentially, they're one of the few "new" bands out there with more than just a bit of their integrity (they've been out there for 15+ years, but they haven't really hit "made it" status until the last few years). For the past week, in tandem with the release of the album has been the media discussion of the fact they refused to sell their album at Walmart. That decision wasn't a result of Walmart's reputation as screwing small businesses throughout the country in favor of crap made in Taiwan and elsewhere but for the simple reason that Green Day's music features lots of vulgarity and Walmart doesn't sell any discs with the Parental Advisory warning label thereon. The band's refusal to release a "clean" version of their latest album, or any of their prior albums, will likely cost them 50k to 100k of sales -- not in dollars, but number of albums sold -- but they'll still have their integrity. And frankly, long after they're selling out shows and recording albums, that will be far more important than another 50,000 albums sold. In that respect they remind me of Led Zeppelin's refusal to do an extended, "proper" reunion, and that in and of itself garners my respect. Further, despite the fact that yesterday's set was sponsored by Good Morning America, there was plenty of vulgarity -- both in and between tunes -- and that demonstrated to me that you can take the band out of its element but you can't take the elements out of the band. There are very few musicians/bands that fall under that umbrella: besides the aforementioned Led Zeppelin, I'd put the Foo Fighters, Tom Petty and the Rolling Stones in that category. And if you weren't aware, that's pretty good company.

Here's a link to the Facebook GMA video, if you happened to miss the actual broadcast (this link may or may not work, so if it doesn't, hit google and see if you can pull up video if you're so inclined).

A few more things: a personal thank you to Aaron and Jon for making the experience even better, and a final rhetorical request to Sam Champion for a weather update for Duluth and the humidity level for the Great Lakes region. Incidentally, doing the weather on TV is easy; doing it for a crowd of 5,000 impatient Green Day fans in Central Park, cranky from the morning hour and chanting "Fuck The Weather" on national television, well, that's probably not easy.

Sam, keep updating us on the weather in Iowa and we'll keep chanting.

Rock on ;-)

Do You See The Light?!?

2009-05-20T06:22:00.000-04:00

Ever come across an article or something similar online and realize -- within a few seconds -- that if you'd had the good fortune of seeing this some time ago, you could have saved yourself (in my case, my family) a whole shitload of aggravation and a truckload of futility and wasted time? Well, my "epiphany" article resides here; had I had the good fortune of seeing this circa 2001, holy shit -- I could have ably sidestepped a big pile of shit in the form of a still-obsessed ex.

Oh well. As they say, hindsight is 20/20, even if my then-foresight was far closer to Mr. Magoo.

They missed one minor point, of course: once obsessed, always obsessed. Or, speak softly and carry a taser and a restraining order.

One Step Closer to SNL's "All-Drug Olympics"

2009-05-18T21:15:00.002-04:00

I don't remember who recommended this story to me for inclusion in these pages but I can't help but be appreciative. This is about as good as it gets.

A guy with glasses and a few testing vials cleared out a bodybuilding competition just by showing up. If these roid-heads were old school they would have grabbed the testing official's legs and played Wishbone.

I remember when Roid Rage was just yet another thing we came to accept from the Eastern Bloc countries and Barry Bonds (and my freshman year roommate). Now it's everywhere -- cycling, swimming, professional knitting...what a joke. I still maintain it would be more entertaining to view an entire All-Drug Olympics rather than this pansy-ass Hide and Go Seek Drug Use. If your arms are the size of fire extinguishers and your veins are nearly exploding beneath the surface of your skin, don't pretend it's just diligence and a lot of spinach that's making you look like Popeye. Let the world know you're more interested in flexing 38-inch biceps than having a fully-functioning penis or having balls larger than tic tacs. That Muscle Monthly cover posing with some bikini model is the Shiznit, idn't it?

On a side note, for anyone who watched pro wrestling -- specifically, the WWF -- and remembers Ivan Putsky, well, good for you ;-)

The New VH-1: Now With Even More Dumber

2009-05-13T06:36:00.000-04:00

Epic Fail.

Newsflash

2009-05-11T07:22:00.001-04:00

As if this needed to be decided by a court.

I mean...duh! Why legislate common sense? ;-)

Happy Belated Mother's Day to all the Lavish Spenders out there.

May your wallets be full (and Vuitton), your days be wonderful, your nights even better, and may you have the intelligence to stay the hell away from, excepting Israel, any Middle Eastern nation that is still rooted in the dark ages.

-B-

The Short-Cut and The Damage Done

2009-05-08T06:22:00.000-04:00

In our online travels, we seldom get the whole truth. We get a glimmer of truth, or a slice of it, or we get a half-waxing moon of it. We never see the entire picture. And typically, depending on the source for whom we entrust to provide us with whatever fraction of truth we eventually absorb, that truth has undergone so much mutation between source and recipient that it rarely, if ever, fully resembles its own original form.

The point of this is not to tsk-tsk the internet or Rupert Murdoch's plan to start charging for online media/content and change our Internet Culture forever. Quick sidetrack: Rupert Murdoch is a self-aggrandizing tool whose grandiose, inflated self-worth is only exceeded by the excess by which he lives his daily life.

But I digress.

The real meat and potatoes of this post, if we can assume there is something worthy of consumption herein, is not to knock the system but to show how these lines of gray can randomly and subtly appear between what is black and what is white.

A very good example of this is the recently-published book by Selena Roberts on A-Rod, entitled "A-Rod: The Many Faces of Alex Rodriguez," and the subsequent fallout that she has endured courtesy of author Jason Whitlock, who has, piece by piece, torn her a new one and who has a lot of legitimate links and points in the guns he's aimed squarely at her.

First and foremost, despite the fact I am an unabashed and lifetime Yankee fan, I'm far from an A-Rod supporter. I think the guy has talent but I was thoroughly satisfied watching that talent from afar (ie Seattle, Texas, or wherever else there was an owner dumb enough to pay a guy $25 or more million a year to put up great numbers without appearing in the playoffs). So while I have respected the guy's abilities and been impressed by his consistency, I was never an A-Rod fan.

Having said all that, Ms. Roberts decided to publish her book to coincide with new allegations about A-Rod's admitted and denied steroid use. Considering that Manny Ramirez was, just yesterday, suspended for fifty games for a positive test regarding some banned substance -- who knows, thus far, what that substance is/was -- the timing of this book is interesting. And frankly, the book isn't about steroids, it's about A-Rod being shallow, plastic and phony.

Thanks for the newsflash, Ms. Roberts. Pardon my yawning, good luck with the book sales.

Put another way, I think Ms. Roberts is a bottom-feeder looking to capitalize on the cult of personality Alex Rodriguez has fomented in the New York spotlight. Sure, the guy is and should be a target of focus. He's making ungodly sums of money to do -- relatively speaking -- nothing special. Personally, I think his presence on the Yankees has adversely affected the team in a number of ways, but since this is not about baseball but about the bottom-feeders of society going after people, what he has or hasn't done for the Yankees is relatively inconsequential.

What is consequential is the fact that he did, in fact, take steroids. When, from whom and how are questions which -- if you care about the answers -- are still out there for conjecture. But let's face it -- who really cares? I'm not letting him off the hook -- I think a cheater should be punished. My take on the matter is thus: I don't know or care why he did it, I think he cheated and I have an even greater distaste for the guy than I did prior to discovering that he did, in fact, juice.

But what is even more disdainful, in my opinion, is the fact that Ms. Roberts has basically sprayed her stink over the entire story -- psycho-analyzing A-Rod, telling the tale of why he took steroids, prying up the floorboards of his legacy from high school and before, and talking about his persona as if she has a clue. To me, she not only doesn't, but the fact that she's throwing this crap onto paper and talking it up on talkshows makes it all the more irresponsible. Why? Because most of her "sources" are either anonymous or non-existent. Does this make her book worthless? No, it doesn't. Does it make it untrue. No. Does it leave her opportunistic, ambulance-chasing tactics suspect?

In a word, yes.

Jason Whitlock's piece about this whole mess sums it up fairly nicely, so I won't clutter the situation with further retelling of the whole she-wrote, he-wrote festival. If you're so inclined, head over there if you'd like a pretty concise disassembly of her whole take on this particular situation. The thing to remember is that it's not just what is in those pages of her book, it's also her credibility -- or a lack thereof -- that is at issue.

The point of this long-winded ramble is not that she's a bottom-feeding, ambulance-chasing shyster. Those descriptors may very well be accurate. The point, however, is that we as a society seem to be increasingly content being spoon-fed news and fact and we, as a society, seem to be increasingly disinterested with questioning that which is plated for our consumption. Mr. Whitlock may be far off, but the fact is that I'm more inclined to agree with his take on this situation if only because my initial reaction -- and my gut reaction -- essentially mirrors what he has to say about this whole thing. Is Selena Roberts entitled to her opinion on A-Rod, the soup of the day or whether 30 Rock is an entertaining comedy? Certainly. But should we accept the spew and take a big bite? My feeling is we shouldn't.

Incidentally, part of Mr. Whitlock's criticism of Ms. Roberts' brand of "journalism" was her characterization of the gentlemen that were involved in the Duke lacrosse scandal. Long-time HoB readers may recall my take on the matter and acknowledge I was pretty repulsed by the bandwagon effect that essentially scarred these guys for life, despite the fact they really did little, if anything, that could be described as "wrong."

The fact is that we are so amped up to rip into people, places and/or institutions that we seldom insure we have the facts. Sure, A-Rod -- eventually -- admitted he used steroids, but do we need a mean-spirited book describing him down to the last inch and giving his psyche a colonoscopy in the process? Even if it was done properly, with journalistic integrity, we don't need it. But the fact that it was done out of greed or opportunity in a shitty, low-end way, simply adds shit-flavored icing on a horseshit cake (I have the application in for the trademark on that phrase, so caveat emptor).

The point being that rather than absorb and trust as fact everything we see in print -- especially online -- we should stop and think rather than consume and react. It's interesting to me that as we debate and discuss this latest celebrity expose -- by someone whose pedigree clearly is at question -- we also have Rupert Murdoch discussing the likelihood that media will someday soon be pay-for-play.

