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TCB, Baby-Love… and Mikey and Me

Monday, May 14th, 2007

Clearing out the jumble after a long and cheerful weekend spent NOT doing the work I could have been doing but instead doing all the fun things I ended up doing; After a weekend of being the BEST damned dock whore I could ever possibly be… The Headline on Today’s paper screamed at me the results of a poll that had NYers exalting Mikey Bloomberg as a better Mayor than Rudy “America’s Mayor” Giuliani; AND a better candidate for Presidente. I think I’m starting to agree with these NYers.

Although my love and respect and adoration and devout worship of Rudy will never diminish, I gotta admit, Mikey’s doing a pretty damned good job. OK, Mikey and Me don’t see eye to eye on all this nanny-state crap, even though I’d really, really, really like to see a lot fewer incredibly huge fat ugly slobs chowin’ down buckets of trans fat soaked burgers and fries, chicken, burritos, chips, ice cream cones etc etc etc at one damned sitting as their un-humanly fat butts melt so frikin ungraciously over the sides of the double wide plastic orange benches at the local McDeath outlet…

Despite this difference of opinion on the role of the state in keeping us idiots alive; or trying to make us more healthy; I think America needs Mikey B’berg to RUN and become President. His, “I bought this, it’s mine and I’ll take a dollar a day” approach to governing this “used-to-be ungovernable” city has been a breath of fresh air in a city where the air hasn’t been all that fresh for some 400 years. I think America would be well served by someone who simply bought the Presidency out from under the Illuminate supported ass-jokers the so-called two party system candidates the ’star chamber’s’ been spitting out over the last few years. I mean come on, the lesbian wife of the guy whose TRUE claim to fame was being the ONLY President to get caught getting his dick-sucked in the Oval Office replacing the retarded son of the high priest of the Skull & Crossbones, class-o-’37… John Edwards! Barak-bin “I’m building my candidacy around some weepy book about my oh so interesting life growing up with a mother whose excuse for NOT being able to stick it out with my father is some weird, I gotta solid Liberal Arts education that forced me to abandon my son with his Grand parents in Hawaii so he could stick with his buddies, and learn enough about being black to fit into the South Side Chicago, oh lets hep the po’ people of our left behind neighborhood” Obama!

People… please! More than a year to go and already the mess we call the press is starting to chuck it all and say; lets let the guy who plays that guy on TV be President; you know that bald NYC DA guy Dalton, Thomas, someone… ya, that guy…

I say, let Mikey buy the big chair! – He’ll WIN us the war on terror; AND save us all a buck-fitty while we’re at it…

But, oh, but it was, such a beautiful weekend!

Last Friday, me and my shrink dedicated this week to the new program, TCB. Yep, folks, I’m sticking my tail between my legs, completely prostrating my former position on the idea of putting my brain into the hands of someone who actually followed through on the ridiculous notion of becoming a therapist; someone who not only wants to help people, but thinks he might just be able to do so. Don’t get me wrong; the fact that TCB is what we’ve come up with is DEAD ON proof that I picked the right guy! I mean, the last thing I would ever want to hear would be something nurturing… And the worst thing anyone could ever suggest was that I scour my past for some nugget of some wrong that was foist upon my younger me by father, teacher, priest… Nope; this week; its all ELVIS baby! Takin’ Care of Business!

Happy Mother’s Day!

Posted in 5) '07 Give it a Few Days, Opinions You Don't Need, Politics '04 thru '08 | No Comments »

On Behalf of Myself, I Most Humbly Accept My Most Gracious Applause

Monday, May 7th, 2007

I burned just a little less than about one fifth of a gallon of gasoline over the weekend… on six separate occasions I fired up the four horsepower motor on the boat that I borrow three times to get out of and and three times to get into of the harbor I sail from around a tight packing of sailboats in this tiny little harbor. Oh, I could have sailed into and out of the harbor; I’ve sailed into and out of tighter spots than this before; but its a rule I respect in respect for the feelings of the anxiety that sailing this close to the other boats may cause in the minds of the others who sail on the weekend in these small little boats from this tightly packed harbor.

