Prop 8 – The Musical

This video is awesome.  Great collaboration. Pass it on!

 

 

Vodpod videos no longer available.

 

 

 

more about ““Prop 8 – The Musical” starring Jack …“, posted with vodpod

Happy Turkey Day

or tofurkey for my veggie friends.

Had a big dinner earlier, it’s 2am and Im still stuffed.

But Im still about half ready to make me a turkey-leftover and tomato and mayo sandwich.

gobble gobble, bitches.

Ive had plenty to whine about these past few weeks, but i didnt today.  Lets all take a day off from bitching and reflect on what we’re thankful for.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sinking stocks, surging Giants, and pregnant teen agers = My September

Sorry for the hiccup in posts, I know that once a month posts do not a blog make.  It’s just that I’ve been real busy with a few minor issues…namely THE COLLAPSE OF THE AMERICAN FINANCIAL INDUSTRY (and the subsequent collapse of my bonus for the year) as well as violence in the [my] motherland.  So blogging took a backseat for a while. 

There have been some positives during the last month though.  FOOTBALL SEASON has arrived to save my Sundays until January.  And the defending champion NY GIANTS are off to a 3-0 start. [Tho I have to say I’m really pissed that Monday Night Football is on ESPN and not a public channel.  For cheap non-cable having bastards like me that is a huge blow.  The weekly showcases should always be on public TV.  I’m really sick of the big leagues selling out to the cable networks.]

I’ve also been real busy planning my trip to Turkey which is coming up in 2 weeks!! I’m so excited.

And I just can’t hide it.

………………………………..

AND I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW, I KNOW, I WANT YOU [shut up it’s a fun song]

After my insane previous experience with it I am actually asking for more punishment by trying to rent out my apartment again.  I put an ad up and got the typical idiotic responses from people saying things like, “Looks good.  I take apartment.  You said only available in October.  I need for November to February.  Where can I sign.  Take check?”

I got another hit from a chick who I soon discovered was a 16 year old girl traveling internationally on her own but meeting friends here..code for ” if you give me the keys to your apartment I will turn it into the set of the newest lifetime movie entitled The Young and the Pregnant.  No thanks sweetie.     Not in my bed, Suzie.

But I’m talking now to an older couple who seem pretty legit, so wish me luck.

PS  I’ll try to blog more often by making the posts shorter and more content-specific, so as to keep you fiends off my back about being lazy.

Embellishment — Writing’s Favorite Condiment

I was reading an old post (actually the last one but I’m a lazy bastard and my last post was almost 2 weeks ago) about how I always break or damage or lose my phones, and I was listing some examples of how these things happened.  I mentioned that once my phone was run over by a truck.  I began to recall that episode in my head.  I remembered the truck being yellow, and fairly small. It had black dashes painted along the side and a lit sign on top with glowing numbers.  The driver looked like one of the bad guys in True Lies.

It was a taxi cab.  A small regular sized taxi cab.

Had I forgotten this minor detail? No and no.  No I did not forget, and no this detail is not minor.  But I didn’t lie on purpose, either.  I was just writing, lost in my own thoughts and madly orchestrating my fingers to weave a web of words on my keyboard, tangled or otherwise.  In my writing trance superfluous details such as facts are sometimes usually disregarded.  I’m actually surprised that I didn’t go for a little more.  If I could do it over, it would have read as follows:

So I was backwards-worming down the street and my brand new phone that I bought like 12 seconds ago slipped out of my pocket and onto the 10-lane highway.  Cars were blazing by for almost a full minute, but amazingly my phone remained unscathed.  When the light changed I forward-wormed back out onto the street to get it, but just then the train that runs above-ground in my neighborhood careened off the tracks and plummeted 50 feet right onto my motorola RAZR just as I was leaning in to scoop it up. I easily could have died and I would have (and according to many, should have) but fortunately (unfortunately according to those same aforementioned people who feel that I should have died) Arnold Schwarzenegger saw the train racing towards me through the air and charged and tackled me while yelling Get DoOoWn before his rabidly gutteral Austrian gargle was drowned out by the train exploding directly onto my cellphone.  Luckily no one was hurt.

  My version would be called “Little Falafel Boy”.

You see how I skillfully toe the line between reality and fantasy?  This is a master at work here, folks.  Here’s a tip for you newbie bloggers (upstart novelists, screenplay writers, journalists, court reporters, etcetera) — don’t over do it.  Por ejemplo, I could have said that when I went back out onto the street to get my phone, I backwards-wormed, just like I did before when I was crossing the street.  Yes, backwards-worming is more impressive.  But if I was backwards-worming when I was walking down the street then naturally I would have to do the opposite whilst backtracking.  Turning around just so that I could backwards-worm in the another direction would be just plain ridiculous.  Furthermore, backwards-worming twice in a row would be so shockingly impressive that it would detract from the excitement of the derailed train (for those of you who disagree, SCREW YOU because you have clearly never seen me backwards worm).  That’s why organized religion stinks — the scribes who wrote it just went way too far.

That’s just the name of the game folks.  The blogosphere gets boring when people only wanna pretend to know about politics or regurgitate whatever they read in the paper that day.  We gotta spice this shit up.  My blogging name is Zuér.  My real name is Leslie.  See that? Sex[iness] sells. That’s why I put this picture of myself on my about page — I look dead sexy there, and if I didn’t you wouldn’t be reading this right now.  FACT. You see how when you saw my picture you said to yourself, “god DA!mn this dude looks smokin hot”?  That’s exactly what I was going for.  And I got it.  Why?  Cuz I gives you what you want.

Here’s another fact — my blog audience has increased in size by 300% since I learned how to embellish (from 1 to 3 regulars).  It’s elementary.  Chapter 1 of How to be a Playa (which I also wrote). 