And as the shortcuts abound, doesn't anyone care that there are increasingly frequent typos on CNN's and The New York Times' web sites? Okay, that might be pushing it (there are lots of typos, but whether some web proofer can properly spell secretary is admittedly secondary to the story disclosing that a secretary hacked her boss to death with a letter-opener and then jumped out of a tenth-floor window).

Yet again I digress.

The point being that this story -- Ms. Roberts' book about A-Rod, rather than the story of A-Rod himself -- should be looked on not as simply another example of greed and the almighty short-cut but how we as a culture can learn to cut through much of the bullshit rather than swallowing it whole. And, for Mr. Murdoch's part, knowing better than to be bothered paying for the privilege.

Got a Limp Dick? Don't Call Jim Moran

2009-05-07T07:31:00.001-04:00

In some part, I can't argue with Virginia Lawmaker Jim Moran's suggestion that ads selling Erectile Dysfunction be banned from TV. After all, between Viagra and Cialis, my TV (and my junk folder) are relatively clogged up (although most of my junk folder is dedicated to penis enlargement, not functionality). I'm happy to state that -- to date -- I haven't found a need for either of these products (thanks to my significant other and, in the case of past "acquaintances," thanks to Cinemax) but even if I did have a use for these drugs, I wouldn't be wearing a "I'm a Viagra user and I'm happy" badge. And I sure as shit wouldn't be running around singing the "Viva Viagra" song, especially wearing a pair of Bermuda shorts and cavorting with a bunch of guys. I'd no sooner be caught wearing a shirt that says "For me, having sex is like shooting pool with a rope." In other words, if you're a loser, it's already implied; there's no need to fill a prescription or wear a shirt (or a pair of lame shorts) confirming what's already obvious.

Personally, I think the only person in the world qualified to sell Viagra, Cialis or any other wonder-schlong drug is Hugh Hefner. After all, in a relatively subtle way (ha!), Hugh's third leg has probably seen the inside of more kitty than a 100-year-old hospital's maternity ward.

Back to the ads: they are sort of irritating -- what's worse than the implied imagery of older people fucking? Seeing them breakdance naked is a close second, but doesn't quite reach the heights of the former choice. With respect to similarly irritating, obnoxious ads are falling behind the Viagra campaign. It's gotten to the point that "Mom, do you ever feel...you know...not so fresh?" is a distant, forgotten memory and these "ED" ads are now the new bane of the existence of parental watchdogs and people who don't want to hurl whilst eating a late dinner.

But to be perfectly honest, I also think that the reason why Jim Moran wants these ads blocked is because he doesn't want to be reminded that his wife secretly refers to him as Ol' Limpdick.

Your guess is as good as mine, as I don't expect Ol' Limpdick to call me back anytime soon. He's too busy watching reruns of "Sanford and Son."

-B-

Epic Futility Fail, Part 37 (aka Ex Parte Milligan)

2009-05-04T19:54:00.002-04:00

I don't know if I'm getting older, maturing (got my pubes last month, thanQ very much!) or if I just regard my time as non waste-worthy.

This is something that has two simultaneous, effective uses, and yet -- it's about as ridiculously dumb an idea as I've come across since I talked Pauly Shore and Carrot-Top out of joining Yahoo Serious in the Shakespeare Dinner Theater production of The Tempest in Templeton, Wisconsin (the Meatloaf Shack, behind the Crab-Boil and Bowl-Til-Dawn Lanes).

These are laser-"engraved" business cards made out -- yes -- beef jerky.

Now, before I roll out a 24-case of whoop-ass cans and pop a few tabs, we all -- theoretically -- agree that business cards do serve a purpose. If you're one of the seventeen people with a home of some sort (not made of cardboard, natch) and you don't happen to have a cellphone, it's nice to be able to take a person's business card so you can a) contact him later, b) check out his company and consider doing business with him, or c) take his card and have it analyzed at a local lab for DNA evidence in the murder of your Great Aunt Gertrude by some traveling salesman who vanished in the still of the night back in Tennessee in August, 1982.

But I digress.

Everyone -- except for a bunch of people -- eat meat.

I suppose it would make lots of sense if the manufacturers of Meatcards could make zucchini jerky and laser-etch that too. And while we're on the subject, I could use some hamachi jerky.

And if they can do it, chicken jerky might be an option. And why stop at protein? Why not see about gummi-bear jerky or, for that festive feel, a peppermint candy-cane jerky? Why not make Rudolph into jerky? Nothing says the holidays like that bright, flashing nose and the taste of reindeer cooked and air-dried over a bunsen burner's flame.

Seems to me that the only real use for these things -- save really astute, knowing planning in advance of the arrival of the Four Horsemen of The Apocalypse -- would be for butchers and grocery stores to pass them out, especially as advertisements for specialty meat purveyors and suppliers.

But overall, I believe that anyone handing me one of these Meatcards would probably have me hand it back and tell them to have something more closely resembling their personality monogrammed.

Which begs the question, can douchebags be laser-etched?

There's much more stupid shit to come.

The Argument for Vegan Gun-Control and Oxygen Masks

2009-05-03T15:32:00.003-04:00

Swine flu is the latest and most compelling threat to the sanity and the sinuses of Americans from coast to coast since avian flu. Personally, I'm somewhat concerned, but whether it's because I'm stupid or too busy to be overly worried, I haven't stopped riding the subway, mingling with the masses or even being out and about.

The main thing is how and why do these things continue to evolve from the middle of nowhere -- whether Mexico, New Mexico or Queens -- and how we can somehow move past these regular threats.

The main thing to consider is that, apparently, one of the sources of this particular strain of the flu virus is a farmer who gave his pigs the bug.

This reminds me of the suggested source of HIV, the mother of all virii; apparently, it was the interaction of humans and monkeys that was its source. Then the avian flu -- and who knows where that came from -- and now the swine flu.

None of this smacks of the arrogance of Montezuma's Revenge or the biological abuse we bestowed on the American Indians (prior to the military abuse we subsequently doled out). It's in our history to absorb and interact with our environment. The problem is these post-interaction outbreaks are becoming increasingly serious. HIV is flying below the radar, but sooner or later we'll manage to foment something that will not be as forgiving.

For those who are fans of Alton Brown's excellent Food Network show "Good Eats," the term "food-borne illness" should be familiar. Thing is, and this is where our society may -- eventually -- have a serious problem, while we can avoid areas of danger -- schools, subways, Mexico, et al -- we can't stop eating (sounds like the mantra of the "before" class of Richard Simmons' self-help overeaters anonymous).

That means we have to start considering what to do in the future. That means avoiding, perhaps, peanut butter, birds, still water in urban, dirty areas, swine, Mexico, border crossings, and locations rife with immigrant activity.

That pretty much wraps up 75% of the nation.

Seems to me that if we hope to be able to breathe, consume food and not further destroy our environment a la "Druidia" from Spaceballs, then we should try learning from our mistakes rather than keep on repeating them.

Just my $0.02.

Bittersweet, Sort Of

2009-04-29T00:39:00.002-04:00

I've been so inundated with work that I've been falling asleep prior to managing some sort of measly, inept attempt at continuing to fill these pages with something other than pornographic-laden meta tags. Well, that's not actually correct; I've been awake. It's just that my timing has been completely thrown on its side. Normally I head to bed around 12:30 and get up around 7. Over the last few days I've been getting into bed around 11 and waking up around 6.

The change in timing isn't that big a deal, but it's -- I 'm sure -- a result of the suddenly overpowering heat that we've been experiencing in the Northeast (actually, all over the country). It went from quasi-Spring, with 65ish degree temps, to between 80 and 90 the last several days. This past Saturday, I nabbed a car and went and visited my grandmother and had we not had an opportunity to sit by the water and enjoy the breeze, it would have been too warm to be outside.

However, the weather and its effect on my sleeping habits is even more boring and sleep-inducing than this space's typical fare, so onward and upward, so to speak.

I've managed to catch some Yankee games on TV when I'm not fully focused on work at night, and I've been pretty disappointed that the Yankees are looking extraordinarily typical. When you watch a team that seems destined for greatness -- either that particular season or a multi-season thing that the 1996 Yankees seemed to embody -- you get a feeling that no matter how much adversity they're facing, they'll find a way to get through it. Not these Yankees.

These Yankees seem to find ways to bore their fans. They're technically capable; they're talented, they play relatively good defense, and their hitting -- sometimes -- is solid. But they don't have a swagger or a quiet confidence that recent Yankee teams have sometimes displayed.

That's a bad sign, despite the fact the season is relatively young. I 'spose we'll need to see more to confirm their (lack of) direction, but I'm not holding my breath as to their deep run into October and November baseball.

Speaking of deep runs, another balloon burst tonight -- or two, actually.

Tonight's game 7 playoff between the New York Rangers and the Washington Capitals, predictably, resulted in a Rangers loss that -- again -- eliminated them from the playoffs. Why this is relevant is that the Rangers originally held a 3-1 lead in games against the Capitals, and yet they managed to beat the Rangers four straight games to win the series. I guess some could suggest that the Rangers choked, but the fact is that they had no business being up 3-1 against the Capitals, who, despite mediocre goaltending and defense, were a much better offensive team than are the Rangers. I think the Capitals are going to be soundly eliminated in the next round and I further believe the Stanely Cup Finals will feature the Detroit Red Wings beating the Pittsburgh Penguins. But between now and then, and, eventually, next season, it's becoming increasingly boring watching the Rangers limp into the playoffs and get bounced in either predictable or surprisingly predictable fashion. The surprising part, of course, is not just that the Rangers managed to be in a position to finish the series in 5, but that they also managed to score tonight's first goal of the game. Typically, the team that scores first wins the game.

Leave it to the Rangers to throw a monkey wrench into that supposition.

The only real saving grace, and the sweet matched with the bitter as indicated in this post's title, was the fact that tonight's other game 7 featured the Devils and the Carolina Hurricanes, the latter of which eliminated the former. It sort of goes without saying that Ranger fans enjoy seeing the Devils lose almost as much as they do watching the Rangers win. So while I didn't get a chance to see my team win tonight -- nor did I expect them to do so -- knowing the Devils also lost made taking the actual news about the Rangers that less painful.

In either case, I've got to get back to sleep. I faded around 10:30 after the game and woke up with my face in a file for a condominium awaiting my eventual review tomorrow. I wanted to get a headstart to make sure it all gets wrapped up tomorrow, as it's a big matter involving a lot of money, both in terms of savings for my client and in fees for me.

