Misanthropology

"And now we meet in an abandoned studio.
We hear the playback and it seems so long ago.
And you remember the jingles used to go. "

Oh-o-oh! 25 years. Now, three years my senior, I wonder whether MTV experiences the same existential brain-teasers that I often wrestle with when I'm alone, only inundated by pop culture and my thoughts. As my night ended with uncontrollably visible excitement for a 36 year-old Andre Agassi pulling out a win in a match few thought he could handle, I returned to the idea that had been simmering for the past few hours: Am I getting old, or is society getting that bad?

This seems to be a constant struggle in my mind. As I spent the morning listening to #200-175 of Pitchfork's Top 200 Songs of the 1960s, I could only imagine the reaction of the stereotypical middle-aged "hipster," the "cool guy" who stays up on what the kids are listening to today. It seems that as we get older we try to prove our validity, both to the younger generation and to ourselves, by showing that we can relate to what is going on in today's world. At the same time, my age group, the 22 year-old trying to prove himself in the real world while refusing to "sell out," tries to prove its maturity and its willingness to look deeper than the immediate field of view by dusting off the relics of the past, analyzing them, discussing their worth and their relevance, comparing them to the hits of today. I look at Pitchfork's list and try to imagine what will be said 40 years from now about my generation, what will be chosen as the Top 200 Songs of the "Naughties" as the Brits like to say, the 00s. As much as I tie myself to the 90s, musically and culturally, I can't deny that this decade and the next are the ones that will be defined by my generation. By 2019 I will be 35, past my cultural prime, perhaps listening to the Radiohead of the next generation in an effort to prove I'm still "with it." So as I contemplate all of this I am haunted by the words, not of Shakespeare, nor Plato, nor Bob Dylan, all icons in their own rights, but by Jennifer Lopez. Yes, J-Lo, Jenny From The Block, the Puerto Rican princess who took a gig on In Living Color and a round posterior and turned them into marketing gold. You see, tonight I was sucked into the MTV Video Music Awards and, as my history with award shows has been well documented, I had no choice but to watch, painstakingly turning another excuse for the corporate world to pat itself on the back into a comment on the direction of the world. I've reached the point that I can take MTV, and for the most part the VMAs, with a grain of salt. But as she announced the award for Best Video, an award that still carries some prestige, J-Lo mentioned that in the past the award had indicated a trend in the musical generation. She referenced Peter Gabriel's groundbreaking (at the time) video for "Sledgehammer," and Pearl Jam's win for "Jeremy" ushering in (albeit 2 years after the fact) a more mainstream venue for alternative music. It seems to me that popular music is at a turning point. The past 6 winners of the Video of the Year were all popular for their work in the 90s. They are all entering the elder statesman portion of their careers. Of the 5 videos nominated this year, Christina Aguilera, Shakira, and Panic! At The Disco represent a newer breed, younger blood, and frankly I find it depressing. This is not a step forward. It's not art dictating culture, it's culture dictating art. The fact that Panic! At The Disco won the award (after giving a performance that was worthy of the mute button) is fairly irrelevant. The fact that, out of all the bands in the list, I was rooting for the Red Hot Chili Peppers to win is not.

The truth is, in 1981 MTV created a format that challenged the thought of the time. When The Buggles first came on and the synths of "Video Killed the Radio Star" were first heard, it was a statement that music was no longer simply an auditory medium. More importantly, it was a statement. When I look at the list of early Video of the Year winners, I see names like The Cars, Don Henley, Dire Straits, R.E.M., Neil Young; names that will more than likely grace the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame if they don't already. In 1989, when Neil Young won his award, the top albums at the time were by Richard Marx and New Kids on the Block. This year, as MTV turned voting over to the fans, it was acquiescing, ceding control of its last thread of artistic influence to the forces of consumerism and commercialization. In 1993, Neil Young, by this point very much the elder statesman, collaborated with Pearl Jam, at this point the biggest rock band in the world, on an amazing version of "Rockin' In The Free World." This year Lou Reed appeared embarrassed to be presenting an award for Best Rock Band to AFI. The respect is gone. MTV has gone well past the age at which self-reflection and youthful rebellion fight the desire to make a buck. It appears I have not, though perhaps I'm too old to even realize it. Either way, for mainstream music to maintain its dignity, and for my generation to make its mark, it appears we need to find the cultural kryptonite that will kill the video star.
Perhaps The Buggles are still available.

Wait, This Thing Is Still Here?

"Did you forget about me, Mister Duplicity?/I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner/It was a slap in the face, how quickly I was replaced/And are you thinking of me when you fuck her?"