I fired up the four horsepower motor to get through a lull in order to get my small little boat back into the small tight packed harbor on time… I’ve sailed through lulls before AND the wind was filling in from the south as per usual… but its not my boat I share it with others and I felt the need to respect the clock and make the boat ready for the next bunch of sailors.

I burned a little bit less than one fifth of a gallon of gas while sailing this weekend I thought to myself as I rode the packed subway to work again this morning… Last Friday I walked home from work and I boiled a few eggs under the light cast by the one florescent light bulb that lights the counter under the cabinets in my small but adequate galley style kitchen. I felt a bit guilty that the eggs weren’t from free range chickens but then again after all I was just going to mash them up and mix them with Kraft mayo and spread them on whatever bread was left over from last nights lovely dinner that we made with ingredients bought from our small local grocer. I can do better.

Don’t get me going!

I have to remind myself to find an alternative to the processed and prepackaged Kraft mayonnaise AND, I really should speak with my baker with regards to the source of their flower and the process in which they bake my bread in the late evening/early morning down the street from my tiny apartment. I should start walking to work more often; at least as often as I walk home. For after all, this slight decrease in the crowdedness may trigger the positive response which could get that one extra person riding the train rather than say, taking that cab that causes traffic congestion and leads to one more car caught idling in the intersection blocking the truck needed to cart that big bag of fair-trade coffee to the front door of my local coffee house. Cafe Collage not only serves up a fine cup of fair-trade coffee but posts signs to assures me that a small percentage of the change I drop into the tip jar does not go to top up the slavery like wages the proprietor pays his dread-braided student barristas; BUT that one penny from my fifty cent tip will be put into a fund that will go towards some cause they all can agree on at the staff meeting they hold every Friday. If only his monthly expenses don’t all of a sudden catch up to him like they did a few months ago when he cut all the hours and had one less employee to serve me my fine cup of fair-trade coffee.

Maybe tomorrow I wont buy the paper hoping that this sacrificial personal act of making a butter-fly-wing-flapping like gesture will resonate as a sound business decision in some boardroom the need to reduce circulation and save the bark off one of the trees in the acres of trees cut down up in Quebec that are required to print the 400lb Sunday edition of the Times that is chock full of stories about how we’re all trying just so desperately hard to save this planet for our kids whose diapers we have no clue what to do with since we protested sending barge loads of garbage sailing down the east coast to one of a dozen or more closed open-mine coal pits that we don’t know what to do with except definitely not using them as landfill sites where we can chuck all our garbage out of the site of the cameras that shoot all that footage for the six 24 hour news outlets we all have been watching…

Excuse me, I have to check on something.

I just looked out of the window of my office to find traffic moving well along the tangled ribbons of expressways that carry the single occupant SUVs that pour into the city looking for the ever more illusive parking spot at the foot of these bridges where they’re constructing yet another tall building full of 1,000 square foot condos that’ll be packed full of flat screens on which the owners can watch seemingly angry people bickering over whats the right answer to solve all our problem while wishing they had the time and energy to take out the bikes and ride past my building this weekend while trying to convince themselves they are making a difference.

Am I doing my part?

Apparently, I should be living completely differently being more vocal as I haven’t attended any rallies which definitely brings into question my devotion to the service of all the causes to make everything so much more better… I routinely question the dogma, that I read in the papers which makes me a suspect of not truly believing that everything I do is impacting the future. I walk without thinking, thinking that what I’m doing is actually taking step after step, the steps required to turn our society around before we coast at full throttle past this brink of disaster while the kids in the backseat watch “Happy Feet” over and over on the DVD player mounted to the roof of the Tahoe that they use to take them all kayaking. I’m a failure for not saying anything… while they continue to keep telling me over and over that they’re doing everything they can to live there life better than I live without thinking of the consequence that impact their kids futures.