On a serious note, I’m always honest in my blog other than when I’m going for a laugh.  If you read this post and didn’t realize that it falls under this category, well, then, shame on me.

This was a delightfully painless Monday after a great weekend. Have a great week!

The holy-crap-its-already-August Round Up

The summer is flyin by, and I’m not happy.  Gotta make the most of it while we can, folks.  Ive been trying to, but that’s only part of the reason why Ive been seriously slacking with the posts…believe it or not, Ive actually been busting my ass at work.  Despite my best efforts to evade acknowledgment and remain anonymous in all aspects of the company other than the payroll, word got out that I actually exist and have the capacity to tackle a larger workload.  Sons of bitches…

Here’s another patented ramble to update you on my life, and ruminations on everything relevant (to me) outside of it:

•Just back from a weekend down on the Jersey Shore, where I stayed at my friends awesome beach house.  Saturday was a fucking monsoon and I got kicked out of the water because the sissy lifeguards were afraid of the raging lightening.  Wimps.  Sunday made up for it though…started the day early and got in plenty of sun, and my arabian skin did great under the pressure (I only used SPF 8 sunblock).  Came back to work today lookin extra crispy, wearing white to accentuate the contrast, which made all the home-bodies in my office hate my guts.  Mission accomplished.

•Reading Things Fall Apart right now.  It was assigned in college but I Sparknote’d that biatch.  My friend Andrew gave me a spare copy and I thought I should actually read it, being it’s a classic and I haven’t read any other books set in Africa.  More to come on this.  No spoilers, please.

•I lost my phone in a  taxi after it fell out my pocket.  No one called or tried to return it.  I hate that.  Ive found phones before and went to crazy lengths to get it back to the owner.  Feels pretty crappy, cuz I know someone found it…  Ah well, I have insurance cuz I know I always lose or damage my phones; the list is pretty impressive.  I’ve dropped a phone down a sewer grate, in the toilet, in four feet of snow and couldnt find it, one fell on the street and got ran over by a truck…I could go on for a while.  That’s why I am the only person in the world who has no interest in an iPhone…I know Im gonna lose that shit in a week.  Not much of a gadget person anyway…long as I can make a phone call and it’s smaller than the one Zack Morris used to pull out of his ass in Saved By the Bell,  then I’m all good.

•SPORTS. Ok, plenty of quick thought, cuz each is deserving of it’s own post…  Brett Favre is a selfish bastard and the Packers are assholes for now declaring that he can compete for the starting QB job, after all this freaking talk about being committed to Aaron Rodgers.  They totally gave in to this drama queen.  They drafted Brian Brohm because Favre said for the 716th time that he was definitely hanging up his helmet.  He put the Packers in such a bad spot, and for that reason alone they shouldve had the stones to move on.  Federer is losing his #1 ranking, but is still the best player in the world.  I think he’s gonna bounce back in a big way, and people are nuts for prematurely predicting his demise.  Manny to the Dodgers is good for both teams. He is gonna play great there (a motivated Manny is the most dangerous hitter in the league), and the Red Sox dont deserve the negative backlash theyve gotten since the trade.  That team won 2 championships because of team chemistry, and Manny gave up on them and called out management on a daily basis.  Francona is the best skipper in the league and he needs respect from everyone in his clubhouse.  They gave up a lot, but in getting Jason Bay and ridding themselves of a clubhouse cancer, theyre a contender that will only get better.  Team USA basketball is looking great in their tuneups, and D-Wade is STRAIGHT UP NASTY.  Do not sleep on this man!!  He lost some luster in the eyes of many the last two years because of serious injuries, but somehow he looks more explosive than ever and has been their #1 highlight reel so far (and he’s a only sixth man).  I’m not afraid to say it: USA Basketball is gonna dominate the Olympics.  Write it down, bitches.  Ron Artest to the Rockets?  I’d be lying if I said I’m sure it’s gonna work, because Artest truly does deserve his rep as a headcase.  But the conditions are as good as they can be, as he’s playing for a coach who he actually respects, in a system he can benefit from, will be asked to contribute offensively and handle the ball at times, which will make him happy since he’s always clamoring about not being utilized offensively, and Shane Battier can come off the bench as a top sixth man who can play multiple positions.  The Rockets are my fav team after the Knicks, and, if by some strange turn of events the Knicks do not win a championship this year, I want the Rockets to go all the way.  T-Mac is too damn good to never get out of the first round. 

•McCain is a dirty bastard and his attack ads are ridiculous.  Trying to knock Obama as a leader by comparing calling him a celebrity in the likes of Paris Hilton and Britney Spears?  That shit is weak.

What a loser.  Later y’all.

George Carlin & Co: Open Up [your fuckin] Eyes

I was watching videos of George Carlin on youtube and man, that dude was a genius. RIP man. The great satirists just have a skill for cutting through the bullshit and explaining things to people in a way that not only makes sense, but is also funny as hell. And it’s not just about politics — it’s about all of the many forces and waves tugging at and crashing around us that try to move us, shape us, scare us so that they can then be the ones to comfort us, and turn us into sheep so that they can herd us into cages locked the second we let others think on our behalf.

But the greats like Carlin and Bill Maher and Jon Stewart clear the fog a bit. Not to say you should believe whatever it is that they say, but if you listen, youll notice that theyre not telling you what to believe, like your politicians, parents, teachers, and priests (rabbis/imams) do; theyre telling you to open up your eyes and start thinking for yourself.