It has been nice avoiding the throngs of morning commuters by hitting the office a half-hour or more earlier than usual, but the trade-off is falling asleep before the late-night newscasts come on. Not that I watch them, mind you, but I'm used to falling asleep after midnight, not an hour or two before.

Oh well. Back to the day, the night, and tomorrow.

-B-

New and Old Memories of The Future

2009-04-23T22:24:00.003-04:00

I withheld comment about yesterday's events for several reasons: first, I wanted a day or so to pass before it sank in and I had time to ruminate on the subject. Second, I was of the mind that I needed to reflect on the historical event I'd just experienced, both in a personal and an "institutional" sense.

The event which I'm talking about is, of course, my father's and my first visit to The New Yankee Stadium.

We'd been hearing about it for the better part of 18 or more months. Neither of us was especially excited per se; we loved the old Stadium, even if it was not quite as shiny as it once was, or as other -- newer -- ballparks around the country. Camden Yards in Baltimore's a nice venue, Arizona's park is a good place to catch a game, and even the cross-town (blech) Mets got themselves a new place to play baseball.

So why not Yankee Stadium II?

Wellums, first of all, all the other stadiums around the country, with the exception of Wrigley in Chicago and Fenway Park in Boston, are just outdoor arenas for baseball and other sporting and concert events. That means they can be torn down, relocated, spruced up, and -- essentially -- nobody gives a shit.

You revamp or rework Yankee Stadium and people around the world -- and not just baseball people -- take notice (and chime in with their opinions, anecdotes, et al).

You propose to knock down the old Stadium and build a new one -- with or without taxpayer dollars -- and people will take notice BIG TIME.

It's not just that the old park housed some of the biggest of the best legends ever to play baseball. Ruth, Gehrig, Dimaggio, Mantle, Reggie, Thurman, Billy Martin...the list goes on and on and continues on to present day (Derek Jeter will have his number in monument park someday, hopefully not too soon).

So when you say you're not going to revamp the Stadium but build a new one and destroy the old one, a lot of people pay attention. As did we.

Personally, I wasn't thrilled -- inasmuch as I knew the old Stadium needed a facelift, we loved the place. We walked those cement floors as if we owned the place -- in a good way. We knew a lot of the people around the section in which our season tickets were located, and we always enjoyed our time at the park. Invariably, my dad and I would go to both regular season and playoff games during the week (usually Wednesday afternoons) as well as some night games here and there. Here and there we'd meet at the Park -- him by car, me by subway -- and we'd spend four hours watching baseball and kicking back.

So when we heard they were indeed going to destroy the park, we were worried about rumours of $2,500 tickets, luxury boxes and prices for concessions and food going through the roof. When the economy imploded we were increasingly concerned we'd be priced out of the season ticket subscription completely.

Well, happily, we were able to retain tickets -- albeit in a section farther into left field -- that, surprisingly, offer almost a better vantage of the game than our old seats. Not only that, the new seats are more comfortable and give us a better sense of the game as a whole, especially because we can see just about the entire field (our old seats were occasionally blind-spotted by the left-field foul wall).

We arrived a few minutes before yesterday's first pitch and were quickly awe-struck at the clean, shiny lines of the faded white concrete and the faint blue overtones surrounding the exterior facade. My dad got a little choked up seeing the whole entrance from inside, as the atrium was semi-open -- meaning you can just barely see the field from only a few steps into the structure. And walking through the new areas, rather than getting the claustrophobic tunnel sense, the entire space is open so air and light are free-flowing and you feel as if the entire structure is an almost organic, living thing.

Which it is.

Once we finally arrived at our seats, we were amazed at how nice the new field is; while the same grass is used here as it was in the old park, the layout is radically different. The dimensions are, more or less, the same, but the seating and the layout is completely updated. Rather than describe it, I posted a shitload of photos here, so if you haven't seen the interior of the Stadium but want to -- and somehow managed to avoid seeing same to date -- knock yourself out.

We were really impressed at the shiny new sense of old-meets-new. But for both of us, we were most impressed by the facade which rings the entire top of the Stadium. It's an updated yet similar white fencing that existed in the old Stadium, but it's even more majestic than it was in the old park, and it just shines. I was really blown away by it.

The new "Yankee Stadium" logo, as well as the retired number wall in center, were also nicely presented. And while Monument Park was a bit subdued -- it's hidden below the bar located right behind the blackout (for batters) in center field -- we know that the Yankees made sure that Monument Park is treated as well as any current and past Yankee.

But overall, it wasn't the details which were most special to me. It was the fact my Dad and I were able to share our first visit to the new Yankee Stadium. Visiting a place like Tampa, Cleveland, Chicago or LA and seeing things together is one thing; but since we both bleed Yankee blue, Yankee Stadium is an institution. So the fact we were able to see it for the first time together made the game, and the event, very special to me. It could have been just another game, even our "first" game, in the new park, but that we shared the day was what made it most important to me. I may not remember that the game dragged on to 14 innings, or that Melky Cabrera's home run won it in walk-off fashion. But I will remember that we both really enjoyed seeing this new place that will remain in our hearts forever.

There are complaints from within and without. Some people are worried the home runs are flying out of the stadium at an alarming pace (and compare it to Coors Field and some other parks, like Rangers Ballpark in Arlington). But I think part of the issue is the open-air aspect of the front gate (Gate 4, specifically) as well as the fact that the old Stadium is throwing off the wind currents that formerly were not there (in other words, with the Old Stadium still standing, the wind is different than it will be once the old Stadium is torn down).

Another complaint, and this is one with which I concur, is that the new place won't have been the original location where Babe, Joe D, Mickey and Thurman played their ball. But the truth is that the ghosts of these great players will not have far to travel -- across the street -- and the old Stadium's footprint will serve as baseball parks for kids. What better way to celebrate the game and these greats than to create places for more kids to learn and love the game?

Finally, the issue of finances. Regardless of the economy -- which is actually a fairly dumb thing to admit -- the tickets for the new Stadium are astronomical. Front section seating (ie the first 20 rows from the field) from first base to third base start -- START -- at around $2,500 a ticket. That means a family of four -- before parking, sodas, pennants and hats -- will be charged $10,000 to see a Yankee game.

That's fucking insane.

I'd love to attend a game with my dad and sit behind home plate just once. But I'd much prefer using that money to put a down payment on an M3 or an S5.

The tickets aren't the only pricey thing on the menu; speaking of which, the food is expensive, the beer is expensive, the merchandise is expensive, and the parking is expensive.

Unfortunately, that is the cost -- no pun intended -- of fielding a top-notch, expensive team in a top-notch, shiny new Yankee Stadium.

Most importantly, aside from the prices of everything, with the new dollar structure, a lot of people who frequented the games won't be able to afford to do so anymore. That means a lot of old-time fans are going to be watching games at home, in bars, or with friends (or a combination thereof).

That means, between empty seats and the "old-time" fans not in attendance, that the new Stadium is a lot quieter than was the old Stadium. And that is a shame. Looking around us, I would say there were about 10-12,000 empty seats during yesterday's game. However, a mid-week matinee rarely gets a huge crowd, especially when it features a mediocre opponent (the Oakland A's) on a rainy day.

Having said all that, though, seeing so many empty seats and being in a quiet park was a bit of a shock to us. While we had a blast and enjoyed the game -- all but the last six outs of it -- it was a little different than what we're used to.

I suppose the real way to tell what kind of a place this is is to keep visiting it to get a better sense of the "real" Stadium. And hopefully, that includes visiting during the playoffs.

But even it had been a lousy game on a shitty day, I'd still happily have spent the three or four hours with my Dad at the park. And even if the new Stadium had been a letdown and the Yankees got blown out by 20 runs, it would still have been a great day because we got to see it together. And each time I go from this point onward -- whether with my father or anyone else -- yesterday was the first and best memory I'll have of that place, not because of where we were or what we saw but the fact we were there together.

And like my love of the Yankees, that will stay with me forever.

Time In, Time Out

2009-04-20T18:11:00.002-04:00

I'm not sure where to start, other than to note that I'm buried with work since this past Thursday. It was a great weekend -- weatherwise, anyway -- but I spent most of it working. I had a pretty significant meeting this AM downtown and I got everything done I wanted to but the big wheel keeps on turning, as they say. More stuff, more details, more paper, more work.

A perfect example is tonight's agenda. I had originally planned on kicking back after today's busy one-place-to-another routine, and with the Yankees and the Rangers both hosting visitors, I was pretty certain I'd be able to keep my mind relatively occupied (it takes very little to keep me occupied). But no. First, since the rain is pounding the East Side with a controlled and relentless vengeance, the Yankees aren't playing in their new park (even if it were beautiful weather, the argument could be made they aren't playing anyway. More on that later). So the Rangers are my only hope for real entertainment. Sure, there's the plethora of Chuck Lorre stuff on CBS (Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother, etc.) but I need some visceral thrill, and watching the Rangers and the Capitals -- and hopefully some malice-formed bloodspill -- might solve the problem.

But no.

I've got two women in my building who need me to do some work for them tonight. One's a pain in the ass of the ultra magnitude, asking ten-minute-long questions that should take about ten seconds, and keeping me going in circles and making my head spin. And not in a good, wow, that's Pam Anderson sunbathing topless sort of way.

The other woman is a nice, down-to-earth lady who is easy-going and the complete opposite of the other client, ie high-strung and too busy talking to listen. Sooooo...I've got two different clients and, most likely, one long night. Plus, after that's over, I've got to review a 25-page bankruptcy agreement prior to sending out a biggie proposal tomorrow AM, get retained and then sign off on the agreement and move forward to preparing some paperwork that should have gone out last Tuesday but, thanks to Passover and Easter, everything got pushed back a week, including my retainer check.

But I digress.

And did I mention the Yankees have been worse this year -- in their new coliseum of baseball and money -- than they were -- ever? The other day they surrendered 22 runs in a game and allowed 14 in the second inning, which represents the largest number of runs they've ever surrendered in a game. I'm beginning to wonder if a) there is indeed a reversed curse, and b) if not, why the fuck they have pitchers who should be slinging Slurpees at 7-11, not fastballs at Yankee Stadium.

