I’m not going to lie, I’m probably not going to be here much this week. I’ve devoted my blogging “skills” to this, a Valentine’s Day themed site. For people who hate Valentine’s Day. I’m not going to be waiting by the phone for Hallmark.
But please, by all means, check it out. Write me an email to me to heckle, if you want.
Musings on the value of fancy desks in corporate America…
…and a quick Super Bowl fashion review. ” As Michael Irvin would ask, “Is this how you go to work?”
Heard in the elevator on the way up to work today:
Latino Guy: So yeah, man, it’s fucked up.
Black Guy: What happened?
Latino Guy: Well, they sideswiped my car, man! Scratches all along the side and everything.
Black Guy: Oh man, what was it, a Lincoln?
Latino Guy: A Cadillac.
Black Guy:Noooooooo! (hunches over in disbelief as he and Latino Guy leave elevator)
Honestly? This went from a nuisance to a tragedy because it was a Cadillac?!? I think I would have found this incredible regardless of the race of the guy, but the black guy escalating the level of the tragedy sadly took it to a new level for me.
I’m no car guy by any stretch, and I know Cadillac has the name recognition in the lexicon of American culture, but is there really a difference? Lincoln been a luxury manufacturer since its inception in 1917…by one of the founders of Cadillac. It’s been making presidential limousines forever!
So what’s the damn difference, dude? You know, other than your need to embody old routines from chitlin’ circuit comics?
The thoughtful Brooklyn Gal recently wrote a post about whether or not life in New York City is worth the inordinate expense. A fair question, one I even asked myself before I decided to come back here after college.
Of course, if thoughtfulness isn’t anything, it’s contagious. While some commenters and linkers have managed to stay on topic, some have taken the opportunity to express their frustrations that they aren’t wealthy and rich and fabulous and have a man/woman and blame it on New York City like Mets fans scapegoat Willie Randolph.
Whenever I get exasperated at this crap, I’m told, “You’re biased; you’re from here.” Damn straight, but that doesn’t make your arguments the least bit legitimate! At least I am upfront about where I’m coming from! Whenever I hear or read some wistful musing on how life might be better elsewhere, the illogic of the arguments somehow aren’t important. If you’re from somewhere else in America and you whine about how tiny your apartment is, how hard it is to save money, how ambitious you have to be to live here, how people here drink too much, how people here don’t grow up and aren’t truly “mature”, and how people aren’t about committed relationships here, you are an idiot. Period. The comments box is down there, you can email me at rumandpopcorn@gmail.com.
You knew it would be expensive when you moved here. Shut it. You knew you’d be living in tiny apartments or shacking with roomies well into your thirties. Zip it. You came here because you thought you were too big-time for whatever corner of the earth you were from, so you came here to pursue your dreams. There’s no shame if you haven’t tried and not made it; there’s no shame in deciding you want a slower, more affordable lifestyle and leaving. But if you’re here, put a sock in it. You think that people don’t drink in other parts of the country? Are you insane…where do you think you got YOUR massive tolerance from? Pipe down! People here don’t grow up? You mean like the guy who has three kids and just got Rock Band who used to live down the street from you. That’s great. Shut up. No one is committed here and ever gets married. That’s great. Can you break the news to all my friends who got married, especially ones just recently? (Congrats, Adam and Susan, you made the blog in a completely unsentimental fashion! You know I would give you guys nothing less!) Stop it!
When life isn’t going your way, it’s easy to scapegoat New York. It’s loud, rude, and crazy, and Republican mayors can try all they want, but they’ll never totally erase the faint stench of urine from certain corners of the city. But until you look in the mirror to take on your problems, you’re just going to carry your problems to Ocala or Sheboygan or Duluth or Rockville or Arlington or Helena or San Jose. And you’ll still have your problems without being in the place you know deep in your heart is the greatest city in the world. And then you’re really fucked.
Another surprisingly short day of work led me to peruse Gawker when I read this briefly horrifying story. In the midst of the media gossip site cracking on an unbelievably awkward sentence on page six, they failed to grasp the substance of the news. Apologies to all that know of this story.
Allegedly, Dr. Pepper is promising everyone in America a free soda if Axl Rose releases his long-awaited Guns ‘N Roses masterpiece, Chinese Democracy. You know, that album 18 years in the making that is has men all across America over the age of 25 that still believe Guns “N Roses is still a relevant band foaming at the mouth. Waiting. Hoping, Praying. Thinking that this will be the rock album to end all rock albums.
Now, I am a fan of the band’s work from back in the day. I was a young lad many moons ago when “Appetite For Destruction” came out. I had the cassette. I listen to all two and a half of their albums all the time. When I want to bring down the house at karaoke, I always go to “Mr. Brownstone”. Really, gentlemen, this band takes me back to my youth like no one else, just like many of you.