Here are a few great clips i came across:

this one explains why I am a francophile:

More videos to come, but I have to leave the office before they make me do work.

ciao

5 Effective and (mostly) Safe Ways to VENT

Here are my favorite ways to safely vent when something really pisses me off or when Im just having an all around shitty day:

1- Curse.  Thats the beauty of curses — they are words that have a strong meaning, but theyre still just words.  Observe: “Hey dude, FUCK YOU!”  See?  I expressed my rage, but I dont really wanna fuck the dude in question. And I put so much effort into the expressive FUCK YOU pose that I actually let off some steam there.  Just dont curse out someone bigger than you…then it would cease being safe.

2- WORK OUT.  When I started working for a big financial firm my brother advised me:  “When you get stressed out, dont start using heroine, like most of your coworkers.  Just go to the gym and take all the stress and channel it into your workout.”  Seriously, Ive reached new limits at the gym by going when Im really pissed, and Im on the road to dieselness as a result.  Thanks for making me work last Saturday, douche bag boss.  Im gonna turn that into washboard abs, get really sexy, and screw your wife.

 “Yea, I’m gonna need you to go ahead and work this weekend, mmkaay? That’d be greAaat.”  This dude will have you cleaning out your ab lines with a Q-tip in no time.

3- Call your best friend and ramble in a really loud voice about everything thats stressing you out.  A good best friend will let you do 95% of the talking, interjecting only occasionally to express understanding or empathetic rage (e.g. “What, she really did that?? Youre right, she is a fucking whore!”).  Keep going until youre exhausted and youll find yourself able to conclude the call by saying, yea this fuckin sucks but, whatever dude, I guess shit happens.  And isnt that the goal of venting?  I think it is.

4- WRITE.  I was gonna include this as a variation of #3 because writing can be a form of rambling, but writing is different in a way because it takes longer and, most importantly, it’s tangible.  You can see what youve written, read it over, and edit it.  Editing it is really important because it can be a slow process, and reviewing your rambled writing really forces you to think conscientiously about what youre feeling.  Taking care to memorialize your thoughts can be incredibly therapeutic.  The final draft often coincides with a feeling of closure, and you can move on after that.   Blogs are a great option. Some prefer writing with their own blood on the doors of people that broke their hearts.  Either works fine.  (Crap I forgot that these are supposed to be safe ways…that’s really limiting.  Ok…use fake blood…or ketchup. But trust me, it’s not as effective.)

5- CHOKE A PUPPY.  Preferably a small one.  A poodle perhaps.  YES!…Im just imagining myself walking in the ritzy Upper East Side and jumping one of those filthy rich snooty ladies, pulling the pure bred groomed poodle out of her $2000 leather bag and choking it until its tail stops wagging.  Wow thats already cheering me up, and Im not even stressed out! This method IS safe (for you, not the puppy) as long as the poodle doesnt have sharp teeth and the lady doesnt have pepper-spray.

Ok FINE #5 is not a good way to vent, but I forgot what #5 was supposed to be and I cant remember for the life of me. 

Im open to suggestions.

Save the Bananas

Just shouting out this interesting NYT article about the rising cost of bananas and the threat they face in the form of a new virus affecting plantations across the world.  Bananas are my favorite fruit and the thought of losing them truly terrifies me.  Why is there not a Save the Bananas charity out there somewhere?  I get mail every day from associations asking me to donate to the Save the Humpback Whale fund and Gonorrhea Research fund (both worthy causes) but Save the Bananas should be right up there.

Chiquita Banana is one sexy fruit.

The article was also really interesting because it explains how the fruit was originally brought into the US and describes the immense power that the largest American fruit companies wielded over foreign nations reliant on income from banana exports.  It reminds us that we as consumers need to make informed decisions about what we buy and pressure our manufacturers to abide by certain standards of conduct.  This way the banana can come to be a symbol of international democracy…in addition to being delicious. 

Mexican Donkey Jailed 3 Days… For Acting Like an Ass

Ay Dios Mio.

If you’re gonna punish an animal like a human, shouldn’t the animal be given human rights?  I highly doubt the Donkey was Mirandized, or even given a phone call.  And good luck providing him with a jury of his peers…I’d love to voir dire that one.

Not only that, but I have evidence proving that the Donkey was drugged and incapacitated against his will prior to the alleged assault, and therefore cannot be held responsible for his actions:

PETA would have a field day with this. 

Thinking about renting out your apartment? Be warned!

People are weird.  Especially people you meet online. And if you’re planning on letting these weird people you meet online rent out your apartment, do yourself a favor and think about it real hard.

I’m planning on going away for a few days and figured I’d try to recoup some of the money I’m spending on my trip by following the lead of a few friends and renting out my apartment when I’m not there.  Basically, the idea is that if you’re going away for a while on vacation, and being you in a tourist hot-spot, there would probably be a bunch of people who’d be willing to rent out your place while they are in town.  Sure, my place might be considered a slight downgrade from the Mandarin Oriental, but it’s a nice apartment in a great location, and not staying in a five-star hotel means that the guest won’t pay five-star prices. I’m just looking for a normal dude who wants a cheap, comfy place to sleep and shower.  Not too much to ask for, right?

OK, the view from the Mandarin is pretty nice… but my fire escape/laundromat view is right up there.

Well, it didn’t quite work out that way for me. 

I put an ad on craigslist and only got one response (I posted it kinda late).  I spoke to the woman on the phone and she sounded really polite and sincere.  She was visiting from Florida and her parents were visiting from India, and they have family that lives in the area, but they didn’t want to stay with them (understandably).  We arranged for her parents, who were already in town, to come see the place that night. 