Alright, I know, I know, not only has it been two months since I updated this blog, I'm explaining my absence through the use of a quote from Alanis Morisette. The only thing I can say is that if you want to punish me physically, you run the risk that I may very well enjoy it. Truthfully though, the situation is this: I have very limited procrastination time with which to write, and lately that time has been going to the other blog. Yes, I'm having an affair. All of my musical musings have been going toward a collaborative blog started by friends from home called New Slang, which is designed for some good creative debate about all things pop culture related. If you want to read it, which you should, just go ahead and click here. But anyway, now that I can't deal with any more physics poblems for tonight, I'll get back to business.

First off, let me start with a mildly offensive mini-rant. Again, this deals with the issue of walking in the city. I'm beginning to think that I should offer a class on this subject. Recently there has been a significant amount of snow in the city, and while it has all pretty much melted, there is at least another month during which more could accumulate, so I will make this a preventative message. I just don't understand the obliviousness of people walking on the sidewalk. After the last of several snowstorms hit a couple of weekends ago, we had something like 14 inches of snow, which, when piled up after shoveling and plowing, turned into a few feet of continuous side-of-the-road obstruction. This of course shrunk the width of the average sidewalk in half. Yet people manage to do things like walk in the absolute middle of what sidewalk remains, leaving it impossible for the late college student to pass them on either side. Even worse, a larger number of people seem to think that the best idea in this situation is to walk in a tandem of three or four people, blocking the entire way. It's common sense here. If you're covering the entire walkway, people traveling in the opposite direction will not be able to get be. It's not just annoying, it's inconsiderate. The sidewalk needs to be thought of as a two-way street, perhaps even as a three-lane street. If you're going to walk slowly that's fine, but keep to the far side like you would on a highway, and leave the middle lane open to those of us who have someplace to be. If I were ever elected mayor of New York, and at this point in time, I think I could pretty handily take care of Mike Bloomberg, my first act would be to paint lane lines on every heavily traveled sidewalk in Manhattan. Then, if people were traveling incorrectly in a lane, those stuck behind them would have the right to push them out of the way. At some point I'll reach the level of frustration where I'll be doing this anyway, so I might as well have some sort of guideline to back me up.

And speaking of walking, I don't mean to be stereotypical or racist here (no, really, I don't) but why is it that whenever I'm stuck behind someone moving ridiculously slow and managing to take up the entire sidewalk it always ends up being an Asian girl? Is this genetic? Or is it that the Asian girls are so consumed with fitting into the Asian sterotypes at NYU that they forget that there are other people on the street who wish to walk? Regardless, this is another issue that would be solved by my traffic lane plan.

Getting onto other things, let us celebrate the ascension of my favorite former presidential candidate Howard Dean to the chairmanship of the Democratic National Committee. This has caused a lot of controversy among Democrats in recent weeks. Much like the primary campaign a year ago, there was a resurgence of anti-Dean workings in the Democratic leadership. Of the half dozen or so candidates, it was essentially a 3-way race between Dean, former Texas representative Martin Frost, and Donnie Fowler Jr. Many think that the attention paid to Fowler was in actuality shown out of respect dor his father, Donnie Fowler who was himself former chair of the party. Martin Frost was clearly the candidate of the anti-Dean faction, possibly including the Clintons, for what was expected to be a status quo approach to party leadership. Frankly I find this surprising. I suppose it comes down to an approach of personal gains for the short term versus party gains for the long term. Any Democrat that would accept the continuation of the current approach to party leadership certainly must not care for what happens beyond his or her time in office. It's pretty obvious that if the Democrats don't take some form of reformative action soon, the party will be in the dark for quite some time. The 52% to 48% in the presidential election shows a closely divided nation, but the representation in the House is 232-202-1 and in the Senate it is 55-44-1 (what is up with Vermont and their independents?). We are certainly living in a time of GOP dominance. If the Democrats have any thought of changing this, they need someone more progressive at the helm, someone willing to take back government at the local level with a grassroots approach. Sure everyone makes fun of Dean for "the scream" speech, and for being portrayed as somewhat of a loose cannon, but you can't ignore the fact that he organized an entire network of local meetups and political discussion among people who largely represented first-time voters and those formerly disenfranchised with the political process. I still believe that it is no coincidence that Ralph Nader entered the presidential race the day after Dean dropped out. It is this sort of connection on a local level that will bring about a resurgence in the Democrats. As Republicans increasingly become the party of big government that they so hypocritically criticize the Democrats for being, people will look to a true alternative, which the Democrats currently are not. It is in the nature of the American people to be distrustful of big government, and the Democratic party needs to utilize this and form a true separation between their Grand Ol' rivals. The only DNC candidate who could realistically do this is Dean. As I said, Frost was only endorsed by those who were fearful of change. Donnie Fowler could very well be the future of the party, but at the age of 37, it is doubtful that he would have been taken seriously as party chairman. So, now, all hail Chairman Dean, and let us pray that he will embark on a wiser path for the party of progress.