I'd love to know the answers to these and other questions, like whether it's ever going to stop raining tonight or whether I'll be able to use the new probe thermometer I bought at Amazon can handle cooking temps above 400 degrees. I 'spose answers to both of those questions -- and many others -- will be apparent sometime. In the meantime, however, I'll remain puzzled and await the start of the Ranger game -- and get back to work.

By the way, I do have another conclusion with respect to the Rangers-Capitals series that I didn't reach until watching these last several games: Alex Ovechkin is a talented hockey player who is also a big-time piece of shit.

Sorry for the downturn, it simply had to be said on the official record.

Party on, Garth.

Back later.

Some Good Technology News...For A Change

2009-04-16T22:36:00.002-04:00

Damn good news, and about damn time.

This article discusses the fact that Time Warner has -- for the time being -- abandoned its plan to meter net usage.

Of course it's good news for those of us who spend a lot of time online. For power users, it's beyond good news. As I discussed earlier (click here for the link if you missed it -- and shame on you if you did), the concept of metering internet usage is a bad move on several scales. It's Draconian, measuring and spying on peoples' use of the net -- and let's face it, we know what we're doing online is already watched to some degree -- but limiting its use is the antithesis of what the Internet is about in the first place. It's the -- in theory -- limitless frontier. So why should we be limited in how we explore it?

Let's also keep in mind that whether or not Time Warner had moral issues with this issue -- which they certainly didn't -- it's clear that the bottom line was, basically, the bottom line. They knew that by putting this practice into place they'd see far more defections than happy, satisfied power-users like me embracing this added burden. They knew that their customers who would be zinged by this futile attempt at overcharging would wind up biting them in the ass, not helping them maintain or improve their network. And frankly, and this -- to me -- is the biggest kick in the ass of all -- most of their customers use far less of the Internet than what their budget expects.

Put another way, if there are "Internet brown-outs" it's not because everyone is going 110% online, it's because the servers need to be properly maintained as per the original subscriber agreements. If I'm online and I have a problem, it's not because 40,000 other people are going to YouTube to see some mustache-wearing woman singing for the Queen...it's because someone between here and the mustache-woman's video someone screwed something up.

Finally, Time Warner does offer additional options beyond my basic RoadRunner service. I can bump up my existing service -- which hits up to 1.0 MPBS download speed -- to 1.5. Big whoop. I'm mostly satisfied with my service. It's not perfect and I am less-than-thrilled when I am forced to wait 40 minutes to speak with a Level 3 tech. However, if these problems persisted with a plan costing three times as much, just how long do the folks at Time Warner -- or any other ISP -- expect to keep said customers?

Let's put it this way: for every minute I spend on hold, listening to the best of Lionel Richie in spanish, I am considering (depending on the time of day or night) which infomercials to watch, whether I got my mail when I arrived home; and finally, why I am still a Time Warner subscriber.

Paying an extra $100 a month for the same service I have now wouldn't improve my moods over the extended hold times. And it would prolly amp up my consideration of the above topics.

I'm glad they gave up -- for now, anyway -- on this plan. I've already been considering migrating to a new company for some or all of the Internet, cable and phone service to which I subscribe. Today's news, for the time being, allays most of my immediate concerns.

Now about that crappy pixelation on some HD channels after 11PM during the week...

Ah, nevermind. It's not a time to nitpick, it's a time to celebrate ;-)

The Empty-Head Triangle Trade

2009-04-16T07:36:00.002-04:00

Brooke Anderson, an entertainment reporter for CNN.com, recently discussed the events surrounding some fairly crude comments by Jamie Foxx on the latter's Sirius Radio show this past weekend. Essentially, Mr. Foxx and his crew decided to rip into Miley Cyrus. I'm not sure why she was a target of discussion -- on this show or any other, natch -- but the two things which seemed to be emphasized in Ms. Anderson's critique (LOL) of the contents of the aforementioned radio show were a) the suggestion that Miley Cyrus needs a gum transplant; and b) that she should make a sex tape.

Now, before I delve into the sludge that all these reclinate personalities seemingly dwell, let me say this: Miley Cyrus is a 16-year-old kid with an empty head (Billy Ray Cyrus) as a father, so anything that she does is filtered through parents that, clearly, aren't on the cusp of MENSA membership.

However, having said all that, is it appropriate for Mr. Foxx and his crew to rip on a 16-year-old girl -- her looks or her predication to trashy appearance? Not particularly.

Is it appropriate for Ms. Cyrus to dress and portray herself as some barely-legal vamp who would be better suited to porn than musical performance? Not particularly.

And is it a legitimate day-job for Brooke Anderson to get paid to, essentially, cruise the Perez Hilton websites for gossip and news that has no more significance than the back of a cereal box? Not particularly.

Let's put it this way...I have weighed in on this issue before this post, and I'm certainly not reticent to share my opinion or backtrack if/when necessary, but: the fact that our society treasures and respects empty, vapid female sexuality -- whether it's a trashy, low-end porn star like Jenna Jameson -- or some trashy, white-trash, empty-headed kid dressing like a Hollywood Boulevard hooker -- like Miley, or even Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera -- says as much about our society as it does about these "women." Keep in mind that the futility of the existence of Paris Hilton, Kimberly Kardashian and the other do-nothing celebrities of the world don't even factor into this discussion.

First, inasmuch as these women feel the need -- or that it's appropriate -- to comport themselves like white trash is an unfortunate by-product of our society. Aside from Christina Aguilera, none of these women I've mentioned have any real discernable talent -- unless being photographed in compromising, demeaning ways constitutes talent -- and I can understand people who are relatively disgusted by our society's embrace of the morally-bankrupt, talentless respect for the lowest common denominator.

But at the same time, Mr. Foxx, et al, really ripped into Ms. Cyrus in a less-than-sophisticated way. Despite the fact that Mr. Foxx really impressed the hell out of me with his role in "The Kingdom," his attack was a bit low-end as well and reminds us that someone who gets paid to speak someone else's words doesn't automatically earn the label of intelligent, sophisticated or mature (see Gibson, Mel, for further clarification). I can see someone describing Miley Cyrus as a cheap, white-trash harlot -- which she is -- but saying she should get a gum transplant is cheap and just as low-class as is her behavior. I don't disagree with his conclusion regarding her behavior (or Britney's or any of the other cupcakes that have flourished under our relaxed moral code), but I disagree with his methodology.

Fer chrissakes, the girl's 16, and between she and her father, their IQ barely reaches 100. It's one thing to tease, but it's another to shit all over. In other words, even if some or all of his observations were true, they were neither appropriate nor fair, and were completely unwarranted.

And finally, with respect to Brooke Anderson and the other legions of bobble-head "journalists" who get paid to analyze and discuss these happenings, what does it say about people who are paid to actually discuss this crap in minute detail? Personally, it repulses me to even discuss these people -- both the actual dimwits and the dimwits whose coverage of said dimwits falls under the umbrella of "legitimate career."

However, while I am repulsed, I do believe that this type of triangle trade -- the gossip-makers, the gossip-followers and the gossip-reporters -- are an -- unfortunately -- accurate barometer of where we are as a society. Whether we've always been this shallow and ignorant of the best use of our energy -- mentally and otherwise -- is barely worth debate. But watching this circle-jerk of emptiness both entertains and saddens me, in a guilty-pleasure sort-of way.

Now please excuse me while I wash this sludge off me.

Avast, Ye Mates...There Be Pirates About!

2009-04-15T20:06:00.000-04:00

If you need a link to one of the 48,000 news stories we've seen over the past week regarding Somalian pirates attacking, seizing or attempting seizure of ships, you're lucky you managed to open up your browser and land here.

Well, not exactly lucky -- you could have landed somewhere far more interesting. But neither here nor not here...

The point is that -- for the time being -- the media has chosen the Somalian pirates story as The Story. There are some exciting side-stories, especially the rescue by the SEALs of the captain who was held hostage, as well as the story surrounding the French hostage that was killed in an attempt by authorities to recapture another seized vessel.

Unfortunately, while these stories seem to clog up every possible outlet for news there is -- the Internet, e-mail blasts, cell-based text updates, elevator news/info screens, taxi-based news delivery -- this isn't the most important story out there.

North Korea just booted the IAEA out of the DPRK. Iran is working on its centrifuge. And Osama Bin Laden is, in theory, still breathing.

Hint: anyone reading this who owns or works for an entity that owns vessels who operate in any region within firing range of these pirates, budget an extra $100k or so and get yourself some mercenaries with good hardware. I'd recommend Heckler and Koch MP-5's, Beretta 92-F Competition models, and plenty of ammunition (mercury-tipped hollow-points go a long way, and go through a lot).

Put four military types on your ship and have them operate in round-the-clock six-hour shifts. Each man should be stationed in the cockpit with high-resolution security cameras aimed fore, aft, starboard and port. If the guy on duty sees a ship a-comin', he a) grabs his gear; b) alerts his fellow security guys so they can wake up and get their gear; and c) they get ready to fire on the incoming vessel.

It would help if one or more of these gents had an M72 Law (better known as a Laws Rocket) handy. If you've ever seen the Dirty Harry film "The Enforcer," you'll know the Laws Rocket is a portable, one-shot bazooka that is certified to destroy most 1970's era tanks. My guess is that there are more powerful weapons out there, but my guess is also that if a few of these Somalians see a Laws Rocket pointed business-end at their vessel, they'll probably -- really, really quickly -- rethink their career choice.

Once word gets around that civilian ships are being protected by non-civilians, this problem will dry up and blow away. Being that many of these accosted ships are in international waters, issues with gun and munition laws should be relatively minor.

So quit yer bitchin' and get you some gear and some guys and keep on truckin'...er...boatin'.

And fer chrissakes, CNN, give it a rest. Go back to talking about the shitty economy, GM, Bin Laden, or that cute little project the kids in that school in Oklahoma designed for Easter using only "Peeps," Krazy Glue and Edible Underwear.

Or tell us about the transsexual hooker who was mortally castrated in a folding-couch accident.

Or at the very least, show some dreary, poorly-dressed procrastinators standing in line at the post office at 11:45 tonight to beat the deadline. Show one guy with a flannel shirt and a bow tie with bad teeth and a missing shoe saying how busy he was this year. Then zoom in on the clerk who looks just about ready to whip out her Glock and close the branch for good.