So they get there, and they seem normal enough.  Pretty quiet.  They bring their brother-in-law. He goes into the bathroom and stays there for five minutes.  I’m near the door.  No tinkling sounds.  This dude is totally snooping through my meds…or taking them (was actually hoping he’d take some deodorant, because the dude was stank).  The parents are walking around, not saying much but exchanging a few comments in Hindi.  We start shooting the breeze a bit, and they seem very friendly and interesting.  By now the brother-in-law is laying on my couch, perusing my coffee table books.  Things are going well with the parents, until:

Mother: Your apartment is very nice.

Me: Thank you.

Father: But, uh, can you move some things?

Me: Huh? Oh yea, sure, I’ll clear space on the dresser for you guys to put your things on, no problem.

Father: No, uh, other things. 

Me: What things?

Father: These things (pointing to picture frames littered throughout the room) and those things (pointing to the posters on my wall).

Me: What? You want me to take down my pictures and posters?

Father:  Uhh Yes. Yes.

Me:  Why?  You know this only for a few days, right?

Father: Yes.

Me:  So then…? (giving a wtf are you talking about look)

Father: Maybe someone will come who doesn’t like those posters and these other things.

Me: What? Why not? Who will come?  Are you planning on having guests?

(Father abruptly pulls out a phone and starts talking to someone in Hindi for 3 minutes, then turns back to me)

Father:  (Looking at wife, then me) OK, we will be frank.  Some people will come to see us here.  (pause) And they cannot see these things. (pause) We would not keep these things in our house. (pause..notices my intensifying glare) OK, because, we are going to tell them that we live here.  That this is our apartment.  So we cannot have these pictures. You see now…you know the truth!

Me: But, how would, why would, are you saying that..

Father: Yes YES exactly! You see now! I am a hindu priest, I cannot have these things! Hookah? No I don’t smoke a hookah, you have to hide this.  And these children [in the pictures], they know my daughter, these are not my children. You see now!?

Me: ………..

Mother: You don’t have to take down everything.

Father: No, no. Just this, that one, these things, yes just take them down, those things, yes see it can come down quickly (nearly ripping poster)..

Me: Don’t touch that poster!

Father: Ok you can do that later of course. Ok so here is some money where do I sign?

Me: Um yea I don’t know about this..

Father:  Oh yes dont worry here take the money we have to go now take the deposit call my daughter to arrange dont worry heresthemoneycalldaughter.

(Door closes behind them)

Ok.  WTF just happened?  Telling people they live here?  How many freaking people were they gonna have over? Why would they lie about that? What else are they lying about?  If there weren’t posters that wouldve busted there cover and would have been impossible to discreetly remove, would they have bothered to tell me this? I doubt it.  And I don’t like the idea of them moving all of my pictures, plaques, posters, arab-esque decor and anything else suggesting that this apartment is not usually inhabited by a conservative Hindu Indian couple in their 60s, which would be a whole lot of stuff.  I’m not trying to come home and re-decorate my apartment, or worse, see something missing and have to put a 60 year old Hindu priest in a head-lock.  Not to mention the fact that they seemed ready to have a Diwali party in my apartment (I thought that wouldn’t be a concern with 60+ year old guests)… and if I came home to see the tall, lanky brother-in-law sitting on the couch, wearing my underwear and watching a pay-per-view bollywood movie, I’d have to kick his ass, then just set my apartment on fire and find a new place to live. 

Actually coming home to this Diwali party would be pretty fun… 

Even if none of this actually happened, having these thoughts run through my head is not my idea of peace of mind, and that is something even more valuable than the small amount of money I wouldve gained for the short rental.  How much value it has to you is something you should strongly consider if you’re ever in the same boat.

Al Gore’s Advice to Hillary: Get Sexy, Quick

I thought about this after reading this interesting post about the perception of Hillary as a boring candidate based on her endorsements (in comparison to Obama’s Rock-Star laden list). Hmm…a democratic candidate who is too boring to win? Who does that remind me of?

None other than Al “I’m too sexy for the white house cuz I won an Oscar” Gore!!

This man went from soul-less robot designed to look like a living human being to spontaneous sex-God in the span of about 4 seconds.

Ok, perhaps I embellish slightly. But the man created a buzz and definitely turned up the sexiness in a campaign criticized for lacking in charisma. And how did he do this?

All it took was some good old-fashioned hanky-panky with his wife..on national TV.

Have you ever seen Tipper so titillated? Neither have I. In fact, Al probably hadnt, either. And for those of you who don’t remember the buzz it stirred, read this.

A little public tonsil-hockey goes a long way on the campiagn trail. So Hil, Al and I agree that before you’re out for the count, you should make your power-move while you still can… and while the camera’s are still watching.

Photo of the Day: Why Obama Won the College-Male Vote

Because at the end of the day, every bro has to look himself in the mirror.

Word.

For you Hillary fans out there, no worries… I’m sure there are some sorority girls somewhere printing up pink “Chicks before Dicks”  t-shirts as we speak.  These things have a way of evening out.

My Jury Duty Adventure

They got me.  After years of evasion, including several name and address changes, fake social security numbers, and 4 years of college just so that I could qualify for the student exemption, they found me. I shouldn’t have been so surprised.  No one can escape from…Jury Duty! (queue evil foreboding organ music]

I spent a few hours trying to think of ways to get declared exempt, which has become increasingly difficult in the NYC court system.  With my job and education, I couldn’t get the language exemption, and I’m not over 75 or whatever that age rule applies [there is no age limit for jury duty, but those over a certain age have the choice of declining].  I tried making a helmet out of foil and wearing my shoes and shirt the wrong way and taping a plastic parrot onto my shoulder, but in NYC, I realized that I would pass more for a hipster from the East Village than for my intended mentally-disabled exempt-ee.  Deflated, I just sucked it up and went to Queens County Criminal Court to start what would be a long day, finding some solace in my paid reprieve from work.