And last, but certainly not least...actually maybe least, it's certainly the least in value of importance, let's talk a bit about the 47th Annual Grammy Awards. Like returning to a mentally abusive ex-girlfriend who does nothing but bring you down, I tell myself that I don't care about the Grammys, that I'm not going to waste my time watching them, yet somehow I always end up back at their cold-hearted feet in fear that I will be left out. Is it any coincidence that they are held so close to Valentine's Day? So this year, I tuned in and out as the first hour of the awards ran opposite The Simpsons (a sinking ship to which I still cling) and Arrested Development (the best show currently on telelvision). Unfortunately (ha) I missed the explosive opening performance by Black Eyed Peas, Maroon 5, Gwen Stefani, Eve, Los Lonely Boys, and Franz Ferdinand that reportedly spanned 4 stages. I almost would like to have seen that because I've never been to the circus and therefore haven't had the opportunity to see a freak show up close. Why is it that event coordinators have banked on this as the gold standard in entertainment. Musicians write songs for a reason- they represent something close to their heart and soul, and this becomes evident when a good song is performed by a good musician. Having shortened versions of 5 or 6 different songs being sung by a myriad of groups cheapens any meaning they may have once had. I'm not saying it's bad when a band covers another band's song (for more on this see my side of this week's mix tape on New Slang) but it becomes so obvious that event promoters are just trying to jam more and more into the same amount of time. It's like trying to melt every color in a box of Crayolas into one crayon. At some point you're gonna want to color the sky blue, but since only 1/64th of the crayon is blue you end up with the skyline of Los Angeles after a particularly nasty wildfire makes its way into a chemical plant. It looks like crap. The best example I can offer is the Super Bowl halftime show. A few years ago they had Aerosmith, N'SYNC, Britney Spears, and Nelly all for the halftime show. What resulted was one of the worst moments of noise in aural history. Aerosmith and N'SYNC each played a few half songs before busting into the worst version of "Walk This Way" I've ever heard. "Walk This Way" is a good song, but the part of Run DMC should not be played by Nelly, and it certainly should never involve the nasally moan that Britney Spears passes off as singing. It was at this point that I lost any remaining respect I had for Steven Tyler. The next year (I think), the year of the Patriots first Super Bowl title, the halftime show was entirely done by U2 and was incredible. I was actually happy to sit there and watch it. That should be a lesson. Sometimes less truly is more.

Anyway, getting back to the awards themselves, I'll admit that I couldn't watch the whole thing, so my reporting may not be entirely factually accurate. But I'll attempt to go over the more important statuettes handed out, though obviously not all of them since, as L.L. Cool J so wonderfully noted, you can get a Grammy for going to your mailbox. Evidence of this comes on the form of the "Best Recording Package" awarded to the designers of Wilco's A Ghost Is Born, not to be confused with "Best Boxed or Special Limited Edition Package" which was awarded to the art director for the Talking Heads box set, Once In A Lifetime. Did I get my point across?
In my away message tonight, I came up with some rules for the Grammys, which I feel I should expand upon slightly.
Rule #1: In this decade, if U2 is nominated for an award, they will win it.
Anyone who knows me at all knows that I love U2, but this really wasn't their year as far as the Grammys go. Next year, after the singles off of HTDAAB have kicked into the musical consciousness of the world, I would love to see them take home another slew of awards. But the only song elgible for an award this year was "Vertigo," which, though it has grown on me quite a bit, is certainly not even one of their better songs. U2 won for "Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group With Vocal" and "Best Rock Song" (which seem to me to be the same category, not to beat a dead horse or anything) in fields that included bands such as Green Day, Franz Ferdinand, and The Killers. If you want to tell me that "Vertigo" is a better song than "Take Me Out" I assure you you will lose that argument out of the sheer power of my will. I like the fact that the panel of voters likes to show respect for one of the greatest bands of all time, but there's a difference between respect and ass-kissing and this crosses it. Even Bono was shocked that they won tonight. Speaking of ass-kissing, that brings me to...

Rule #2: Too many awards will go to an artist that recently experienced a resurgence in popularity due to death or other misfortune.
I realize that this is at least the third time I've used the word resurgence in this post. I don't really know why. I'm sure Freud would be happy to offer an explanation, but unfortunately he's dead. Anyway, this year that qualification went to Ray Charles. Now I've never been a huge fan of Ray Charles, mainly out of indifference, but I've always understood that he was to be respected for all that he's done in gospel and blues music. I don't believe however that that translates into winning the two awards that actually hold some significance. I'm sure that Genius Loves Company was the greatest record of all time, I just didn't listen to it, but I assure you that if it came out 5 years ago, whatever awards it won wouldn't have been given so much as air time.