But while you’re not looking maybe while you’re reading your paper; I’ll quietly keep doing the things that I’m doing. Not because I’m worried, nor because I’m trying. I could care less about your efforts, I laugh at your suggestion that I use less energy to do the things I am doing. Which of course is mostly walking around not thinking I could make any difference. I chuckle at the nylon get-up you wear on your bicycle as you ride up my street yapping and screaming about how wonderful it is you’re doing all the things that are required to make it all better. After saying what I’ve been saying I’m sure I hardly deserve it, but I’ll gladly accept my very own pat on my back for all the things I have and have not been doing. After all is this not what you are after when you put on that t-shirt and pack all those slogans into the back of the pick-up and drive over five hours to catch up with all of your friends as they try to get coverage to make sure we are all worthy of all this self congratulations?

I guess as they say, as per usual I could always do better but I think what I’ll do is continue to remain quietly doing the things that I’m doing.

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Zero Tolerance

Friday, May 4th, 2007

Too many short and somewhat nasty posts… Trust me, the Craptastic SapMaster is in here somewhere and looking for his moment to break free, come back and smother you all with warm sticky, gooey happy hugs!. In the meantime…

My tolerance for people with no tolerance is diminishing daily. What happened to the law of ‘tight spaces’ that used to apply to us folk living in extremely dense places? – Even after all the scowling, bitching, fighting and complaining, after letting off the steam of the day, most civilized people usually retreated to their respective corners, got on with their own lives and returned to the detant of live and let live… all little bending here, a little bending there.

I’ve been having a bit of a problem with my neighbor here at the studio… over my smoking. As I’ve said in other posts; I’ve capitulated on the public space folks… I’ve bent! I do not smoke on Subway platforms, inside or out, in foyers of office and apartment building, in movie theaters, coffee shops, bars or restaurants… Think about it, you’ve left me outdoors, or in my apartment. NO think about IT. I DO NOT SMOKE ANYWHERE I COULD POSSIBLY BE SHARING THE SAME PHYSICAL INDOOR SPACE WITH YOU! – And, I’m fine with that. Honestly, yes I am.

Now I am being asked NOT to smoke in my studio. A place YOU will never be without my explicit invite… my personal space… Be, just a little empathetic here. Can you NOT see where I might see this leading? Can you not see that this next and near final step is one more step towards YOU coming into my apartment, wrenching open the bathroom door and yanking that deeply comforting smoke I smoke while sitting on MY bowl while taking a slow luxurious dump, one of life greatest little pleasures; a pleasure I so deeply enjoy mixing with the pleasure of having a smoke. THIS IS WHERE IT IS HEADING! Isn’t it?
I’ve pretty much been given every signal that when you finally DO enter my bathroom; I’ll have been put in the exact same position I am in now. I have absolutely NO right to tell my studio neighbor to get the hell outta my studio. He has every right under the law to dictate to me what I can and cannot do in this space. No arguments, bitching… NO BENDING. In the world of thousands of small annoyances, the slightest wiff of trouble coming from MY space allows him to come over AND tell me to stop. I tried smoking with my head out the window… NO compromise, NONE, nadda… He is entirely within his right…

Exhale… Just for a little context here folks, this studio sits at the vortex of a major transportation junction between at least five major intercity thoroughfares, one of the nations busiest urban highway and two of its busiest bridges. In any given hour at least 10,000 cars and trucks slowly idle by our window… Yet my few errant puffs…

I have never been closer to being a prick, ever in my life. Since he likes to keep his door open, I will whistle as loudly and as out of tune, every time Iim in the hallway… I now slam my door; and I now play music constantly at a volume that will not alarm my landlord, but at a level which I know he can hear. Instead of moving away from the door outside, I now smoke right in the doorway but JUST off the property; waiting for those moments he comes in or out; not only so I can smile and say, look; “I’m smoking outside”, but also, so that I can exhale directly into his smarmy little “I’m carrying all the cards” face.

Next week, even though I love dogs; I am going to start passing around a petition to ask the landlord to enforce regulations that keep dogs out of the workplace… I might even complain about the children playing in the hallways. I am going to go on a ZERO TOLERANCE rampage! Every last little thing that bugs me; IS going to get mention; and action. STOP standing in the SUBWAY DOOR! – Excuse me your iPod headphone are leaking sound; Eh hem, I’ve called the police as you’ve been idling here at the curb for more that 45 seconds. Hey waiter can you please tell that lady to either shut her crying kid up; or get out… stop smacking your gum and slurping your luke-warm coffee. Please make up your mind before you get to the front of the line at the counter at MacDonalds!