The first day was long and boring…200 people spending all day in a room waiting to be assigned to a case.  Once that happens, the pool of jurors for a specific case get sent to a court room to be questioned by the judge and the attorneys (in a criminal case, the attorneys would be a defense lawyer and an assistant district attorney).  There were so many jurors that my turn to be questioned didn’t come until 4pm the NEXT DAY (I came early the next day and waited..and waited…).  Finally, selection was over.  I was the last juror picked.

[quick sidebar:  during the first day of jury selection i was sitting behind an annoying woman who kept trying to make converation with everyone, except that she was rude and loud and no one wanted to talk to her.  Everytime the lady in charge would excuse people who claimed that their english wasnt good enough for jury duty, this lady would slap her knees and bitch about how “these immigrants are disgusting! they come here and dont wanna learn the language.  They spit on our great country and we have to clean up after them! Bla bla bla bla bla, I’m a whore, a lousy  wretched whore!” At least that’s how I remember it.  I shot spitballs into her hair all morning.]

Jury selection was brutal.  But then the case began.  And contrary to what both lawyers said to us during opening statements, the next few days actually did play out a lot like an episode of Law & Order. (I’m pitching a new idea to NBC…seeing since Law & Order has so many versions on TV already, I have begun writing a script for the latest volume –  Law & Order: Pissed Off Jurors.  Starring myself of course.  Open auditions next week for the role of sassy Court Officer.)

The case sounded boring at first – the defendant was indicted on the charge of bail jumping, a class E felony.  During trial, however, it was revealed that the defendant violated her bail not just for missing one court date, but by trying to jump ship so as to never show up at all; the defendant was brought into custody 8 months after the bench warrant for her arrest was issued.  And while the exact nature of her original charges were not specified (due to the hard-fought wins of the defense during pre-trial motions to suppress that information for fear of prejudicing the jurors), it was revealed during witness testimony that there were no less than 8 counts brought against her, a number of them felonies. 

The drama reached a climax when the ADA was conducting her direct examination of the former attorney of the defendant.  That was a risky call because her own witness, as a former representative of the defendant, had motive to be hostile and withhold information on the grounds of attorney-client privilege.  And hostile she was, though she proved no match for the ADA in the battle to see who could get the most flustered.  The ADA got so hot n bothered by the countless sustained objections and the obviously fabricated ignorance of the witness that she looked as if she might, at any second, charge the box and ninja kick her in the face (I was hoping she would; I noticed that the court officer had a taser handy).  Instead, she resorted to yelling over the calls from the judge to cease her improper line of questioning, and after being reprimanded by the judge for her lack of self-control, she unleashed the soliloquy of all soliloquies, explaining to the judge that we were all here to find the truth but no one could handle it, and how this was supposed to be about justice but she’s not being allowed to ask the questions she needs to ask…basically blaming the court for everything short of ozone depletion just because she couldn’t figure out how to properly phrase her questions.  She even turned around and started yelling at the trial spectators, and asked the judge to throw them out because of their constant snickering (they were laughing at her).  I felt really embarrassed for her, but I couldn’t help but feel excited by all the drama. As a fellow juror put it, “They put hot sauce on it today, boy!”

This is just about how it happened, more or less…

Yes.  Jury duty was spicy.

I won’t dwell on the deliberation, but that part was exciting too and I took an active role in explaining to the other jurors the deductive approach we had to take in order to reach a fair verdict, as well as my personal opinions on the case.  In other words, I used a stern tone and menacing glare (framed by my dark evil arab eyebrows) to render them my mental slaves and subsequently instructed them to find this chick GUILTY.  It worked in swaying all but one of the holdouts who kept insisting that the judge had something against the defendant, forcing us to take another whole day to deliberate, locked up in that dreadful musty back room. I was pissed, but she would not relent, and we went back and forth.

She eventually had a change of heart.  (I had a taser, too.)

The verdict? Jury duty is cool!  I give it a rare “whatchu talkin ’bout Hasselhoff?”  thumbs up. 

Holla at Obama

Just a quick reminder to Indianians and North Carolinians to STEP UP today and help Barack Obama get jiggy wit it for the next 4 years.  He has promised to unleash this baller-ific victory dance if he wins.  As if you needed any more reasons to support this man. Crank Dat Obama!  

I’ll take this over a Hillary hokey-pokey any day of the week.

John McCain: 5 Things You Need to Know

Prepare to be shocked.

I just received a startling news revelation that there is a person running for president not named Obama or Clinton!

YES, John McCain is not a myth.  He is real.  And with all the crazy infighting between the Dems going on — I’d be surprised if this thing gets settled in a way that does not involve mudwrestling or a contest to see who can tell the best yo-mama joke — this McCain character actually stands a chance in a general election.  Which means that we need some dirt on this dude to find out what he’s all about.

And what better source than the amazing Jon Stewart?  With his assistance I will begin my McCain bashing, as it is never too early to sully the reputation of a future adversary. Stewart’s McCain highlights on a recent episode of the Daily Show  include the following juicy tidbits, along with my own ruminations:

◊ McCain does NOT wear an American Flag lapel pin! What gives? Nazi bastard.

◊ McCain cares deeply about civil rights and plans on being a pillar of the black community.  This is evidenced by the fact that he recently went to Selma, Alabama, home of the landmark civil rights march, for a speaking engagement about civil rights….in front of a crowd composed almost exclusively of white middle class citizens.  He was also later seen standing next to a black woman singing in a church, with an awkward smile and an alarmingly sweaty brow.  This man obviously loves black people.  He also has firmly stated that slavery was probably a bad thing and that he has seen the entire Roots mini-series, twice.  Now that is impressive. 