Rule #3: A musical tribute involving all of the Grammy-friendly heros of the past 5 years will invariably not equal the sum of its parts.
This goes back to what I said in the beginning of the Grammy section. Things take on much more meaning when they are done individually, or perhaps with someone else who an artist is truly close to, such as Pearl Jam's collaborations with Neil Young or The Who. But tonight's song to benefit the victims of the tsunami was just sad. It reminded me of the tribute to Joe Strummer shortly after he died. I don't even remember which show it was for, but it involved Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello, Dave Grohl, and perhaps someone else who I can't think of at the moment, singing "London Calling" as if it were a Springsteen song. The performance of The Beatles' "Across The Universe" had potential as Bono started it off, but with such a large number of stars who spanned such a large range of styles (Stevie Wonder, Norah Jones, Brian Wilson, Allison Krauss, Alicia Keys, Scott Weiland, Steven Tyler just to name those that I can remember) and the "backup" of Velvet Revolver, it was a cacaphony of fighting for singing time. I was actually surprised to find that one of the better efforts came from Weiland who sang with the clearest sound I've ever heard come from the depth of his vocal chords. Until Stevie Wonder pulled it together at the end, I thought that perhaps this would go down as one of the worst performances ever recorded to film. If you want a good laugh, go to iTunes and buy it. The proceeds go to the Red Cross's Tsunami Relief Fund, and you'll understand what I mean.

Rule #4: John Mayer will, for some inexplicable reason, win in categories where he is way overmatched.
This is a recent rule that I first noticed two years ago when Mayer beat out James Taylor for Best Singer/Songwriter. I actually had to create this rule because Mayer's win that year defied the basis for rule #1, an established respected star, whose best work is behind him, will continue to win Grammys. But this year it happened again. There wasn't a single song that should have beaten Kanye West's "Jesus Walks." I've been listening to that album more and more as of late, and I continue to be impressed with how moving it is. But of all the songs nominated, "Daughters" seemed like the last one to win. Even John Mayer admitted that he didn't think it was a good song. I've seen/heard some of Mayer's more impressive instrumentals, and I do give some respect. He is a Berkeley trained guitarist, but he can't sing or write songs to save his life. Maybe he's the illegitmate child of someone on the committee, who knows, but there is no justifiable reason for him to keep taking awards out of the hands of deserving artists.

So those are the official rules I've established so far. Maybe now I'll learn. Maybe I can look back at this and keep myself from watching next year. You think it'll happen? No of course it won't. There's something about the "biggest night in music" that keeps drawing me back. Perhaps one day, after I'm mayor of New York, I'll become president of the recording academy and change some of this nonsense. If not, I'll still hold onto my dream of one day winning a Grammy myself, in the category of, yes, you guessed it, "Best Album Notes" (Category 87).
Until then, I shall remain, the Artist Formerly Known as G Money.

Peace.

Musical Musings

"I say one two three, peace to the real G's/Still me till these motherfuckers kill me."



Just some quick musical things. I saw Ted Leo and the Pharmacists last night. It was my fourth time seeing them, and undoubtedly their best show I've seen. I'm sure some people reading this are fans, and others have no idea who Ted Leo is, but for anyone who hasn't been to his website, you should go here. and read the post from the day after the election. It's great to see someone taking so much passion from one part of his life and pouring it into his music. I don't know that I've ever felt as much energy in music as I did last night. I left Bowery Ballroom with an incredibly hopeful feeling, and as I nursed what is now becoming my 'traditional post-Ted Leo' Oreo McFlurry from McDonalds, I felt a kind of peace I haven't known in a while. Do yourself a favor. Obtain Shake The Sheets, Hearts of Oak, and Tyranny of Distance somehow, and then do someone else a favor and let them in on the secret too. This man is brilliant, and these albums are amazing, and the whole world should know.



In other aural matters, those with whom I have talked music in the past few months have probably heard me rant and rave about hip-hop. It's a bit scary to admit that I, who once denounced hip-hop in the same way that Rick Santorum denounces gays, have been listening to more and more of the ghetto music. Obviously rap could not have survived as long as it has without some serious talent, and with a more open musical mind, I have come to appreciate this. Strange as it may seem, this came in good part due to Eminem. A few years ago, kind of as a joke, I bought The Marshall Mathers LP on tape to listen to in my car. Not only was I impressed with Em, but the song, "Bitch Please II," the mere utterance of which makes me sound whiter than an albino in a snowstorm, features Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Nate Dogg, and Xzbit in a collaboration that made me want more. Naturally though, I forgot about the whole hip-hop thing for another couple of years. Then while I was in London, I dedicated The Eminem Show as my official walking CD, and on "Till I Collapse" he namedrops rappers such as Jay-Z, Tupac, and Nas as some of his favorites. When I returned from London, I bought The Black Album and the rest is history.

The point of this is that I've grown to appreciate some of the intricacies of hip-hop involving delivery and production. Loyal To The Game, Tupac's 9th posthumous album, drops tomorrow and is produced entirely by Eminem. It was with some intrigue that I meandered over to allmusic.com and checked out the samples they offered, hoping that the album would not be a repeat of The Black Album's "Moment of Clarity" debacle, but instead would certify Marshall Mathers as a brilliant producer. I was sadly disappointed. The problem that Em encounters, similar to "Moment of Clarity," is that he has a very unique delivery, and the tracks that he creates for himself don't work with more traditional rappers. Though the title track accurately complements Tupac's abilities on the mic, the rest of what I heard sounds awkward at best. This can be confirmed by listening to the bonus tracks from other producers which are, in fact, quite good.