Enough with the Somalian pirates. Seriously.

The Dead Pool Revisited

2009-04-14T19:13:00.001-04:00

If you had any of Marilyn Chambers, Harry Kalas or Mark Fidrych, you're in good shape. If you had all three, than your omniscience is to be respected and feared, especially because each of these three deaths were far from expected.

The first on the list, Marilyn Chambers, went from being an Ivory Snow model to one of the country's first mega-pornstars. If you have Cinemax, than her name should familiar to you. While Robin Byrd is the queen of late-night softcore porn (at least in NYC), Marilyn Chambers pretty much is and will always be the de facto second.

Harry Kalas, the broadcaster for the Philadelphia Phillies (as well as doing the narration for NFL Films), collapsed before last night's game against the Washington Nationals. He was 73, so it's not a complete shock, but still...

Finally, Mark Fidrych, the former Tigers pitching great, had an accident with a truck on his farm. I'm not sure what exactly happened, and neither are police, but since he was in the middle of nowhere, they're assuming it wasn't anything other than a bad accident.

Celebrities die in threes, or so goes the saying. In this case, these three people died within hours of one another, and yet, the grouping of these three people was a tad odd.

In either case, let's hope this is the last of these stories we read for awhile.

The News Is In

2009-04-13T21:35:00.002-04:00

Robyn Gibson, wife of notable anti-semite Mel Gibson, filed for divorce today, citing irreconcilable differences.

In her filing, she failed to blame the Jews for destroying her marriage, starting the world's many wars, or being in control of the majority of the world's wealth, which caused even more consternation on Mel's part. But, hopefully, someone will send Mel a cheap bottle of wine -- or even some really good moonshine -- and he'll have another DUI and do an on-camera backseat soliloquy regarding his failed marriage and how the Jewish people were responsible for his marriage's failure.

And then he'll call the (female) arresting officer Sugar Tits -- or Street Meat -- and we can, hopefully, say goodbye to Mr. Gibson's career -- and him, as well -- once and for all.

That is, unless some asswipe studio head decides to green-light his newest pet project, The Passion of The Christ 2: Easter Bloody Easter, a Rambo-esque journey in which JC, his post-resurrection moniker, goes on a vengeful murder-spree, killing all Jews he can find before the Romans try killing him yet again.

Yep, that should be appearing in theaters sometime soon.

Good luck, Mel...you're really a swell guy whose genius was never appreciated. None of us really think you're a drunk, spineless piece-of-shit anti-semite.

Well, almost none of us.

And just in case, keep that Honorary Member of the Klu Klux Klan membership uniform hidden when the deputies come to the house to assist your soon-to-be ex in getting her belongings.

Just a suggestion.

Some Technology News You Can't Afford to Ignore

2009-04-13T06:58:00.005-04:00

Before there were iPods, mp3 downloads, cars that spoke and responded to spoken words and when people actually bought compact discs in things called "music stores," the word "geek" had a surreptitiously condescending overtone, unless it was used as self-deprecation in advance of -- or the aim of the user to achieve -- pity sex.

These days, however, with no more Tower Records, when movie theater attendance is dwindling against ever-increasing purchase of home theater systems and Blu-Ray discs, and when Apple and Amazon.com are among the biggest music retailers left in this country, the term "geek" has a decidedly different tone: it's one of veiled respect.

Why this is all important to the reader, more or less, lies in the knowledge that these days, with computers, television and life itself intertwined with few, if any, boundaries, it's hard to avoid the use of a computer in one form or another in our daily lives. While this may be debatable for some, for most it's hard to dispute how the 'Net has affected us and has become ubiquitous, in even transparent ways, to our daily lives.

Having said all that, there are two pieces of technology-related news which hit my virtual desk this weekend and which I think should be shared with the masses -- and while they still stubbornly flock to large sites like CNN.com and Gawker, I'm doing what I can to share the wealth, so to speak.

The first piece of quasi-relevant news is that CompUSA will soon be back as a brick-and-mortar retailer. You may recall they shuttered all of their stores last year in what seemed to be a fairly significant declaration of defeat. Perhaps their disappearance from America's retail landscape was less signficant than that of the aforementioned Tower Records or even Circuit City, or even perhaps the closing of the Virgin store in Times Square. However, before the American economy hit the toilet, it was clear that the major retailer of all things music-, home theater- and computer-related was without a doubt Minnestoa-based Best Buy, Inc. Best Buy, guarded by their legions of blue-polo-and-khaki-wearing minions, have ingratiated themselves into our technological routine moreso than any of the other above-listed entities, and while their staff is less-than-remarkable, I think that their smattering of offerings -- in terms of computer, music and video hardware and software -- and the prices thereof -- are fairly hard to beat.

If I need something technology-related I typically opt to purchase it from Newegg.com. Since the local CompUSA closed, I almost always get stuff from Newegg unless I need it immediately, in which case I either get it downtown at J&R Music World or at one of the myriad Best Buy stores in the City. Newegg's main competition in online technology -- both in terms of offering and pricing -- is a company called Tiger Direct. Tiger Direct is the company that purchased and opted to re-open a bunch of CompUSA stores.

Given that CompUSA had a pretty shitty reputation while it was still a brick-and-mortar entity for its lousy service, lousy staff and -- for the most part -- lousy prices, I'm not sure whether this move makes any sense for Tiger or for the CompUSA entity (they have retained their web presence and online store despite the closure of their retail locations).

But given that Best Buy has struggled over the past 12 or so months -- again, more a tribute to the economy than, likely, anything else -- I'm not sure if more competition in the unnecessary electronics department is what this situation needs, or if this is just going to be a case of fiscal deja vu.

Why it's important to you: because anyone who wants to buy a compact disc, a digital camera, an iPod, a television or a computer without having to do so online doesn't have much choice these days other than Best Buy. And of all the people I know, none of them do without music, a camera, an iPod or other music player, a TV and a computer. Not everyone has all of these goodies, mind you: but everyone has at least three or four thereof. So next time you need to consider replacing one of these aforementioned items, you may have a legitimate choice in where you go to obtain this stuff, and you might even pay less -- either because of the economy, competition, or both -- as a result.

There's more news, which is equally significant but in a much more, or less, meaningful way.

Time Warner, one of the nation's largest cable companies, has, like the other members of that short list, announced it will begin testing out download limits for its internet users. That means that anyone who subscribes to Time Warner's Road Runner internet service will, at some point in the next 12 to 18 months, be forced to decide on what "technology" package they'd like. It's sort of like choosing how many cable channels you get, except the premium pricing is only for serious power-users. For people whose internet use is casual at best, most likely the rates will stay the same and there will be no need for panic or change. For people who spend a lot of time online at night and on the weekends -- and who do voice- and/or video-interactive stuff -- this may affect you. And for those people who download music (through iTunes, etc.), movies (through iTunes, Netflix or anywhere else) and other high-bandwidth-requiring stuff, figure on being on the outside looking in.

That means, for that last group, your rates -- at least for Time Warner's "unlimited" package -- will soar from $50 a month to $150 a month for unlimited downloading.

Now, in the spirit of Passover, we'll ask four questions.

The first question is "I don't subscribe to Time Warner, I have X, so why do I care about what Time Warner is charging their customers?"

The first answer is that for anyone who subscribes to Comcast or Cablevision's Optimum Online, this pricing structure and these graded limits will affect you as well. Because once Time Warner has gotten away with screwing their customers in this way, the other two will jump on the bandwagon quicker than a bunch of LA Dodger fans (which is to say, pretty much toot sweet).

The second question is "Whether or not I'm a Time Warner subscriber, I don't do much downloading, so why should I worry about this?"

The second answer is you may not do a bunch of downloading now, but within the next five or so years, the industry which supplies music via CD and movies via DVD and Blu-Ray will, as a result of piracy, increasingly move to deliver content electronically. Some bands have tried selling their albums via USB flash drives, which has failed miserably. Yet there has to be a correlation why iTunes and Amazon have become our biggest national retailers for music. If we have learned anything about the pernicious bite piracy has taken out of the RIAA and the music industry in general -- and the music retail landscape of this country -- we can expect the same to happen to easily-duplicated DVD's (and Blu-Rays, once PC manufacturers find a way to sell BD-Rom drives cheaply and the blanks to go with them at a reasonable cost).

Point being, now that it's clear that everything is moving to internet-based delivery, by the time this change has completely superceded the retail environment, you will be downloading everything: music, movies, and games. And then, once these Internet limits are in full effect and no longer able to be challenged, you'll be forced to spend $100 or more for unfettered access to your favorite crap, whether it's the Foo Fighters, Ocean's 19 or the newest Call of Duty release. And given that everything is occupying increasing amounts of storage, we'll be talking about terabytes, not gigabytes, and the network that supports the Internet will either have to be upgraded -- with you increased subscription dollars -- or it will experience brown-outs. Either way, there will be a bite. It's just a question if you're willing to accept a meter on your Internet usage like you accept to measure your consumption of electricity or cell-phone minutes. 'Nother words, it's all relative.

The third question is "Suppose they DO charge extra rates...prices of everything will go up, so what's the big deal?" The big deal is that just like our physical highways, the Internet will need to be maintained. As machines become faster and cheaper, more and more people will be taxing the world wide web of interconnected machines as have cars increasingly clogged the nation's roads, especially in large metropolitan cities. Add to that the cheap -- and hugely popular -- embedded use of cellphones through the internet (we're talking web-enabled phones, skype phones, and regular plain-old cellphones here), and we're talking an exponential increase in usage over the next five years. From regular cellphones (text messages and picture messages as well), blackberry handhelds, Skype-enabled portable handsets (in Europe and elsewhere, they're the coming wave of coolness) and good-old fashioned netbooks (uber-portable, cell-net-equipped PC's) and you've got a huge network that's going to need more power.

Briefly, let's assume that cable companies don't take every dollar they charge you and put it back into the quality or the upgrade of their hardware.

That means they'll be charging you and I shitloads of money and making money hand over fist without -- in theory -- reinvesting in their networks. Given the history and the attitudes of cable companies over the past thirty years, these are pretty safe assumptions. Companies don't typically strive for quality unless they're high-end, respectable companies. Most delay improvements and spending money to improve their performance until they are either a) pushed to do so by the government; or b) their service is so sub-par (coughcoughSprintMobilecoughcough) that they have no real choice.