Personally, I’m not buying it.  You wanna see how he really feels?  Let’s see what happens when his daughter Meghan comes home one day with a big black dude she met at a G-Unit concert.  My guess is that Papa McCain’s 71 year old heart skips more than a few beats.

◊ 71. Jesus. There is a minimum age for presidential candidates, so why cant there be a maximum? This dude was born in the 30’s.  I’m afraid he might randomly enforce a food ration in anticipation of the next Great Depression (which, judging by the current value of the dollar, we might already be in).

◊ McCain has a Reverend even crazier than Obama’s!  That is quite an accomplishment.   Actually, Rev. John Hagee is not McCain’s Pastor but is a prominent one who’s support was sought after by the McCain Campaign.  Hagee has been quoted as calling American Muslims disloyal, and thinks Hurricane Katrina was God’s punishment against New Orleans for being the Sin City of the south.  The difference here is that McCain totally stands by the endorsement from this jerk. How can he do this, but then also go on record as saying that Katrina was a terrible disaster that deserved much more attention and government assistance than it received? How can he be proud of this endorsement?

◊ John McCain looks like and may actually be a leprechaun.  It’s true.

What if he’s not a nice leprechaun that helps you find gold and marshmellowy cereal but an evil leprechaun like from the movie Leprechaun with Jennifer Aniston!  This possibility can’t be ignored.

Lucky Charms my ass. You’re going down, McCain.

Pennsylvania Primary Pep-Talk

OK, Pennsylvania, your time has come.  Make your country proud.  O-fucking-Bama for president.  Yes We Can.

Yea, sorry, that’s all Ive got.  Discussing the election and the merits of the candidates is draining at this point, not to mention pointless. I think most people have made up their minds, if not about who the best possible candidate is, at least about who they are going to vote for.  So I won’t get all worked up in a Billary bashing tirade; I’ve already done that.  I’ve moved on.

Instead, I’ll provide you with links to websites that do it for me! It’s so much easier that way.

Since their is still a chance Hillary can win this damn thing, and the possibility that Pennsylvania might be the next Ohio (which means i might owe the state a giant roundhouse kick when this is all over), we have to be open to the possibility that she might actually be our next president.  That being said, the best thing about a bad president is that they often are great to make fun of.  Hillary is no exception, and in fact I think she’d be a gold mine for people like me who enjoy sarcastic and sometimes (often) immature satire. 

See, I’m giving Hillary credit for something.  Who says I can’t be objective?

Ok, I take that back. She sucks. Enjoy the Billary bashing!

http://hilldabeast.com/

http://politicalhumor.about.com/od/hillaryclinton/Hillary_Clinton_Jokes.htm

 

What’s for lunch? My Daily Conundrum

Working (“working”) in an office, you learn how to accustom yourself to what was once an unbearable boredom by gradually dulling your senses…playing solitaire or online poker or sudoku for hours on end, or in my case, reading every sports article on every sports website 5 times, then quickly browsing through a newspaper so I can pretend to be informed just enough to save face when someone corners me and wants to shoot the breeze about the latest election news, plummeting interest rates, or the current trajectory of the olympic torch.  After a while, your brain goes numb, keeping only a few brain cells active so you can pull up a spreadsheet whenever a stealthy passerby enters the range of your peripheral vision.  If done correctly, you can enter into a sufi-like trance until the little hand hits “5” and real life resumes outside of your cubicle-shaped confines.

However, there is one other instance during the workday in which I find the need to shake my mental mouse and take my brain off stand-by: lunchtime.  When the dude behind me heats up the homemade food his wife makes and packs for him every day (lucky bastard), the amazing aroma floats over to my desk and bitch slaps me back to reality.  At that time, there is only one thing on my mind – what the hell am I gonna eat for lunch today??  There are tons of options in Manhattan within walking distance, which is a bad thing for someone as indecisive as me.  There are a host of variables that must be considered and re-evaluated daily before a decision can be made:

◊ proximity to my office…how far do I feel like walking? Am I gonna have a walking buddy today?

◊ weather – if it’s raining, should I order in, or just get some soup from the dude with the cart downstairs? If it’s a nice day, do i wanna go to a place where I can sit outside?

◊ what did I get yesterday, or the day before? I dont wanna eat the same thing again so soon. 

◊ how expensive is this place I’m interested in? what excuse can I think of to warrant a guilt-free splurge?

◊ Do I feel like being healthy today, or did I run enough yesterday to deserve a delicious greasy cheeseburger and sweet potato fries?

◊ what?! I can only get two side dips with my quesadilla?  I need salsa, guacamole, AND sour cream… the three of them together make the colors of the Mexican flag! Ok fine, guac and sour cream.  I think I have some hot sauce packets in my desk anyway.

◊ Chicken or beef…chicken or beef…chicken or beef, or shrimp..no, shrimp is $2 extra…chicken or beef..chicken or beef..

◊ Does that place have a good lunch special?  Do I get a free soup or something? I don’t feel like a valued customer unless I get my free side thing.

◊ How crowded does this place get?  Do I feel like going to the burrito place and waiting for 20 minutes?  Are the free (stale) chips and (watery) salsa they serve while you wait good enough to warrant that? (YES)

◊ How big are the portions there?  Will it fill me up? Or better yet, will I have some extra to save for dinner? Two meals in one…SCORE!

There are countless other variables and permutations.  For example, if my boss is out today then I might decide that a 2 hour lunch is completely acceptable and in fact would serve only to increase my morale and, by extension, my productivity.  I also meet up friends for lunch sometimes and may want to go somewhere nicer and where I’m sure there will be seats without a long wait.  If I’m sick I may narrow my choices down to warm, easily digestible things like soup and decide amongst that subset.  And this doesn’t even take into consideration the days that we order in on the office tab, or when some people who had a lunch meeting ordered way too much food, and then we get an email from an astute assistant urging us to make a mad-dash to the kitchen and get the getting while it’s good.