Eminem obviously wants to follow in the footsteps of Dr. Dre by using his skills in the booth to create new rap superstars, but to do so he needs to learn what sounds good, not just what works for himself.

Alright, enough distraction, time for...could it be...a paper being worked on before 9 pm...the day before it's due??? {Gasp} Yes it's true. It's paper time. What can I say, I'm being overwhelmed by indifference and the promise of an early bed. And if you get that reference then score for you.
Pizz-eace

Is Wayne Brady Gonna Have To Choke a Bitch?

"Don't you think you oughtta rest/Don't you think you oughtta lay your head down/Don't you think you want to sleep/Don't you think you oughtta lay your head down, tonight"

So as promised, I've taken forever to update this piece. I've hit that double-edged sword known as Thanksgiving break. The problem with having five days off is that it's either too long or not long enough. After falling into a little bit of a routine, visiting friends, driving around aimlessly, and getting some stressful hours in at good old Walgreens, I just have no desire to get back to the grind of the last couple of weeks before finals. Case in point, I have a physics exam this Friday, which I really have not studied for. I brought home my books over the weekend and failed to even open that portion of my backpack the entire time I was home. My rationale was that I would work really hard starting Sunday night. So as I fell asleep Sunday night at 7 pm, I figured I would get up in a couple of hours and really hit the books. So of course my nap turned into me sleeping through physics lecture, the one class that I really needed to attend. Last night turned into finding a way to justify putting off my work that was due today into the small chunks I have between and after classes. Of course tonight I could really get down to business and get all my stuff together, right? No, of course not, I'm sitting in front of my computer listening to Yield and writing stuff that no one cares about. So here we go, maybe if I do this work will follow.
The most important issue of the day is the news that an important national figure, brought into our lives to protect us from the evils of the world, has stepped down. 'You mean Tom Ridge right?' Nah bitch, I'm talkin' bout motherfuckin' Ken Jennings and shit. Okay, I promise no more Bloodhound Gang references tonight, but if you've never heard that clip about Falco being a "gangbangin' thug that never seen it coming" or the one with Pac-man smoking crack, you have not lived my friend. Anyway, today was possibly the most emotional moment in Jeopardy history. There was a part of me that honestly thought that he would just step down at some point, retire as the undisputed Jeopardy champion and maybe come back every few months to teach the young punks a lesson. I taped the episode today because I knew he was going to lose and I knew that I was going to be eating dinner at 7. When I watched it afterward I still felt like Ken was going to pull it out. The lead started to build like always, but against all odds he blew not one, but two Daily Doubles. Most people never even get two Daily Doubles. And could anyone believe the gasp from the audience when they saw he got the Final Jeopardy question wrong. The slow realization that he lost was absolutely shocking. There really hasn't been anything like that in any other game or sport, at least not in a very long time. The most recent streaks I can remember have been in women's basketball and the NFL. The Huskies lost to Villanova, but it wasn't such a big deal and the Denver Broncos, I believe, went 13-0 before losing to Miami a couple of years ago. But 74 straight Jeopardy wins. Sure the college basketball streaks were long too, but those were teams and were spread over different seasons with new players coming in. This was one man, 74 straight grueling, record-shattering wins.

Okay so maybe I'm glorifying it a bit because I've always wanted to be on Jeopardy but the bastards never hold contestant searches on the east coast. Let's be honest. I watched Ken tonight on Letterman and I've seen him on Leno as well as the few minutes he got on each of the 75 shows. Anyone who met Ken Jennings before this incredible streak would have wanted nothing to do with him. The man is a Mormon computer programmer from Salt Lake City. He's the type of guy who keeps the one jackass who still makes Hawaiian shirts in business. On top of that he's a know-it-all. But because of Jeopardy he's suddenly a cult hero. Again, a little bitterness. But I think we should all be honest with ourselves. Recognize that what he did was amazing and deserving of some massive respect, but also recognize that if you went to high school with Ken Jennings you would have given him a wedgie and stuffed him in a locker. That being said, Ken we will miss you dearly.

Before going on to other things, a side note before I forget. During my trip to Boston last weekend, a discovery was made. Believe me, you really don't want to know how or why the discovery was made, so just accept it, and if you don't believe me check for yourself. If you were to run a search for the term 'gaping cow vagina' on Google, you would find nothing. Okay perhaps a little background is needed. The phrase was used in a story about seeing a calf being born and as a result the need was expressed, most likely by me but let's not place blame here, to run a search for it. So I'm just throwing that out there. At least now, somewhere on the internet, the phrase 'gaping cow vagina' exists. Twice. There goes any shot at a future career in politics.