That means we will be forced to pay more for less.

Ah, I love the smell of a burned consumer in the morning...it smells like...the Bush Administration.

The fourth and final question is, simply put, what can we do in response to these practices by cable companies to try to measure our internet usage?

The answer is not very much. Personally, I anticipate this choice and have already begun exploring other options. If Time Warner, Comcast, Verizon FIOS and Cablevision collude to force users to swallow these increases and this monitoring, my guess is there will be a severe backlash, but in reality only 20 to 25% of these companies' users will jump ship. However, I'll be one of them. The reality is the power-user will likely defect whereas the light internet user will most likely ignore this issue because the increases will theoretically have -- on the surface -- little or no affect on him or her, despite the discussion above. The real problem will happen when these companies lose their biggest users and -- while their networks will be less taxed as the power-users go elsewhere, they will -- in the long run -- lose customers. And the high-bandwidth users will go to a more power-user-friendly environment, which we can guarantee will spring up in the cyber-wasteland. By the time this all is completed, I expect one of the aforementioned big three -- Time Warner, Comcast, Cablevision -- will be split into separate units focusing on Internet, Television and Phone service (as they should have been and should be in the first place).

In either case, if all this seems like the lunatic ravings of a ridiculous, insane mind, and if my observations seem to you to be better-rooted in the fourth installment of a Matrix or Terminator movie, don't sweat the details.

And enjoy your 8-track tape deck. I'm sure Britney's new album will be released in a format that you'll recognize, even if you won't be able to play it back or find a place to buy it, or afford the fee to download it ;-)

Welcome to The Berlin Zoo...

2009-04-12T11:10:00.003-04:00

...Here is our Polar Bear Exhibit.

And over here is our newest exhibit: The Shithead.

A Heckler In The Peanut Gallery

2009-04-11T10:43:00.001-04:00

Take an hour or so out out of your day or your night or sometime in between and check out "Heckler," a Jamie Kennedy documentary which focuses on the role of the heckler and the critic within the realm of pop culture. Jamie Kennedy is a comedian who starred in "Malibu's Most Wanted," which was a relatively bad film, and has since been filleted by hecklers at his appearances in comedy clubs and critics, bloggers and pop-culture reviewers on the Internet.

Half of the documentary involves snippets of interviews and discussion with comics and personalities from all walks of life; Andrew "Dice" Clay, Jon Lovitz, Bill Maher, Perez Hilton, Paris Hilton...the personalities within the project are as varied as it gets. As far as the comics involved herein, they span two or three generations and the documentary reminded me of "The Dirtiest Joke Ever Told," another comedy documentary spanning a number of comics focusing on one minute aspect of the world of stand-up comedy.

This project, however, was somewhat self-indulgent but mostly -- and genuinely -- a way for Jamie Kennedy to let people know that people in the spotlight feel pain when we -- the public -- take anonymous shots at them, whether as masthead-shielded critics or as members of the increasing number of keyboard commandoes, ie people who attack others from behind the anonymous comfort of a keyboard attached to an Internet-connected computer.

Personally, I never considered myself a fan of Jamie Kennedy's. What I've seen of his work doesn't do much for me, and, more or less, I find most of what I've seen of his work to be fairly low-end. However, it says a lot that I found this particular project to be interesting and worth watching.

What I found most interesting about this entire documentary wasn't what I expected it would be; when I first saw this in the digital channel guide on my cable system, I presumed this was simply an analysis of the interplay between stage comedians and the people who find it appropriate to give them shit while they perform. While this is not something that many "civilians" need to think about, I wasn't surprised to find that, essentially, all of the comedians that were interviewed for this project admitted that they had all, at one time or another, been the victim of some random, quasi-faceless heckler in a crowd, and, according to Arsenio Hall, one of the myriad comics interviewed here, all of them, at one time or another, lost his or her temper in dealing with these people.

You might recall Michael Richards, aka Seinfeld's "Kramer," and his meltdown at the Laugh Factory in LA when he repeatedly called a black man heckling him during a performance a "nigger." If you do a YouTube search, you'll be in a position to squirm through the entire incident. I'm not sure why you'd want to; most of the audience in attendance that night promptly walked out of the club once the disgusting, vitriolic diatribe commenced, and the bulk of them, aside from, likely, the people involved, followed soon after.

Considering the fallout at the time, it's not surprising that Michael Richards hasn't done much, if anything, since the incident (November, 2006).

But this project goes far beyond that ugly, unfortunate incident. It also dissects the symbiotic relationship between celebrities -- from the top to the bottom of the ladder -- and the online- and offline critics, from magazine reporters to newspaper reporters to TV news critics to those in the land of The Blog.

In addition to the more respectable critics -- the late Joel Seigel, Roger Ebert and Gene Siskel (and Richard Roeper), Gene Shalit -- there are an infinite list of unofficial, faceless, nameless critics that populate the Net each and every day, and the number -- without a doubt -- is growing daily. The thing is, and this was addressed in the documentary, everyone has an opinion. Whether I thought a movie was incredible or the worst piece of shit ever committed to film, digital or otherwise, is inherently my opinion. Unless I'm being paid with tax-funded dollars, my opinion is and should be mine to express. However, with the advent of the faceless, nameless critic, the population of people critiquing another's work -- film or something similar -- has suddenly, overnight, been given credibility.

The problem is this: this space, as well as any other blog hastily assembled by some half-witted shitbird -- some might suggest these are one and the same, incidentally -- occupies the same screen real estate as Rotten Tomatoes, The New York Times, CNN.com and any other number of sites whose legitimacy is recognized by degrees by the reader. Some out there might agree with my take on a particular film or performance -- or album, or book, or band, or politician -- and if my opinion differs from that of a particular institution -- the New York Times, the Washington Post, Roger Ebert, et al -- then my opinion suddenly, somehow, is given credence.

The problem is that thirty years ago -- and all the way back to silent movies leading to thirty years ago -- the critic was generally regarded with some measure of respect, and as such, treated those whose work he critiqued with similar respect. If you want a better, cleaner expression of this, check out the "Ego" monologue at the tail end (no pun intended) of the movie Ratatouille, wherein a feared, vaunted, vitriolic restaurant critic describes his job and how, after eating at a particular restaurant in Paris, he saw the proverbial light.

The point is -- after all is said and done -- there is a difference between those who express their opinions with some measure of respect and those who simply exist to make themselves appear better by shitting all over someone else and/or his/her/their work. A good example of this, for you Top Chef fans, is the newest of the Top Chef judges, Toby Young, a London food critic known for his especially acerbic, sharpened wit. Top Chef is one of our favorite shows, but it seems to me -- especially while watching Toby Young savagely shred the participants of the show -- he spends more time considering how to rip someone's efforts than actually critiquing -- constructively or otherwise -- them. Put another way, while his judging is memorable in its savagery, he goes well above the call of duty and he takes every opportunity not out to describe what was good or bad about something one of the participants prepared but solely his intention to appear clever and creative in his attack on someone's work.

In retrospect, especially given the nature of the latter half of Heckler, anyone who uses their creativity to be in a spotlight presents him- or herself for criticism. Whether or not that criticism is fair or warranted or legitimate, once an individual presents something which requires another's opinion, it's a virtual guarantee that there will be vitriol, whether it's a comic on a stage in the middle of nowhere or LA, or an artist whose life's greatest achievement is hanging on a wall in a gallery somewhere, or an actor seeing his work in a suburban movie theater. The concept is that we as a society tend to build people up only to want to knock them down. Our society -- and perhaps humans in general -- seem to exhibit this behavior whether they are connected to the Internet or, simply, each other. The most recent example of this is Barack Obama. Prior to his victory, he was the very embodiment of progress and hope; now CNN.com and another half-dozen "legit" sites question his progress and note that his approval isn't as high as it was earlier. I'm no Obama fan, but I think he's doing well, all things considered. I'm a Republican and I'm not salivating over the issues and problems he's facing within his cabinet or his administration; I want him to do well and to succeed. It says a lot about us as a culture how, despite the economic turbulence of our world, we still -- as a society -- seem to angle for ways to knock him to, inexplicably, make ourselves feel better.

Essentially, Jamie Kennedy's "Heckler" project had only one real shortfall: when he attempted to meet his more vocal critics in person, part of his argument with their words -- even if their opinions were warranted -- was questioning why their critiques appeared to be personal. Many of same, incidentally, appear targeted at him rather than his work. After asking that question, he would ask his critic(s) whether they cared about the fact that their attack(s) hurt his feelings. Personally, while I sympathize with him and many other celebrities who get roasted for little or no reason, I reacted to his request for some restraint in considering that many of us would happily and without hesitation forfeit our day jobs and careers to be celebrities. To many people, celebrity is the end-all, be-all of existence -- why then do so many people spend their time, energy and their lives in pursuit of people like Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian and their ilk? The fact is that people in the spotlight will always be put on a pedestal and be remunerated for their position in society, whether deserved or not, and will also be targeted by those people who need to make themselves feel better by knocking and/or deriding others, the work of others, and the achievements -- legitimate or otherwise -- of others.

Incidentally, as I explained to Kaia, what I found most interesting about this project, in retrospect, was that I was less interested in the fact that Jamie Kennedy was spearheading this particular project and more interested in what I perceived it to be about. Having watched it and having been, admittedly, surprised by the fact that it was far more intruiging than I expected it to be, I confessed to her that I hadn't been able -- or interested -- to watch Jamie Kennedy's movies or appearances prior to this watching documentary for more than a few minutes, as I found his work to be less-than-enthralling. With respect to this project, I didn't change the channel, nor did I consider doing something else -- aside from using the bathroom. Not even once.

And, given the nature of this project and its focus, that -- I believe, anyway -- is saying a lot.

'Tis The Season...for Matzah and Snow

2009-04-08T12:01:00.003-04:00

Little did I know that today, the precursor to the first night of the Jewish holiday of Passover, would bring such excitement.

Not only was there some chilly weather greeting us this AM, but in addition, there was some light, brief snow dusting midtown around 11. Notwithstanding the fact that today is April 8th, it was definitely chilly enough for snow, and the Man Upstairs made it happen. It was only a light dusting, but had I had my camera with me, I could have documented it with images as well as words.