OK

…ah, just blowing of steam… back to my corner of the world. Live and let live. Oh, I’ll bend, AGAIN. Just one favor, when you do come to break down my bathroom door; knock politely, tell me you’d like to speak with me when I’m done… We’ll work something out.

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Why Should I Believe You?

Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007

You say these things with such certain earnesty. You make your case by citing others cases. You honestly believe what you are saying and can’t accept I do not. You plead your case with no room for doubt. Your position is enforced primarily through the continuous recounting of the same damned reports that are repeated with ever increasing frequency. Every event can be and is shifted to fit with your ridged expectations. It would seem that your mind is made up.

I try to dispute you mostly to draw out the details of your conclusion. I argue with you to feed my arguments. I’ve given up any attempt to persuade you even if I give that appearance I am still trying. I enjoy your argument even if I’ll never believe it. Its what keeps us human.

They bury us daily with stories of that fit their conclusions. They increase the importance daily. They ratchet up the dire consequences, continuously ensuring the next story is more dramatic than the last. They hold our interest as long as they can to keep us coming; they makes us feel the need to stay on top of this. They have painted themselves into a corner.

Why should I believe you when the only conclusive evidence you have is that which they have fed you? Why should I believe you when all I hear is them in your voice? My sources all have ulterior motives while yours are claimed pristine. I am deluded while you have been educated.

I believe you when you tell me this could all be so much better; I refuse to believe its at all as bad as you have come to believe.

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Rambling On and On Over Battle of the Buldge… Again…

Thursday, April 26th, 2007

…an occasional post in a series of pointless babble on things I find myself no longer caring all that much about...

I’ve come to classify my entire family as out-a-sync’ers. My grandfather was too young for WWI; to old for WWII. My father to young for WWII and Korea; and to old and not in the right place and time for Vietnam. Me, well, I was way too young for the sixties youth movement; I was born on what they say was the absolute last year of the baby-boom. I did catch a bit of punk and by the time one of my piers got around to labeling my generation with the letter X; that designation was swiftly co-opted by the kids ten years younger than me.

So, I sit here, being accused of being a boomer; AND if I scramble and try to squirm my way out of that confinement, I then have to establish where I was; AND fake just how saddened I was by untimely death of Kurt “fuckin’-junkie” Co”brain”dead. Once you deny that Ka-urt was the “BOB DYLAN” of our generation, well the drum-circle party invites tend to just dry right up.

I stopped crying about this years ago. I’ve honestly become quite content to have never been part of a demographic group that had any impact what-so-ever on anything at all. Oh, we probably buoyed the viewership numbers for the last episode of M*A*S*H; and we may have helped Eddie Vedor’s career a tad that week when we showed a slight bit of interest in the music coming out what would later be known to be the death throws of the Musical Industrial Complex. – I gave up on rock and roll that day in 1984 when my angst ridden heroes jumped on to the simulcast stage started telling me I should give a hoot about… [list ANY cause here].

Since there never was any white riot; and the guns of brixton never did go off… and since I realized that I didn’t really enjoy pumping my fists in the air while ‘my’ bands started to perform what were basically advertising jingles for Che inspired, Yale educated leftist spoon fed Central American America hating hippy-communistas… I turned to dance music [after a brief and oh-so-locally trendy spin through the Nashville back-catalog of heroin soaked country stars of the 40's and 50's]… I also concluded that business, NOT art was a far more creative pursuit; a far more engaging performance piece than fiddling away while the ice melted off ones skate blades.

I gave up on all this long ago, so why should I care which kid from the “Vietnam Generation” sits twiddling his or her thumbs in the ‘big chair’ at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue? Why should I care what flavor of draft dodger defines policy for the next 20 years or so… Why should I believe them now when they tell me the world is heating up; when they once thought that lighting up and smokin’ a dube was the answer to all societies problems. Why should I trust them after they spent years and years bouncing from one “concern” to the next, all the while, changing their morality each time a whim took hold of them; then simply re-wrote their own handbooks to rationalize each decision to ensure no personal blame for their own failures, failures that could not be assigned to themselves personally. Why should I care about these people who use therapy as a shield and define non-commitment as personal growth.