With all these choices, my brain is forced into a rare flurry of activity before 5pm.  It is a quagmire that I find myself enveloped in every day at the office. And though I dread the decision making process, I’m not a picky eater and usually enjoy whatever I end up with.  And then, after I eat, always too quickly and with minimal chewing, I slowly fall back into my sufi-like trance, this time aided by an ascending digestive coma, ready to roam the labyrinthine annals of the world wide web once again .

Movie Review — My Blueberry Nights

The world-renowned director Wong Kar Wai’s big English film debut!

Who cares.  He sucks.  So does this movie.  And the rest of his movies.

In all fairness, I’ve only seen one other movie of his, Happy Together. Which means that I have no comeback when all my artsy frenchie friends tell me that I can’t judge his work until Ive seen one of his most beloved films, In the Mood for Love.  But I do know this: other than the fact that most of his movies are named after cheesy love songs, they are also focused on portraying poignant images of internal strife as a product of love and heartbreak. 

Blueberry Nights in no exception.  Dialogue is kept to a minimum in a film full of Wong’s characteristic awkward silences…fleeting moments when the script is suspended so as to force the audience to look beneath the words left floating in the air; to empathize rather than analyze.  These moments often coincide with striking imagery, ample in this in this film only when the camera focuses on the physically gifted Norah Jones, Jude Law and Natalie Portman.

Although the cast delivers solid performances, the script and direction leave a bland taste that belies the film’s title. The story is too sappy…a confused and heartbroken Jones visits a diner every night after it is closed to share a piece of blueberry pie with the handsome manager who faithfully awaits her…both of them lonely…like the lonely blueberry pie that is so good and sweet yet is always left untouched each day..the warm blueberry pie with ice cream melting over it..mmm have some pie baby…and then close your eyes to think about how good it is..and then fall asleep next to the nice warm blueberry pie, with a milk mustache and your nice warm lips slightly puckered so I can kiss them while you sleep.  OK I just got myself a little titillated..my description is better than the movie though, I swear!

 Thanks to Jude Law, this pie is not American…thank God.

Norah Jones isn’t bad in her acting debut, but the film doesn’t really give her much of a chance to shine OR to screw up.  Instead of demanding a lot from its actors, it relies too heavily on the imagery of Wong, which isn’t up to par in this one.  The constant interludes featuring images of oozing pie and (QUEENS BOUND) trains passing by to the backdrop of a full moon and a solitary saxophone…it’s a thick sauce with no taste.  It’s not one of those really bad movies where youre walking out complaining about why you paid $11 to see it, but it’s nothing special and barely even worth a rental. 

But that pie did look damn good. Mmm.

Rating:  2 out of 5 milk mustaches

Isiah Thomas Replaced, and Now My Dog Won’t Die

After 5+ years of doing everything in his power to DESTROY BASKETBALL IN NEW YORK, Isiah Thomas’ reign of darkness as general manager of the Knicks is finally over. Holy crap that feels good to say.  The Knicks are and always will be my favorite sports team, and I have stuck with them through thick and thin, but this season in particular has been the greatest test of loyalty I have ever faced in my 14 years as a Knicks fan.  Not only are the Knicks on their way to the first 60-loss season in the history in their storied history, but the amount of  embarrassments suffered by members of the organization on and off the court this year has greatly contributed to an atmosphere in Knicks-Universe that can be described only as PUTRID.  Putrid as in a dead dog carcass infested with colonies of maggots that you walk by on the side of the road but smelled the block before, and upon passing realized it was your dog.  Now imagine that instead of the carcass being on the side of the road so that you can simply hold your breath and walk by it, the carcass is in the middle of a 5×5 concrete cell that you are locked into, seemingly with no hope of escape.  Now imagine that a crazy inmate breaks free from his cell and pulls the latch that opens all the cells in the prison complex that your cell is in.  Your gate opens, and you thrust yourself towards the exit in one great leap..but then you stop short behind the the steel gate and latch onto the bars, unconsciously clinching them with all of your might, your body trembling as you try to come to terms with the decision your heart has already made for you…that you love that God-forsaken dog and you would never leave it, even though you could, even though the other selfish opportunistic inmates encourage you to do so and chide you as a fool for not running away and being a Nets fan while you had the chance.  Then they all run away, leaving you to wallow in your misery, knowing that, open gates or not, you never seriously thought about trying to escape…but then suddenly you close your eyes and push back the tears that have welled up by remembering that you never really wanted to, because you LOVE that freaking dog. You love it, Goddamit, and you don’t care who knows it, and it may stink all to be damned and make your skin crawl at the very sight of it, but you still can’t imagine yourself going anywhere without it.

Well, the Knicks were that dog, and I, along with the 12 other true DIE–HARD Knicks fans remaining in the world, was that inmate.  The other inmates encouraging you to leave were the parasitic band-wagon-jumping fake Knicks fans who double as your friends in between games. Isiah Thomas was the flesh eating virus that was tearing the dog apart. Jim Dolan, the idiot owner of the Knicks, was the evil corrupted psycho veterinarian that injected the virus into the dog, and gave the virus a CONTRACT EXTENSION last year so that it could do even more damage. 

I don’t want to jump to any conclusions about Donnie Walsh, Thomas’ replacement, by hailing him as some kind of messiah who can resurrect the Knicks from the dead… I dunno, maybe he’ll be like the blonde cheerleader from Heroes who has the ability to heal herself, and Donnie could give the Knicks some of his super-healing blood and help resuscitate the franchise (I think that’s a more fair comparison..the cheerleader is pretty, but I still think Jesus is more impressive – raising the dead ain’t as easy as it sounds).