Beyond that, I've gotten a bunch of stuff ready for the trip to Jersey for tonight and the day-trip (ie round-trip) to Connecticut for tomorrow night. I've got way too much at work and outside work happening, so for everyone that celebrates Passover, enjoy the matzah...I know I will try. For everyone that celebrates Easter, don't break too many eggs.

And for those of you who don't celebrate anything, enjoy your diminutive non-celebration(s).

Werd.

The Fare of The Fair

2009-04-08T07:36:00.003-04:00

I inevitably equate sunshine and happiness with the warmer weather. I'm not sure if that's appropriate or if I need some introspection on the subject, but I suppose -- like most people who can be accurately described as a kid at heart -- I prefer warm, sunny weather to dreary, shitty winter dreariness.

Part of why I love New York is its inevitable plethora of things to do: no matter what time, what type of weather, or where you are, as long as you have a little bit o' cash there's something to keep you occupied. Even if it's crappy weather -- in which case the above remains true to a lesser extent -- there's never a dull moment, unless it's of your own volition.

To that end, part of my exposition into the City is the many street fairs that seem to populate the warmer weekends here. Like a lot of other New York experiences, it's pretty much the same thing, despite the varied locations. In the case of street fairs, it's unique foods -- corn on the cob, chicken kabobs, popcorn, juices, pretzels, hot dogs, sausage and peppers, and the inevitable cotton candy -- stretched over a ten-block run that also involves at least one snake-oil salesman -- a magic broom, ginsu knives, a new type of garden tool, or some sort of laundry assistant -- and the innocuous t-shirt booths, replete with the same old sayings: "Fuck You, You Fuckin' Fuck" is among the more memorable, although in recent years the Sopranos -- especially a t-shirt advertising the fictional "Bada Bing" club -- has, I believe, edged it out.

There's also, typically, a variety of housewares -- sheets and bedding-related stuff including blankets, pillows, mattress covers, etc. -- and there's jewelry. Typically it's cheap crap that pull women towards it with gravitational magneticism. Of course, necklaces, bracelets, earrings and other similar chazerai make their appearance as well, and inevitably women flock to these vendors with the aplomb of bees dancing through the sunlight to an open, unguarded pot of honey.

Each year -- or rather -- each warm-weather season -- street fairs seem to pop up without warning or cause. Of course there's an annual, pre-set schedule bearing locations and dates and times, and invariably if there's a sponsor the schedule indicates that as well. But overall, nothing really ever changes -- it always seems to be the same faces, the same schtick, the same gimmicks and the same stuff each time.

Now, lest I be accused of cantankerous stodginess, it's not that I don't enjoy walking around street fairs. To the contrary, I more than not like them a lot. But I wish someone would find a way to make each fair worthwhile on its own. Aside from San Genarro, nothing really changes -- and even the San Genarro festival can be a complete and utter waste of time. In fact, for the most part, it is. Drinking lukewarm beer out of plastic fraternity party cups and fighting throngs of people, strollers, dogs and odors previously inexperienced and barely human isn't the stuff of legend. More importantly, why would anyone travel more than a few blocks to experience it? Even more importantly, why would anyone experience it, period?

I suppose because with each year and each new annual arrival of nice, warm days -- as opposed to excessively hot, humid ones -- the itch to escape the four walls reinfects each one of us. Some people head to the Hamptons, others to the Jersey shore, and some of us are stuck within the confines of the City. Hence we accept the shenanigans that accompany games of "chance," the funnel cakes on paper plates, the screaming children, the semi-drunk, hung-over floaters, and the overly-salted roasted corn on the cob, for better or worse.

And with all those complaints fresh in my mind from last year and years past, I think it comes down to yearning for the summer weather. I don't need a handmade baja pullover, action figures from The Incredibles or Disney characters, and I definitely don't need a 40x60 black and white poster-print of Al Pacino in full Scarface guise with the words "Say Hello to My Little Friend" narrating the scene of the muzzle flare of his M-16A.

Inevitably, for the most part, I don't wonder whether I'll be excited to hit the first of the street festivals in the next six or so weeks. I will. What I do wonder is how long it will be before I begin wishing for October, for cooler weather that requires me to consider bringing a jacket once the sun goes down.

And whether it's in our nature as humans, or simply mine, to always look to that which isn't quite here but will, someday soon, be ready for my consideration and my predilection to want something else.

Cold, (Not Room-Temperature) Turkey

2009-04-07T06:53:00.000-04:00

Quitting cold turkey, apparently, has some measure of peril.

I'm not sure from where the term "cold turkey" originates; there's indication that the skin of an individual who abruptly gives up heroin begins to resemble the skin of a cold turkey. Whether or not that's bullshit or an old wives tale is irrelevant.

What isn't irrelevant is in our modern existence, we as a nation consume, absorb and/or otherwise ingest drugs, chemicals and foreign substances in increasingly alarming numbers. I doubt even the most proactive white-coat-wearing geek could accurately quantify the vast amount of chemicals, preservatives and other non-human-friendly substances we encounter with regularity. That is to say, it shouldn't surprise us that cancer and heart disease are our top two killers. If it's not the chemicals that eventually destroy our bodies from the inside out, it's the pressure (or the french fries) that eventually lead to our breakdown. Either way, a sledgehammer to the face and other non-subtle deaths seem to be decreasing and the silent ones, ie from the inside out, are on the rise -- or at least at the top of the list.

What I found interesting, at least on some level, was this article which addressed perhaps the most dangerous of our addictions. It's not nicotine, crack, heroin or porn; it's caffeine.

This past June, I had an epiphany and -- finally -- stopped drinking Diet Coke. Without question, I was a full-on addict; I would go through at least one two-liter bottle a day. Where other people felt the need to suck down a glass or two of wine at the end of a day, I found myself parked in front of a television or my computer with a piping-cold bubbly glass filled with heavily-chilled Diet Coke. Invariably, I would regard the nearly-frozen cauldron, watching the bubbles pop an inch above the surface of the liquid, with the fascination of a child experiencing his first snap, crackle and pop. And I would -- without hesitation or thought -- go through an entire bottle -- if not more.

The article referenced above addresses the withdrawal symptoms of caffeine. I'd had surgery so I didn't exactly have the opportunity to suck down a bottle or two of Diet Coke on my "quit" day or the next day, but I can tell you the biggest, toughest part of giving up caffeine isn't the symptoms of giving it up but realizing that it is something that requires effort and commitment to stop. And since it's not an evil like smoking cigarettes, nor is it illegal like cocaine or heroin or crack, and since it's not controlled like alcohol, it's hard to avoid grabbing a 20 oz. bottle of liquid gold on every corner of the City.

Nonethemore, now that I've forsworn off caffeine, I suck down, give or take, ten glasses of water each day, and I'd add another four or five if it's a workout day. I typically keep a bottle of water with me wherever I go -- typically flavored with Crystal Light (fruit punch or cranberry pomegranate) -- and I am happy to say I've easily remained caffeine free since June. If you can get past the first few days -- and make the conscious decision to stay away from it -- each day gets easier.

And the best part of it is you can sleep a lot easier, although you fall asleep faster at night. Waking up isn't the problem -- it's getting enough sleep so you can actually wake up in the morning.

I found this article interesting because there are so many health risks, issues and missteps which require us to climb a proverbial mountain to defeat. Beating the caffeine addiction really requires nothing more than the commitment and the understanding that it's something which can -- with very little difficulty -- be eliminated. The hardest part isn't the physical aspect of the addiction but the mental one.

Good luck ;-)

Mow The Lawn

2009-04-05T10:05:00.001-04:00

Not content to be a distant third behind shaving giants Gillette and Schick, Wilkinson Sword, a company that makes shaving acoutrement, opted for a unique marketing campaign for their new Wilkinson Sword Quattro for Women Bikini. The video is even more (sic) classy than the actual concept. Go here for the commercial...and while it should be NSFW, it isn't, so enjoy.

Fools

2009-04-01T07:35:00.000-04:00

Invariably, when I return, like a properly-thrown boomerang, to the HoB to decry some foolish behavior on someone's part -- be it a celebrity, a so-called "TV personality" or some random douchebag I encountered on the bus or the train -- I usually have more than enough logic propelling my decision to rip said individual a new one.

I've had plenty of opportunities to wax condescending on a variety of the aforementioned daily encounters over the past ten days, and yet these pages have, thus far, remained fallow.

Why, pray tell, do I not rail on those who err in their daily lives, when such action practically begs for some sort of written record of such stupidity, and especially when said action affects me on some adverse level?

First and foremost, I've been extraordinally busy. Merely suggesting "work has me slammed" isn't quite sufficient to describe the mental head-banging-into-a-wall sense I've been enjoying. Having said that, I, for better or worse, prefer the balls-to-the-wall (or was that head-banging-against-the-wall) pressure that comes with my daily existence. Even if I didn't, it's an accepted fact that that's the way 'tis, so I've become used to it.

On top of that, I finally pulled the trigger on a new couch. I'd been meandering over the notion of replacing "Blackie," a sleeper sofa I've had since the Nixon administration (just kidding), that was in relatively good shape. The problem was the cushions were starting to look like a bit worn, and I decided -- finally -- to put Old Glory out of her misery.

And misery is more appropriate than even I would have thought.

I put an ad on Craigslist and no one seemed to be interested. Couple that apathy with the call I received from the delivery company advising me the couch was ready to be delivered.

More pressure.

I rescheduled the delivery a week after I'd originally hoped to receive the new couch, and put yet another ad in Craigslist, offering Blackie for free. "Just come and get it with a friend and it's yours."

I got lots of interest but apparently no takers. Bad economy my ass.

Another week, another call to the delivery company advising me of a new delivery date that would have to be delayed yet again.

Finally, after having a bunch of e-mails and one used couch, I had a couple guys who work in my building help me move the behemoth out to the curb. So as of 6PM this past Friday, I rearranged half of the apartment to make room for the exeunt of the Black Beast, and as of 6:30PM, the couch was resting comfortably on the sidewalk with the rest of the quasi-trash from my 10-floor apartment building.

And as of 12:30 AM -- only six short hours later -- Old Glory had disappeared. Apparently someone decided that my ad extolling the virtue of my sofa, protected in the warmth and comfort of my apartment, was not quite adequate, and only after she had reached the curb did someone -- finally -- show interest.