Now, let me stop calling that kettle black and admit that I too can change my tune at the flick of a touch-wheel; AND am more than likely to have multiple opinions on any one topic at any given time. I do however try to let this be known; AND although I have absolutely pathetic skills when it comes to expression, I try and leave some scraps of thoughts between the lines to indicate that although I may appear to be foaming at the mouth; I am open to another way of looking at each one of these little things we are supposed to be so worked up over at various scheduled intervals along each years calender of concern… I predict an unusually warm Spring, Summer and Fall…

…and, another ramble comes to a close. If you feel you have wasted your time; then my objective has been met. Stay tuned for more cohesive diatribes on more unique and compact topics. Even though I don’t care too much about much of anything these days, it doesn’t mean I’m going to keep quiet about it…

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Welcome Back to MY World

Tuesday, April 24th, 2007

Spring-has-sproooiiig-ed! – AND – once again, we find ourselves in that, these days, all too short comfort zone when “a cool morning” means a fresh breeze, sitting outside with the morning coffee in t-shirt and shorts; and generally really freakin’ enjoying the start of the day. No more having to face the bone chillin’ drizzle while I guzzle coffee and draw those last few puffs before heading up to the studio…

This morning also marked the arrival of “those other people”; the ones I haven’t seen for months [feels like 18 months this year]. Those folks who give you that look of indignation as they walk by me on their way to get their morning fix of mocca-java-supreme-double-double-hoo-ha; The ones who formed the constituency to kick me out of doors, first from the restaurants, then from the coffee shops then from the bars in the first place.

NO, this is NOT yet another diatribe on indoor smoking bans; After years and years and years now, I’ve come full circle. I actually enjoy being forced out of doors. It’s a bit grim some winter days, but really, I have found our winters aren’t really that tough. I’ve come to appreciate those moments either alone in my own thoughts after escaping from dull drunken conversations; or moments with other smokers. There’s a whole world of compatriot “suckers-in-arms” going on out here folks… This is OUR world; and we’ve made the best of it.

No, this is definitely not another tired diatribe; you’ve won, you own the inside. Me, I drink less, and spend less of my drinking money at the bars [sorry, Mike, Ralph and Helen, I hope your non-smoking customers are topping up those college-funds...]. Like my non-smoking friends, I suffer less from ‘itchy-eye’; and my cloths ALSO wreak, OK, just a little less than they did in the days of “the fog”.

Yes, you won; AND this is me thanking you. Thanking you for saving me from myself. Thanking you for introducing me to my “out door” friends; thanking you for the few extra dollars I now have to spend on better ingredients for the dinners I now cook for my smoking dinner guest as we share our cheaper drinks in the pleasant surrounding of my own kitchen table…

Its a beautiful morning this morning. Us smokers have made it through, eh, a not-so-tough winter; but an excruciatingly long period of April-drizzle. I’d like to say hello and offer a warm welcome back to our non-smoking friends as they come outside… AND no, I will not apologize for the occasional errant puff that lands in your face, as try as I might, I do not control the direction of the breezes… AND, I will NOT tolerate, NOR will I even acknowledge one single glare of yours. YOU asked for it, you got it… I’m outside, just as you had wished for for decades.

Welcome back outdoors! Welcome to my world!

HEY, THROW that damned water bottle in the trash! – I wouldn’t have tossed and stomped a butt out on YOUR living room floor!… …EVER!

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In the End, They’ll Probably Never Blow Away Our Right to Choose

Monday, April 23rd, 2007

I’ve been biting my tongue for almost/over a week now; AND I’m glad I did. I mean who needs another ranting opinion about lone-mad-gunmen and the current balance of supreme court justices. As it turns out; a week later; this great nation remains functionally balanced on the head of the pin between ones right to own a device to slaughter ones classmates and the right to kill your baby.