Here is a very quick completely unresearched regurgitation of why Isiah Thomas was the most horrible GM in the history not just of GMs but rather in the history of all living organisms:

-the Jared Jeffries contract

-the Malik Rose trade

-the Tim Thomas trade (KVH had less years left..i think)

-being the only GM in the NBA dumb enough to trade for Jalen Rose, giving up a huge expiring contract in the process, only to promptly WAIVE HIM and eat almost the entire contract when it itself was about to expire and provide a huge trading chip (!!!!!)

-acquiring Marbury and Hardaway only cuz Thomas saw himself in Marbury…then trading the HUGE expiring contract of Penny Hardaway for STEVE FRANCIS’ HUGE contract…then later trading Steve Francis’ HUGE EXPIRING contract for Zach Randolph’s HUGE long-term contract (!!!!)

-giving up great draft pics for Eddy Curry, who Isiah doesn’t even give minutes to anymore

-Hiring Larry Brown and giving him the richest coaching contract in the NBA. He was terrible fit for the Knicks and for Thomas, as Brown has a short fuse and needed to have total roster control, which Thomas would never be willing to relinquish, and subsequently firing Brown for a bullshit contract violation and but paying him most of the money anyway, as ruled by an arbitrator.

-The Anucha Brown Sanders sexual harassment trial (“all I did was put my arms around her and ask her for a kiss, and then she pushed me away and I said, what ‘Nuche, no love?”  What a jerk.)

-the planned attack on Carmelo Anthony that resulted in a brawl and several lengthy suspensions.  It was symbolic of Thomas’ dirty style of play as a former player the lack of integrity he exhibits as a person, and set a horrible example for a team loaded with rookies who worshipped him.

-the JEROME JAMES signing. (I just threw up a little)

 Stop staring at me, you slow, chunky bastard.

 The crazy thing is I probably forgot at least 10 other huge bonehead moves.  Donnie Walsh will exhibit the fiscal responsibility Thomas had absolutely no regard for and implement a long-term, team-oriented philosophy rather than go after the biggest name on the market every season.  And unless Jim Dolan gets in the way, Walsh will also relieve Thomas of his responsibilities as coach of the Knicks, and then file a restraining order stating that Isiah Thomas must remain at a distance from the Knicks that is no closer to New York than the great sovereign nation of Tibet, in the hopes that Thomas will not know that Tibet is not a sovereign nation and will thus wander in search of it even farther east and into China, where he will ask a Chinese politician for directions to the great sovereign nation of Tibet and subsequently be arrested and subjected to Chinese Water Torture (this video is funny because I think having to hang out with those girls is actually worse than real Chinese Water Torture), and since the media in China is censored it will never make it onto Google and the world will forget about Thomas and years he tried to destroy the Knicks.

I think I just saw my dog open his eyes.  

I am proud to say that I stayed behind to be there when it did.

Let’s go Knicks!

Bracketology Bullsh*t and the REAL March Madness

Freak College BBall and filling out brackets you stole from your favorite sportswriter (with a few tweaks of your own based on teams whose jersey colors you like the most).  College sports aren’t intimate enough.  Weird schools Ive never heard of with names like Texas Christian Southern Baptist Marxist or Western South Dakota or George Winthrop Davidson Billy Bob Bubba Mason or Sacred Heart of our Father and Mother and Baby Mama and cousin RayRay or American Eagles  (I think their mascot’s name is Abercrombie) are far too meddlesome and keep me from caring about sports at that level.  College sports were created so that students at schools with campuses way out in the boondocks can have something to channel their energy into other than weed, cocaine, fornication, drunk driving, frat hazing, cow tipping, and quad streaking – basically, to prevent Old School from being the school’s official recruitment video.  Follow it if you have nothing better to do, but know this: it does not compare to the NBA playoff chase. 

The Western conference playoff chase is one of the closest ever, where only a handful of games separate the top seed from the bottom seed, where every game has huge playoff implications – we’re not talking about positioning here, we’re talking about a team finishing more than 10 games above .500 and not even in the damn thing.  That’s not even mentioning the fact that so many of the huge powerhouse matchups this month have featured top teams that were part of recent blockbuster trades, either by sending out key pieces for aging superstars and praying to God that they won’t end up in the geriatric ward before the end of the season (Mavs, Suns), or by extorting a rival GM with a naked picture of his wife in the backseat of Stephon Marbury’s jeep in order to get him to send over his team’s best player in exchange for garbage (Lakers – that is the only viable explanation for the Pau Gasol trade).  That adds a huge dimension of drama to these already meaningful games, as all of these trades were made for one reason – to turn already good teams into title contenders.  Out east you have Boston (which did its superstar shopping in the offseason) and Detroit making legitimate claims to be the best team in the league, Philly refusing to rebuild and making noise with a cast of spare parts (but winning against some quality teams on the way), Orlando widening the gap up top on the watermelon-lookin shoulders of Dwight the beast Howard, and of course BronBron putting up intergalactic numbers to keep his team in the pack.  Throw in the Houston Rockets and their amazing and recently ended (more like murdered) 22-game win streak (second all-time in league history); AI going back to the franchise he [re]BUILT in Philly to battle the feisty Sixers and the other AI; Glen Taylor, owner of the worst team of the league, calling out KG now that he left to play for the best team in the league; and the Kobe/LeBron/Chris Paul/T-Mac/Jamal Crawford MVP race (Crawford plays 53 minutes a game for the Knicks, and there are only 48 minutes in the game. that’s value.), and NCAA sports just can’t match this type of drama…this type of MADNESS.