But I got tired of seeing so many of my friends genuinely believing that Chinese Democracy would actually come out and rock order would be restored to the universe. For me, the dream died when I saw Axl Rose come out with Buckethead at the MTV Video Music Awards a while ago. This led me to make one of the most regrettable decisions of my life.
At New Finnerty’s in Manhattan, I heard this hopeful chatter from my pals, and I stood up and said: “Chinese Democracy is never coming out! If Chinese Democracy comes out, I will marry Alice!”
Yeah, that Alice. She appears to have taken this threat seriously, and appears frighteningly willing to go along with this.
Needless to say, I now have beef with Dr. Pepper.
Unless it’s some sort of hoax, which I am pretty sure that it is. (Because I have no choice but to believe that. )
I vaguely do. I even remember six or seven people reading it. Well, work ended early tonight, so tonight, with nothing better to do, I will try to briefly relive the glory days before I return to tax-preparation hell. (Which will be over by the end of this week, honestly. And then I can go back to being roundly ignored by my public.) That’s why you’ll see quite a few posts tonight.
Well, if I don’t fall asleep after eating Chinese food…
Last Sunday, after a day of helping out at the world-famous Amateur Female Jello Wrestling (If you went, you may have noticed me as “sleepy and indifferent door guy” or, if you were there early enough, “strong-looking guy in a tight sweater who keeps showing everyone the crack of his ass”), I decided to kick back and relax at Lit, where one of my favorite Sunday night activities (when I am not sensible enough to say, “Oh, I have work tomorrow”) is to go and sing some Rock ‘N Roll Karaoke.
At first, I was only going to do one song and go home, but the joint was kind of empty. After all, it was cold out, it had snowed a bit, and it was Sunday evening, which is sort of important if you are employed weekdays from nine to five. But I was feeling like a drink, and feeling like a song.
Before I selected, someone made a very valid point: Next weekend was President’s Day Weekend. Which means next Sunday, there will be a pretty big crowd, and no matter what, it’ll probably be a good time. However, if you are “serious” about singing, there’s one slight disadvantage: More people means more singing, which means fewer chances, which means probably a more limited chance to express yourself through the words of other people’s songs. So it was a good night to expand your repertoire and workshop new material, if you will.
Normal hits on my list (along with my sometime partner Juan, or, the duo known as “Long and Strong”) are “Jump Around” by House of Pain, “Wonderwall” by Oasis, “Mama Said Knock You Out” by LL Cool J, “Sex Bomb” by Tom Jones, and “Chocolate Salty Balls” by Chef of South Park.
But there’s always room for new material.
So without further adieu, here are the three new songs I “workshopped”, and some critiques from the judges of a pretty popular karaoke competition.
“Is She Really Going Out With Him” by Joe Jackson
Why I chose it: For some reason, it felt right, and spoke to the narcissistic hater in me. Okay, that is me.
Randy: You kind of talked instead of sang at some points, almost like rappin’ it. And I loved the fact that you gave it an edge by talking over the song by saying stuff like “Seriously what the fuck is she thinking?” and “That bitch must really like ugly guys!” You made it your own, dog.
Paula: Such a bitter song for such a sweet boy! Why are you so angry? But I liked it!
Simon:Not a bad performance, but an American Idol can’t can’t go around cursing and making a scene like he’s Ice Cube. If you want to stay in this competition, you’re going to have to clean up your act. Oh, and I hated the rapping.
“Everybody Have Fun Tonight,” Wang Chung
Why I picked it: As I said to the DJ, “it’s so horrendous, it’s awesome”.
Randy: This is a bad choice of song for you, dog. I liked your energy and all, but you got too much bass in your voice, and your voice cracked a little at times. But you did get the crowd moving. I like that, dog.
Paula:That was soooo much more fun than your other song. I like that you showed your pop side. Nice job!
Simon:I like your performance and your energy, but that’s the totally wrong song for you. I don’t know how far you’re going to make it in this competition, you clearly have potential, but we can’t seem to bring it out of you. Oh, and can you lose the scarf? It’s kind of “Broadway”, if you know what I mean.
Me: (still sweating like Ruben Studdard walking up half a flight of stairs)Broadway? But this is my awesome Dr. Who scarf!
Simon: Yeah, because sci-fi ubergeeks buy records. What is wrong with you?
“Live and Let Die” sung in the style of Guns ‘N Roses. Of course the original is by Wings, which featured some dude named Paul McCartney, who was in this other band before this not all that hot Japanese chick who couldn’t sing busted it up.
Why I picked it: I’ve had success with Guns ‘N Roses Songs before, namely, “Mr. Brownstone”.
Randy: (standing) That was incredible, dog! You worked it! That’s what we’ve been waiting for!
Paula:Incredible! It’s like you melted cute Paul and angry Axl together and bam! It’s a Well Whiskey Friday song!