Maybe the press is tired; or I’ve become inured… I read far less shrill and cry last week than I would normally expected from the NRA and the NCW on last weeks headline-chapter events in this great nations biggest personal tiffs. Maybe my lack of cable shields me from the dogma and pony show that results after another crazed gunman kills a crowd; and supremes foist a pull-back on our most recent cherished rights.

Over the years, I’ve grown to, if not like, kind of appreciate this detant; the righty-rights [of which I am not], get their toys that have an enormous impact on life over death; and the lefty-lefts [of which I am definitely not] get the personal right to choose death over life. In other words everyone gets to choose; except of course those at the wrong end of the muzzle, or scalpel.

I wish there were NO crazed gunmen as much as I wish that people would put a little more thought behind copulation! I wish all guns would just go away; and that women wouldn’t make mistakes; I certainly wish that men would STOP forcing themselves upon women! Although many of my wishes have come true; I’m long over thinking that wishing will make it so.

So I’ll be sitting here on the head of this ol’ pin… wishing, wishing mostly for less mistakes.

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The Big Chocolate Naked Jesus and a Little Girl’s Hooty-P’tooty

Thursday, April 12th, 2007

Oh, how I have come to loath the terms “Art” and “Institution” appearing anywhere within five words of each other in a sentence…

It would seem that one of our major “Art Institutions” has been “quietly” displaying a series of photographs that includes images of well, you know… little boys and little girls. I can only assume their justification; ‘these are photographs by renowned artist, being displayed within the context of an Art Gallery’… and so on.

If, as a ‘community’ we can almost completely collectively agree on one basic edict: “Let there be NO child pornography”; why shouldn’t we apply this across ALL ‘venues’? – Why should the elitists in the Institutional Art world be judged differently or held to a different standard with respect to this primary desire of the, ‘community’? There’s no slippery slope here; its actually quite a simple line… OK, even if the line where somewhat blurry, simple solution; in the case of ‘is it child porn or not child porn’; we’ll just agree to err on the side of caution…

Meanwhile; the fact that the Big Chocolate Naked Jesus continues to be homeless baffles me!

Posted in 5) '07 Give it a Few Days, Opinions You Don't Need | 1 Comment »

Commentary, It’s Been a while

Saturday, June 4th, 2005

So, I find myself not having writen a damned thing for way to long, so I, what slide back into commentary… I promise you I will not ride this, AS I have pretty much abandoned my opinion on everything over the last few months. Oh sure, I wax the wax I used to wax when waxing with old pals who clean the same colored wax outta their ears as I do each evening… AND I’ll argue with the pals I used to argue with for the sake of arguing only because the arguments make us feel, well you know closer to each other after we have made up after the argument… Commentary, why not, maybe it’ll shake a few beans loose…

Shorter Waits for Women in New York Restrooms

The City Council of New York City passed legislation this week requiring new public venues and those undergoing renovations, such as bars, restaurants, theaters or concert halls, to create restroom equity by establishing a two-to-one ratio of women’s to men’s stalls. Schools, hospitals and prisons will not be affected by the legislation. According to the New York Times, Virginia, Texas, Pennsylvania and California already have similar measures in effect.

Council member Yvette D. Clarke (D), who sponsored this measure, told the Times that “there is something a bit degrading about standing in line to use a bathroom,” and later called the passage “a women’s rights accomplishment” that “goes to the quality of life we are able to enjoy in the city.” Women in New York are pleased with the news, according to the Times, happy never again to face experiences in men’s rooms or outdoors because of the length of a women’s restroom line.

From the Feminist Majority Foundation – Feminist Daily News

OK, so it was only last night, I hit the can at the Hammerstien Ballroom only to find two out of the three stalls occupied by chicks [er, gals... er, sorry, women]. AND as I recall, at last years Belmont Stakes [the third leg of the triple crown for you non-sport types], I found myself in a line up to the men’s room with just as many women as there were men. It would seem New York ladies [can I say that?], of all stripes, from Kraftwerk fans to Hourse Racing affectionados have busted through and have started to ignore those little international symbols of MAN [no skirt] and WOMAN [skirt] on the doors of our public washrooms.