Personally, half of me takes comfort in the fact that someone will make use of what remains a really solid, well-made sofa. And the other half of me is a bit tweaked that I couldn't give the fucking thing away.

And yet another half of me is wondering if someone just nabbed it to carve it up and use the leather to make g-strings or something.

I suppose we'll never know.

Speaking of meandering, I was about to delve back into why I have been too busy to call out those individuals who have ingratiated themselves into my not-so-good graces. And I've been so busy with the tale of Old Glory that I got sidetracked, and, therefore, will have to return another day to finish what is, in theory, this train of thought.

More to come.

Oh, and Happy April Fool's Day to every- and anyone reading this. I'd rip out a kickin' joke or something akin thereto, but the fact that you, the reader, have made it this far and continued reading suggests that, clearly, the joke is emphatically on you ;-)

More to come...

PS RIP Z Gallerie in NYC...at least for now.

Where To Begin, or End

2009-03-22T09:52:00.000-04:00

There's been a lot happening in BoogieLand, and while I'm a combination of physically and mentally exhausted, most of the happenings are of a good nature. Despite it only being a week since my last appearance herein, I've definitely had motivation to swing by, only to be denied by reality's harsh interference.

First, this past Tuesday, which was not only St. Patrick's Day but my birthday as well, I -- along with the rest of the world -- came to hear of the unfortunate news about Natasha Richardson's skiing accident in Montreal. We were slowly drawn to the conclusion that a "minor" fall on a beginner slope would soon result in Ms. Richardson's death, and the shock and disbelief we all presumably felt was exacerbated by the media's overwhelming urgency to be the first to publish the bad news, as per usual.

First and foremost, what I knew of Ms. Richardson -- between her movies, some personal appearances and her recent appearance on an episode of this season's Top Chef -- was thoroughly positive. I didn't know she'd been married to Liam Neeson, nor that they had two children, but I did know -- in hindsight -- it was and remains sad that someone so positive, talented and in the forefront of her life was taken from her family. As I've indicated in the past, I understand the media's need to expose every inch available vis-a-vis a celebrity's passing, I thought that the Post's headline -- "Brain Dead" -- was uniquely and markedly crass. However, the subsequent discussion of how Ms. Richardson died -- ie blunt trauma -- and her autopsy, and the subsequent details that trickled out at a steady stream over the days following her accident were even worse than crass. They ostensibly took a woman who was a beacon of happiness and light and, seemingly, reduced her death -- and, to a degree, her legacy -- to tabloid clippings.

Perhaps I'm being a bit overly sensitive, but to me, this whole feeding frenzy by the media really took an awful, terrible, tragic piece of news and made it that much worse. There has to -- or should -- be a line between going after a newsworthy story and shitting all over a story.

What also bothered me about this story was the virtual media blackout on the passing of another actor, Ron Silver. Ron Silver never played the "main" guy but, like J. T. Walsh and John Ritter's latter movie career, Ron Silver was always solid. He elevated a crappy movie like "Timecop" (yes, with Jean-Claude Van Damme) to quasi-legitimate status. He hit every role in which I'd seen him with the same tenacious genuineness, and beyond his abilities, he began -- later in his life -- to become more publicly involved with politics. I'm not sure if he had aspirations to become a politician or simply to affect the political process, but I was impressed by not only his beliefs but also the nearly anonymous way he went about what he was doing. The fact that he died after a bout with throat cancer -- and that he didn't publicize his story or whore the end of his life out to the highest bidder -- really impressed me and reminded me why I had so much respect for him in the first place. And I'm glad his passing was barely addressed in the media, although I am certainly sad that he is now relegated to a memory and to his roles. I did notice the difference between his and Ms. Richardson's passing and how the media handled each, and while again, I understand the need to get a story, I think there are certain things which should be off-limits, if not at least treated with a bare modicum of respect. It can't simply be an all-or-nothing dichotomy; however, seeing how the media handled these two incidents, I'm fairly certain that nothing will change, and if it does, it won't be for the better.

Beyond this, there were other events of equal significance that, thankfully, weren't as unfortunate as were Ms. Richardson's or Mr. Silver's deaths. First, as per usual, I was inundated with work and barely got a chance to spend any quality time with Kaia, friends and/or family. On the other hand, I was able to get a foothold on a lot of work that had been in the air for the past week or ten days, so that's a definite plus. I suppose, given that I have a deadline so close to my birthday each year, I'm slowly -- begrudgingly -- accepting that the world, seemingly, doesn't revolve around me and that the day before my birthday, the day after my birthday, and -- somehow -- the day of my actual birthday is irrelevant when I've got to deal with clients, deadlines, city personnel and ticking time bombs. I'll figure it out some day. In the meantime, I can be a bit -- mockingly -- irritated, or I can just get on with what I've got to do and lament the late hours of March 17th next year as I did last year as well as this year.

-----

Score: PC Gremlins 1, Boogie 0.

Finally, this weekend I spent time with friends, one of whom swung by to do some PC work on the home rig. We swapped out the motherboard -- which is a huge undertaking, akin to removing the fuel injection on a modern sports car -- and did so with relatively few problems. The issues plaguing the first build were and are no longer applicable, as the "new" build sings. We did some post-fix testing and everything was and remains bulletproof. However, to be sure, we ran a few games to challenge all aspects of the system, as firing up a 25-page, multi-sheet Excel spreadsheet doesn't quite push modern, multi-core PC's to their limits. After that, I fired up a Blu-Ray disc to see how much it would tax the system; no problems. Thereafter, we popped in a "rip" of a Blu-Ray disc in sparkling, pristine 1080p and that too failed to pressure the system in any significant way.

Boogie 1, PC Gremlins 1.

-----

Finally, waking up on the first day of spring to a wet, sideways snowfall was a reminder of one of Kaia and my first New Years' together. It was a nice flashback and inasmuch as I don't much care for snow on days when "commute" involves me and getting to and from my office, it was a nice memory and one I suspect will remain with me until our next snowy New Years' morning.

Workin' It

2009-03-15T18:35:00.003-04:00

I've been meaning to stop by here and fill some space with my inept, meandering ramblings, but having been so inundated with work, deadlines, pressure and its ilk I haven't been of the mind -- timewise, anyway -- to get it done.

Since being completely preoccupied with work, it's far from exciting spending days and nights -- especially weekends -- working and focusing on the coming week, deadlines, etc. -- so I can't imagine reading about it is any more so. I must confess during some much-needed downtime I enjoyed "Hot Rod" starring Andy Samberg. It's yet another stupid, run-on-sentence film, pretty much typical for recent Saturday Night Live alums (at least from those since the early 90's). I'm not dismissing SNL alums or their films; for me, The Blues Brothers, Trading Places and Animal House remain among my favorites. However, since John Belushi died and Dan Akroyd decided to become a thespian, most of the post-SNL movies have been equally awful as the show itself (except, of course, for Baby Mama, which was really solid). So to make a long story short, Hot Rod (Kaia's suggestion, incidentally) was actually -- despite the extreme, thorough dumbness of the film -- pretty entertaining and worth a viewing.

More worthwhile is Eastbound and Down, a series on HBO starring Danny McBride. He's typically not so much of a leading guy as he is a solid supporting cast member, but having scored juicy roles in Tropic Thunder, the aforementioned Hot Rod and a variety of other films, he managed to get a series together about an aging, has-been, drugged-out white trash baseball player (one could argue those terms are redundant). This show has scored on a bunch of levels: it's rude, politically incorrect, off-color, hysterical, ridiculous, sad, and, most importantly, genuinely good stuff. With the end of The Sopranos and The L Word, Sunday nights are still somewhat relevant for those of us who don't watch Big Love and who dread falling asleep only to wake up to Monday mornings.

Speaking of which, I finished most of today without having eaten; getting through the work of the day without eating isn't unusual for me as of late. But deciding what I am going to do food-wise is. Since the Food Network has essentially become a joke, I watch it with less and less frequency. Aside from Ann Burrell, Ina Gartner and, of course, Alton Brown, I'm finding fewer and fewer reasons to actually watch it, and -- interestingly -- the less I watch, the less I eat. I'm not fading away into the ether, but it's definitely true that the more Food TV programming one watches, the more likely one is encouraged to eat.

Then again, I'm sure that if I stopped watching the Food Network altogether, I wouldn't wither away and be carried off on a windy day.

In either case, I'm going to go dig up something to eat and, if nothing appears or comes to me, I'm going to roast a chicken and prep some winter veggies. And maybe watch "Stir of Echoes" with the newly-minted, post-Madoff-cum-working-class version of Kevin Bacon.

Eventually I'll be back 'round here, probably sooner rather than later. But I'll apologize in advance in case it's more of the same boring, real-life details which would be better served by a visit to the bathroom than a visit here.

-B-

You Are What You Type

2009-03-09T21:11:00.003-04:00

Invariably, cream rises to the top. However, if you've ever made homemade chicken soup -- or even roasted a chicken -- you know that the scum also reaches the top...eventually.

With respect to this particular story, I'm not sure which -- if just one -- of the aforementioned descriptions applies more appropriately.

Enter the tale of Dan Leone, a former west gate chief for the Philadelphia Eagles. Apparently, Mr. Leone was disappointed the Eagles didn't re-sign Brian Dawkins, one of their former players, and indicated such in his Facebook status thusly: "Dan is [expletive] devastated about Dawkins signing with Denver ... Dam Eagles R Retarted!!"

A few days later, he got a call from the Philadelphia Eagles organization and was fired over the phone.

Had it been me who had to make a decision whether to retain Mr. Leone or to dismiss him, I think I probably would have done the same as the Eagles. It's simply not enough that he was -- and likely will remain -- a big Eagles fan. It's not enough that he was an Eagles employee for six years, nor was it enough that he didn't receive the news in person.

But gosh-darn it, if only he'd managed to spell "retarded" correctly, maybe he would have been allowed to keep his job.

What a lame organization.

However, on the other side of the coin, I don't blame the Eagles for firing this dude. Mr. Leone broke the cardinal sin of internet insults: if you can't spell it, don't attempt it, moron.

Here's a personal to whomever fired Mr. Leone: your effin' retarted.