Simon: That was incredible and not “Broadway” at all! But I’m not sure America is ready for a rock Idol who curses and wears nerdy scarves. Still, you’ve finally impressed me a little.
During some downtime, I checked out a Gawker story about a publicity-starved writer who had a date with a notorious bachelor. The writer seemed sad for doing this, the guy was clearly creepy and strange, and bla, bla ,bla. there wasn’t much else going on here, except that the dude may have some hygiene issues.
I didn’t really get all that much into the story, mostly because as awful as the guy sounded, his techniques probably work in general. People say they want to meet honest, genuine people in sex and relationships, but the key more often than not, is really manipulation and knowing what to say, when to say it, and whom to target. Sorry if I’m being a downer, but that’s just the way it is. And yeah, by “people” I probably mean “women”.
Anyway, I moved on to the comments, and one sad commenter said that this article made her feel even sadder about meeting men, and then she related the story of how she found out her ex, who was already clearly a sleaze, was now even sleazier because he was meeting women for random hookups on Adult Friend Finder.
Firtt, let me just say that I hope this woman doesn’t give up, that there are good men out there, and you can’t let yourself get jaded and cynical because of one bad experience. (Maybe I’m one to talk.)
Now, on to the real issue: Adult Friend Finder! Really! People are actually on that? For reals? Finding someone to snowball with? Honestly?
Color me skeptical, because well, that’s just how I roll. I, for the life of me, can’t believe anyone successfully uses that thing. If that were true, I would think it would be way bigger than it is. Right? Right? I mean, every man alive would be on there if it was a goldmine of willing women ready to get down. And I know a lot of guys who are always looking for the next bone. None of them have ever gone, “Yeah, I’m on Adult Friend Finder, and boy, is my pelvis tired!”
I mean, it’s not like they would keep it secret out of shame. There can’t possibly be any stigma left to online dating of any sort, especially, for fellas who have resorted to techniques like introducing their friend at say, Mason Dixon and walking away. If you’re trying to hit on women, there’s already an inherent lack of shame involved.
Another thing that makes me skeptical: the glossy pictures of ‘erotic folks’. Anybody who has ever seen an HBO episode of Real Sex knows swingers often don’t look like your garden-variety Skinemax stars, they more often than not look leather bags with nipples, cocks, asses and feet. Now I’m not saying there aren’t attractive, sexually adventurous people out there who use the internet to make their fantasies come true. (Because an opening line of “Excuse me, miss, but how do you feel about The Shocker?” is probably not going to get you too far.) I’m just saying that I don’t believe it involves Adult Friend Finder.
And no, this isn’t a fishing expedition to find out where the freaks are at. This is just me wondering aloud about an internet service that’s like a sexual Santa Claus and Easter Bunny rolled up into one: you know it’s not true, but a part of you wants to believe. But I just can’t. And that’s why I wrote this. Well, as far as you know.
Tomorrow night is one of the more momentous occasions in the history of this great nation of ours. It’s not only a night for analysis and reflection, but a night of hope. Why?
It’s pretty simple. Tomorrow marks the last State of the Union address from President George W. Bush.
The last! That’s it! It sort of unofficially marks that, less than a year from now, someone else will be the President of the United States.
Come on, that has to make you a little excited no matter what your political affiliation. If you’re a Democrat, you’re excited because his bumbling reign is coming to an end, and it’s sort of weakened the coalition of social conservatives, right-wing hawks, and fiscal conservatives that have helped the Republican Party become the majority party in this country. But the Democrats are poised to take that back now, if they can get out of their own way. (Their control of Congress so far doesn’t really seem to indicate that.)
If you’re a Republican, you have grown tired of seeing this fool be the face of your party. You were loyal, you believed, and now, you look like fools. Oh, you can still try to explain away the war, and there are plenty of excuses for the economy, but we all know down deep, even you guys aren’t still buying. One of my best friends is a die-hard Republican, and when he drunkenly called him an idiot, I knew the Bush mystique was finally done. You feel like, if you just get someone electable in there who’s not a loon and take back the White House, things will be okay.
If you’re an independent, you’re thinking, maybe, just maybe, this time people will wise up and make sound, rational, well thought-out political decisions. To treat this seriously about who is going to bring this country competent, efficient, dynamic, and creative leadership. Who is going to get the job done and get America going in the right direction, and not about bullshit like “Who listens to Jesus more”, “Who seems like they would be cool to have a beer with”, “Or who looks like they could win a bear fight.”
So, there’s something to look forward to for everyone. But to move forward, you gotta look back. So tomorrow, I encourage you to tune in and hear the mangled, nonsensical words of your Commander-In-Chief, take a look at the blank, clueless face of the man who has led us for the last eight years, and has led us to where we are today, (internationally despised and disrespected, locked in an unwinnable war, and an apparently slowing economy) and realize:
What the fuck were we thinking? Twice?!