Speaking of smelly animals, my rant for the past couple of weeks that I originally intended to post here last week was about my experience with the crowd at the Eddie Izzard DVD signing. If anyone reading this is not familiar with the work of Eddie Izzard, you should stab yourself in the eye right now because you've been lying to yourself about your reasons for living. Not so easy is it? It's a natural instinct for your body to move out of the way. Alright instead of stabbing, you should go out and buy one of his four DVDs available in stores or check out his website which has a couple of other ones also for sale. Eddie Izzard is an absolute genius and I say this without any exaggeration whatsoever (it just took me about 15 tries to spell exaggeration and I'm still not sure if I got it right). Seriously, the man is brilliant and has a sense of humor unparalleled by anyone right now. His fans however, a different story. Now, I know many Eddie Izzard fans who are relatively normal people. The majority of the people at the signing were not.

I should give some background. Eddie released DVDs of his early shows a few weeks ago, and anyone who bought one of them could get into a Q & A session at Virgin, followed by a signing. The planning on the part of Virgin was not the best. Rather than limiting the number of people allowed into the Q & A as the signs had said, security took a rather lax attitude toward the scrutiny of those who entered. The result was several hundred people crammed into the small cafe area at the far side of the store. After the last question, rather than forming a single file line, a table was set up and the situation became a contest of who could push forward most efficiently. The signing started at about 7:15. At 8:45, I had moved approximately 18 inches forward. During this time I was able to observe many things. For some reason, the idea of a transvestite comedian in Greenwich Village seemed to attract every high school LGBT club in the tri-state area. Now obviously, I have nothing against lifestyles that others may consider alternative, and in fact I am very supportive of such things. That being said, I was reminded why, coming from high school into college, I had such a negative image of gay people. Let's define two words. Word number one: gay-of, relating to, or characterized by a tendency to direct sexual desire toward another of the same sex.
number two: annoying- causing vexation, irritating
Notice that the definitions really cannot be confused with one another. Yet the group of high school lesbians along with, to quote Dan, "the token weirdo fag," did not seem to realize this. Instead they continued to loudly argue with one another about insignificant issues while occasionally pausing to publicly display the fact that they were lesbians, inevitably doing something to cause token boy to giddily shriek.
This brings me to another point: the PDAs. Everyone says that they hate the public displays of affection, and yet people still commit them. So this is my plea to every couple out there: If you're in a tightly packed crowd of people, just calm your hormones for a little while and show some self-control. Honestly, no one wants to see how much you love your little smoochie-kins. I know you think they might, but believe me, you're wrong. This crowd was packed so tightly that I couldn't move my arms, and yet the couple directly next to me- as in physically touching me- managed to repeatedly pass kisses back and forth. I was standing next to the guy, and the girl was slightly ahead, so that every time she kissed him, her hair hit me in the face. Forget for a second how inconsiderate that is, it's not even romantic. "Ooh honey I love you so much, and the fact that this guy next to you is practically perspiring onto your shoulder makes you so much hotter." Seriously, grow up.
And finally in my lecture on crowd etiquette, personal hygiene. I know that people are busy and everything, but please, if you plan on standing in a crowded line for a long period of time, take a bloody shower. I'm sure that after a long day of class and work I didn't smell 'April fresh' while standing in that mass of humanity, but in a relative comparison, I was an English rose garden. The most frustrating of all was a man who I will refer to as 'greasy fat guy,' or GFG. Now, being someone who could benefit from losing about 30 pounds, I'm not one to make fun of size issues, but this guy took up the space of at least 3 people. Looking at him reminded me of Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons, only taller, bald, and with skin issues that hinted at leprosy. This man was a large part (no pun intended) of the reason I waited so long to get to the front. In a situation such as this, it is the duty of every person in line to fill up any possible space in front of him or her so that the line continues to move, and the assholes who come in late can't sneak around the side and get in front of you. GFG apparently had the idea that his body was even bigger than it actually was, and decided that he needed 3-4 feet of space in front of him at all times. What I'm saying may sound insensitive- perhaps he just has some social issues and doesn't know how to act in crowds- but you didn't get stuck behind him at armpit level for 45 minutes. It smelled like GFG hadn't bathed for days, then, when he finally decided to do so, used dog crap instead of soap. After not moving for 45 minutes, I decided a sideways motion would be more efficient, or would at least get me away from the stench, and sure enough, once I got parallel to GFG, I managed to get to the front of the line in under 20 minutes.

So what have I learned from all this? The next time I'm in a public crowd I'm bringing a gas mask and a tazer. And if you're gonna be there with your significant other, well I'd recommend you work out your romantic needs beforehand.
Peace out.