I for one applaud this seeming intrusion on my space; AND, I enjoy when women wear [skirts]. I mean, on the subject of the rest room, it doesn’t harm me in any way to share my hole with the women. Oh sure, they monopolize the stalls, and well [he says bashfully], I am well kind of a stall guy, long story… But, truly, no, if they don’t mind the grunt plops, and the sound of Niagra Falls at the urinals, be my guest. Better yet, there have been dozens of article written about how women can actually contort themselves to use the urinals… I say go ahead ladies! Honestly, what’s ours is yours; if you’ve learned how to use the tools while only spillin’ say, the average “last three drops” we’re currently allowed, the device is all yours. AND rest assured, we NEVER sneak a peak, EVER!

OK, we all may want to think twice when it comes to the antiquities, you know, the “troughs” we men still find at the odd ancient sports venue; a women could do some serious damage to that [insert designer label here] number she picked up at [insert name of trendy SoHo dress shop here] at one of those throw backs to the Holy Roman Orgy.

In the artical above we have venerable ladies rag advocating yet more legislation that denigrates the resourceful. Legislation that tells our women friends, our pals, our lovers, daughters, mothers and sisters that big ol’ daddy Gov-Man [in this case, his poor retarded cousin known as City Council], is your only hope at a fare shake [the women who get that lousy pun, give a collective wink]. Yep, the women who currently love me, inspire me, or just plain old beat me up these days don’t have a hope in hell of having a sweet pee unless we enact legislation; AND here’s the rub fellas! Architecturely speaking, where do you think this extra space to ensure the 2 to 1 ratio is going to come from? Old Bill, the janitor ain’t giving up his nap space; NOPE they’ll be taking that 2 to 1 ratio right out from underneath our danglers… [can you say two to a hole boys, it's summer camp sword fights all over again].

I say lets drop this, and legislate that all establishments “tear down this wall” and create one big ol’ pee-palace. Sure throw in a few extra stalls [as I applaud loudly], create a more “Lady-Friendly” urinal and we can all drain together! I mean, as my cousin Jebadia would say, it’s all just “dicks and hootlies”, an aint neither gots teef… The only problem being… I’m hearing the K’werk strike up “Radioactivity” and that bitch has been in there for, what 5 minute… man that’s just not human!

Posted in 3) '05 Comes the SapMaster, Opinions You Don't Need | 1 Comment »

OK – Time for a non-selfindulgent post, Phucket

Friday, December 31st, 2004

I find it weird that I have yet to have anywhere near a meaningful conversation about what is going on over there in Southeast Asia/India/where ever… It’s breaking my heart on that scale where the only logical response is to almost ignore it. I have a long history, as I suspect do a lot of people of just distancing myself from far away disaster on that scale. Obviously, I’ve never seen it on this scale before. They say 110,000 people so far, I can’t but think that this number will double again soon, AND I can’t help but think of the effects when doing even the simplest six degree calculations.

I have started to notice and hear more “my family is ok…”, and “my friend was on the other side…” conversations in and around the city…

Having watched death unfold in front of my own eyes once has given me a perspective I did not have four years ago, but really nothing more than perhaps a slight glimmer of empathy. I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like to have lost everyone, everything and everything you’ve ever known to a silent an unexpected ripple in the sea.

Once again, we sit here, reading the statistics, marveling over the stories over how very few animals have been found dead, or how the earths axis was shook, or that there was a three micro second variance in the earths travels around the sun, or something like that.

Huge chunks of people are dead, just plain old dead. I’m completely helpless to do anything… anything except hope that the people swept out to sea, or squished under falling rubble, or trapped helplessly as the water rose around them, that they had some personal belief that gave them comfort… That their friends and family left behind have some internal mechanism, some kind of faith that helps them send their loved ones off to a better place.

I agree with most of my friends, this God stuff can be nasty business at times. At times like these, you just got to thank God that a whole bunch of people in this world have this faith built into their lives, otherwise this unfathomable pain thats in the air right now would be even more unimaginably horrible to witness.

Hundreds of thousands of people, sniffed out in mere minutes… damn.

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