Let's go back to the station-house and cornhole us a drunk

"Where did the blue skies go/And why is it raining so/It's so cold"

So yesterday I had a break down. That's right, I bought an umbrella. After managing a year and a half in New York without an umbrella, I've joined the ranks of the oblivious assholes who clog up the New York sidewalks on a daily basis. This doesn't make me a convert, just a hypocrite. For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, let me explain. I am violently against the use of umbrellas in Manhattan. First of all, umbrellas generally serve almost no purpose in the city. Rain comes down almost horizontally, and with wind that strong they break after 3 uses. I would get such great pleasure walking down Broadway after a storm and seeing all of the lost battles sitting in the trash cans, mocking former users as they passed by. "You thought you could stay dry? You stupid schmuck," they seemed to say (yes, in New York even the umbrellas are Jewish). Second of all, when I have 7 minutes to get to class, and I'm already getting soaked by the horizontal rain, the last thing I need is to have my path blocked by a family of 4 from fucking Idaho (yeah that's right, you're still dead to me Idaho) with a net weight of 1300 lbs., lined up holding their oversized umbrellas with one hand while fumbling around in their fanny packs for their $2.99 recycled disposable cameras (the resulting crappy pictures from which they will undoubtedly blame on the people at the photo place) to take a picture of KMart, "Cause it's the one in New York." I think of myself as a considerate pedestrian, and as such I feel that it's my right to call these people out. There are nearly 2 million residents of Manhattan, not to mention all the people that commute to work and those that infest 42nd Street to point at the Chrysler Building and say things like, "C'mon honey, let's get a picture in front of the Empire State Building." If you're going to carry an umbrella, take a couple of seconds to think about your surroundings before you obliviously gouge out my eyes with your red-state tools of death. That being said, look for my $6.99 Walgreens umbrella on the corner of 9th and Broadway outside of HSBC in about 10 days. It will be the one with multiple stab wounds so the bastard can't mock me.

In other news, Comedy Central is on the ball these days. The Secret Stash is a wonderful idea. Tonight I finally got to see Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back unedited. First, I must acknowledge another work of brilliance from Kevin Smith. I almost choked on a lime Tostito at one point, and although that can apparently cause esophageal damage it would have been worth it, both for the hilarity of the movie and the wonderfulness of the lime Tostito. But more importantly, I'm wondering if this is a growing trend among the cable networks. Comedy Central has been putting on its Secret Stash for a while now, and I noticed that TBS is playing reruns of Mr. Show late at night with most of the language unedited. This is most definitely a forward step. If more cable channels can loosen up the stick that so many people seem to have up their asses, we won't have so many people protesting Eminem lyrics, and they can notice the fact that they're allowing their 13-year-old daughters to grow up as sluts. In England they allow anything on tv after 9 pm. While it is true that by 9:30, the majority of the British are asleep, those that view the gratuitous sex, violence, and cursing don't seem to be undergoing the same societal decay as the censorship-loving country that doesn't have a problem sticking The Surreal Life on in the middle of the day. If you think that Dave Coulier isn't going to fuck you up go talk to Alanis Morisette. Of all the issues that affect this country and this world, we focus on keeping kids from seeing naked bodies. To cite Dan and his brilliant quote of the night, "Maybe we wouldn't be blowing things up in Iraq if we had tits on tv." At least maybe we'd understand why people form militant groups to prevent their countries from being Westernized.

And finally, as I start to doze off in front of my computer, I just want to publicize some of the things I've been listening to lately. This of course means that you should be listening to them as well jackass. For starters, if anyone isn't familiar with "Take Your Mama Out" by the Scissor Sisters, you should shoot off your left testicle. If you're lacking a left testicle, then you should find the nearest testicular-possessing person and shoot of his or hers (hey, let's not discriminate against the she-males). This song is a brilliant display of 70s funk fit for the modern world. It will be in your head for days, and it will be good. Trust me. Aside from that, I've had my usual mix of randomness. However I've decided that "California Love" may just be the greatest rap song ever. Say what you want about Dre, Tupac, or rap in general, but if that beat doesn't get your ass shaking, well then you just don't have a soul Mr. Ashcroft. I've had the discussion about who I would want to produce my album if I was ever to become a rock star, and I think I would want some Dre input no matter what kind of music I was making. Could you imagine some sort of collaboration between Dre and Brian Eno? No that's right you can't because it would be so sick your eyes would explode mofo. Seriously though, it would be hard to imagine where hip-hop would be if Dr. Dre never made it big. You know that sketch on SNL with Grand Master Rap and Kid Shazaam? Yeah? It probably wouldn't be so funny. But that's another matter for another day. What does that mean, it means I'm gonna forget about it by tomorrow and never speak of it again.

I'm wrapping this piece up cuz I gots work to do tomorrow. No seriously, it's been a while since I posted, but it's gonna be even longer before I post again. Between now and Thanksgiving I have no time to write. But perhaps I'll get pissed off and find the need to procrastinate while writing one of the two papers I have to have done for Thursday, or maybe something hilariously tragic will happen in Boston next weekend that I'll just have to write about. The chances: not good. So if you read this and I don't see you until after the 25th, have a nice Thanksgiving. Unless you're from Idaho. In that case, I hope your eyebrows are burned off in a comical kitchen fire and your town's fire department is severely underfunded due to a Republican legislature. You're dead to me Idaho! Dead!

Alright, the meds are wearing off. It's time for me to go score some more codeine. Make some comments, and I'll be sure to ridicule them at some point.
Peace

P.S. When I did spell-check for this, the first suggestion that came up for 'cornhole' was 'Cornelia.' Cornelia, I doubt that you'll ever read this, but if you do, I'm sorry that I laughed as hard as I did when I saw that.

New Beginnings

"So I would say you've got a part/What's your part? Who you are/You are who? Who you are"

So in light of the unfortunate new beginning granted to George Bush, I'm granting one to myself- a new form of procrastination. That's right, as if I wasn't provided enough procrastination by the blogs of other people, I've decided to join the crowd. I doubt this will be updated very often, I'm very lazy, and I can't really describe myself as having a lot to say, but then again I can't describe many other people that way and they have blogs so dammitt why can't I?!?

Anyway, the one thing that should be on everyone else's mind right now is the election. I'm sure it's not- just because they talk about it for weeks in other countries, why should we think about it for more than one day? But I personally spent today walking around in a complete daze. Watching my fumbling through physics lab must have been like watching Hellen Keller do paint by numbers. That may seem harsh, but it's okay she's dead now. But getting back to the election, the daze I felt was from such a strong combination of emotions- anger, sadness, fear, confusion, disbelief. I think that the disbelief was the strongest. Among the college democrat population, it really seemed that we had done enough to give this election to Kerry. I remember being up at 5 am freshman year to stand outside "Good Morning America" in the freezing cold, and holding up 'John Kerry for President' posters. At that point Howard Dean wasn't really in the race and it just seemed that we would back any potential frontrunner if only to get someone in the White House. The path from that day in early 2003 to last night seems incomprehensible right now. So much work went into naught.

Now going back to those wonderful lyrics at the beginning of the post, the only possible way to get over this is to take the positives out of all of it. "So I would say you've got a part." What I kept hearing over and over again from NYU College Democrats, and the other hundreds of Democratic influentials who inundated my inbox every day because I was on the John Kerry e-mail list, was that we couldn't wake up November 3rd thinking "I wish I had done more." That is exactly what I felt watching the election last night, wishing there was just some way that we could get to Ohio and get another 100,000 Democrats to go vote. The one conclusion I made today was that I can't let this happen again. There was more that I could have done and I didn't. We can't rely on other people to do the job for us, we must take matters into our own hands (and no, I'm not saying kill the president Mr. Ashcroft). That being said, Howard Dean pointed out today that a Democratic governor was elected in Montana, a traditionally Republican state, and that statistically, more people voted against President Bush than any other sitting president in American history. Now we just need to work on the people voting for him.

But this is where my ultimate frustration comes in. The Daily Show tonight provided the best summary of the situation I've seen so far. The issues that Bush voters found most important were terrorism and 'moral issues' (i.e. not letting the homos marry). The issues that Kerry voters found most important were Iraq, the economy, and education. If you look at the breakdown, not only of red vs. blue states, but red vs. blue counties, this makes you wonder if the people in rural and small suburban areas, specifically across the midwest, are legally insane. Manhattan and Washington D.C., where the majority of deaths due to terrorism since the inception of this country have occurred, voted 87% and 90% respectively for Kerry. Idaho, where the majority of people are actually potatoes, voted 68% for Bush. This means that the people who are voting on the issue of terrorism are afraid that Osama Bin Laden has a personal vendetta against corn. As Ed Helms so profoundly stated, "They could attack Nebraska, home of Car-Henge, or South Dakota, home of the Corn Palace." And as for the "protection of marriage" issue- calm down; no one's gonna force you to go gay. I once heard a comedian say that men are homophobic because they are so easily deceived by tricky salesmen ("Here. just hold this guy's hand, see how it feels, walk around a bit, no pressure"). It's amazing that in a country based on freedom we have people so eager to enact a prohibitive law in favor of a law that allows choice. If the current laws forced you to take one up the back porch once a month or something I could see what all the fuss would be for, but America- get over yourselves! No one is going to try to get you to switch teams. Go back to shucking that corn.

So if anyone's made it to this point, congratulations, you have a stronger attention span than I do. I personally have visited 16 other websites just while writing this. Perhaps I'll update this soon, perhaps not- exams and social obligations lurk in the near future. If you come here, feel free to leave comments, whether I know you or not. If you don't come here, well I'm not gonna say that you did contract herpes from that dollar you found in the street, but only I know the truth- you're gonna be wishing you came here bitches. That last sentence proves that it's officially late and I should be writing a paper outline. Sleep tight and enjoy the morning. Every day brings us something new to deal with. Enjoy for now.